A Sermon for the Feast of

the Ascension, May 30, 2019

Today we celebrate the Ascension of

Jesus Christ into the heavenly realm. In last Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus

said, “If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going

to the Father” (John 14:28). But this isn’t just a celebration of a move, like

saying goodbye to a friend who is going away. This is a celebration of something

greater. The Gospels in their own ways, and John is probably the clearest about

this, portray Jesus’ crucifixion as his enthronement. From the crown of thorns

to the garments placed on him to the sign hung above his head as he dies, the

Gospels want us to see that Jesus is the true King, not as the world defines

Kings, but as Heaven does. The cross is his coronation. Easter is his

vindication, the proof that he is who he says. And on Ascension Day, Israel’s

King, who is thereby King of all the world, King of Heaven and Earth, takes his

rightful place in the heavenly realm, sitting at the right hand of God.

To celebrate Ascension Day is to celebrate that Jesus is Lord and everything else is not. Today is about the fact that no one makes Jesus King of their lives. Jesus is King, and that, in a nutshell, is the Gospel, the announcement to all the world that the risen Christ is Lord and everything else is not. No one makes Jesus King. Jesus is King, and we choose to submit to his rule or not. The liturgy puts it this way. It says, “Today we recall how he left this earth and returned to his Father, ascending into heaven to take his throne over all dominions and powers.” And then it adds that we are “Trusting in his reign over all creation and submitting to his kingly yet loving rule.” That is what we celebrate today, that Jesus is Lord and everything else is not, and we remind ourselves today that because he is King, we are called to trust in his reign and submit to his rule. Faith and works. Trust and submit.

But I found myself reflecting this week on the “why” question as it relates to Ascension Day. My kids always want to know why something is, and they don’t seem to take “because I said so” as a good enough reason. But I’m happy to hear them ask that question because when we are asking why something is, we’re seeking to understand. Now I’ll admit upfront that sometimes asking “why” in theology can be a dangerous question. That doesn’t mean that it’s a bad question, but it does mean that we should be careful. For example, have you ever asked yourself why Jesus’ death on the cross paid the price for sin for humanity? The answer, of course, is that God ordained it to be so. When the Witch in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe begins to inform Aslan about the Deep Magic, he says, “Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written.” Aslan says even later when explaining what had happened. “It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.”

The point is that whatever system

that demanded death for sin and made the death of a righteous person the means

for undoing all sin and death is a system that God put in place, and when we

ask why, why it had to be this way, we are on very dangerous ground for we are

looking back into the stillness and darkness before dawn of time. But what if

we ask why Jesus had to ascend? Surely, it would have been easier to convince

the world that Jesus was the world’s risen Lord if he could walk around showing

people his hands and feet and letting them see the holes. Surely it would have

made this entire process of evangelization and the spre

A Sermon for the Feast of

the Ascension, May 30, 2019

Today we celebrate the Ascension of

Jesus Christ into the heavenly realm. In last Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus

said, “If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going

to the Father” (John 14:28). But this isn’t just a celebration of a move, like

saying goodbye to a friend who is going away. This is a celebration of something

greater. The Gospels in their own ways, and John is probably the clearest about

this, portray Jesus’ crucifixion as his enthronement. From the crown of thorns

to the garments placed on him to the sign hung above his head as he dies, the

Gospels want us to see that Jesus is the true King, not as the world defines

Kings, but as Heaven does. The cross is his coronation. Easter is his

vindication, the proof that he is who he says. And on Ascension Day, Israel’s

King, who is thereby King of all the world, King of Heaven and Earth, takes his

rightful place in the heavenly realm, sitting at the right hand of God.

To celebrate Ascension Day is to celebrate that Jesus is Lord and everything else is not. Today is about the fact that no one makes Jesus King of their lives. Jesus is King, and that, in a nutshell, is the Gospel, the announcement to all the world that the risen Christ is Lord and everything else is not. No one makes Jesus King. Jesus is King, and we choose to submit to his rule or not. The liturgy puts it this way. It says, “Today we recall how he left this earth and returned to his Father, ascending into heaven to take his throne over all dominions and powers.” And then it adds that we are “Trusting in his reign over all creation and submitting to his kingly yet loving rule.” That is what we celebrate today, that Jesus is Lord and everything else is not, and we remind ourselves today that because he is King, we are called to trust in his reign and submit to his rule. Faith and works. Trust and submit.

