Fusing the Horizons: Getting One’s Priorities in Order

Fusing the Horizons: Getting One’s Priorities in Order

REVELATION 4–6

John’s Vision of Heaven—and Earth

After being commissioned to write to the seven churches, and in a remarkable moment of contrast, John is transported by the Spirit into heaven to see the Father’s throne and the Son himself. The contrast is surely intentional, and thus the next three chapters must be read not only in light of what is to come, but especially in light of what has just been written to the churches. In terms of the overall context and structure of the Revelation, the seven letters thus serve as the immediate background for all that follows. The three constants in each of the letters are noteworthy. First, they all begin with a description of Christ, mostly taken from chapter 1, but in each case fitted to their special situations; second, they all have the identical word of admonition, “let the one who has ears hear what the Spirit says to the churches”; and third, they all have some form of the same eschatological promise where in the language of the Holy War the ones who overcome are described as “those who are victorious,” meaning in the present and coming strife.

The contents of the letters are filled primarily with words of commendation or censure, and warning or admonition. What emerges clearly is that the churches are facing an impending crisis. Thus the point of praise or censure turns on their loyalty to Christ, and on their being a conqueror in the coming great conflict. The central concern throughout, therefore, has to do with the coming crisis—and their readiness for it, or lack thereof. Some are facing external pressures, from the synagogue in some cases (Smyrna, Philadelphia), but ultimately from the state (e.g., Pergamum, where Satan’s seat is; 2:13). Others have been facing the threat of false teaching, which some believers have successfully resisted, but to which others have largely capitulated (Pergamum, Thyatira). Several reflect internal weaknesses that indicate that they are ill prepared for the coming crisis: first love has faded (Ephesus); there is compromise with false teaching (Thyatira); some are living an illusion (Sardis); and one has rather fully capitulated to the present culture (Laodicea). Thus John writes to them all, while addressing each individually, and does so both to encourage those who are faithful and to warn those who are coasting, or playing in the enemy’s field.

The nature of the coming crisis is not given explicit expression, but has little to do with Christ’s return as such. In fact the key clause in all of this appears in the letter to the believers in Philadelphia: “I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth” (3:10). Indeed, it is John’s recognition that the church is headed for a time of severe trial that helps the later reader to make sense not only of the book as a whole, but of the next vision (chs. 4–6) in particular.

Several things happen in this vision that are important to understand before one engages with the various details. First, no matter what their present circumstances may be, the seven churches in their present conditions are now called upon to look up and see visions of heaven. And even though one never “sees” God, the reader is made aware of God’s absolute, transcendent majesty. Indeed, so awesome is the scene in chapter 4 that the reader instinctively feels—rightly so—a sense of considerable distance from God because of his inherent glory. But what makes the Revelation a particularly Christian book is found in chapter 5, where, in a scene that is equally awesome, God’s glory is now to be understood in the context of the redeeming Lamb—but here readers are drawn into the scene themselves. And since this is a Christian book, to read either chapter apart from the other would be a fatal error both hermeneutically and theologically.

In keeping with what has preceded, both parts of the vision are full of Old Testament motifs, in the first instance echoing various expressions, including visions, of God’s transcendent majesty; in the second, echoing messianic motifs of all kinds. The Lamb, who in contrast to the Father is seen and described, is easily the key figure. His presence thus sets some things in motion that are crucial to what follows. By opening the seals, he is now not only the Risen One standing among the churches, but also the Redeeming One whose death and resurrection have given him the right to the “keys.” Furthermore, the whole is set in the context of worship, which for John is equally as significant as are the descriptions themselves.

The heavenly scene, however, is not what the book is all about; rather it sets the stage for the reader’s understanding of what is about to take place on earth. That story is introduced in preview fashion in chapter 6. It is a story of conquest, war, famine and death, resulting in Christian martyrdoms (seal 5), which will be eventually responded to by divine judgment (seal 6).

