English

From September 11th to the 4th of Revelation

The images from the week of September 11 are unforgettable: The tears of a red mohawked Berlin punk kneeling before a sidewalk full of flickering candles. The Brandenburg Gate filled with stunned sympathizers seeking to reach across the ocean with comfort. The mass of flowers, gifts, and notes on the American Embassy steps. A church stage full of Americans holding white roses encircled by a supportive church family. These are the powerful images which play in my mind side by side the terrible CNN clips from September 11. They conjure up feelings of horror, awe, anger, confusion, grief, comfort, emptiness, and solidarity. The question which frequents my mind is: "How long, O Lord will this go on?"

Yet while we were still reeling in grief and wonder, many Germans moved on…or so it seemed to us. The sympathy turned to fear. And fear to criticism. Within a matter of weeks, those who offered their heart-felt condolences now wanted political answers. Those who thought action was appropriate on September 11th now criticized America for its actions on October 7th. The questions and comments stung like wasps. Why are the Americans attacking without concrete proof? Isn't America just fighting terror with terror? An attack against Afghanistan won't affect the terrorists, only innocent civilians! How hypocritical - to drop bombs with humanitarian aid? Isn't this just about America protecting its own interests again? Americans have no idea what war really means.

We understood and shared many of the questioning critiques. Especially the admonitions coming from those who remember war's effect on their own land. The inescapable images of war are forever etched on the older generations of Germans and instilled in the younger. The roar of bomber planes overhead. The cold sleepless nights of being rushed to an underground bomb shelter and wondering what morning would bring….or if morning would come. The smell of phosphor from a smoldering city. The sight of rubble piles formerly known as "my" neighborhood. The loss of life, security, and hope. How long, O Lord can this go on? The long-term effects of the Second World War are still seen and felt in Berlin today - most notably in the hearts of Berliners.

We too asked critical questions. What would have happened if the West had not stood up to Hitler's terror? Will the terror stop if America doesn't engage militarily? Will this be another Vietnam? We felt torn between two worlds of criticism. We too wanted answers. So we plunged into the media frenzy to find answers to all our questions and to the criticisms of others. But our quest for information only left us more frustrated, more exhausted, more fearful and more empty. We eventually had to stop. I couldn't stand to look at one more image, digest one more editorial, hear one more hypothesis, or read one more speculative view of how all these events would play out.

Fear drove us to despair. The frustration of unanswered questions drove us to bitterness. We struggled to understand the events for ourselves much less provide helpful insight or explanations for the criticisms of others. How long, O Lord can we go on like this?

Then the Lord reminded me of a biblical image I had forgotten in the midst of this chaos: Revelation 4. The church in the first century had seen the sporadic destruction left by several terror-prone emperors. Nero torched Rome and then used Christians as torches for his evening orgies. Domitian and Trajan randomly persecuted Christians who would not worship them as "Lord and God." After Titus sacked Jerusalem in AD 70, the Jews began oppressing the Christians by portraying them as an illegal sect disloyal to emperor worship. And then there were the massive earthquake and eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD, which left major regions of the Mediterranean begging for assistance from Rome. These graphic images for the first century church were unforgettable. An atmosphere of fear and despair was spreading.

It was in this context that Jesus gives John the Apostle a heavenly image (revelation) in order to put the early church's earthly questions in perspective. "After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven," John writes in Rev. 4:1, and at once he stood in the throne room of God. On the throne he saw someone who had the appearance of jasper and carnelian. Around the throne an emerald colored rainbow. Surrounding the throne 24 white robed golden crowned elders. He could see the power of God displayed in the mighty flashes of lightening and peals of thunder. He could see the compassion of God for his church, for their lamps were still burning bright. He could see the ruling peace of God in the placid sea of glass. And then he heard the natural reaction to God's sovereign image: eternal praise. The praise begins as a quartet, the four living creatures (4:8), then the 24 elders join (4:10), then the myriads of angels follow in the third stanza (5:11) and then finally creation cannot hold its breath any longer as "every living creature" (5:13) sings to the Lamb's praise and glory in fortissimo. It is a two chapter long crescendo of praise.

It is an image I had forgotten amidst the chaos and destruction since September 11th. But notice that Jesus gives John this image BEFORE John sees the calamity on earth. I think the order of these visions is important. The point: the image of God's indescribable beauty, majesty, honor, and power should be the lens through which I see any earthly image. If the images of this world drive me to fear and despair, it probably means I have lost focus of this heavenly assurance.

In addition, then John sees the battle plan of God. Not just in theory, but the reality of it worked out on earth. We will overcome. We are given a seal, a guarantee of the Lord's protection…a place in an eternal kingdom. We are more than conquerors through the finished work of Jesus. How long, O Lord, will you tarry?