Worship: Arise in the Presence of God

Our series so far: Pause, Repent and now, Arise.

In my thirtieth year, in the fourth month on the fifth day, while I was among the exiles by the Kebar River, the heavens were opened and I saw visions of God... 

Then there came a voice from above the vault over their heads as they stood with lowered wings. Above the vault over their heads was what looked like a throne of lapis lazuli, and high above on the throne was a figure like that of a man. I saw that from what appeared to be his waist up he looked like glowing metal, as if full of fire, and that from there down he looked like fire; and brilliant light surrounded him. Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance around him. 

This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. When I saw it, I fell facedown, and I heard the voice of one speaking. He said to me, “Son of man, stand up on your feet and I will speak to you.” As he spoke, the Spirit came into me and raised me to my feet, and I heard him speaking to me.    Ezekiel 1:1, 25-2:2  (NIV)

Worship, we've established, is about dropping everything to acknowledge the presence of God. However, as we become aware of the presence of God, we also become aware our unworthiness to be in his presence. Ezekiel's experience of God's presence is instructive: when he saw the glory of the Lord, he fell facedown. I think it's the natural experience of the sinner, the knowingly unholy, to the holiness and wonder of God.

We saw Isaiah decrying "woe is me" in the last article in this series, in this post we see Ezekiel falling facedown. It seems to me, we know we are not worthy of God's presence, when God's presence overshadows us. If worship were merely about getting into God's presence, the experience would be over almost as soon as it started. God would show up, we would be undone, the experience would be over.

But as remorseful and repentant as we may be inspired to be in God's presence, in that experience another inspiration germinates shortly thereafter. The Psalmist said, "If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?" Like Isaiah having the coal put to his lips, Ezekiel's experience was also that there was life in God's presence after repentance. God said to Ezekiel, "Stand up!"

Our place before God is not that of the beaten down, the forlorn, or the undone. If that were the case, fellowship, relationship and worship would cease. Imagine a little toddler meeting Grandpa for the first time. Grandpa is strange, and scary, and the little toddler, rather than responding to Grandpa's beckons, hides, cringing behind Mamma's skirt. If things ended there, where would the tea parties, or the riding on shoulders, or playing at the playground with Grandpa be?

God is not interested in merely putting the fear of God in us. He wants us to stand up, so we can look at each other. So he can share stuff with us. So we can relate.

And there is help in the effort. We're told in Ezekiel's case that, "the Spirit came into me and stood me up." I must admit, that as a Pentecostal, I love that part of the story. As we go further into the process of worship, the Spirit blows into our time in God's presence and stands us up so God can share with us.

I'll never apologize, as a Pentecostal shepherd, for making sure my congregation has the time to pursue a course of action in their meetings that at least has the potential of being worshipful. The flock needs an opportunity to pause, to get real in God's presence and face their need to change, to be lifted by the grace of God into his lap, as it were. They have not come together to listen to good music or to complain about music that isn't liked. They're not there to go through the motions of worship, almost liturgically, as if somehow the sequence of actions taken was sufficient just because they were taken.

When we come together to worship we do so to acknowledge the presence God, to let that presence be our undoing, and to let that presence stand us up thereafter to interact with God. When we worship, we may fall down, but God will call us to arise before him.

Worship: The Repentance Threshold

In the noted passage below, the prophet Isaiah finds himself in the very presence of God. His experience is an analog for what we've been discussing starting with the last post concerning worship, so let's look into it...

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.” At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

“Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”     Isaiah 6:1-7  (NIV)

I said in my last article that we must stop everything we're doing and know that God is in order to worship. When we let this faith perspective predominate our thoughts and action, let it consume every other concern, we find ourselves becoming very aware of God's presence. As we recognize and acknowledge God's presence by faith, our awareness of him clarifies and the light and glory of God shines upon the heart and mind of the worshipper. The worshipper, in effect, "sees" God in a fashion analogous to Isaiah's.

