From Altar to Throne

Revelation in brief, #4

Christians think that Revelation is about bizarre future events just before the universe comes to an end.

It’s not. It’s about the gospel, the church, and the witness of the disciples of Jesus. Revelation concludes the New Testament, and it shares the same interests as the rest of the New Testament.

Take the four horsemen at the beginning of Revelation 6. They’re often called the “horsemen of the Apocalypse.” They are, technically, since they’re horsemen who appear in a book called “the Apocalypse of Jesus Christ.” But usually that phrase implies something more: these horsemen, who represent horrors like war, famine, pestilence, and death, are a series of signs that will occur just before the end of the world. When you see the horsemen ride out, then you know the end is near.

That’s not what Jesus says, though, in His Olivet Discourse. He says the opposite. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, He says, don’t be afraid; it’s not the end (Matt 24:6). There will be famines and earthquakes, but these are just the “beginning of birth pangs” (Matt 24:8).

So what is the vision of horsemen about? Think about what has just happened. John has ascended into the heavenly throne room of God. There’s a worship service going on among the living creatures, the cherubim, and the Ancient Ones (Rev 4). But something is amiss. There’s a sealed book at the right hand of the Enthroned One, and no one can open it to reveal and unleash its contents (Rev 5). If the book is never opened, then the promises and plan of God will never come to pass. No one can open it – until the Lion of Judah appears, in the guise of an ascended Lamb. Jesus alone is worthy to open the sealed book.

The scene is pretty obvious once it’s pointed out: First there’s no Lamb, then there’s a Lamb. a Lamb appears suddenly in heaven, and that Lamb that is Jesus. Sound familiar? It should. John is seeing the ascension of Jesus from the viewpoint of heaven. Gathered on a mountain with the other apostles, John watched Jesus leave earth and disappear into a cloud. Now, in vision, He’s taken back to the same moment and given the privilege of seeing Jesus’ arrival on the other side of the firmament. Revelation 5 isn’t a future event for John. It’s a past event, an event he witnessed some years before.

Once he takes the book, Jesus begins to open the seals of the book, and the first four seals unveil the four horsemen (Rev 6:1-8). Whatever the horsemen signify, it must be something that happens in the aftermath of Jesus’ ascension. They’re not a sign of the end of the world. They’re a sign of the exaltation of the Lamb.

Now, what happened after Jesus ascended? After Jesus went up into heaven, what came down out of heaven? We know the answer: The Spirit (Acts 4). The four horsemen are the horsemen of the Spirit, the horsemen of Pentecost.

That seems odd. We think of the Spirit as a harmless dove, a Comforter. Does the Spirit bring devastation? Oh yes. Jesus promises the disciples that when He goes away He will send the Helper, the Paraklete, and that the Paraklete will inaugurate legal action against the world: He will convict the world of sin, righteousness, and judgment (John 16:5-11). The Spirit comes as a Helper to the church; but to the world He’s a dangerous enemy.

The Spirit is the rider on the horses. What are the horses? Zechariah gives us a clue. The Lord of hosts, the Lord of armies, says that He will visit His flock of sheep and turn them into His majestic war horse (Zech 10:3). In Revelation 6, the Spirit rides to battle on the war horse of the church. What we see in the four horsemen is a vision of the fourfold work of the Spirit, the Spirit’s prosecution of the world.

The Spirit rides out on the white horse of the church, conquering and to conquer. He drives the church on its mission of conquest and victory. The Spirit divides; He initiates war. Whenever the gospel is preached, some accept it and some resist. The Spirit takes peace from the earth, as Jesus did, setting fathers against sons, mothers against daughters, brothers against brothers. The Spirit of the Lamb rides the red horse of the church, causing war.

The Spirit brings famine. Those who resist Him can’t afford basic necessities, wheat or barley. But the famine is partial: The oil and the wine are not harmed; they’re plentiful. The anointed ones who drink wine – the baptized who sit at the Lord’s table – are untouched. They flourish while their enemies see their food slip through their fingers.

The Spirit rides out in order to kill. Does this sound shocking? It shouldn’t. Read the book of Judges again. Whenever the Spirit clothes someone, the mortality rate rises precipitously. Remember the story of Ananias and Sapphira who lied to the Holy Spirit (Acts 5). The Spirit is the Spirit of life; the Spirit also brings death. He’s the rider on the green horse of the church, bringing death.

The four horsemen depict what happens after Jesus ascends and unleashes the Spirit. The gospel is a message of the victory of God; it causes division; those who resist the gospel suffer famine; ultimately, those who resist the gospel are killed by sword, famine, and pestilence. Blasphemy against the Son of Man will be forgiven. Blasphemy against the Warrior Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.

It’s the same story whenever and wherever the gospel is unleashed from heaven, whenever the Spirit rides out on the war horse of the church: The gospel always conquers; always causes division; always leave some impoverished and others enriched; the gospel always leads to a devastating judgment against the enemies of the Lamb.

An end is coming. It’s not the end of the world. But it is an ending. When the Spirit comes, it’s TEOTWAWKI, the end of the world as we know it. And that’s what arouses the hopes of the martyrs, who appear at the opening of the fifth seal (Rev 6:9-11). They think the appearance of the Spirit’s cavalry means they’re finally going to get justice.

