Most readers of the Bible seem to have a love-hate relationship with its concluding book. In fact, the Revelation to John almost appears to possess the uncanny ability of being frustrating and fascinating at the same time -- much like a toddler playing with a piece of Scotch tape! They are, no doubt, the most famous last words ever written. However, "well-known" does not always imply "well-thought-of" or even "well-understood." Granted, few portions of Scripture have aroused the curiosity of as many -- I dare say, "a great multitude that no one could count." But then again, simply arousing curiosity, in and of itself, is hardly a ringing endorsement for the book. After all, those who slow down on the highway to gawk at a roadside accident may be interested in what's going on, but they don't necessarily wish to become involved with it. And so it has been throughout the centuries for Revelation: garnering reverence from some, outright ridicule from others.

Martin Luther, for instance, felt that the letter "to the seven churches that are in Asia" should have been returned to sender. He found Christ neither taught nor acknowledged in its gaudy imagery and surreal symbolism. Zwingli's assessment was just as blunt, and for that matter, equally harsh. He saw no need to be concerned with the Apocalypse, because, in his words, "it is not a biblical book." John Calvin didn't even deem it worthy of comment. He wrote extensively on every portion of the New Testament – with the conspicuous exception of this one. Even today, John's rather extravagant vision from the prison island of Patmos is regarded by many as little more than a playground for religious eccentrics and placard-carrying prophets of doom.

Needless to say, some of the difficulty in comprehending Revelation lies in the fact that it is a work fraught with mystery, and like all mysteries I suppose, it is at times compelling and at other times confusing. Filled with truth, but nevertheless teasingly enigmatic. Of course, thinking of this book only as a mystery leaves the impression that it doesn't need so much to be studied as it does to be solved. However, to be honest, such an endeavor is like trying to analyze a sunset or dissect a rainbow. At best, it's a wearisome task to scour John's words in the hope of deciphering secret clues. At worst, it seems to treat his journey of faith as if it were a scavenger hunt.

Simply put, Revelation is neither an ancient chronicle of the past, nor a cryptic almanac of the future. John is not interested in explaining God's purposes, or even in describing them, but rather in creating an awareness through which they might be encountered again. If you will, he is more of a poet than a mystery writer -- fashioning a new reality from the fertile language of imagination. And as Eugene Peterson once observed, "We do not have more information after we read a poem, we have more experience."