A Glimpse of Glory
Revelation 21:10-22 - 22:5
Sermon
by Steven E. Albertin

(Sing the first verse and chorus of "The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.")

 Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.

Glory, glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.
1

Every time I hear these words from the "Battle Hymn Of The Republic," I have visions of some old Civil War movie with soldiers marching off to meet their fate in the glory of the battlefield. Such a hymn would truly soothe any of the doubts or fears a soldier might have as he enters the bloody conflict. As the battle was about to commence, he could be sure that he was on the right side, the side of truth, of God's truth. Whether he would die or survive, simply being involved in such a holy war would assure him that he would catch a glimpse of the glory of God. That glory would come either in the victory of the battlefield or in the giving of his life for a holy cause, which, of course, would assure him of his place in heaven. And there in heaven he could at last see God in all of his glory.

Perhaps one of your children has perplexed you with this question. Perhaps you have asked yourself the same question, unable to find a satisfactory answer. "Is there really a heaven? And if so, where is it?" Your grade schooler is having her first science class on outer space. She comes home one day, obviously troubled. After some gentle probing by you, she shares with you her problem. "Dad, if astronauts travel to outer space, if we have sent people all the way to the moon, if telescopes can see billions of miles into outer space ... then where is heaven?"

In Sunday school she had heard the story of Jesus' ascension, his rising up into the skies, disappearing into the clouds, and going to heaven. She had seen artists' imaginative paintings of heaven with angels, relaxing on the clouds, fluttering their wings, adjusting their halos, and playing their harps. If that heaven is "up" there, why hasn't it been discovered?

I still remember it well, when I was in grade school in the late 1950s at the height of the Cold War between the US and Russia. Russian cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, had triumphantly announced to the world that he had been "up there" and he had seen neither God nor heaven. Where is heaven? Is it "up," "down," or "beyond"? Of course, his comments pleased the leaders of the communist government and supported their official atheism.

The church has always referred to heaven as the abode of God. Heaven is where God is. But where is God? Isn't God supposed to be everywhere in creation? Yet God is transcendent and far beyond the most distant galaxy. Then where is heaven? Everywhere? Nowhere? Somewhere? It is so difficult to speak of a dimension of existence that is very different from life as we know it. Yet, to deny the existence of heaven would make our Christian faith and hope for the future empty and meaningless.

Such questions about the nature of heaven are more than just expressions of our curiosity. They are reflections of a much deeper anxiety, something that touches each of us in a very personal way. Such questions take on a special sense of urgency not only because we are concerned abut the destiny of our departed loved ones (Has God abandoned them? Are they in misery or ecstasy or somewhere in between? Do they have a future?), but also because we are anxious about our own destiny. What does the future hold? What about us? What lies beyond death for you and me? Is this life all there is? Or is there more? And if there is, is it heaven or hell or somewhere in between?

Maybe what we need to do is stop thinking of heaven as a place somewhere "up there," above, in the sky. When we confess in the Apostles' Creed that Jesus "ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father," we don't literally mean that there is a specific place in heaven where Jesus is sitting. We don't literally mean that God actually has a right hand, a left hand, a right foot, a left foot, and so on. What we are really saying is that Jesus has been honored by his Father for the job he performed faithfully on earth. "At the right hand" means a place of privilege and honor. With apologies to any left-handed people here, as a right-handed person uses his right hand to do what he does best, so also for God. When God is doing that for which he wants to be best known, he does it through the risen and ascended Jesus "at his right hand." Jesus is God's "right-hand man," so to speak.

So, where is heaven? It is wherever Jesus is present acting as God's right hand man. And where is that? Jesus is present doing his heavenly thing wherever the forgiveness of sins is being offered. Martin Luther once said, "Where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation." In other words, heaven is where Jesus is present doing God's right-handed thing, such as forgiving sinners.

Where is heaven? Heaven is where the waters of baptism are poured and the name of God is spoken. Heaven is where the body and blood of Jesus are offered in bread and wine. Heaven is where the guilty are released from their deadly past through the granting of forgiveness. Heaven is where the stranglehold of death and hopelessness is broken. When enemies embrace, when spouses reconcile, when neighbors are neighborly, when victims refuse to get even, when the powerful offer to serve instead of demanding that they be served, there is heaven.