In the light of God's presence, the worshipper "sees" God, but that light also shines revealingly on the worshipper. He or she becomes aware of God, but consequently also becomes aware of his or her own shortcomings, flaws, and sinfulness. The light of God reveals God, but also brings into stark contrast the darkness and shadows of the human soul. In that circumstance, Isaiah's cry was, "Woe is me!"

There is nothing that so reveals the heart as the mouth. Jesus said that every empty word that spills out of it was bound to be judged. In God's presence, the reality of this, I think, struck Isaiah where he stood and became his undoing. How could a man of unclean lips hope to survive in the presence of God, the "holy, holy, holy"?

Our response is much the same as we come into the presence of God in worship. We're not only God aware, but in the glaring light of his glory we are self-aware as well. Our every failing and fault is illumined and we're struck by how much we're truly at odds with God, unlike him and unworthy of him. Our hearts melt at the contrast. All that one can do in the face of such a crushing revelation is to decry one's unworthiness with remorse.

In God's presence, we see the absolute wonder of God but we also see by that light all that's ungodly about ourselves. Godly excitement turns into godly sorrow. It would be depressing if that was all the further it went. In the light of God Isaiah was undone, but not done, and neither are we though we may fall crumpled in his presence.

Our sorrow, our regret and remorse do not carry the day. Just as the angel told Isaiah, "Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for," so do we have a token of assurance of redemption and reconciliation. Despite all that we are and all we are not, we're touched by the grace of God and remain in the light of God's presence just as Isaiah did. The awareness of sinfulness was not the cue to drop the staff and woosh away the sinner like a bad act in a vaudeville show.

There is in God's presence a grace that can deal with what ails us. A grace that can take the stains upon us and wash them away, and allow us to stay, welcomed and accepted in the very presence of God. The awareness of weakness, of failure, of sinfulness is never comfortable, particularly in the glaring light of God's goodness, but it is therapeutic. Instead of being swept under the carpet to fester, our sinfulness and weakness is brought out in the light, recanted, and then swept away.

When we pause to recognize God's presence, and by faith become absorbed in the reality of his existence, we will find not only the thrill of seeing God but the agony of seeing ourselves by his light. Our wonder turns into discomfort. That is no reason to avoid his presence, though that might seem easier or more preferable to the flesh. As wonder turns to discomfort, so discomfort turns into joy when we allow our transparence in his presence to be touched by his fire.

It is my conviction that we cannot grow apart from this experience, certainly not to the depths God would have us to. The experience of God's presence in worship changes us like the experience of God's presence changed Isaiah, so long as we are willing to step across the repentance threshold. So pause to recognize God, embrace the painful conviction that may well ensue, acknowledge the ruin of your waywardness, and God will cleanse you and leave you standing before him afterward, ready to be spoken to.

Worship: The Sabbath Principle

With this article we begin a series on the topic of worship. By the end of the series, the reader should not only understand what true worship is, but will also know how to enter into it, so that we all might be those worshippers which God seeks--those who worship in spirit and truth.

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.  Psalm 46:10-11 (NIV)

How is it that the faithful are to worship? As we explore various aspects of that question over the next several posts, we will discover that the Bible has a rich and detailed answer for us. In this post, we will concentrate on what we can learn from the text above. Namely, that at its foundation, worship is about a pause, which I'll call the Sabbath principle.

Ensconced throughout the Bible is the principle of Sabbath. It is a principle which concerns rest, that is a cessation from work and effort. At its heart it is a recognition principle: an opportunity to stop and smell the roses, as it were. Part of God's framework for successful, righteous living is the principle of stopping and realizing the wonder of God the Creator and Sovereign Lord.

The practice of Sabbath has been associated with the act of worship through thousands of years of biblical history. Given what I just said above, I think the connection is a valid one. At its most basic, worship is about pausing to recognize God with us. Throughout the New Testament church age, the Sabbath principle has been applied to our existence as believers, even though we no longer are obligated to a certain kind of cessation on a certain day. We may no longer operate under the Law of Sabbath, but we still practice the principle of Sabbath, and it's a principle of worship.

