Sermon Transcript: August 24, 2025
We continue in our series on Revelation. We have this week, and next Sunday is the last of the series—this summer series on Revelation and Resistance. And just a couple reminders, a way to organize and orient ourselves to this—the last book of the Christian Testament, the last book of what you and I call the Bible.
A book that too often we ignore because it is strange and it is different. And there are a lot of interpretations that are out there in popular culture that lead us to believe that this is a book about the future—a book about what is going to happen. But we have been taking a decidedly different approach during this series.
We have been following the advice of Eugene Peterson, who reminds us that Revelation is not prediction—it is perception. In other words, even though it’s written as though it’s future-oriented, it’s really about what was happening in that time and place to God’s people—how they remained faithful, how they faced the struggles that were going on, and the oppression that they were subjected to, and how they continued to follow Jesus Christ in that time, in that place—and how that put them up against the empire.
And that’s where the resistance comes in. So we are reading Revelation not as prediction, but as perception.
In our reading today, we have yet another one of these visions of the heavenly realm and the heavenly hosts that are there as well.
Revelation 7:1-17
After this I saw four angels standing at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds of the earth so that no wind could blow on earth or sea or against any tree. I saw another angel ascending from the rising of the sun, with the seal of the living God, and he called with a loud voice to the four angels who had been given power to damage earth and sea, saying, “Do not damage the earth or the sea or the trees, until we have marked the servants of our God with a seal on their foreheads.”
And I heard the number of those who were sealed, one hundred forty-four thousand, sealed out of every tribe of the people of Israel:
From the tribe of Judah twelve thousand sealed,
from the tribe of Reuben twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Gad twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Asher twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Naphtali twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Manasseh twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Simeon twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Levi twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Issachar twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Zebulun twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Joseph twelve thousand,
from the tribe of Benjamin twelve thousand sealed.
After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying,
“Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb!”
And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, singing,
“Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”
Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one who knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
For this reason they are before the throne of God
and worship him day and night within his temple,
and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.
They will hunger no more and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat,
for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.
***
Maybe you saw this in the news this week—President Trump said, “I want to try to get into heaven, if possible.” He said, “I hear I’m not doing well. I’m really at the bottom of the totem pole.”
The president’s remarks—I did not make that up. The president’s remarks reflect a common anxiety both about what will happen to us after we die, and whether or not we’ve been good enough, whether we’ve done enough in this life to prove our worth and our worthiness.
It also illustrates why, according to Revelation, worship is so central to our formation as followers of Jesus.
“If Revelation is about anything,” writes Professor Greg Carey, “it is about worship. orship matters. When we worship, we demonstrate—for our own benefit and the benefit of the world—what we truly value. Our worship also confesses what we believe about power. Authority. Do we worship the Beast because the Beast can accrue wealth and kill? Do we worship the Lamb because of its faithful witness to Jesus Christ? What do we really believe?”
Most of us come to worship week after week. Why? Why do we worship?
I’m sure each of us has our own reasons or our own mixture of reasons. There’s great music. We get to see friends and people that we care about. We get time to pray. Maybe the message inspires us to be our best selves. Maybe we just like the habit—the ritual of it all. All of these are fine reasons. But Revelation offers one more for our consideration.
In our reading for today, we have yet another one of these confusing scenes of the heavenly realm, but this time—they’re doing math. Twelve thousand from each of the twelve tribes of Israel are marked as sealed. That’s 144,000 in total. Just to make sure, I used my calculator to check.
Now, those that read Revelation as prescription—as prediction—suppose that this is the number of those who are to be saved: 144,000 on the dot. Seems a bit low, doesn’t it?
I mean, there are 7 billion people on the planet. That’s 0.000002% of the world’s current population. That doesn’t include all those who have lived and passed on—or those who are yet to live. If we add them into the mix, our chances get even lower. We might be better off playing the lottery.
If that’s the case, I’m right there with President Trump. I’m worried about getting into heaven, too. I wouldn’t put myself at the bottom of the totem pole, but I’m somewhere probably in the middle, you know? Still, it doesn’t sound like very good chances.
But you and I—we are not reading Revelation as prediction. We’re reading it as perception.
So what do we do with this math of salvation that we find here?
Pastor and theologian Sarah Hinlicky Wilson reminds us: this is not a statistic—it is a symbol. Far from limiting, she says, this is symbolically, in the ancient world, about as big a number as you could get. And if that didn’t communicate the message, from there John goes on to say: And then there was a great multitude so that no one could count—from every nation and language and culture.
She says here, God’s election, God’s salvation is not stingy—it is sweeping. That sounds better, doesn’t it? I’m a little bit relieved.
Of course, this is all supposing that heaven is like a country club in the sky to which we would like to be granted membership. Do I have enough money? The right clothes? The right car? The right job? The right friends?