But I found myself reflecting this week on the “why” question as it relates to Ascension Day. My kids always want to know why something is, and they don’t seem to take “because I said so” as a good enough reason. But I’m happy to hear them ask that question because when we are asking why something is, we’re seeking to understand. Now I’ll admit upfront that sometimes asking “why” in theology can be a dangerous question. That doesn’t mean that it’s a bad question, but it does mean that we should be careful. For example, have you ever asked yourself why Jesus’ death on the cross paid the price for sin for humanity? The answer, of course, is that God ordained it to be so. When the Witch in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe begins to inform Aslan about the Deep Magic, he says, “Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written.” Aslan says even later when explaining what had happened. “It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.”

The point is that whatever system

that demanded death for sin and made the death of a righteous person the means

for undoing all sin and death is a system that God put in place, and when we

ask why, why it had to be this way, we are on very dangerous ground for we are

looking back into the stillness and darkness before dawn of time. But what if

we ask why Jesus had to ascend? Surely, it would have been easier to convince

the world that Jesus was the world’s risen Lord if he could walk around showing

people his hands and feet and letting them see the holes. Surely it would have

made this entire process of evangelization and the spre

A Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, May 26, 2019

Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

There is a city coming down from heaven. John calls it “the holy city Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:10). It’s important to remember where we are in the book, but it’s also important to remember that this book is always symbolic. The moment you think John is writing what you’d see with the record video feature of your iPhone is the moment you’re reading of Revelation has gone askew. As for where we are in the book, in chapter 20, the chapter just prior to our reading, appears to be the beginning of the end of the story. The books are open. The sea, Hades, and Death give up their dead, which should probably be the first clue that this text is symbolic, and there is judgment. In stubborn refusal to conform to the theology of the Reformation, according to chapter twenty verse thirteen, the people are judged by what they had done. Death and Hades themselves are then thrown into the Lake of Fire as well as anyone whose name is not written in the Book of Life.

Then, in chapter 21, John says that he saw a new heavens and a new earth, the new creation, for the first heaven and first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And coming down out of heaven is the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And it’s that bride language that is most interesting. Remember John’s hearing and seeing formula, where he hears one thing and then sees another, and the two symbols interpret each other? Our reading starts in verse 10, but if we back up one verse, this is what John says, “Then came one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues and spoke to me, saying, ‘Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.’ And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:9–10).

The reason this is interesting is

that we know who the bride of the Lamb is. The bride of Christ in the New

Testament is always the church, so what does it mean that this city that comes

down out of heaven to the new creation is the bride of the lamb, the church?

Could it be, and right now I want you to set aside everything that you think

about how the story ends in Revelation, and could it be that this text is not

about only about the future, but about the present too, about the church today

too?

I know, at first glance, that

probably seems crazy. Death and Hades have given up their dead. Everyone has

been judged, and those whose names weren’t found in the Book of Life have been

thrown into the Lake of Fire. The new creation has come. As John says in

Revelation 21:5, “God is making all things new.” Wait… “is making”? Present

tense? Hasn’t he made all things new by this point?

The city is said to be a perfect cube, 12,000 stadia in its length, width, and height, and of course, this is another clue. The Holy of Holies was a perfect cube, and it was the Holy of Holies where the Spirit of God dwelt with his people. But in the New Testament, since Pentecost, the church is the place where the Spirit of God dwells with his people. The church is the Holy of Holies, and so the city is a perfect cube.

John says of the city that where was no temple in it, and there is no physical Temple in the church. Then he says, “By its light will the nations walk (what nations?), and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it (what kings?), and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations (but everyone has been judged?). But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life” (Rev 21:24–27). That’s a strange thing to say when everyone who does those things is burning in the lake of fire.

A Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, May 26, 2019

Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

There is a city coming down from heaven. John calls it “the holy city Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:10). It’s important to remember where we are in the book, but it’s also important to remember that this book is always symbolic. The moment you think John is writing what you’d see with the record video feature of your iPhone is the moment you’re reading of Revelation has gone askew. As for where we are in the book, in chapter 20, the chapter just prior to our reading, appears to be the beginning of the end of the story. The books are open. The sea, Hades, and Death give up their dead, which should probably be the first clue that this text is symbolic, and there is judgment. In stubborn refusal to conform to the theology of the Reformation, according to chapter twenty verse thirteen, the people are judged by what they had done. Death and Hades themselves are then thrown into the Lake of Fire as well as anyone whose name is not written in the Book of Life.

Then, in chapter 21, John says that he saw a new heavens and a new earth, the new creation, for the first heaven and first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And coming down out of heaven is the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And it’s that bride language that is most interesting. Remember John’s hearing and seeing formula, where he hears one thing and then sees another, and the two symbols interpret each other? Our reading starts in verse 10, but if we back up one verse, this is what John says, “Then came one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues and spoke to me, saying, ‘Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.’ And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:9–10).

The reason this is interesting is

that we know who the bride of the Lamb is. The bride of Christ in the New

Testament is always the church, so what does it mean that this city that comes

down out of heaven to the new creation is the bride of the lamb, the church?

Could it be, and right now I want you to set aside everything that you think

about how the story ends in Revelation, and could it be that this text is not

about only about the future, but about the present too, about the church today

too?

I know, at first glance, that

probably seems crazy. Death and Hades have given up their dead. Everyone has

been judged, and those whose names weren’t found in the Book of Life have been

thrown into the Lake of Fire. The new creation has come. As John says in

Revelation 21:5, “God is making all things new.” Wait… “is making”? Present

tense? Hasn’t he made all things new by this point?

The city is said to be a perfect cube, 12,000 stadia in its length, width, and height, and of course, this is another clue. The Holy of Holies was a perfect cube, and it was the Holy of Holies where the Spirit of God dwelt with his people. But in the New Testament, since Pentecost, the church is the place where the Spirit of God dwells with his people. The church is the Holy of Holies, and so the city is a perfect cube.

John says of the city that where was no temple in it, and there is no physical Temple in the church. Then he says, “By its light will the nations walk (what nations?), and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it (what kings?), and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations (but everyone has been judged?). But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life” (Rev 21:24–27). That’s a strange thing to say when everyone who does those things is burning in the lake of fire.

The Feast of St. Dunstan, May 19, 2019

Today we celebrate the patronal

festival of our church as we celebrate St. Dunstan. Technically, I think we

aren’t supposed to be doing what we’re doing today. You don’t typically

supplant the readings from any Sunday in Advent, Lent, or Easter with any other

feast day. But on this particular year though, St. Dunstan’s feast day, May 19th,

falls on a Sunday, so I thought we should celebrate it today rather than

waiting until after Easter. For years to come, however, while our pastoral

festival should be part of our annual cycle of Sunday celebrations, we’ll celebrate

St. Dunstan and make sure that we aren’t violating any of the rubrics along the

way.

So, the question that comes to my

mind this morning is this: What’s in a name? When we went to name our kids, the

answers came easily. Anna is Anna Elizabeth Strachan because Anna was

Michelle’s grandmother’s name and Elizabeth is her mother’s name and Michelle’s

middle name. It’s a happy coincidence that my grandmother was also named Anna,

but, as Michelle will tell you, it is just a coincidence. With Joshua, Michelle

let me pick the name, and I wanted to name my son after the two people whose

thought and lives I had studied the most, namely Jesus and Paul. Except when I

suggested Jesus Paul Strachan, that name was quickly vetoed. But since Joshua

and Jesus are the same name in Hebrew and in Greek, we found our compromise.