In the biblical text quoted above, a connection between rest and worship, or exaltation, is made, which, I think, clarifies the principle in question for the faithful. The verses just prior to those cited draw a distinction between the solace of God and the turmoil of the world. In the midst of the turmoil that is life, pause is necessary for those who take refuge in God to worship: they must be be still and know God. If there is no pause, the likelihood is that there will be no worship. 

As we live, the exigencies, the pleasures, and even the disappointments of life put anything not germane to them on the back burner. Anything else is, in effect, all but ignored. God will be one of the casualties of our squeaky wheel existence without some concerted, disciplined effort to pay attention to that which doesn't squeak. The text above gets to the heart of the matter--we need to be still and find solace in God's existence.

The phrase "be still" is actually a translation of a single word which literally means "cease," "drop what you're doing." It is a command to stop our planning and conjecturing, stop our efforts of heart and mind and hand, stop the machinations, ruminations, and fascinations. Just stop it!
But not stop just for stopping sake. That may qualify as a legalistic principle, but it would be a mistake to think it was the Sabbath principle. Everyone may need a day off, but that, too, fails to live up to the Sabbath principle. We must stop, but we stop with a purpose, not so much to smell the roses as to recognize the rose's maker.

At its core, this is a faith perspective. Faith starts with the assumption of God's existence and his ability and willingness to bless us. Since worship starts with the acknowledgment of God's existence, worship starts with faith. Without such faith, one cannot worship. So, we must stop everything we're doing and know that God is.

When we let that faith perspective predominate our thoughts and actions, let it consume every other concern, then we're ready to begin worshipping. Until then, the best that could be accomplished would be nothing but going through the motions. Worship hasn't begun until we've stopped. What that might say about what you do in church in the name of worship is something that should be thought long and hard about!

But thoughts of corporate worship aside, this, at its heart, is a personal thing. It's not knowing that "he" is God (second person), but knowing that "I" am God (first person). Worship is a personal interaction with God. It begins with a cessation of effort in which the mind and heart are enveloped in the acknowledgement of God's presence in a personally relational context.

If we don't stop ourselves, and pause to look at God in a personal way we don't worship. If we don't stop and pause to look at God personally, we are not the worshippers God seeks.

To worship is to pause and see God personally.

The Sign of the End

What could possibly signal the end of the world? The only clearly discernible sign that Jesus gave his disciples was the Abomination spoken of by Daniel. Earthquakes, famines, wars, and even the fulfillment of the Great Commission are all signs Jesus cited, but they all lack the precision of Daniel's sign. When an event which occurs repetitively in a series, or is the accumulation of a running total, how can we know if any particular occurrence or addition was the last one without some telling detail?

For instance, what marks the conclusion of the Great Commission? Is it possible to discern when the last one who needs to be reached in order for it to be completed has been reached? The Abomination of Desolation, in contrast, is well defined, and even though occurring twice, is distinctive enough not to be confused between one occurrence and the other. Though it has already been modeled for us, as it was for Christ, by Antiochus Epiphanes, there will be no way to miss its ultimate fulfillment in the days of the Antichrist.

The description of this event, as recorded in Daniel 11, starts with the advent of Antiochus Epiphanes at verse 21, but ends with the actions of the Antichrist starting with verse 36 and moving into chapter 12. In effect, the actual, specific occurrence of the Abomination of Desolation (v. 31) is the fulcrum of a prophetic teeter-totter. On one end is the antetype, Antiochus Epiphanes, and how he relates to the prophecy. On the other end, is the antitype, the Antichrist and how he relates to the prophecy, and the middle references both of their involvements.