Or it’s like a college to which we are seeking admission. Are my grades good enough? Did I score high enough on the SATs? What about my extracurriculars? Have you seen all the service hours that I did?
I remember when I was in high school, starting to look at colleges, and I went to this college fair that was being held nearby—where all these representatives from different colleges would come to meet prospective students. And they would set up tables, and they had brochures, and they had colorful posters with, you know, beautiful pictures of their picturesque campuses. And there were these admission counselors that were there—they were the ones that kind of looked professional.
And then most of the tables also brought students. The students were, of course, dressed and decked out in their school’s swag. They were very cheerful. And they were trying to get you to come over and check out their school.
So it was in a big gymnasium, and I walked from table to table, and I picked up brochures of schools that I wanted to check out. And I would read the brochures later, and I would—you know, I’m an introvert, so I didn’t really talk a lot to the people, but, you know, I said hello and all of those things.
Then eventually I came to this one table that was empty.
No posters. No pictures. No students in swag beckoning me to come over.
Just an older, distinguished-looking gentleman in a tweed coat with a bow tie, holding a stack of trifold brochures tightly in his hand.
The only thing on the table was a small sign, printed by the venue, with the school’s name. It wasn’t really meant to do anything other than indicate to the representative, this is where you are to set up. But all the setup he did was stand in front of the table.
If it were not for this sign, I probably would have walked by. But it turned out that the name of that school happened to be one that my father had mentioned to me. And he had said, “Be sure to check them out.”
It was—or is—a fairly elite private school in Eastern Pennsylvania… who shall remain nameless.
I asked the man in the bow tie if I could have a brochure.
And instead of extending a hand to greet me or to hand me a brochure, he ever so slightly tucked the brochures a little closer to his body. And said, “First, let me ask you—where do you go to school?”
I gave him the name of my high school. And instead of asking me follow-up questions or inquiring more about my interests, he simply said, “Oh. I don’t know if we’ve ever had anybody from public school admit to our college.”
“Look,” I said, “I don’t really intend to apply, but my dad asked me to stop by. So can I just have a brochure that I can show him?”
The man reluctantly handed me the brochure. And I walked away.
Now, I know that this guy was full of it. Because later I went home and looked it up—and most of the students in that school were from public schools. I just didn’t measure up to whatever image he had of a prospective student.
And all I can say now is: Thanks be that the God that we worship is nothing at all like that man.
Friends, God’s grace is not stingy. It is sweeping.
God doesn’t need to belittle us in order to feel important. And we don’t need to measure up or prove ourselves to our God.
That’s why we worship according to Revelation.
You and I have many experiences just like that one that tell us we are not good enough. And we spend so much time trying to prove that we belong—to a club, or to a school, or whatever. Sometimes even to a church.
Our current president, in many ways, is the epitome of what our culture values: wealth, power, ego, exclusivity. Our culture teaches us: you get what you deserve. Winning is the most important thing in all aspects of life. And that in order to make our way up the ladder—or totem pole, or whatever—we need to do whatever it is, no matter what.
In such an environment, worship can become just another notch on the belt. Church attendance becomes a chore—not a privilege. We use it to prove that we are good, and deserving, and all of that. Or it can become just another means to obtain the life that we want—a life of ease and pleasure.
Look around. Notice how many churches are starting to sound like advertisements, selling Jesus as the next best thing. He will free you from your burdens. He will make you happy. If you’re good, He will bless you with wealth and status.
In such an environment, Revelation serves as a much-needed corrective to why we worship. We are not here to prove anything. And we’re certainly not here to manipulate God into loving us. I’m sorry to say we are not here so that life will be free from sorrow and pain. We are here simply to remind us that God is God, and we are not.
And despite the initial sting of that news—it’s actually the very best thing that we could ever hope for. Because think about it: if you or I were God… we’d be a disaster. We’d use it for our own benefit and profit. We’d be stingy. But God—God is not stingy. God is far more gracious than we could ever dream. Or, God is far more gracious than we deserve, and far more loving than we could ever hope to earn.
You notice when the heavenly hosts gather to worship—they don’t tout their résumés. They don’t compare with one another where they are on the totem pole. They use all the words that they can muster to praise God. And remember—that the true God is so much bigger than any version of God that we can create.
Listen again to their worship:
And all the angels stood around the throne, and they fell on their faces … and worshiped God, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”
I don’t know why you come to worship week after week. Maybe because the music is great. Or the sermons are tolerable. The fellowship is wonderful. Or because it is a gift to have a place where we can reflect on life’s complexities and pray for one another. All of these are great reasons to come to worship. But the fact of the matter is even more fundamental: we are made to worship. Not because God needs our praise. But because we need to be constantly reminded that at the heart of the universe, is not a judge tracking our good and bad deeds, or a beast demanding our obedience, or a stingy college rep, but a lamb, shepherding us. We worship to remember that we are created in God’s image, not the other way around. We come to remember that we are already loved. That is why we worship.
Amen.
