What is to Come

Forming of Apocalypse by JoAnne Bird

Revelation 1:4b-8

Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.
Look! He is coming with the clouds;
   every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
   and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be. Amen.

‘I am the Alpha and the Omega’, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

For the folks here from the Brick Church, this is the second week in a row that we’re talking about apocalypse—which I know may seem like overkill, may seem a little bleak, and especially strange for Thanksgiving Sunday, but it’s less out there than one might think. Last week, we heard about what is known as the “little apocalypse” from a long speech by Jesus in chapter 13 of the book of Mark—this was actually the beginning of a historical and literary shift from the prophetic literature of the Hebrew Bible. People were getting frustrated and discouraged with the constant failed prophesies of the near-future. They were waiting and waiting for the oppressive Romans to finally be overthrown by the just and the righteous. They were waiting and waiting for the time of being an occupied people to finally be over. So instead of moving the goal posts ahead little by little, as they had been every time they had their hearts broken, they changed the game. They began having unbelievable and fantastic visions of the far future, of a time in which a mighty army from heaven would finally come and make everything right again. But Jesus makes it clear time and again that no one but God knows when this time will come; and he makes it clear that we must be wary of predictions and prophesies of end-times.

Because none of this has happened yet. We’re still waiting for the promise land. We’re still waiting for bad things to stop happening to good people. We’re still waiting for an earth as it is in heaven. We seem to be forever stuck in this apocalyptic mindset because when we go by predictions and prophesies that haven’t occurred yet, we end up passively waiting, biding our time. How do we move on from something that hasn’t yet happened?

If we cheat a little and read one verse ahead, when John of Patmos, the assumed author of Revelation introduces himself, he writes that he “was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.” This is an implication that John was writing from exile on the remote and isolated isle of Patmos. In my sermon last week, I spoke about a more collective apocalypse, all of us experiencing a warming world and the powers that be doing little to nothing about it; this week, I’m thinking on a smaller scale. This week I’m thinking of what we go through when our lives as we know it are taken away; what we experience when our worlds are turned upside down or radically changed all of a sudden. Because I imagine John, writing alone on this isolated island in the middle of the Aegean sea, was going through his own personal apocalypse—ripped away from his friends, his followers, his vocation as a zealously faithful itinerant preacher, was so deeply longing for a time in which the oppressors would finally be given their due, in which we would all be “freed from our sins by his blood,” a time when the playing field would finally be leveled—a time when the Romans would no longer have dominion, but God finally would, “forever and ever.” John of Patmos was essentially writing science fiction. He was coming from a place of deep pain and passion and writing of a time in which good will finally triumph over evil and a new and perfect world would be born.

When we think of apocalypse, we think of the end. By definition, it is the ultimate destruction of the world as we know it—but that’s just the thing—it’s a destruction of the world as we know it. I don’t believe it’s some ultimate end—apocalypse just means “revealing.” At the beginning of this passage, God is referred to as one “who is, who was, and who is to come.” Who is to come is an addition here—because this is the whole reason apocalyptic visions and writings came about—it was that need for a never-ending hope; the need for this loving God who would never leave your side, who would never go away, no matter what happens to this earth, to the cosmos—it was the hope of a God and world and more transformation that will be to come.

Whether we’re currently worried about climate change, the continued threat of COVID, the continued violent divisions in this country, or whether we’re worried about the more personal sufferings like the deaths of loved ones, ends of relationships, loss of a job or financial struggles—all these worries, all these different fears of both universal and personal apocalypses—they make us long for an end; not an end to the world or an end to life—an end to suffering, and end to wrong doing—and they make us long for the beginnings of balanced and compassionate new world that can just seem so far out of reach.

A current favorite author of mine is Stephen Graham Jones—he’s a member of the Blackfeet tribe, and he writes really compelling horror novels, often influenced by modern slasher stories, and they almost always incorporate his Indigenous traditions and upbringing and indigenous folklore. In an article from the New York Times last year one this amazing surge of Indigenous sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, Jones is quoted as saying, “In the slasher story, wrong is punished. The intent is to rebalance the world, and the world we live in is not like that.” In the same article, fantasy author Rebecca Roanhorse a Pueblo tribe member says that she takes pleasure and freedom in writing about fantasy worlds because, she says, “We’ve already survived an apocalypse.” This is what I’m talking about—this is where these fantastical visions come from— from a place of yearning and hope—hope for an end to the suffering, oppression and inequity of this world, and hope for a new and transformed; a balanced and fair and kind world.

As we prepare for Thanksgiving this week, and as we plan to be reunited with family after last year’s isolation, as we do our best to take a break from the COVID fear and fatigue, we should also be aware of the fact that the first Thanksgiving was truly an apocalypse for the indigenous people of this country. It was the end of the world as they knew it. And so many look for new worlds—worlds where the sins of the past can be righted, worlds where occupation and oppression are no longer a reality. Roanhorse is also quoted as saying that she sets her books in the far future “…so [she] could say hey, Natives exist, and we’ll exist in the future.”[i]

Because apocalypse does not have the mean the end. As a result of his isolation and probably a bit of anger, John of Patmos had these fantastical visions of a violent end that would lead to paradise that would never end. This vision of God coming in the clouds so every eye will see, this was John’s personal hope in his isolation and his exile that his suffering would not be nothing. So are these terrifying science-fiction like visions accurate and real descriptions of how the world as we know it will end? I don’t think so. But there’s always something to be said for finding hope in a time still to come, with a God who is still to come.

Surely there is catharsis and hope in thinking of a far off, miraculous time in the future in which those who have suffered will finally experience justice and peace. And this Thursday, let’s gather with loved ones and be thankful for togetherness once again; but let’s then work towards a time in the nearer future in which we will all be on a level playing field… but especially those who have already been through an apocalypse. I hope and pray, especially now that I’m expecting a child this Easter, that this future is not so far off, that my child won’t have to read about it in science fiction and fantasy novels. Let’s take our collective hope of a more perfect world and work to make it a reality sooner than later. One thing we can take literally from the book of Revelation and form John’s visions of the future is that God had always been with us, is with us now, and will continue to be with us, whatever is to come. Amen.

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/14/books/indigenous-native-american-sci-fi-horror.html