It's almost as if Daniel 11 was a preview trailer tracking at normal historical speed until the fulcrum was reached. At that point the reel was fast-forwarded until the time of its secondary and ultimate fulfillment occurred, then normal speed resumed. If that sounds a bit stretched to you, I understand your reticence. However, Jesus said there was still life in the prophecy, despite being fully familiar with the history of Antiochus, the Maccabees, and the battles between the Ptolemies and Seleucids. It seems to me, to understand something of this nature one has to invoke the concept of dual fulfillment.

John, the Revelator, saw the same event from the isle of Patmos millenia before its ultimate fulfillment. Strangely enough, even his insight was presaged by antetype within the Book of Daniel. God must have wanted to get the point across unmistakably to repeat it so many times from so many different vantage points. No wonder when asked what would be the sign of the end, Jesus said this would be it, and yet we still seem, by and large, to be in the dark about what definitively signals the end.

Israel Proves Who God Is

I find Israel absolutely amazing: not the geographical location (I've never been there and have never wanted to go), but the people. It's not that their customs or their cooking are interesting to me in the least, but I find the bare fact of their existence just astonishing! Just by surviving, thriving, and eventually arriving back in their homeland, Israel has proved itself the most unusual of nations. That they are not relegated to the realm of myth and fable is mindboggling.

Let's review what they've been through: there has been seven attempts by world powers to annihilate, dispossess or exterminate this people throughout human history. These were not attempts by nasty tribal neighbors (as in the book of Judges or as in pogroms in the Diaspora), but by cream-of-the-crop, world-class empires, amongst the mightiest of their day. Yet, despite slavery, murder, pillage, rape, deportation, dispersion, and attempts at assimilation by the strongest in the heavy weight division, Israel survived as a people. A notable feat on its own, certainly, but Israel transcended mere survival and returned to their homeland as a nation after thousands of years away.

Imagine the U.S. or any nation surviving such a history. Despite Paul Revere and the Raiders' sentiment in song, there's no way I could see the Cherokee Nation returning even after one such brush with genocide and ethnic cleansing. Why did Israel come back from the dead seven times? Well apart from numerological concerns, the answer, the only answer is divine intervention.

Nature points, it seems to me, to the existence of a Creator. Given its remarkable history, Israel has to be a sign of who that Creator is. If we're at all perceptive, we'd have to see that the Creator is not the god(s) of the Hindus, the Buddhists, the animists, the pagans, and certainly not the Muslims, but the God of Israel. For Israel itself is a sign from God that proves that Yahweh, the God of Israel, is God, and that he is God alone.

A Letter to the Satisfied Church

There is little that could be seen as positive in Jesus' message to the church at Laodicea. The indifference he saw there, ultimately toward himself, was a deal breaker. Really, the only positive note sounded was that the litany of rebuke directed at the Laodicean Christians was motivated by love. They were not being written off, but were being warned about what could happen if they did not repent.

The indifference of the Laodicean Christians is alluded to metaphorically in terms of the [water] temperature their deeds betrayed. Significant, perhaps, in directing this criticism at the Laodiceans in particular, was the well known sources of hot (Heiropolis/Pamukkale) and cold (Colossae/Honaz) water a short distance to the north and southeast of the city. Whereas there were good, obvious uses for hot or cold water, tepid water was all but useless, as the Laodiceans could well attest. In calling these Christians lukewarm, Jesus was indicting their uselessness which resulted from their indifference toward him.

How did they get to be in such a careless state? The reason implied in the message was that their satisfaction with earthly wealth had blinded them to their spiritual poverty. Laodicea had experienced a devasting earthquake in 60 C.E. and was knocked virtually flat. The wealth of the city was such that its inhabitants rebuilt it without government assistance, recovered relatively quickly and continued their prosperous ways afterward.

It seems the Laodicean church could have been interpreting that history as a sign that they were blessed by God and just fine in his sight. They were mistaken. They did not remember that we cannot serve God and mammon, for if we serve the latter we'll end up despising the former, and be useless to him. As Jesus saw it, they actually wretched, miserable, poor, blind and naked.