It is especially important for the reader to recognize that the corresponding heavenly scenes of chapters 4 and 5 are not intended to be understood within the time frame of human history as such. That is, despite the temptation that many have had to read verse 1b otherwise, John is not here offering his readers “the beginning of the End,” as it were—except in a secondary sense in part 3 (our ch. 6). Rather, this vision functions as the second key element in the larger narrative. Thus, first, there are the churches among whom the risen Christ walks (chs. 2–3); this is the view from below—what was happening right then on planet earth. The present vision, second, is to be understood as simultaneous with what has preceded. Here the readers are given a view from above, the eternal context in which they are to understand their own present existence, and in light of which they are to understand everything that follows. The contrasts, therefore, are simultaneously dramatic—heaven and earth seen in light of each other—and awesome, calling for worship. Finally, one must not forget that chapter 6 is the conclusion of the present vision. This, too, is reality, but reality that one can make sense of only in light of the present scene.

Finally by way of introduction, and perhaps above everything else, one must be warned not to stoop to unthoughtful literalism while reading chapters 4 and 5. Rather, children of the Enlightenment though we are, we must do our best to let the visions speak to our imaginations—to take our breath away, as it were, and thus to give one theological perspective from which to see what comes next in chapter 6, not to mention our own present existence. Thus what follows will first of all be commentary, as one works his or her way through the whole to see how the various parts work and what they are pointing to; but at the end of the day one must join the heavenly host in worship, or John’s whole reason for writing may get lost in the pursuit of details.

THE THRONE IN HEAVEN (4:1–6A)

¹After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” ²At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. ³And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne. ⁴Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads. ⁵From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. Before the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits¹ of God. ^6aAlso in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.

Our chapter 4 is most often referred to as “the vision of God,” and in truth that is what it sets out to be. But in keeping with the Old Testament, and especially the second commandment, John is careful not to try either to describe or to imagine what God looks like. That is left totally to the imagination—and the incarnation. In fact John does not say anything about God as such, not even using language such as Daniel’s “Ancient of Days.” Rather he speaks only of someone “sitting on [the throne]” (v. 2; cf. vv. 9–10). That this is a stand-in for the eternal God is made known by several features: first, the One sitting on the throne is the central reality in the entire vision; second, the heavenly beings in worship use the language of “the Lord God Almighty,” acclaiming, “you are worthy, our Lord and God” (v. 11); and third, in the second part of the vision (ch. 5) the scroll that will unveil the future is “in the right hand of him who sat on the throne.” Thus despite John’s reluctance to describe God, God’s presence predominates in every way.

The primary Old Testament background for the way the present vision is presented can be found in Isaiah 6:1–3 and Ezekiel 1:4–14 and 22–28. The key to one’s hearing/seeing the vision, as well as to the structure of the whole chapter, is a series of prepositions, all of which are related in some way to the “throne”² and “him who sits on” it: on the throne (4:2; cf. v. 9), around the throne (4:4; cf. 5:11 “encircled the throne”), from the throne (4:5), and in front of the throne (4:5–6; cf. v. 10; and 5:6); and the next paragraph begins “in the center, around the throne” (4:6b). This opening paragraph, therefore, is strictly narratival—John’s way of setting out the context for everything that follows in the rest of the book.

John first keeps his narrative going with the temporal referent after this (lit. “after these things”), but his interest here is not with time as such, but with the next event in the sequence of visions that he received as he was “in the Spirit on the Lord’s Day” (1:10). Thus, as part of the apocalyptic genre, his own entrance into the heavenly presence is effected by a door standing open in heaven, which was there before me. This is the language of apocalyptic, which enables John, while still on earth, to “see” things above. For this to happen, he once again hears the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet (see 1:10), who now invites John into the heavenly realm (“come up here”), in order to show him what must take place after this.³ For this to happen John at once finds himself to be in the Spirit. What is more difficult to decipher is whether John thought of himself as being actually transported into the heavenly realm or whether while still on earth he was enabled by the Spirit to see, and thereby have a kind of “entrance” into, heaven. In the end, of course, this matters little, since all of this happens because John was “in the Spirit.”

