Journal 2020

Revelation 2:18

Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze . . .

When I process with clients, they commonly visualize Jesus in human images. Perhaps they see Him in shepherds’ robes or white attire or perhaps a gigantic lap on which to crawl. Seldom does a client describe Him as John did in Revelation. Here, He seems distant, unapproachable, kingly, sovereign. How do you approach intimacy with a deity like that?

In the context of Revelation 2, God is calling out sin, rebuking, encouraging, warning. In a prayer session, He’s gentle and patient and wooing. What’s the difference? The posture of the postulant? When we humble ourselves, He’s approachable. When we’re rebellious and stiff-necked and pursuing pride and sin, He responds accordingly.

The church at Thyatira is commended at first for their love and faith, service and perseverance, and doing more than at first.

But . . . They tolerated the prophetess Jezebel’s teaching that led to sexual immorality and eating food sacrificed to idols.

God patiently said: I gave her time to repent of her immorality.

But . . . She was unwilling.

And perhaps that is why Jesus appears to them with blazing fire eyes.

Revelation 4:9-11

You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power . . .

There is something heretical in my humanity that rebels against wanting to cede all my power, glory, and authority to someone Who created me. I didn’t ask to be created, but He wants me to worship Him. What kind of a being, a master, a king, a creator, a ruler, does that to his subjects?

I want to slap myself for even voicing such insubordination, but it would be wrong not to bring the thought into the light and examine it, repent of it, and receive truth. What in me is so arrogant? Am I guilty of the pride that caused Satan to fall? I want this gone!

It feels like we’ve been placed on this earth as a great experiment, but we failed, and so God had to find a way to clean up the mess He made. And the only way He could assuage His guilt was to sacrifice His own Son. But if He hadn’t created us in the first place, He wouldn’t have gotten Himself into this pickle, this mess. (Truly skewed thinking!)

I need help to straighten this out, Lord. I go to You for comfort and answers while I beat on Your chest in anger and frustration. I’m like a little kid who kicks and screams when told it’s naptime and I don’t want to go.

The temper tantrum does me no good, but I sure do like to assert my will, my control over my destiny. But in the end, the Parent is stronger than me, and I must yield to His authority, and I’m better for having taken a nap. But I still don’t like it.

But the Toddler Me sure enjoys being cuddled, read to, fed, clothed and kept safe and secure. Toddler Me wants the love, needs the love, but my immaturity wants and needs to assert myself so I can grow and develop through struggling and suffering.

I love my Father. I wouldn’t trade Him for anything. So why do I throw a tantrum when He knows what’s best for me? “I don’t WANT to take a nap!” I holler.

I repent. I will go willingly to my resting place, lie down, and give thanks for what He does for me, for Who He is. I give Him honor that is His due and gratitude for His patience with my childishness.

Revelation 19:6-8

Fine linen [the bride’s dress] stands for the righteous acts of the saints.

Much debate has gone into the question of which parts of the revelation to John are literal and which are figurative. But this verse is a no-brainer. The Scriptures tell us the interpretation or the meaning behind the visual. The entire church (not a single individual) is depicted as the bride of Christ. And the more righteous acts we do, the better the garment.

We Protestants like to camp on salvation by grace alone, but we aren’t quite as swift to focus on righteous acts. We hang onto pride and hatred and bitterness and anger and self-righteousness while we do our “good deeds.” What makes an act righteous? Not necessarily the deed itself, but the attitude, motive, and emotion behind it. If I give to the poor (a righteous act), that is good. But if I give to get self-glory (like the Pharisees giving alms), Christ didn’t have much good to say about that deed. On the other hand, if I have a good attitude but never carry out my good intentions, that also is rather meaningless. We need both/and.