Jesus counsels them to come to him and engage with him (i.e. "buy from him") rather than to be satisfied with the bounty they got by their own devices--a rather ironic command considering he just said they were wretched and poor. The gold, garments and salve they were able to procure pursuing their own worldly agenda was actually not a sign of blessing but merely the wallpaper over the pits and cracks of their profound need. Though tangible, the earthy is no substitute for the spiritual, and when one has that aright, there is no need for wallpaper.

I can't help but see, in this letter, a dire warning to the Western Church, first as it existed in Europe and now as it does in America. That church, in large measure, discovered a marketability in the Gospel and has been producing a wealth-generating, product-oriented salve for the guilty consumer for much of its history. Whether depending on a few rituals (e.g. mass, baptism, confession) or a few works (e.g. church attendance, tithing) or just grace, this church sells the convenience of a guilt suppressing palliative, without the necessity of taking up the cross and walking with Christ.

If salt has lost its saltiness it's good for nothing; if living water is not different from the world around it (for instance, in temperature), even it is useless. If those of the Laodicean ilk, useless to Christ, indifferent and thereby in peril, can but open their eyes and remember that they are nothing, and have nothing without Christ, their recovery begins. The world and its riches offer nothing of true value to any of us that we should find it satisfying. Jesus has all we need, and all that is worthy, and he's willing to give that to us if we'll come to him.

So what did Jesus mean by calling himself the beginning of God's creation? The Koine word arche  could refer to a preeminence in time (i.e. "beginning" as in many English translations) or preeminence in rank (i.e. "ruler" as in the NIV). Though "the Beginning" is an important titular designation for Christ in the Revelation, when it is used as such, it is always coupled with "the end", and within the immediate context of the letters the parallel designation, "first and last", is used (on a related note, see this). Given these considerations, and the fact that Christ's authority is the general theme of all his introductions in the letters, I think that "ruler" is the preferred sense in which the word is used here as is attested by the choice of NIV translators.

What I think is undoubtedly not  meant by the use of arche is that Christ was the first creation of God as heretical movements past and present have asserted (e.g. Arianism, Jehovah's Witnesses). Even if it may be that the Son is "eternally generated", he is not created--he is, in fact, part of the nature of the Godhead. God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit, which is what he always was and will be always what he is. There is distinctiveness within the Godhead, but always unity as well, and even though there is no way to tell the divinity of one member apart from the other two, it is always possible to tell their personhood apart.

Despite my earlier statements, there was at least one use for lukewarm water commonly held in the day of John the Revelator. Even today, particularly in home remedies, tepid water can be used as an emetic in conjunction with salt or mustard or a finger to the back of the throat. So it was particularly fitting that Jesus threatened to spew the Laodiceans out of his mouth. When we consider that the word translated spew doesn't mean merely to spit, but instead to vomit, we see the clarity and fittingness with which Christ expressed his disapproval of these folks for their indifference.

"Be zealous and repent" was the response Jesus called for to his rebuke. The word translated zealous (zeleue) means to boil with fervent passion, as in jealousy or desire. That, of course, plays upon his earlier statement that the Laodiceans were neither hot (zestos) nor cold. The issue there was not their temperature but their usefulness: cold water was useful for refreshment, hot water for baths and washing, lukewarm water was good for nothing (except a purgative). In this rebuke Jesus tossed aside the idea of refreshing (cold water) because the Laodiceans did not need refreshment--they needed to be passionate in action (heat).

If there ever was an antithesis to Jesus' key authority, "Behold I stand at the door and knock," would be it! Despite the use of this text in evangelistic tracts and presentations, this text actually has nothing to do with evangelism (an appeal to the unsaved) because it was written to the church. Nonetheless, it does fly in the face of both the concepts of irresistible grace and the perseverance of the saints. After all, Jesus isn't just unlocking the door because he's made an election by predetermination, but he's making an honest invitation for which the implication is that it could be accepted or it could be turned down. 