The first and most significant reality for John was that there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. This is John’s way of introducing God the Father into the vision without ever using that language.⁴ In keeping with John’s own theological stance, the awesome scene of God on his throne is the first singular reality of his understanding of divine matters; and also in keeping with this stance John can only describe his appearance in terms of precious stones: jasper and ruby. With this description John is again echoing some Old Testament passages, in this case Exodus 28:17–20 and Ezekiel 1:26, having to do with the breastplate of the high priest. It is probably significant that in the Exodus passage these are the first and last of the twelve stones mentioned in the description, and that both of them are red. At the same time, jasper in particular anticipates the final visions in chapters 21:1—22:5, where it is mentioned three times, as the primary color of the New Jerusalem.

As John moves from “him who sits on the throne” to the other features that magnify both the reality and the awe that surround the eternal God, the first thing up is a rainbow that shone like an emerald, which encircled the throne. Again, this echoes the theophany in Ezekiel 1:26, although the precious stone has been changed from a blue lapis lazuli to an emerald, which is ordinarily green, but also is found in shades of greenish blue.

The second feature surrounding the throne was a circle of twenty-four other thrones, on which were seated … twenty-four elders. This turns out to be one of the more complex images in the Revelation, on which there is nothing close to consensus among scholars. The complexities have to do with both their number and the various descriptions of them throughout the book. The number itself is the easier matter, since in the imagery of the New Jerusalem in chapter 21, the twelve tribes of Israel are inscribed on the gates, and the twelve apostles of the Lamb on the foundations. Moreover, in 1 Chronicles 24:3–19 David divided the leaders of worshiping priests into twenty-four divisions, whose purpose was to minister in the temple. Since the primary task of the elders in the Revelation is to worship God and the Lamb, this combination of the twelve tribes of Israel with the twelve who were with Jesus is most likely what lies behind the present description.

Our basic difficulties arise from the description of them as dressed in white, with crowns of gold on their heads, and the fact that they are on “twenty-four other thrones” that surround the central throne. Since these phrases carry echoes from the depictions of “those who are victorious” in chapters 2 and 3, one’s first instinct is to see them as human beings now in the Divine Presence. In fact, this is almost certainly how they are to be understood, even though throughout the rest of the book their activities border on those of the angels. In both 5:5 and 7:13–14 one of them speaks to John, and elsewhere they are part of the heavenly worship of God (5:11; 11:16; 14:3; 19:4). But rather than try to resolve this complex use of images, one must remember that in the apocalyptic genre such things can happen regularly, and without need of a “resolution,” as it were. In any case, the difficulties tend to be of our own making, related to our wont to resolve things in some kind of ordinary time frame as such. The apocalyptic genre allows for a more fluid use of images.

Since throughout the rest of the book the elders’ primary activity is worship, the heavenly picture would not be complete without their joining in the present scene of worship as well, in anticipation of their being raised from the dead. This seems to be especially so in light of the further description of them as “dressed in white,” with “crowns of gold on their heads.” In any case, John is regularly forced to deal simultaneously with both temporal and eternal realities, which causes some considerable difficulty in putting it all in straightforward chronological order. This becomes especially noticeable in 5:8–14, where the heavenly worshipers are finally expanded to include every creature in heaven and earth and under the earth, and in 7:9–17, where the followers of the Lamb are pictured as already in heaven. Thus John is seldom dealing with chronology as such, but with eternal verities.

This initial description of the divine splendor then moves from what encircled the throne to what proceeded from the throne, namely flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. This language is taken directly from the theophany in Exodus 19:16–19, which all Israel experienced at the base of Mount Sinai. This echo thus provides John once more with a picture that ties the two covenants together, as he has a glimpse into the future of the people of God from both covenants.

Finally, John’s vision of heaven includes two realities that are described as in front of the throne (vv. 5b and 6a). First, and the Spirit’s only appearance in heaven in this book,⁵ John saw seven lamps … blazing, which are then interpreted with the language of 1:4 in terms of the seven spirits of God. As before, this is rightly understood as “the sevenfold Spirit,” imagery taken from Isaiah 11:2, where it said the Messiah will experience “the Spirit of the Lord” resting on him, who is then described with six Spirit-endowed qualities (“the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,” etc.). The second reality situated in front of the throne was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. This imagery, though not the language itself, is derived directly from Ezekiel 1:22, and traditionally has been called “an expanse,” but which the NIV has rendered (probably more correctly) as “a vault” that was “sparkling like crystal.” Whether intentional on John’s part or not, one should note that the sea is usually negative imagery in Scripture, as a place that is wild and untamed. But here it has clearly been tamed, appearing like “glass, clear as crystal.”

