Everything New
Sermon by Rev. Mary Alice Mulligan, Ph.D.
Scripture: Isaiah 66:18-23 and Revelation 21:1-6
John’s vision instills hope. When John paints the scene for us, we feel a joyous confidence in God’s future. Granted the language used to describe the holy city descending onto and taking the place of the old Earth is figurative. The images are confusing – a city adorned like a bride, where there will be no more tears or mourning. Any of us could immediately come up with multiple questions about what that means. Is there no mourning because we forget those we’ve lost or because we are reunited? How can we imagine what such a future is like when John says God promises to make all things new? It would be like if someone stood us in front of a shut door and said the room was full of beautiful things we had never seen before. How could we imagine a room full of contents we had never seen before?
However, if we actually listen to John’s descriptions of what “everything new” will be like, the promise somehow resonates within us. We feel the beauty and excitement of the new Jerusalem descending like a bride ready for her new spouse. The language may be figurative so we cannot nail down the details, but if we allow ourselves to imagine the scene, we grasp a sense of how such loveliness can catch our breath up short. In the new holy city, we will live in joy, with the satisfaction of having what we need to live in wholeness, surrounded by universal well-being. Even when we don’t know everything, we feel the life-affirming promises of the vision, and the vision fills us with hope.
So we actually experience the future. At least in part, we taste what is coming. Sort of like when attending a dinner party, we can make a pretty good prediction about the meal from the appetizers. If a couple baskets of crackers and cans of Cheese-whiz greet us on a side table when we arrive, our expectations for the meal go down. But if a cloth-covered table is spread with trays of 6 different kinds of sliced vegetables and hummus, 4 different cheeses and 3 kinds of crackers, trays of shrimp, chips and fresh guacamole – oh my. Think what dinner might be.
John’s visions point out pieces of God’s future we are already tasting. Wherever those who mourn are comforted; where those who are dying of thirst are offered not just water but the refreshment of care which sustains meaningful life; those are the places we experience God’s future already manifest. Little foretastes, like appetizers of God’s great banquet.
A seminary dean recently said, "If I were asked about today's scenario … I would admit to very little hope for the world as it is today. Except for this: Every day, somewhere, I know there are people doing what needs to be done. Not for themselves, but for others.” We’ve seen them. All around the world, compassionate people are opening their communities to Ukrainian refugees. St. Andrew filled baskets of food last month and gave almost $2000 in over and above offerings to All Faiths Food Bank. And this month the basket is filling up with diapers for Family Promise and the checks are being written. We taste and see God’s future in little moments, all the time, if we are attentive. One scholar called those who are attentive, the advance guard of God’s Realm, because if we notice when those moments happen, we easily find ourselves participating in those experiences, too. Such behaviors, as we see them and taste them and participate in them, absolutely help us sense God’s glorious future.
Then we know God’s victory is assured. Hear the important point? The promised future will come, because God is making it happen. Evil cannot win. John’s vision claims the victory when he states “The sea was no more.” Remember the sea was considered the safe place for chaos and evil forces to dwell. Only Jesus could still the sea when it got to churning, but he only quieted it temporarily then; the sea still existed while Jesus walked the Earth. Then later, in one of John’s early visions in Revelation, even the old heaven contained a sea of glass. So the sea in heaven didn’t churn, but there was still a sea. When the new heaven and the new Earth merge into one, John says the sea is no more. The new Jerusalem is home, where all humanity exists with God, without evil, without crises, without death.
Some of us remember the school and daycare movement some time ago with the tagline, “We don’t say ‘you can’t play.’” These children were learning a new identity which taught them: the people we are, are people who do not ignore the concerns of others. We don’t say, “I don’t care about you.” Or “You aren’t important.” Sounds impossible to get children not to say, “You can’t play.” But various programs were successful.
So, what about for adults. Could we get to a place where we don’t say, “I hate those people?” Or even bigger, could the whole Earth get to a place where we take care of each other? Where those promises from God of no mourning, no suffering are manifest; where all life feels new? There is only one way for such bliss to happen and that’s if God brings a new creation down to replace the old heaven and Earth. The power for new creation must be from God, whose home is already with us, even though we don’t live in God’s new creation fully yet. It has to be God who assures our victorious future.
The Book of Revelation was written as an encouragement for Christians during times of dire threat, but the words are still meaningful for us in the 21st century. In the midst of our own hardships and worrisome situations in life, God’s promises erupt with hope among us. The Ruler of the Universe is intimately connected to each of us, loves each of us beyond measure. We can sense it happening around us now. A new creation will come. Our current life is held in God’s hands. And we can be certain, our eternal future is secure because God’s love is infinitely powerful, creating new life among us now, and promising more than we can imagine in God’s amazing future.