Those who open that door get to dine with Christ, and those repentant souls who overcome get sit down with Christ on his throne. Truly, his rebukes, even if seemingly harsh, come from love.

A Letter to the Rapture-Ready Church

In the message Jesus sent to the church in Philadelphia, we see one of only two purely positive messages of those he sent to the seven churches. Although the deeds of the Philadelphians are known by him, no correction ensues and no threat follows, only a hopeful promise. Taken together, I think the commendations and rebukes in the Letters to the Churches demonstrate that works do make a difference in how Christ reacts to those who are known by his name. We can infer, thereby, that grace is not something that ignores evidence that reveals that a heart has faith in name only (see James 2:14-26).

For those whose faith is true, Jesus promises to use his key authority to their benefit. He gives a two-fold metric to understand his judgment in the matter: 1) the faithful guard (in the sense that they observe or keep) his word, and 2) the faithful do not deny (disavow or repudiate) his name. In the case of the Philadelphians, both are done in spite of the lack of great ability (dunamis). For the non-charismatic that would probably be taken another way, but for those of us who are charismatic, we could see this as referring to a relative lack of miraculous, spiritual power. Perhaps that is encouraging news to those living in an age where our affirmation for fabulous signs and wonders far outstrips their actual occurrence.

The open door cannot refer to opportunities for gospel work (as so many commentators aver), for that would be a far too pedestrian use of Jesus' keys--particularly since the benefactors experience a lack of power as well as opposition in this world. The open door, therefore, must refer to something in regard to which Christ has unique authority (since none can close what he opens by it). Since these letters have been filled with so many warnings about the things of Christ being closed off to some, context would demand (it seems to me), to see this in regard to all that Christ has been promising by his authority in the midst of these letters. What others written to are shut out from, the Philadelphians are allowed in to.

It is implied in Christ's message to their church, that the faithful Philadelphians were taking some kind of flak from the so-called Synogogue of Satan. That, along with the reference to the Key of David, puts a markedly Jewish spin on this message. That emphasis does not make much sense to me on the basis of anything that occurred in history since the Apocalypse's writing, nor in terms of a framework of historical epochs as some try to apply to these letters. The detail must be significant nonetheless. It is ironic that those of that persuasion (Judaizers, perhaps) were the ones in fact, who will find themselves ostracized by the one who has the Davidic key.

Admittedly, this is an apparent stretch, but this could be referring to a revival of Jewish resistance to the spread of Christianity among the Jews which would occur near the time of the Rapture. We are seeing something akin to that in our own day in the continuing efforts being made in Israel to quell proselytizing among the Jewish population, particularly by Messianic Jews. If so, it will prove to be merely a last ditch effort that will be overwhelmed by the turn of events at the Rapture and God's subsequent redemptive turn toward Israel. I think that could reasonably be described in the terms of the message: "I will make them come and bow down at your feet, and make them know that I have loved you."

Despite that, and whatever other trials they had to get through, the Philadelphians kept Jesus' word of perseverance. The thought conveyed is waiting patiently under command, like the person asked to stay behind for a straggler when the youth group heads out to an event. That Jesus' command to endure (as recorded elsewhere) has eschatological implications cannot be denied--the reference in this letter in conjunction with the promise of escape (rapture) can only underscore the end-times emphasis. What context, other than the end-times, is there for the all-inclusive, global trial mentioned? 

It is very difficult to find a context historically which could have justifiably the description of a "global trial" applied to it. The words used to convey the notion of global testing (tou peirasmou [the testing] and peirasai [to test]) are somewhat ambivalent in meaning. They can refer to temptation (as in an enticement), or to trial (as in an assaying pressure), or to both at the same time. The use of the definite article (tou) is supportive in understanding this phrase as referring to a specific testing or temptation, rather than to testing or temptation in general; i.e. the trial. What is in mind in this message, it seems to me, is a singular kind of testing, the scope and nature of which is such that it will leave no doubt that it is occurring when it does occur.