All together this series of images is intended to inspire awe and wonder on the part of the reader, who is being brought into the presence of God, and before whom only awe and worship are the worthy responses; and that is what John now goes on to describe.

THE OCCUPANTS OF HEAVEN AND THEIR WORSHIP (4:6B–11)

^6bIn the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. ⁷The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a human being, the fourth was like a flying eagle. ⁸Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under his wings. Day and night they never stop saying:

“‘Holy, holy, holy

is the Lord God Almighty,’

who was, and is, and is to come.”

⁹Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, ¹⁰the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne, and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:

¹¹“You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power,

for you created all things,

and by your will they were created

and have their being.”

With this scene John moves on from what was primarily a description of the awesome scene around “him who sits on the throne” to a description of the worship given him. It begins with a final description of the worshipers themselves, in this case the four living creatures,⁶ whose presence and appearance are derived directly from Ezekiel 1:4–24 (with the single exception of their wings, which are six instead of four, imagery now taken from the description of the seraphs in Isaiah 6:2). The reason for there being four of them was fixed by Ezekiel’s vision, where they are described as facing the four corners of the earth (Ezekiel 1:17). Their most distinctive feature receives first mention: they were covered with eyes, in front and in back, which probably points to their allseeing nature, where nothing can be hid from them as divine heralds of some sort.

John first describes what all four had in common (“covered with eyes in front and in back”). Next up (our v. 7) is what is unique to each of them. Here all attempts to draw these images literally, rather than allowing them to spark the imagination, come crashing down, since they are thoroughly—and intentionally—an odd mixture of being. In turn they are, first and second, like a lion and like an ox, both land animals that walk on all fours. The third creature, however, is said simply to have a face like a human being, so that with this description one is no longer sure what kind of imagery should appear on his or her visual landscape. This becomes even more so with the final one, which is not a land animal at all, but rather was like a flying eagle. Perhaps rather than try to visualize these creatures, one should rather recognize that they cover a lot of ground, as it were, in terms of created beings: a wild animal, followed by a tamed animal, both of whom are four-legged, and then only the face of a two-legged animal, and finally a land animal that is best known for its living in the sky. What seems to be going on, therefore, is that with these broad strokes the four “living creatures” cover most of the more commonly known kinds of earthly creatures, who are now envisioned in heaven and as having basically human features.

More importantly they are now seen as having six wings, and as being covered with eyes all around, even under their wings. With that they cease altogether to be any recognizable land animal. Indeed, it is not easy to determine what John understood by this unique feature in his vision of heaven. Most likely the collage was intentional so that the whole of creation—all living beings, as it were—is seen in heaven as joining in the worship of “him who sits on the throne.”

The content of their worship is itself another marvelous Johannine collage, in this case of Isaiah 6:3 and John’s own descriptor of the eternal nature of God found above in 1:4. Thus, using the language of Isaiah, the four living beings never stop saying, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.” But in place of Isaiah’s concluding clause, “the whole earth is full of his glory,” which has to do with the earth itself, in the present heavenly scene the (apparently representative) creatures go on to affirm God the Father as the one who was, and is, and is to come. Noticeably, and undoubtedly purposefully, the order now is not, as in 1:4, present–past–future, but past–present–future. There is probably no intentional significance to this change; rather it now expresses the same reality in terms of our time-bound existence, whereas in the first instance it was expressed in terms of God’s own eternal existence.

In the rest of this initial heavenly scene John describes the response of the twenty-four elders, all of which is presented in a simple chiastic manner. Although it is all about the “throne in heaven” and “him who sits on” it, John does this by describing two categories of beings, one earthly (the twenty-four elders) and one heavenly (the four living creatures), who now in reverse order are described not in terms of who they are or what they do, but only in terms of their worship. Thus the worship of the second group, the four living creatures, offers praise to God in terms of God’s character (“holy”), power (“the Almighty”), and uncreated, eternal nature (“who was and is and is to come”)—God the Eternal One. When John returns to the praise offered by the twentyfour elders (v. 11), it has altogether to do with God as Creator of all things.

