Lecture

I. Introduction

With our next two lessons we turn to the last book of the New Testament, the book of Revelation—certainly one of the most intriguing and controversial books in all of Scripture, and one which has spawned numerous different interpretive approaches throughout the centuries of church history.

A. Authorship

It is the only one of the five books that the church historically has attributed to John that actually includes John’s name in the opening chapter. John, however, does not describe himself here as an apostle, or even as an elder, as we saw with 2 and 3 John, but in terms of one who is a prophet or a seer. And there have been, as with a number of the New Testament books, questions in the modern era whether this John is in fact the apostle by that name or not. Following more conservative tradition, we will accept the traditional ascription of authorship here.

B. Readership, Circumstances, Date

The readers, outlined in the opening chapters of Revelation as well, are seven churches in Asia Minor, the westernmost province of what today we would call Turkey. This is clearly a circular or an encyclical letter, meant to be read, passed along—perhaps after having been copied—to seven different churches, all of which were joined by a roughly circular road in that part of the ancient world.

The circumstances are that John is in exile on the Greek island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea, an island known to be a penal colony in the ancient world, and therefore presumably exiled as part of the persecution at the end of the first century under the emperor Domitian—sporadic though it was, affecting Christians and particularly Christian leaders in different parts of the empire. This would mean that we should date the letter to roughly the mid-90s, during the short-lived but at times intense persecution that the emperor Domitian spawned.

C. Genre

Perhaps the most significant introductory question for the book of Revelation, however, deals with its genre. That, in turn, spawns a whole host of interpretive questions that have divided commentators, ancient and modern. As we mentioned in our opening lesson, the term for Revelation in the Greek is apokalupsis, from which we get our English “apocalypse.” An apocalypse was a well-known literary form in the ancient Jewish and Greek and Roman world, involving a discussion of human history, sometimes past or present, but almost always culminating in some future prediction about how God would cosmically and supernaturally intervene to bring the events of this world as we know it to an end, to vindicate His people against their enemies, and to encourage and to comfort the oppressed.

An apocalypse was also a very highly symbolic form of literary writing, often involving animals or inanimate objects symbolically depicting humans, encrypting in a code-like fashion, therefore, the events that were being described. That means that a very literal interpretation of this kind of literature, however important it may be in other more straight-forward kinds of writing including scriptural writing, may at times mislead us when we come to interpreting an apocalypse. The book of Revelation contains dragons, it contains strange beasts, it contains both good and wicked women: none of which are meant to be taken at face value, but all of which symbolize key events—past, present, or future—of God’s interaction with human history. Unfortunately, the book of Revelation, particularly at the lay level, has often been read too straightforwardly and too literally as simply a code encrypting the events of the future: If only we understood current events and the way contemporary world patterns are developing, we could see the fulfillment of numerous precise details of the book of Revelation.

It is more in keeping with apocalyptic literature, rather, that instead of this kind of detailed knowledge in advance, major themes and broad emphases characterizing the time of the end are what are being depicted in each particular passage. Revelation, however, is not simply pure apocalyptic; it also includes the genre of prophecy. However symbolic the events are that are being described, there are real, public, universal, significant events that the future will yet bring us that are being described in this symbolic form.

Revelation also partakes of the literary genre of an epistle, not only in chapters 2-3 that give seven brief letters to the seven churches that are being addressed, but also in the sense that the entire scroll would have been sent as a letter to circulate among these churches. That also reminds us that Revelation is not some mystical description of the future detached from any historical circumstances, but that it is being addressed to seven very specific Christian communities, presumably in ways that they were meant to understand. God gave visions to John that would have been understandable in the context of his Jewish upbringing, Old Testament literature, intertestamental literature and developments, and current events in the first century that were meaningful to the Greco-Roman communities and the Christian audiences of both Jewish and Greco-Roman backgrounds that Revelation is written to. In short, we must seek to identify what the first audiences of Revelation would most likely have thought of when they heard a description of the wonderful, and at times bizarre, imagery of the visions God granted John. It is not nearly as significant what those imageries and symbolism would conjure up to someone today; and we must be careful of reading anachronistically our impression, in light of current events, of the imagery of the Revelation rather than what these symbols would have meant in their original historical context.

