Angels in our midst

Reading the Revelation of St. John is always a mind-stretching experience. I used to get really perplexed by it because I thought it mostly had to do with hidden secrets about some far-off "end times." Then I realized two things core to its message: (1) We are now living in the "last times" (Hebrews 1:2; 1 Peter 1:20). (2) It is literally "the revelation of Jesus Christ" (1:1). "Revelation" (Greek apokalupsos) means "unveiling" or taking away a covering so that we can see the truth. In this book we do not see Jesus as a dead historical figure, nor the church as an impotent amalgamation of rejects, nor the powers of the world as ultimate. We are given a glimpse behind the veil of our eyes to embrace reality in faith: Christ is a living King, the church is God's dwelling place on Earth, the saints are a victorious, conquering army, and the forces of evil are the real losers.

One thing that struck me is this: Jesus gives a message through St. John to the "angel" of each of the seven churches in Asia Minor (present-day western Turkey). It occurred to me that these angels are not the "heavenly host" as I once thought they were. After all, it would be very strange for the Son of Man to use a mortal human to mediate his words to the heavenly beings who serve him at his throne. The word "angel" can also just as easily be translated "messenger." To whom, then, is Jesus speaking through John? It is the pastors of the local church bodies! The Chief Shepherd is giving counsel to his designated vice-shepherds (see 1 Peter 5:2, 5).

What importance this has for us! As Protestants we toss about the Reformation doctrine of "the priesthood of all believers" as license to seek our own paths to God or, more likely, simply include our pastor's preaching and counsel as simply one course in the spiritual smorgasbord by which we grow in knowledge and faith. But if these are are, as Christ himself reveals through his Spirit, his very angels and messengers, how much more important do these men become! How much more attentively ought we to heed their preaching as the very voice of Christ to us!* How much more authority do these seemingly weak, worldly men actually wield upon the earth!

So easily do I stuff my sermon notes into the back of my journal, leave them on the desk, or toss them out. It's my daily, personal "quiet time" that counts most, I think. That's where God really speaks to me. Personal study of the Scriptures is invalulable, it's true; but Christ promises his presence in the church. "Where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Even in the Revelation of Jesus as exalted and in holy splendor (1:12-20), he is found nowhere other than standing among his churches.

But there is more: "In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a double-edged sword" (Revelation 1:16). Jesus then tells the apostle, "The mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand and of the seven lampstands is this: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches" (v. 20). In his book Reversed Thunder Eugene Peterson points out that to the ancient Greco-Roman world, the constellations and the seven known planets (or "unfixed stars") were of supreme importance. The constellations represented the pantheon, and the movement of the planets among the Zodiac was believed to determine one's destiny.

Yet Christ holds the stars in his hand! It is not mere stars or planets nor some fickle soap opera of deities which rules the outcome of history. Neither is it Rome nor the Third Reich nor the U.S.A. nor any other political power. It is Jesus Christ who is Lord! And it is his stars--his messengers--which influence the world. It is his lampstands--the churches--which bring light and truth. The work of the church and her pastors cannot be unceremoniously scraped into a pile of impotent failures, all apparent realities to the contrary. It is through the church which Jesus acts: He wields his sword, as Peterson points out, not through the mouth of a gun, but though the mouth of his people bearing his Word to the world.

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*Romans 10:14 highlights that when the message of Christ is preached, we do not merely hear about Christ; we hear Christ himself. "How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher?" (NASB).

Tag, I'm it!

Well, I've been hit--or tagged, that is, by Halfmom. Now I'm supposed to share eight things about myself that few people know. In the name of chain letters and all things of the devil, here they are.

1. I have an extra patella (kneecap) in my left leg. It's tiny, about the size of a dime, and it was discovered at age 14 during an X-ray after I was hit by a car while riding my bike. The doctor said it's believed that about one percent of the U.S. population actually shares this phenomenon.

2. I desire to adopt a child or have a foster child. I think it's such a beautiful expression of gratitude for what my heavenly Father has done for me, who "in love . . . predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved" (Ephesians 1:4-6). I think it's such an amazing thing to give up a normal, easier familial life and sacrificially take in an unwanted child, accept her unconditionally, and shower upon her the love she has never felt. Even this afternoon I was deeply moved when reading this in The Lutheran Witness
magazine (July 2007) about a camp for foster children. "Children in foster care struggle with the impact of past abuse and neglect. In entering out-of-home care, they also experience the loss of established relationships. They may be separated, not only from birth parents, but also from siblings and extended family members. They may have to attend a new school or move to a different neighborhood. These losses are compounded for children who spend time in multiple foster homes."

How much more has God, who "sets the lonely in families" (Psalm 68:6 NIV), done in rescuing us from peril and calling us his own children! "As for your birth, on the day you were born your navel cord was not cut, not were you washed with water for cleasing; you were not rubbed with salt or even wrapped in cloths. No eye looked with pity on you to do any of these things for you, to have compassion on you. Rather you were thrown out into the open field, for you were abhorred on the day you were born." And yet, while dead and "squirming in [our] blood," he graciously said to us, "Live!" and took us under his wing to raise and nurture us (Ezekiel 16; cf. Ephesians 2:1-10).

3. I'm afraid of heights. Don't even ask me to get on a roller coaster or climb a tree.

4. I have always envied people who can do backflips off of diving boards--I think it's so cool. Yet I am too scared to attempt a backflip myself, for fear of hitting my head on the diving board a la Greg Louganis.

5. I am getting mildly annoyed (or more) that friends of mine, even those younger than me, are continually getting engaged and married, while I'm not even dating anyone. I think I can count on one hand the number of friends from MSU who are still single. In an age when more and more people are postponing marriage until their late twenties or even thirties, why do I feel this background desire--perhaps even pressure--to find a life partner with whom to share my every moment and serve the Lord alongside? Or is this simply the good ol' sin of coveting, that is, "wanting what is another's, desiring what I don't have rather than appreciating what I do have. To covet is to fantasize a life other than what is given to me."*

6. I used to play the handbells. (Oh, the things that happen when you grow up in a Lutheran gradeschool!)

7. I want to become more literate in "the classics" and in poetry and also become a better writer. Being a verbal processor, I often spout out far more words than are needed to get across my point. This is at its worst when I try to form thought-provoking questions while leading a Bible study or teaching a science lesson in the classroom. As a result, people get lost and wonder what my question actually is. Good writers, especially poets, learn how to use language as pointedly and carefully as possible, loathing even a syllable's waste.

8. Secret or not, I have long possessed underdeveloped artistic skills. (Perhaps this is why I watch Home and Garden Television with my mom.) When I was a child, you couldn't pry pencils out of my hand; I was continually drawing. I even had this funny, rather bulbous callus on my middle finger from where the pencil pressed. My kindergarten teacher has even kept drawings of mine since 1986, thinking I would become a renowned artist some day. Then, since my senior year of high school, I've enjoyed casual photography. One of these days, I really need to take some classes in photography, particularly photojournalism and Adobe Photoshop. "To one he gave five talents. . . ."

. . . and a bonus #9: I've had some super cool costumes in my day. In preschool my dad made me a robot costume consisting of a large cardboard box covered in aluminum foil and bedecked with all manner of flashing lights, gauges, switches, and the like. In kindergarten my mom masterfully made an insulated shark costume for Halloween, complete with a dorsal fin. I looked out of its toothy mouth. Then in my Ninja Turtles phase, I made a Shredder costume and other assorted Samurai gear from cardboard and fabric scraps around the house. Sweet.
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*Eugene H. Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm B. Eerdmans, 2005), 259.