The language John uses for this praise offered by the four living creatures takes the form of giving glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever. Although these three forms of worship (glory, honor, thanksgiving) have a very biblical ring to them, and thus can be easily blended into one, the three verbs in fact represent three different expressions of devotion that creatures offer to their Creator, who is once more identified as enthroned and eternal (“who lives for ever and ever”; cf. Dan 4:34). First they give him “glory,” which has to do with God’s own inherent splendor or magnificence, thus using language to give expression to the creatures’ wonder in the presence of that splendor.⁷ Second, they give him “honor,” a form of acknowledging God’s inherent worthiness to receive praise from his creatures. And third, they give him “thanks,” the inherent recognition that everything the creation is or the creature has comes as a divine gift. Thus the proper posture of all beings created with the power of thought and speech is thanksgiving, to accompany the praise.

Whoever the twenty-four elders are intended to represent (most likely God’s faithful people under both covenants), their proper heavenly response to the worship offered by the four living creatures is twofold. First, they lay their crowns before the throne, a clear acknowledgment that nothing is theirs as an inherent right, but that everything is gift. Thus even their own “earned” glory is acknowledged as belonging ultimately to him who sits on the throne and lives for ever and ever. Second, they burst into endless praise, declaring God’s worthiness for such because everyone and everything in the whole of creation owes its existence to God. Thus their song takes the form, first, of acknowledging God as worthy … to receive the glory and honor noted in the preceding sentence (v. 9). But now in place of “thanks” the final noun is power, which is an obvious attribute of God, but is a strange noun to follow the verb “receive.” Most likely the problem for us here is a matter of English, and has to do with the Greek verb in this case, which can mean either “take” or “receive,” and thus one for which the word “power” as an object would not create any difficulty for the native Greek speaker. They would simply hear it in the same way that an English speaker would hear the phrase “take power.”

The heavenly anthem then concludes with the present reason for God’s divine worthiness, all having to do with God as Creator. God as Redeemer is saved for part 3 of this heavenly vision (our chapter 5) with the entrance of the Lamb. Thus the present hymn concludes with a bicolon (put into a tricolon in English) that extols God as Creator, with the kind of repetition that has such inherent power in both Greek and Hebrew.⁸ The first line puts it positively, beginning with a causal for and stated in the active voice: you created all things. The second line then accentuates this reality in the passive and adds the note of agency, which in the divine order of things can be attributed altogether to God’s own purposes, thus by your will they were created. The third line, still in keeping with the repetitive force of Hebrew poetry, simply adds the final verb, and have their being. Thus in marvelous poetry John heightens the effect of their worship by adding this final verb. Creation is not about reshaping something that already existed and making it something else; rather it has to do with what theologians have long called ex nihilo (“from nothing”), which has to do with bringing into being what did not exist before. With this hymn therefore, John, whose work providentially concludes the Christian canon, echoes the first book of the canon (Genesis) by reminding his readers that the first beings mentioned in the heavenly setting begin their praise where Scripture itself begins, with God as Creator.

Thus with the two hymns of this opening scene in heaven, the four living beings, who in some way at least represent the angelic throng, in song emphasize God’s holiness, while the twenty-four elders, who represent God’s people from both covenants, emphasize God as Creator.

THE UNOPENED SCROLL (5:1–4)

¹Then I saw in the right hand of him who sat on the throne a scroll with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. ²And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, “Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?” ³But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it. ⁴I wept and wept because no one was found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside.⁹

With these words John sets the scene for one of the great moments in all known literature. Indeed, so remarkable is the vision that an interpreter is made to pause and wonder whether his or her own words, in trying to comment on it at all, might not get in the way of its splendor. The scene is still in heaven; its central features are a scroll with writing on both sides—which in itself is remarkable, since scrolls were ordinarily written on one side only—and a Lion who is in fact a Lamb, all of which is full of imagery from the Old Testament. The scene concludes with three different, gradually expanding groups bursting into song, the central feature of which is the universal praise of the once slain, now risen Lamb. In many ways the paragraphing of the NIV for this chapter (vv. 1–5, 6–10, 11–12, 13–14), which basically follows the published Greek text,¹⁰ reflects the flow of the narrative itself. However, if one reads the narrative in terms of the events as such, then a different kind of paragraphing emerges. In such a reading the vision is in three basic parts. First, in verses 1–4, as before John puts himself into the narrative; but in this case he plays a much larger role. Even so, at the heart of things is the sealed scroll, concerning which John weeps because he instinctively recognizes its significance; yet there is no one “in heaven or on earth or under the earth” who is worthy to open the scroll and reveal its contents. Then in verses 5–7 John introduces the Lamb—the slain Lamb now risen—who is “worthy” to open it.