When we sing "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord," we are not just singing of some glory we have yet to see, some glory that lies somewhere in the distant future. No, we are making the outrageous claim that we have already seen the glory of the Lord! We have already caught a glimpse of heaven! We have already seen that place where death has been defeated, where there are no more tears, where there is only joy and celebration.

We have seen Jesus seated at the right hand of the Father. We have seen that Jesus already, here in the ministry of this congregation and not just in the clouds or galaxies above. When the word of the gospel is proclaimed in our midst, when bread is broken and wine is poured at the table, when bodies are bathed at the font, when sins are forgiven, when the sick are visited, when prayers are spoken, and when deeds of love are freely offered, there is Jesus. There is heaven. There our "eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

Today's reading from the book of Revelation, the last book of the Bible, reports a grand and glorious vision of heaven. It is written in the code language that fills the book of Revelation. Contrary to those who try to turn the book of Revelation into some secret prediction of the future, it quite simply is a word of comfort to persecuted Christians in the first century. It was written in the code language of apocalyptic because Christians at the end of the first century were being put to death for their faith. They used the code language of apocalyptic to communicate the faith to one another.

The bizarre and fantastic images of Revelation are not just a promise of "pie in the sky in the sweet by and by." If the faith of those first Christians was just a hope that when they died, they would go to heaven; if their faith was just in the life hereafter, then their enemies would have considered them harmless. Everyone in the ancient world believed in some sort of afterlife. The Roman government didn't care what you believed about the hereafter. What they did care about was now and whether you would submit to Roman power now in this world. What made those early Christians so dangerous and even subversive in the eyes of the Roman establishment was their belief that Jesus was Lord and not Caesar. They dared to believe that Jesus had already defeated Caesar in his death and resurrection. They believed that they were free from Caesar and refused to give him their ultimate loyalty. That was radical. That was dangerous. That was subversive. That made them enemies of the state. That made them candidates for execution.

Revelation through its bizarre and fantastic images of heaven described so vividly in today's reading, through its secret code language understandable only to Christians, assured them that they had nothing to fear. Jesus had already defeated Rome and the other empires and evil powers of this world. That victory was hidden to the rest of the world. But to Christians, to those with they eyes of faith, it was clear. Jesus reigned. Regardless of what the future held, they could wait patiently and with faith to that last day when Jesus would make is his victory visible to all. At that last day their eyes would finally get to "see the glory of the coming of the Lord."

The book of Revelation also offers us a glimpse of glory. Jesus, who died, rose again, and is seated at the right hand of the Father, is already now exercising his reign over the world through the ministry of the church. Here, in this place, the vision of Revelation is coming true. Here, in this place, we get to see a glimpse of the glory of heaven. Here "mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

But wait a minute! This sounds great, too great, too great to be true. As my daddy used to say, "If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is." How in the world can we make these great and wonderful claims about the ministry of the church? The church? The church? You've got to be kidding! As our critics continually remind us, the church all too often looks like anything but heaven. Our lives are often as flawed and imperfect as the atheist down the street. We have more skeletons in the closet than we would ever like to admit. And despite our efforts the church isn't anymore effective than any other organization in changing this world. There is as much suffering, injustice, and death as ever. Where is heaven? Where is the "glory of the coming of the Lord"? How can Revelation possibly be true? And the saints? Where are the saints? Where are these special people who according to the second reading see the face of God and have their name on his foreheads?

Every year, when I meet with the confirmation students, I try to help them come to grips with this problem. When they complete their confirmation instruction and come forward to confess their faith before the congregation, they will be doing a pretty outrageous thing. In a sense they will be claiming that their "eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord...."

One year this exercise was especially effective. In that class were twins, brother and sister, Simon and Sarah. Contrary to what you would expect, Sarah was the more precocious of two. She was the better athlete, better student, more outgoing, more popular, and she let you know it. Even though he was the twin brother, Simon always seemed to live in her shadow.

As I do every confirmation class at the beginning of the year, I asked the class if anyone knew what a saint was. There was silence, so I gave them a definition. A saint is someone special. A saint is someone chosen by God. A saint is someone perfect, sinless. A saint is not just someone dead in the ground. A saint is someone bound for heaven.

Then I asked them the big question: "Does anyone here think he or she is a saint?"

The class was silent for a few moments when to no one's surprise Sarah raised her hand.