D. Four Interpretations

Another way of describing this same debate is to point out four broad approaches that have been taken throughout history to interpreting Revelation. These are called preterist, futurist, historicist, and idealist. (1) The preterist approach assumes that everything in the book of Revelation is, from our perspective today, past—that it describes merely first-century events, and that the persecutions and great tribulations depicted are simply those events surrounding the persecution at the time of Domitian. Perhaps only the triumph of God at the end of the book in the final three chapters is that which is yet future. (2) The futurist approach by way of contrast, takes virtually everything after the opening three chapters as never having been fulfilled and referring only to events of a future date. (3) The historicist tries to identify various periods of church history that correspond to the different events depicted in the book of Revelation, (4) while the idealist approach gives up assigning a particular chronological time to any of the themes or depictions of the book, seeing it rather as a timeless description of the battle between the forces of good and evil.

While there may be elements of truth to all these views, we believe that a combination of the preterist and futurist approaches is best, in keeping with what we have already said. Much of the imagery makes sense in Revelation only when we understand what that imagery would have meant in the first century and the events of the persecution that foreshadow or parallel what will probably happen on a much larger and grander and even more awful scale in the events that immediately usher in the coming of Christ and the end of this phase of human history.

E. Theological Perspectives

There are also debates that interpreters have divided over as to whether a pretribulational, midtribulational, or posttribulational approach best describes the relationship between the Rapture, the Tribulation, and Christ’s second coming throughout this book. Though as we commented in our discussion of 1 Thessalonians, the term “rapture” appears nowhere here—only in that epistle of Paul—and the concept of tribulation appears here and not there. So any reconstruction is admittedly speculative, and we must allow for diversity among interpreters and agree to disagree amicably on this topic. This particular perspective, nevertheless, will proceed from a posttribulational point of view and we will point out some reasons for that en route.

Finally, there is a debate on the interpretation of the millennium—the thousand-year period of human peace and prosperity as God’s people reign with Him on earth, as depicted in Revelation 20. Postmillennialists believe that this is an era that Christians, through the power of the Spirit can bring about in human history prior to Christ’s return. In other words, Christ comes back post, or after, the millennium. But despite various periods of social and even utopian optimism throughout church history, the sad realities of the depths of the evil and the fallen nature of humanity have generally made this the least popular and convincing approach.

Amillennialists take the concept of a millennium entirely symbolically. Traditionally, they have equated it with the church age, but again this seems to be a bit too optimistic. More recent amillennialists have often seen the millennium as simply depicting the period of the new heavens and the new earth of chapters 21-22 in a slightly different form. This particular approach that we will take here follows the third major interpretive scheme— namely premillenniallism, which believes that Christ must first return before a golden age of perfected and glorified humanity can occur, and that that age is a literal period of human history in between the world and its course of events as we know it now, and the new heavens and the new earth of chapters 21 and 22, with which the book of Revelation closes.

II. Analysis

We may begin, then, our survey of the contents of the book of Revelation.

A. Introduction (1:1-20)

Chapter 1 is entirely introductory. It sets the stage for John being in the Spirit worshiping Christ in exile on Patmos, and receiving the first of the series of visions with which his book is concerned. After the introductory information, that does bear resemblance to the typical epistolary form that we have become familiar with throughout these series of lessons, John is then introduced to a very powerful Jesus—one who is depicted as a warrior, as sovereign in majesty, as glorified, as almost too unbearable to remain in the presence of. This is the one place in the canon where Jesus appears consistently in strength, as one triumphant, and a reminder that Christian belief about Jesus is not just the sweet baby in the manger at Christmas time, or the crucified Jesus on the cross of Good Friday, but the resurrected, exalted, triumphant Jesus who one day will return to rule the earth and to vindicate Himself against His enemies.