However, instead of revealing the contents here, John rather, as in the preceding vision, focuses again on worship, in this case worship of the Lamb. The first worshipers are the heavenly entourage described in the preceding vision—the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders (vv. 8–10). Then in verses 11–12 the Lamb is worshiped by the entire angelic host, “numbering thousands upon thousands.” At the end (v. 13) the focus of the worship is expanded to include “the one who sits on the throne,” while the worshipers are expanded to include “every creature in heaven and on the earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them.” Finally, the original four living creatures and twenty-four elders respond with an “Amen” and offer further worship.

The present paragraph thus provides the setting for the dramatic scenes that follow; and in keeping with the narrative as a whole this scene is also full of drama. God the Father is once more designated as him who sat on the throne, the past tense in this case picking up the thread of the immediately preceding narrative, thus tying the two scenes together. But now a further, and especially significant, dimension is added to the scene: in¹¹ God’s right hand there is a scroll with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. The purpose and significance of this highly unusual feature, writing on both sides, is never forthcoming in the narrative itself. And whereas it may simply be an attention-getting device, intended to concentrate the reader’s awareness onto its importance in the narrative that follows, John himself is here indebted to the imagery of Ezekiel 2:9–10: “Then I looked, and I saw a hand stretched out to me. In it was a scroll … . On both sides of it were written words of lament and mourning and woe.”¹² Although the scroll itself with its seven seals will be the main focus of the narrative that follows (chs. 6–8), John’s immediate interest is to introduce the Lamb, the only one found worthy to open the scroll.

The next feature of the narrative then adds to its dramatic nature, as a mighty angel cries out. But those who visualize as they read are also now left a bit in the dark, especially with regard to “a mighty angel,” since this language ordinarily refers to strength; however, one has the sense that John here intended something more in the order of “majestic,” thus an angel who was stunning or glorious in appearance. This angel then sets the wheels in motion for what follows by proclaiming in a loud voice. Such a description is especially fitting, since this angel with his mighty voice is setting the reader up for the introduction of Christ himself.

Before that, however, and still heightening the drama, John tells his readers that no one in heaven and on earth or under the earth could open the scroll. These final words “open the scroll”, repeated no less than four times in this presenting paragraph (including v. 5), become the primary issue in the narrative that follows. Thus, expressed in the cosmology of antiquity, with earth as the center point for those dwelling on it, John notes that not a single known creature, human or angelic or demonic, had either the authority or ability to break the seven seals and thus to “open the scroll” so as to see what was written on it. Indeed, John puts this lack of authority in the strongest kind of language, since what the NIV (almost certainly correctly) has rendered even look inside it John’s Greek says simply “nor to look at it.” And John means in this case literally “look” rather than “read,” since what follows is intended to be something of a diorama to be visualized rather than a text simply to be read, even though it comes to his readers in words.

With yet another moment of heightening the affect of the narrative on the reader’s consciousness, John concludes these introductory words with a note about his own response to this inability on the part of any creature, heavenly or earthly, “to open the scroll or even look inside it.” He wept and wept, a reduplication in English that nicely captures the sense of John’s “I kept on weeping much.” And with this, one is now made aware of John’s own personal role in bringing life to the narrative. His profuse weeping in this case should not be taken as “sobbing,” in the sense of wailing over loss. Rather, John is emphasizing the importance of the scroll, and thus heightening the reader’s anticipation for what follows. He does this by pointing out his instinctive expression of sorrow, brought on because for something as obviously important as this scroll there was no one found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside it. What is at stake for John in this narrative is therefore not ability per se, but ability based on worthiness. This will be made especially clear in the first two of the following songs in verses 9 and 11, where each begins with the acclamation “worthy.” Thus what causes John to weep so profusely is his instinctive awareness of both the importance of the scroll and the fact that “no one” else in the heavenly throng is “worthy” in the sense that only the Lamb could be. With that the scene is now set for the next moment in the narrative, and the reader is given notice to be especially alert for the unveiling that will follow. The contrasts turn out to be particularly vivid: in a context where constant praise and singing abound in heaven, John is found weeping profusely.