We chose our children’s names because the names meant something to use but not necessarily because of what the names mean. And it might be easy to simply dismiss the idea that someone’s name could have some directional or defining value in someone’s life, except we’ve all heard someone say “Oh, he’s such a Michael,” or “he’s such a…” and you can fill in the name, and often times we have a pretty good idea of what the person means. In Jesus’ case, for example, his name means something: Yahweh saves; and the Bible is replete with individuals whose names, given to them at birth, meant something and were in some way determinative of their story or character. One of my personal favorites is the name Maher-shalal-hash-baz from Isaiah 8, which the NASB translates to mean “Swift is the booty, speedy is the prey.” And if you don’t believe me, you can look it up later.

So again, what’s in a name? What

does it mean that we are St. Dunstan’s Anglican Church? I think it’s worth

noting that this community has had “St. Dunstan’s” in its name longer than it

has had the word Anglican in its name, so I think it would be fair to suggest

then that if there are certain things that we can borrow from Saint Dunstan or embody,

we would be better for it.

And the place where I want to start

is with that face that Saint Dunstan was Archbishop of Canterbury, and this was

before there was such a thing as the Anglican Communion. He was part of the

Catholic Church in England, so he is an example for us of what it means to

express the catholic faith through the English tradition, and it was this

tradition that became the Anglican Communion at the time of the Reformation.

Today the Anglican Communion is the third largest Christian denomination in the world behind Orthodox and Roman Catholics, and to be Anglican means something. We bear the name of one of the most famous saints in the English church and one of its most famous Archbishop, and this suggests for me that whatever we’re going to be for the next five, ten, or twenty years, we must be distinctly Anglican. We’re not Roman Catholics. We’re not a part of the Orthodox church. We’re not Baptist or Presbyterians or Ev-Free. We’re Anglicans, but of course, what it means to be Anglican today is a much-discussed topic, but Saint Dunstan reminds me that perhaps the answer to the question “What is Anglican?” is to be found as much in the past as it is in our present mess. That doesn’t mean that we’re going back to the 1662 Prayer Books, which is still the official prayer of the Anglic

The Feast of St. Dunstan, May 19, 2019

Today we celebrate the patronal

festival of our church as we celebrate St. Dunstan. Technically, I think we

aren’t supposed to be doing what we’re doing today. You don’t typically

supplant the readings from any Sunday in Advent, Lent, or Easter with any other

feast day. But on this particular year though, St. Dunstan’s feast day, May 19th,

falls on a Sunday, so I thought we should celebrate it today rather than

waiting until after Easter. For years to come, however, while our pastoral

festival should be part of our annual cycle of Sunday celebrations, we’ll celebrate

St. Dunstan and make sure that we aren’t violating any of the rubrics along the

way.

So, the question that comes to my

mind this morning is this: What’s in a name? When we went to name our kids, the

answers came easily. Anna is Anna Elizabeth Strachan because Anna was

Michelle’s grandmother’s name and Elizabeth is her mother’s name and Michelle’s

middle name. It’s a happy coincidence that my grandmother was also named Anna,

but, as Michelle will tell you, it is just a coincidence. With Joshua, Michelle

let me pick the name, and I wanted to name my son after the two people whose

thought and lives I had studied the most, namely Jesus and Paul. Except when I

suggested Jesus Paul Strachan, that name was quickly vetoed. But since Joshua

and Jesus are the same name in Hebrew and in Greek, we found our compromise.

We chose our children’s names because the names meant something to use but not necessarily because of what the names mean. And it might be easy to simply dismiss the idea that someone’s name could have some directional or defining value in someone’s life, except we’ve all heard someone say “Oh, he’s such a Michael,” or “he’s such a…” and you can fill in the name, and often times we have a pretty good idea of what the person means. In Jesus’ case, for example, his name means something: Yahweh saves; and the Bible is replete with individuals whose names, given to them at birth, meant something and were in some way determinative of their story or character. One of my personal favorites is the name Maher-shalal-hash-baz from Isaiah 8, which the NASB translates to mean “Swift is the booty, speedy is the prey.” And if you don’t believe me, you can look it up later.