The Greek word for “martyr” doesn’t imply death or persecution. It simply means “witness,” like a witness in a court of law. In Revelation, though, this word takes on other dimensions. A witness is one who doesn’t love his life even to death (Rev 12:11), willing to confess Jesus even when threatened, who refuses to bow to the beast or be seduced by the harlot, who renounces idolatry and porneia, even when it will cost him his life. A martyr is a witness who dies for the sake of Jesus.

When we first see the souls of the martyrs, they’re under the altar. That’s where the blood of a sin offering is poured (Lev 4:7, 18); these martyrs have shed their blood self-sacrificially on the altar of the world. When they see the Spirit riding the church out in conquest, they hope they will be avenged. They’ve been crying out for justice for ages and ages. Now they hope it will be accomplished.

The response to their cry is encouraging and disappointing. The encouraging part is: Each receives a white robe. White is the color of heaven; the Ancient Ones who worship before the throne wear white robes (Rev 4:4). If the martyrs receive white robes, they’re being dressed to join the heavenly liturgy, the heavenly choir. They’re being suited up for ascent. The robe is a pledge that they won’t stay at the base of the altar forever.

The disappointing part is that justice is not going to be done just yet. They must wait a while longer. And their disappointment becomes bewilderment when they hear the reason for the delay: They have to wait “until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers who were to be killed even as they had been, should be completed also” (Rev 6:11). They aren’t going to have justice yet, because there need to be more martyrs. The sin of the Amorites is not yet full (Gen 15:16); more blood must flow. Before they are raised to heaven, they are going to be joined by others.

That’s what the beginning of Revelation 7 is about. Angels at the four corners stand ready to unleash the winds to scour the land, but another angel tells them to wait. This other angel has a stamp in his hand to seal the remaining martyrs by putting the name of God and the Lamb on their forehead, marking them as priests and sacrifices. The 144,000 are the additional Jewish martyrs, 12,000 from each tribe, who need to die before the martyrs under the altar begin to ascend.

The story of the martyrs is one of the main plots throughout the rest of Revelation. The martyrs don’t appear all that often. We see the 144,000 again on Zion, singing the songs of heaven, getting further training to join the heavenly liturgy (Rev 14:1-3). The harlot drinks martyr blood (Rev 17:6). Though they don’t appear often, the martyrs’ story forms the backbone of Revelation. Martyr blood is the intoxicant that makes the harlot Babylon so drunk that she falls over. Martyr blood is poured out on the world and dismantles it from top to bottom (Rev 16). Martyr blood brings down the city that persecutes prophets (Rev 17). Martyr blood ends the world as they knew it. Martyr blood is the Spirit’s main weapon against the world order.

For the martyrs themselves, the trajectory is upward. When we first see them, their souls are at the base of the altar. Then, they’re on Mount Zion and the Lamb is in their midst. Then they are harvested above the firmament and stand on the far side singing the song of Moses, the song of Exodus, and the song of the Lamb (Rev 15). Finally, we see them on thrones at the beginning of the millennium (Rev 20). The thrones once occupied by angelic Ancient Ones are now occupied by those who have been beheaded (like John the Baptist) for the testimony of Jesus, because they refused to worship the beast. They come to life and reign for 1000 years. This is what the millennium is: The era of the martyrs’ reign.

You are my witnesses, the Lord tells Israel (Isa 43:10-12). You will be my witnesses, Jesus tells the apostles before His ascension (Acts 1:8). Every believer is called to be martyrs, to witness to Jesus by your life and words, no matter what the cost, no matter what the threat or danger.

Few of us will die for our witness, but each one has been baptized into the true Witness, Jesus. Each is called to follow Him, and the path is the path that leads to the cross. Each of you is called to a life that may in the end at a literal cross. We may face this prospect in our vocation: Are you ready to lose your vocational life for the sake of Jesus – lose a promotion, lose some income, perhaps lose your job because you have taken a courageous stand for Jesus? You may face martyrdom in your family: Perhaps you will pay by being cast out of your family, losing your inheritance. We are baptized into Christ’s death, called to die in order to follow him. That is the cost of discipleship – openness to the prospect of martyrdom. Count the cost. Be ready to pay it.

Talk of martyrdom makes little sense in America. We pretend we’ve created a political system that eliminates the prospect of persecution and martyrdom, that permits everyone to believe and worship exactly as they please. We’re adults, who have outgrown the possibility of martyrdom. It’s not true. Liberal democracies can be as intolerant as totalitarian regimes.

This sounds grim, perhaps. But it’s a great privilege. Jesus was Priest of His own sacrifice. He offered Himself as a soothing aroma to His Father. By the Spirit, He joins us to His own sacrifice, to His own priesthood. We are called to be priests as Jesus was, not priests who offer another on our behalf, but priests who draw near to God, in Christ, through our own self-offering.

There is more. God created Adam and placed him in the garden east in Eden. He told him to serve the garden as a priest, and left an implicit promise that he would one day ascend to kingship, to the high place of the land to be enthroned alongside his Father, the Creator. In Revelation, martyrs finally fulfill this Adamic vocation. Martyrs are the truly human humans, glorified humans, royal humans, humans brought to full maturity by following the path of the cross, the path of Jesus, the path of the True Man.