"Pastor, I think I might qualify. I mean I try to do my best. I say my prayers every day. I do my homework. I made the basketball team. I come to church almost every Sunday. I think I keep the commandments most of the time."

"Well, Sarah, that is pretty impressive," I responded. "I'm sure that the rest of the class is pretty impressed, too."

That was all Simon needed. This was his chance to puncture the balloon of his precocious sister and have his day in the sun.

"But, pastor," blurted out Simon, "don't let Sarah fool you. She is not all she thinks she is." Then began a long litany of Sarah's transgressions from a brother who was obviously harboring a lot of hurt and hostility. He put the topping on the cake with, "And if you don't believe me, just ask my mom and dad. They will tell you the truth about Sarah."

Turning to Sarah, I spoke. "Sarah, are you still so sure that you are a saint? After listening to your brother, you seem a lot more like hell on earth than heaven on earth. Sounds like you have a lot to work on. Sounds like you are not always what you appear to be. Sarah, do you still think you are a saint?"

Mumbling and letting her gaze drop to the floor, "Well, pastor, maybe not a saint. I guess I am not a saint. But if I'm not, then I don't know who is."

"Well, Sarah, lets see what the rest of the class thinks. Class, let's ask the question again. Who here thinks they might be a saint?"

Silence. No hands are raised. This time they know the answer. This time they know what the pastor wants. They have learned their lesson. No one is a saint.

But I ask them again, "Does anyone here think he or she is a saint?"

Certain of the right answer and that they have learned their lesson well, no one raises a hand. Okay, now it is time for the punch line.

"Class, I want you to listen carefully. I want all of you to raise your hands."

And they all stare at one another ... in disbelief. What is the pastor doing? Has he gone off the deep end? This doesn't make any sense. Did I not just show them and Sarah that no one is a saint. No one is perfect. This doesn't make any sense at all. What is wrong with the pastor?

"Yes, I want all of you to raise your hands. C'mon, class. Let's see everyone's hands." Slowly they raise their hands with a look of total confusion and bewilderment on their faces.

I explain the shocking implications of what I have just done. "Yes, you are all saints. Even Sarah is a saint. Why? Because I said so! Why? Because Jesus says so! Why? Because God says so! You are all saints. You are perfect, sinless, the apples of God's eye. You are already bound for heaven to be with all the saints and angels ... not because you are better than anyone else, not because you have kept the commandments, not because of your good works. You are saints because God says so! God first said that to you the day you were baptized and were marked with his name on your forehead. He has been telling you that every day ever since. You are saints because what of Jesus did ... for you! Because of Jesus' suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension to right hand of the father in heaven, you are saints."

That surprising announcement is the good news of the gospel. I continually remind the kids during their confirmation instruction that this is the most important thing about the Christian faith. This is the good news they are invited to believe. And when they believe it, they receive God's greatest gift: a place next to Jesus in heaven ... already now! When they believe this startling announcement, they are seated at the right hand of the Father in heaven. They already now have a glimpse of glory.

(Show a large book that lists the congregation's "official acts.") This is the "book of life." Its name comes from the book of Revelation. In this book are recorded all the "official acts" of this congregation: baptisms, confirmations, weddings, funerals.

The hardened skeptic will look at this and wonder "What is the big deal? Let's face it. These are only the congregation's ‘records.' Why make such a big deal and call it the ‘book of life'? Isn't this a bit of exaggeration?"

No! This is no exaggeration because through the simple acts of the ministry of this congregation, people literally do have their names put in the "book of life." God reserves a place in heaven for them. Through these simple acts done on behalf of God, the church makes and sustains the saints. These actions give us a glimpse of heaven.

(Organist begins playing quietly "The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.") That day when water was poured over you and a few words were uttered, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," a saint was made. Your name was written in the "book of life" forever. You were given a glimpse of glory.

In a few moments you will come forward to eat and drink at the Lord's table. You will eat bread and drink wine. But even more you will meet Jesus, God's right-hand man, sitting at the right hand of the Father in heaven.

The words of that famous hymn will have literally come true. Then you will be able to sing with all confidence and certainty, "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord...." Amen.

(All rise and sing "The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.")


1. "The Battle Hymn Of The Republic," words by Julia Ward Howe, 1861. In the public domain.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays in Lent and Easter: But!, by Steven E. Albertin