THE LION WHO IS A LAMB (5:5–6)

⁵Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.”

⁶Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center before the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders. The Lamb had seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits¹³ of God sent out into all the earth.

This next scene is especially high drama. As John weeps because of what is perceived as an unresolved tension between a scroll that needs to be opened and no one worthy to do so, one of the elders noted in the preceding narrative tells John, do not weep! This is then followed by the imperative “look!” (see in the NIV and NRSV),¹⁴ which as part of the drama calls John’s attention to what he has not yet seen, but will immediately. First, however, the reasons that he should not weep are given; and here John’s own partiality toward biblical imagery takes over.

The one John is about to see is first of all described in messianic language from the Old Testament. With the verb has triumphed sitting in the emphatic first position, the conqueror is then described as the Lion of the tribe of Judah. This language is derived from Jacob’s blessing of his sons in Genesis 49, where in verse 9 Judah is called “a lion’s cub,” and in verse 10 Jacob prophesies that “the scepter will not depart from Judah.” The second title, which stands in apposition to the first, describes Christ as the Root of David. Although this term does not appear in the Old Testament in precisely this way, it is best understood as an updating of the appellation regarding the Messiah in Isaiah 11:10 (cf. v. 1), where he is described as “the Root of Jesse.” Here Jesse’s son David has been (rightly) substituted for the name of the father.

John’s sentence then concludes with an infinitive to open, which has apparently (and rightly) been understood by the NIV translators as a result clause. Thus he has triumphed, so that he is able to open the scroll and its seven seals. By putting what occurs next in his narrative in reverse order in this introductory clause, John indicates where his emphasis ultimately lies—with the opening of the seventh seal. This finally occurs in 8:1 and following, where at last the scroll is opened, while its contents are then spelled out in the rest of the book.

In response to the command to “look,” John proceeds next to describe the absolutely central feature of what he saw; and in so doing he presents us with one of the great moments in Christian theology. For what John sees is not a lion at all, but a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, so that the only lion in heaven is in fact the Slain Lamb.¹⁵ It is difficult to emphasize adequately the theological import of this dramatic replacement of images, in terms of both Johannine Christology and soteriology (his understanding of the person of Christ and of his saving work). In a book like the Revelation, which ultimately is interested above all in God’s justice,¹⁶ no lion ever appears in heaven. But the Lamb is there all the way through, even at the end (“the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city,” 22:3).

With this language John uses imagery that also appears in his Gospel, where John the Baptist presents Jesus as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29; cf. v. 36). This profound representation has its roots in the most significant—and for the early Christians, the most frequently cited—of the messianic prophecies of the Old Testament, Isaiah 52:13—53:12.¹⁷ Equally significant, however, is the Lamb’s position in the heavenly scene. He is noted as standing in the center, thus taking his rightful place before the throne along with “the sevenfold Spirit,” who hereafter, and rightly, appears only on earth. And because he is now not only “standing in the center,” but has himself become the center of everything, the Lamb is also described as encircled by the four living creatures and the elders. Thus, even in this vision with its rich imagery, John is careful to place Father and Son together on and before the throne.

In John’s theology, one must point out, Christ triumphs through both his death and resurrection. Thus in the Gospel, with a marvelous play on words that can happen in Greek in ways less available in English, Christ’s saving work rests on the historical reality of his being “lifted up” (John 3:14–15; 12:32), a word that also carries the sense of being “exalted.” Thus this nicely ambiguous word regularly serves as a double referent for John: Christ has been “lifted up” from the earth onto the cross, whereby he secured salvation for all who put their trust in him; but he has also been “lifted up” (= exalted) through his resurrection and ascension, so that he now rightfully reigns on high. Thus the Lamb stands “in the center before the throne”; and there, as the narrative proceeds, he is also “worshiped on high.” At the end of the book, significantly, the throne is finally referred to as “the throne of God and of the Lamb” (22:1, 3).