The test will come upon all the inhabited earth to try those that dwell there. Whereas it is possible to see this as an idiomatic reference to the Roman Empire, I see this more along the lines of a Hebraism (e.g. Exodus 8:21) or just straightforwardly referring to the entire world (as does the word's usage in Acts 17:31 or Hebrews 1:6). The inclusivity of the statement means that anyone on earth at that time will experience the trial, at least in some fashion. One would have to not be living on earth to be kept [out] from such a trial, which I think is the best reading of the promise contained: "I also will keep you from the hour of testing..."

Whereas Chapter 7 of the Apocalypse (and Chapter 12 too) does demonstrate that it is possible to live through the trial on earth protected by God in the midst of it, it also reveals (as does Chapter 12) that for the largest proportion of believers, escape means removal from the scene. 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17 describes the escape in as great a detail as we have in all of scripture. Taken together the picture clarifies. A trial, so significant and singular in nature as to be unmistakable, will come upon the entire earth, but those believers, Philadelphian in character, will be kept from that trial by God taking them out from the earth. Rapture!

It is clear to me that the Church in Philadelphia is ultimately a symbol for the church extant and ready when the end comes with its trial of trials. Since it is my belief that the churches which were sent these messages are contemporaneous and representative of different types of the whole, all the churches will be there at the end. However, it is to the church in Philadelphia--the ready church--that promise rather than warning is issued. Those that embrace the promise of removal and overcome get to be with God always, like pillars in his Temple. But even though the letter to the church in Philadelphia is particularly a message to the end-times Church, its message would have been inspirational to any church at any time being stretched by the need to endure under pressure.

The Keys of Death, Hades and David

The Keys of Death and Hades

He placed His right hand on me, saying, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades."   Revelation 1:17b-18

We use the word key in various ways. It can signify the crucial piece to understanding something or solving a problem. It can merely signify the importance of a thing. It can serve as a figure of affection; for instance, "the key to my heart." It can reference authority, or it can simply be a key, a device that opens a lock.

When it is said that a person holds the key to something the meaning is relatively straight forward. They have the means and therefore the power to unlock what is locked, they exercise control over it. To say that Jesus has the keys to death and Hades is to say that he has the ability to open the door to death and Hades and the power to release those who were locked in behind it. Jesus has authority to release people from death and Hades.

Death is the common fate of all the living. When anything living crosses that threshold, whatever animated its life is lost to its physicality. If that life isn't reinstated quickly it never can be, it's locked up behind death's door. For humans, that impelling, animating something is called a soul, an incorporeal, spiritual essence which carries not only the life force, but the personhood of the human.

Before Christ's ascension, humans souls were locked in Hades (Sheol in Hebrew) upon death. The body turned to dust and the soul was locked in Sheol. There is some thought that Sheol really just meant the grave, but I think Jesus' teaching concerning the rich man and Lazarus completely undermines such thoughts. Jesus envisioned Sheol as a place where dead people were kept self-aware, conscious. Whereas it may have been "restful" for the faithful, Jesus revealed that it was anything but for the unfaithful.

Once in either condition, there was no way out. Death and confinement thereafter in Hades was a one way trip. Jesus, however, overturned the order of all that had gone before and did what no one had done before or since. He entered into death and Hades, and then, of his own accord, he came back. His authority and power over death and Hades was thus neither theoretical nor derivative--it was demonstrative. He went there and came back with captives in tow, that is why he is said to have the keys of death and Hades.

There are not literal keys in Jesus hand, of course, as if he required a tool to open that figurative door. His power is intrinsic to who he is. The keys are merely a figurative way to put the concept into graphical terms. Jesus, the Son of God, has power over life and death, what was irreversible to everyone else is reversible to him. The most impenetrable, intractable wall humanity faces, death and Hades, Jesus had the power to walk right through, and most importantly for us, he has the power to bring others with him.