B. Letters to the Seven Churches (2:1-3:22)

Chapters 2-3 then form a clearly discrete section, in which John addresses in turn each of the seven churches of Asia. Perhaps the best way to understand these letters is to see them as covering the sweep or spectrum of the types of churches that existed in John’s day, and arguably have existed in virtually every era of church history in a broad geographical arena. (1) The church at Ephesus is one which is described in the famous phrase that they have “lost their first love,” 2:1-7. (2) The church at Smyrna (2:8-11) is one of two churches that John praises without giving any condemnation, as persevering despite difficult circumstances. Interestingly, they are not promised freedom or liberation from this persecution, but are simply encouraged to stand fast. (3) Pergamum, addressed in 2:12-17, is a church that is largely condemned, which has mixed faith with immorality. (4) Thyatira, has confused the devilish with the divine (2:18-29). (5) Sardis, which is entirely condemned, one of two churches without any praise, is described as almost totally dead (3:1-6). (6) Philadelphia, the most mature of these congregations, addressed in 3:7-13, is described as obedient and faithful, and is the second church which receives no condemnation. Interestingly, however, apparently through no particular merit of their own, they are promised that they will be kept from the hour of great tribulation that is coming upon the whole world.

For those who believe in a pretribulational rapture, the church at Philadelphia is often viewed as symbolizing and representing faithful believers who are alive at the time of the events immediately preceding Christ’s return and therefore will be raptured out of the world so that they do not have to go through the Great Tribulation that is coming. Posttribulationists, nevertheless, often point to the fact that the expression that is used here, “to be kept from,” is the same two-Greek-word expression that appears in John 17:15, where Jesus prays for His followers that they might be kept from the evil one and from his influences, even while they remain on earth after His death and resurrection. It could be that both of these approaches, however, are reading too much into this text, inasmuch as nothing else in Revelation 2 and 3 clearly refers to any point in the future beyond the immediate circumstances of the Domitianic persecution. Perhaps the Great Tribulation of “the whole world” is the whole world as the oikoumene, namely the whole empire—the empire-wide persecution—and that Philadelphia is being promised preservation from what Domitian is up to in the first century—nothing more than that, and nothing less.

(7) The final church of the seven is the church at Laodicea, which is generally seen as depicted in the most negative terms, and the second of the two churches for which John has no commendation. Laodicea we might characterize as undrinkable and useless. There is a misinterpretation that has plagued readers of this part of Revelation that we must be careful to correct here. Laodicea is said to be neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm, and therefore in danger of being spewed out of Jesus’ mouth. The water supply of Laodicea, in fact, was proverbial in the ancient world for being lukewarm and therefore virtually undrinkable, because it had no fresh water supply of its own. Either the cold, fresh water of the mountain streams near nearby Colosse or the hot, refreshingly and therapeutically warm, water of the hot springs at nearby Hierapolis were piped in to provide the drinking water for the town of Laodicea. In other words, both hot and cold in this context are positive metaphors.

Christ is not saying, through John, that he would rather people either be warmly on fire for Him or so cold as to be clearly against Him, rather than lukewarm. Surely that makes no sense theologically. Christ would prefer people to be very close to coming to genuine Christian faith. No, instead, both hot and cold are metaphors for what is either refreshingly, revivingly cold or therapeutically warm, but the Laodiceans are like neither. Therefore, Jesus cries out to them, using another famous metaphor in verse 20, that He stands at the door of their hearts, as it were, and knocks—hoping that they will open the door to Him that He might come in and eat with them. Although this verse has often been used in evangelistic contexts, perhaps derivatively in an appropriate sense, in its original context it is a call for revival; it is a call for what today we might call rededication of those who profess faith in Christianity but have become lukewarm in that faith.

C. Throne Room of God (4:1-5:14)

With chapter 4, we clearly enter a very different portion of the book of Revelation. Chapters 4 and 5 take us from earth to heaven and describe the heavenly throne room of God Himself, Christ, and the various angelic creations that surround Him. We might characterize these two chapters as chapters of heavenly praise. The main point of chapter 4 is the complete worthiness of God to receive all glory and honor. It is not until chapter 5 that a problem intrudes into this heavenly vision, namely the apparent absence of anyone who is worthy to open the scroll—a scroll on which presumably the events of the end times are being depicted. The opening of the scroll, then, would refer to the ability to begin to usher in that period that would culminate human history.

Nevertheless, one appears who is called both a lion, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and a Lamb, who is worthy to open the scroll. This clearly is a pair of metaphors referring to Jesus, the Christ, the one who was slain for the sins of the world, the one who was God’s very expression of Himself to provide the atonement that was necessary before the final age of human history could be inaugurated. The same hymns of praise that are addressed to God the Father in chapter 4 are addressed to the Lamb. He is the one who is worthy to receive all honor and power and blessing and glory and strength, and the like. These chapters implicitly point out how Jesus is “very God of very God”—as the early creeds phrased it.

