Sun, Oct 31, 2021
Entrusting God
Revelation 21:1-7 by Craig de Vos
A sermon for "All Saints"
Series: Sermons

Death is a part of life––

a part of the natural cycle of things.

Everything that is born––

everyone who is born–– 

will eventually die.

And yet, each death is also a tragic loss for those who are left behind;

each death leaves a void that can never be filled.

After my father died, a wise old Jesuit priest said to me:

“When someone who is close to you dies…

it’s like having an arm or a leg amputated.

Initially, there’s pain and there’s grief. 

At times, it may feel like it’s still there.

But, with time, the pain…

the grief…

the sense that it’s still there… 

starts to subside.

You get on with your life.

You adapt.

But it’s never the same”.

 

I think that he’s right.

When someone whom we love dies, we feel pain.

We grieve. 

And, eventually,  we do go on with our lives.

We adapt. 

But it’s never the same.

Because, when someone passes away, part of our world passes away too.

And that happens both personally and corporately.

When people die, they take their experiences and their memories with them.

There are no longer any survivors of the horrors of the First World War.

And it won’t be that long before all of those who experienced the Great Depression…

the Second World War…
and the Holocaust…

will have passed away too…

and the direct memories of those pivotal events will go with them.

And, with each death, the world that we know changes.

And, the older that we get, the more profound that change becomes…

as, one by one, those whom we know––

those whom we love––

leave us.

 

And, in the midst of all of that…

it’s quite normal and natural to ponder what happens to us––

and to our loved ones–– 

after we die.

There’s scarcely a religion throughout history, 

which hasn’t grappled with that question… 

and tried to offer answers.

From its earliest times, the Christian faith has tried to grapple with that too.

There’s been considerable speculation…

and many of us have inherited all sorts of traditions and myths.

It’s not uncommon for people to air the thought that––

when they die––

they will be reunited with their loved ones;

in effect, assuming that the level of consciousness that they experience now…

and a continuity of existence… 

will remain.

But, the truth is that we don’t know.

And, in our ponderings about what happens after death… 

many Christians turn to the Book of Revelation for answers.

Unfortunately, it was never intended to answer those sorts of questions.

That’s not what it’s about.

It’s not some sort of coded blueprint for the end of the world.

Rather… 

it was written as a word of hope and encouragement to people who were suffering––

people who were frightened and fearful for the future;

people who felt like the world was falling apart;

people who were struggling to cope.

It was never intended as some sort of future prophecy…

let alone as some sort of cryptic description of life after death…

or the end of time.

It was certainly never intended to be taken literally.

Rather, it belongs to a particular genre or form of literature…

one that, you might say, perhaps… 

is the ancient world’s equivalent of science fiction:

it’s intentionally pictorial––

like an abstract or even a surrealist painting––

full of fantastic creatures and otherworldly events…

dripping with myth and symbol, imagery and allegory…

yet trying to convey a significant and profound message.

 

So, what is the point that the author is trying to make?

 

In seeking to address the fears and frustrations––

and the doubts and despondency–– 

of his readers…

he’s trying to say something profound about the nature of God.

He’s trying to remind them that God is faithful––

despite all appearances to the contrary.

He’s trying to affirm that God is gracious and tender…

loving and compassionate––

even when the world seems to be falling apart… 

and all that we know is bitterness and tears.

And, indeed, the author does it so beautifully…

“God will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more”.

But, even more than that…

he proclaims that God is with us, always––

and always will be.

If–– 

in some small way–– 

we know and experience the loving presence of God now

then nothing that we experience in death can change that.

That seems to be his point.

Stripped of all of the myth and symbol… 

imagery and allegory…

the author isn’t offering us a vision of what will happen to us after we die.

Nor is he offering some vision of the future.

Rather, he’s making a theological statement about the nature of God.

He’s reminding us of the God who loves us;

and the God into whose hands we commit our loved ones…

and, in the end, into whose hands we will commit our own lives as well.

 

And yet, even more than that…

the author proclaims a God who promises to make all things new;

a God whose ultimate aim is not the continuation of things as they are…

or as they have been…

but, indeed, a new creation.

But, note:

the hope that the author offers isn’t just for those of us who believe.

There’s no sense or notion here of that heaven-hell dichotomy…

which is a product of the skewed thinking of the middle-ages.

Far from it! 

His vision here encompasses all of humanity.

No, even more than that, it encompasses all of creation.

The God whom he proclaims to us… 

is One who will not stop short of anything but a new heaven and a new earth––

a new cosmos…

a new created order.

And this new cosmos that he envisages is one in which God will dwell with mortals––

not just with some;

not just with those who are good or who believe certain things;

but with all humankind.

That is the hope…

the promise…

the vision of God and God’s future that the author holds out for us.

It’s an affirmation of faith that––

although we don’t know what the future holds––

we can put our trust in God.

 

Today, we celebrate the festival of All Saints––

a time when we remember and give thanks…

for those women and men of faith who have gone before us…

and who have pointed the way for us.

But, at the same time, we also celebrate the festival of All Souls.

Because–– 

as the author reminds us here–– 

all human beings are precious in God’s sight.

And so we remember… 

and we give thanks for those down the ages…

who–– 

through their love and compassion…

their loyalty and faithfulness…

their sacrifice and encouragement––

have helped us to glimpse and to grasp a little of this God.

We remember them…

we give thanks…

and we entrust them into God’s most gracious love.

 

And, as we do, let us rejoice in the God who embraces all humankind…

and, into whose hands, we commit our loved ones…

our present…

and our future…

and that of our world.