So again, what’s in a name? What

does it mean that we are St. Dunstan’s Anglican Church? I think it’s worth

noting that this community has had “St. Dunstan’s” in its name longer than it

has had the word Anglican in its name, so I think it would be fair to suggest

then that if there are certain things that we can borrow from Saint Dunstan or embody,

we would be better for it.

And the place where I want to start

is with that face that Saint Dunstan was Archbishop of Canterbury, and this was

before there was such a thing as the Anglican Communion. He was part of the

Catholic Church in England, so he is an example for us of what it means to

express the catholic faith through the English tradition, and it was this

tradition that became the Anglican Communion at the time of the Reformation.

Today the Anglican Communion is the third largest Christian denomination in the world behind Orthodox and Roman Catholics, and to be Anglican means something. We bear the name of one of the most famous saints in the English church and one of its most famous Archbishop, and this suggests for me that whatever we’re going to be for the next five, ten, or twenty years, we must be distinctly Anglican. We’re not Roman Catholics. We’re not a part of the Orthodox church. We’re not Baptist or Presbyterians or Ev-Free. We’re Anglicans, but of course, what it means to be Anglican today is a much-discussed topic, but Saint Dunstan reminds me that perhaps the answer to the question “What is Anglican?” is to be found as much in the past as it is in our present mess. That doesn’t mean that we’re going back to the 1662 Prayer Books, which is still the official prayer of the Anglic

Fr. Michael’s sermon from the fourth Sunday of Easter

The post The Shepherd of the 144,000 appeared first on St. Dunstan's Anglican Church.

Fr. Michael’s sermon from the fourth Sunday of Easter

The post The Shepherd of the 144,000 appeared first on St. Dunstan's Anglican Church.

A Sermon for the Third Sunday of

Easter, May 5, 2019

St. Dunstan’s Anglican Church,

Largo, FL

The Very Rev. J. Michael Strachan

Revelation 5:11-14

I want to talk this morning about

the book of Revelation. There’s always a bit of danger in this for a few

reasons. First, American Christianity has gotten so off course when it comes to

its eschatology and how to interpret the book of Revelation that at times it

can feel like, to take one step forward, you need to take ten steps backward

first and correct all the missteps. I don’t intend to spend a lot of time

backtracking this morning, so we’ll try and keep it simple, but suffice it to say

that the success of the Left Behind books and movies shows just how off track

the American church is in its thinking about eschatology. Second, the book

itself is extremely difficult to interpret, and some of the greatest Christian

commentators of all time, perhaps most notably John Calvin, decided to take a

pass instead of trying to write a commentary on this difficult book.

So, one, most of what American

Christianity believes about the end times is just wrong, and two, that’s at

least in part because the book of Revelation is incredibly difficult to

interpret and understand. And part of the reason it is so difficult to

interpret and understand is that it’s a book written in code. I watched that

movie The Imagination Game a while

back, and it tells the story of Alan Turing, who was able to crack the code of

the Nazi’s Enigma machine and help end World War II. Reading Revelation is not the

same thing, but it’s similar.

Everything John writes is written

in code. Most of the code isn’t as complex as the Enigma machine, but still,

it’s written in code, and the one thing you can’t do when you have a message

written in code is take it literally. The second you take what you’re reading

literally and forget that it’s been written in code, the game is over, and

you’ve lost. Everything is written in code. Everything is symbolic. You almost

have to repeat it to yourself over and over as you read this book because it’s

so easy to fall into the trap of literalism.

With all of that in mind, let’s

look at Revelation 5 this morning. By Revelation chapter 5 John has already

introduced his book, inserted the seven letters to the seven churches that give

them some instruction for the present time, and then at the start of chapter

four, his vision turns to the heavenly throne room. What John sees, which is a

vision in two parts, is something like the events in heaven right at the time

of the ascension. Chapter four describes the general worship of creation which

has been going on since the foundation of the world. The four living creatures

and the twenty-four elders, representing all created things and all rule and

authority on earth, worship God forever saying, ‘Worthy are you, our Lord and

God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by

your will they existed and were created’” (Rev 4:11).

