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.
....................................
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)
We are praying fro you guys ... your experiences in Tanzania are ingrained in who you are ... it is not like you are "going back" or "leaving behind." In reality, you are giving back and taking back ... you will never be the same. The love you give and take make separation difficult but I know you and the family are better persons for the exchange.
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