The Key of David

“And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: ‘The words of the holy one, the true one, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens.'"   Revelation 3:7

The phrase, "the key of David," elicits similar thoughts as did the phrase, "the keys of death and Hades." In both phrases, the word key relies upon the same basic symbolism which refers to the possession of authority. Whereas the first expression has an inherent Jewishness to it, the second is markedly Greek (Gentile). Regardless, what is in focus is an eschatological, teleological authority--the possessor of the keys has authority to affect and effect the end of things.

David, God's choice to rule over Israel, conquered and then established Jerusalem as the capital of all of Israel shortly after he had consolidated his power over all twelve tribes. Thereafter, the city was often referred to as "the City of God" or the equivalent. Why not? The God-appointed king was there and the only tabernacle of God on earth (the Temple) would be. So, to have the Key of David meant having authority over Jerusalem, and by extension, to have authority over God's kingdom (see Isaiah 22:20-22).

The symbolic connection to the New Jerusalem is obvious. The Messianic heir to David (Jesus) is the one in authority over the New Jerusalem. He has the power to let folk in or to keep them out (see Matthew 16:18-19 for an interesting connection and extension). If entry into eternity with God is something one desires, one will have to come to Jesus and get his approval in order to enter. Thankfully, to be coming to him is all that it takes to get it!

Though there is nothing particularly Jewish about Philadelphia, it was in the message to that church that this Jewish nomenclature was used. In the Kingdom of God, neither Jewishness nor Gentileness matter a whit, despite the fact that there is distinctive historical tracks for Israel's redemption and for that of the Gentiles. I don't think much can be read into that, for the new Jerusalem is of infinitely greater import than the original, and it is to that the symbol actually points.

Enabled to Respond

There is no one who does good.
God has looked down from heaven upon the sons of men
To see if there is anyone who understands,
Who seeks after God.
Every one of them has turned aside; together they have become corrupt;
There is no one who does good, not even one.                                  Psalm 53:1b-3 NASB

Such is a biblical description of the depravity of mankind. How can a being so described ever be reconciled to God? Obviously, some kind of gracious intervention by God would be required, but what kind and to what degree?

Suffice it to say, the depraved person is enabled to respond to God with faith as God speaks to him or her. A rewiring of the person is not required at that point, just an interaction with God. When the Spirit of God interacts with a depraved person, that person is, in effect, freed from their natural state of depravity (i.e., their inability to know good and to know God) and given a window of opportunity to respond to God with faith.

This is the most natural reading of the biblical testimony of how mankind has been since the Fall. Whether we look at Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, or the Apostles, the pattern is the same--God spoke to them and they were able to respond. None of them is reported to have been regenerated in order for this to happen, no great re-fabrication of their humanity was ever mentioned; therefore, the implication is that it was not necessary. Only the logical necessity within an extra-biblical theological system (Calvinism) even remotely suggests such a thing, not the text of scripture.

What the scriptures do teach indirectly by example, and directly through the words of Christ is that depraved human beings have no way or means (or desire) to find God by their own self-initiated effort. Even if they could make such efforts unassisted, those efforts could never be effective, for God is not obligated to appear at the summons of a sinner. God is not like a set of misplaced car keys which are found if searched for thoroughly "whether they want to be or not." If he did not make himself findable, available, we would never encounter him.

The truth is, if he didn't draw and woo us by his Spirit, we would never look. And yet, our depravity is not of such a nature that it cannot be overcome by God showing up. His tap on our shoulder is sufficient to give us the power and reason to turn to him, without the necessity of reworking our inner being just in order to do so. The scriptures do not relate the latter occurring anecdotally nor describe such theologically. Embracing such a thought can only muddy the waters and make confusing what isn't.