This vision is the normal order of

the world. John sees in an encoded vision what’s going on in heaven while the

world seems to be in chaos below. Much of this imagery is drawn from the book

of Daniel, and you’ll remember that in Daniel 7 the four beasts come up out of

the chaotic sea to cause problems on earth. In contrast, in heaven, the sea is

flat like glass, because all is calm, and instead of four beasts causing

problems we get four living creatures who continually praise God forever. There

is order in heaven even if there is disorder down below.  

But the problem is this: the order

in heaven of its own can’t fix the disorder down here. Something has to happen.

Creation needs to be brought back into its proper order, and so, as we turn to

chapter five, we find the solution. There is a scroll, something like the

charter deed of creation, that has the plan to fix and new the world. To take

the scroll though, someone has to be worthy, like someone taking the Mjoln

A Sermon for the Third Sunday of

Easter, May 5, 2019

St. Dunstan’s Anglican Church,

Largo, FL

The Very Rev. J. Michael Strachan

Revelation 5:11-14

I want to talk this morning about

the book of Revelation. There’s always a bit of danger in this for a few

reasons. First, American Christianity has gotten so off course when it comes to

its eschatology and how to interpret the book of Revelation that at times it

can feel like, to take one step forward, you need to take ten steps backward

first and correct all the missteps. I don’t intend to spend a lot of time

backtracking this morning, so we’ll try and keep it simple, but suffice it to say

that the success of the Left Behind books and movies shows just how off track

the American church is in its thinking about eschatology. Second, the book

itself is extremely difficult to interpret, and some of the greatest Christian

commentators of all time, perhaps most notably John Calvin, decided to take a

pass instead of trying to write a commentary on this difficult book.

So, one, most of what American

Christianity believes about the end times is just wrong, and two, that’s at

least in part because the book of Revelation is incredibly difficult to

interpret and understand. And part of the reason it is so difficult to

interpret and understand is that it’s a book written in code. I watched that

movie The Imagination Game a while

back, and it tells the story of Alan Turing, who was able to crack the code of

the Nazi’s Enigma machine and help end World War II. Reading Revelation is not the

same thing, but it’s similar.

Everything John writes is written

in code. Most of the code isn’t as complex as the Enigma machine, but still,

it’s written in code, and the one thing you can’t do when you have a message

written in code is take it literally. The second you take what you’re reading

literally and forget that it’s been written in code, the game is over, and

you’ve lost. Everything is written in code. Everything is symbolic. You almost

have to repeat it to yourself over and over as you read this book because it’s

so easy to fall into the trap of literalism.

With all of that in mind, let’s

look at Revelation 5 this morning. By Revelation chapter 5 John has already

introduced his book, inserted the seven letters to the seven churches that give

them some instruction for the present time, and then at the start of chapter

four, his vision turns to the heavenly throne room. What John sees, which is a

vision in two parts, is something like the events in heaven right at the time

of the ascension. Chapter four describes the general worship of creation which

has been going on since the foundation of the world. The four living creatures

and the twenty-four elders, representing all created things and all rule and

authority on earth, worship God forever saying, ‘Worthy are you, our Lord and

God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by

your will they existed and were created’” (Rev 4:11).

This vision is the normal order of

the world. John sees in an encoded vision what’s going on in heaven while the

world seems to be in chaos below. Much of this imagery is drawn from the book

of Daniel, and you’ll remember that in Daniel 7 the four beasts come up out of

the chaotic sea to cause problems on earth. In contrast, in heaven, the sea is

flat like glass, because all is calm, and instead of four beasts causing

problems we get four living creatures who continually praise God forever. There

is order in heaven even if there is disorder down below.  

But the problem is this: the order

in heaven of its own can’t fix the disorder down here. Something has to happen.

Creation needs to be brought back into its proper order, and so, as we turn to

chapter five, we find the solution. There is a scroll, something like the

charter deed of creation, that has the plan to fix and new the world. To take

the scroll though, someone has to be worthy, like someone taking the Mjoln