The End of the Sea

Five years ago when we started the process of moving from our home in Ohio to our new life in East Africa, we were quick to realize the difficulty in the transition. But among the painful experiences necessary for our relocation, (selling our home, transitioning employment, fundraising, and finding homes for our pets), the most trying part of moving across the world was the physical act of leaving our friends and family behind. 

Naturally then, you would think that as we prepare to move back to the U.S. at the end of this year, the greatest joy would be in reuniting with those folks. And while that is certainly true, it’s also not that simple. Not only because those relationships have changed in the last several years, but also because we’ve developed so many new ones on this side of the world. Whereas we grieved our stateside relationships 5 years ago, we are now beginning to grieve what will be the loss of our relationships here in Tanzania. No matter where we go, we’re forced to say goodbye to someone.

And as we continue to process that paradox as a family, a specific text of scripture keeps reappearing in my life: 

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelations 21:1-4)

I don’t think, as so often we’ve understood, that the book of Revelations was intended to scare us away from hell. I don’t think it was written, as can be said about the Bible as a whole, to push us into a life of fear at the hands of an angry God. I certainly don’t think it was ever intended to be used as the subject of innumerable corny Christian movies. 

Pieces of apocalyptic literature, which is what the book of Revelations is, do however paint broad pictures of a final destiny for mankind. And if you scrape past the details of flaming lakes and fiery dragons, you’ll stumble upon an actual message of hope. I think often we wrap ourselves up in the details and try to spend our time deciphering each minute piece of the narrative. The reality is that the medium itself is the message. The details may be wild and ripe for speculation, but it’s the core message underneath that really matters. Read the text again:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelations 21:1-4)

I may never understand the full complexities of all the analogies, metaphors, and images presented in the book of Revelations, but I can understand passages like this one. I can appreciate and connect with words that paint a picture of a God who understands, sympathizes, and feels our pain. A picture of a God who’s calling out, “One day I will bring an end to your suffering and recreate everything again, newly free from pain and absent of mourning.” 

That is a beautiful and profound thought. But it’s not where my mind keeps focusing. Instead, I keep coming back to the end of the first line, “…and there was no longer any sea.”

Why? Why bring an end to a body of water? What’s wrong with the sea? I can understand removing death. It makes sense to get rid of pain and mourning. But who doesn’t like the sea? Most people I know like the ocean. Personally I’m a big fan of rivers, ponds, lakes, gulfs, and streams. Why then are we going to eradicate them? 

I’m actually a scuba diver. I’ve got a little card that says I’m certified to strap a giant tank to my back and go underwater for extended periods of time. I can speak firsthand of the wonders and miracles of life that exist in the sea. God created these vast stretches of life-giving water, so why remove them?

The author of the book of Revelations is a man named John. An early follower of Christ, John found himself the subject of persecution at the hands of folks who didn’t embrace the message that Christ had brought and that was now expanding in the areas around the Mediterranean Sea.  But unlike other early messengers of this new hope, John’s persecution did not take the form of martyrdom. In fact, John is believed to have lived a long life. 

Unfortunately for John, a significant portion of that life took place during his exile on the island of Patmos. Patmos is about 13 square miles. It has almost no vegetation and is volcanic in origin. Quite simply, during John’s life, it was a rocky and barren place. It was here that John was banished for his beliefs. 

When John woke up each morning and peered off towards the horizon, he was surrounded by water. And it was that water that separated him from everything and everyone that he had ever loved. The sea kept him from the embrace of a family member or the touch of a friend. That vast expanse of water kept him alone and isolated, a physical wall separating him from the physical presence of his loved ones. 

So when I read Revelation, I do so thinking about a lonely man trapped on an island. And when I read that there will be no more sea, I understand why. That isolated man is describing his own hopes for the future. He’s envisioning a world where loneliness and isolation don’t exist. There will no longer be anything separating us from the love of one another. 

When John penned what would become the book of Revelation, I believe he was writing out of the great longings of his own heart. Hopes that someday death will be abolished, mourning will cease to exist, and all of the pain of this world will pass. One day, there will be no more seas separating us from that which we love.

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My problem is not the same as John’s. I carry with me my wife and my children. On this side of the world I have friends, colleagues, and folks who are committed to walking alongside me as we work together to care for the lives of those to which we’ve been entrusted. And on the other side of the world, when we return to the U.S., I have friends waiting. I have brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, and grandparents anxious for us to be physically close once again.  

  

Even so, no matter where we go, there will always be a sea separating us from a group of people that we love. 

For now. 

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes...There will be no more death...There will be no more crying or pain."

In the meantime, we rest our hope not in the physical relationships that ebb and flow in this lifetime, but in an unchanging bond with the Most High. We dwell in a relationship that knows no separation, 

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-29 NIV)