But they also introduce us to a very typical apocalyptic strategy that will be crucial to help us interpret events that come later in the book of Revelation. Jesus is, as we have seen, depicted as both a lion and as a lamb. If we pay more careful attention to the sequence of John’s writing in 5:5-6, we see that he actually hears the mention of the one who is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, but then turns to look to see this individual and what he sees is a lamb. Of course we know that Jesus was neither literally the animal a lion or the animal of a sheep, but that these refer to His power and majesty and warrior traits on the one hand and His humble and sacrificial work on the other. The fluidity of apocalyptic literature to describe one and the same incident or event in quite different language is important to keep in mind.

D. First of Three Series of Seven Judgments (6:1-8:5)

With chapter 6 we then proceed to the events that will usher in the final epoch of human history. Chapter 6:1-8:5 introduce us to the first of three series of seven judgments, depicted respectively as seals, trumpets, and bowl judgments. How these judgments are related is a point of considerable debate. There are those who see them as twenty-one consecutive judgments. The problem for this view, however, is that the sixth in each series seems to be so cataclysmic as to bring us to the very end of human history in ways that the universe as we now know it cannot continue. Others have seen the three as recapitulative, each depicting the same period of tribulation from three different perspectives. The trouble with this view is there seems to be an intensifying or climactic nature to the three series of judgments.

Perhaps the best approach is one which combines the strengths of these first two and sees the judgments of the seven seals as proceeding sequentially up to the sixth seal, which then is, as it were, a flash ahead, putting us on the very brink of the abyss of the end of human history, only to have John and his visions withdraw a little bit from the edge of the cliff, as it were. The seventh in each series, interestingly, does not introduce any new judgment. Indeed, on one occasion there is silence in heaven, and in the other cosmic rumblings. It may well be that the seventh seal is meant to introduce and embrace all seven of the next judgments, in this case the trumpet judgments, and that the seventh trumpet is meant to introduce and embrace all seven of the final bowls of God’s wrath.

It is also significant to notice that the first set of judgments, the seven seals, do not refer to events that are on the scroll of events about the end times, but are preliminary events. Just as one had to take imperial or official seals off of a scroll before one could open it and read it, these are events which must take place first. This fits the nature, particularly of the first four seal judgments, which include militarism, warfare, famine, and death—events which Christians as well as others have experienced in the world, in the first century, and throughout church history. The fifth seal is quite different; it reflects the cries of the martyrs: How long must they wait? And the answer that is given to them is “a little longer.” Clearly we are not at the very end with this event either. The sixth seal, reflecting cosmic upheaval, clearly does bring us to the threshold of the end, but we still have numerous judgments to go and so it would appear that John and the visions he has received from God shrinks back at this point.

Before describing the seventh seal, John therefore offers an interlude of sorts that accounts for chapter 7. Here we have two pictures: one of 144,000 Jews, one-twelfth from each of the tribes of Israel, and a second vision of a numberless multitude of people of all ethnic groups praising God. Surely one could not have picked two more disparate groups, and those who favor a pretribulation approach to Scripture naturally understand the numberless multitude, those who have come out of the Great Tribulation, to be the church raptured prior to that Tribulation. The 144,000, then, are literal Jews who either are stuck living through the Tribulation, Jewish Christians, or those who come to faith in Christ after the church has been raptured.

But if we remember Jesus as the Lion who is also the Lamb, there is another interpretation consistent with the posttribulationist approach that perhaps should be preferred. John again hears the number of those who are sealed, who are protected, who must live through the Tribulation, but who are exempt from God’s wrath. He then turns to look at them, and what he sees, presumably, is the group just described. But what he sees, much as a sheep differs from a lion, is a very different kind of group. The one is describing the literal multiethnic, giant size of the church of Jesus Christ of all time. The other describes the church symbolically as the new or true Israel, the one who is the fulfillment of all of the hopes and prophecies of the Old Testament. “They who have come out of the Great Tribulation” uses a phrase that is slightly more naturally understood as meaning having lived through it, and then having been brought out of it. Although this view is perhaps less well-known, it is one that deserves to be taken seriously.