One should therefore also note that John’s latent Trinitarianism is in place here as well, as he goes on to describe the Lamb as having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits [“sevenfold Spirit”¹⁸] of God sent out into all the earth. It is easy to read past this imagery too quickly, and thus to miss a significant christological moment for John—significant because it is otherwise unnecessary to the present narrative. Two points are here being made by the two images. First, the Lamb’s “seven horns” appear to be an ironic parody of Daniel’s beasts (Daniel 7), which emerge later in chapter 13 as a single beast with ten horns on seven heads. In apocalyptic usage horns are imagery for political authority of some kind; so the Lamb with its seven horns will finally best the beast with its ten. At the same time the imagery itself indicates that the Lamb really does have divine authority, which will be the point of the second song that follows in verse 12. So the first song, the “new song” in verses 9–10, will celebrate the Lamb’s redemptive role, while the second will celebrate his divine authority.

But for now, second, the Lamb’s eyes are interpreted in terms of the Holy Spirit. In this way John’s own form of nascent Trinitarianism comes to the fore, since the “seven eyes” are to be understood as “the sevenfold Spirit of God.” In this way, John’s own understanding of the Spirit, as simultaneously the Spirit of God and of Christ, is kept intact. One should also note that this is the last mention of the Spirit in the heavenly court, since his primary role is altogether on earth. Thus the Spirit is noted once more as “sent out¹⁹ into all the earth.” John’s understanding of the Holy Spirit as the Spirit of both the Father and the Son, a particular feature of the Fourth Gospel as well,²⁰ is made clear in this final mention, since he is now described altogether in terms of his relationship to the Son, as the “seven horns and seven eyes”²¹ of the Lamb. Thus with these words to John (v. 5) and the initial description of the Son as the Slain Lamb, whose seven eyes represent the Holy Spirit, the stage is set for the final scene: the response of the heavenly court in anticipation of the action of the Lamb.

THE LAMB TAKES THE SCROLL AND HEAVEN REJOICES (5:7–13)

⁷He went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne. ⁸And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. ⁹And they sang a new song, saying:

“You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals,

because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased for God

members of every tribe and language and people and nation.

¹⁰You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,

and they will reign²² on the earth.”

¹¹Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders.

¹²In a loud voice they were saying:

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength

and honor and glory and praise!”

¹³Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!”

¹⁴The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshiped.

In terms of the narrative itself this final scene in the drama of heaven is simply a continuation of the preceding one, and in fact almost all English translations (rightly) include verse 7 as a part of verse 6. The present choice to start the final scene with verse 7 is to highlight the fact that the action narrated here is what actually initiates the progression of worship that constitutes the rest of the narrative. Moreover, in the present scene the reader continues to be held in suspense regarding what is to follow, as the heavenly choirs, with increasing crescendo, celebrate the presence of the slain, now risen Lamb in the heavenly court. Thus the singing is begun by “the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders.” It is then picked up by the innumerable host of heaven, who in verse 12 echo the song previously sung to God the Father in 4:11. And finally, the whole created order, both heaven and earth, sing a concluding doxology to both the Father and the Son (v. 13), which in turn is affirmed (now in reverse order) by the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders.

These are the kinds of moments that should give any interpreter reason for pause, since these words hardly need commentary, but rather affirmation and acclamation. Readers of this passage who themselves fail to join in with the heavenly host are listening to the text only cerebrally, and not with the exhilaration intended by John, so that his readers are themselves drawn into the heavenly scene as part of the worship. Indeed the reader who fails in the present to enter into the heavenly worship, which for them is still to come, will have missed John’s purpose by several leagues. John’s original readers may indeed be excused if they held back in joining the worship noted in our chapter 4, but they will have little excuse for holding back here. Whatever may be the present circumstances in the seven churches immediately in purview, here they are being drawn to join in the worship being described.

The celebration thus begins when the Lamb went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne, the past tense here continuing from its first appearance in verse 1. And with this the drums begin to roll, as it were, as the next stages of the drama are thus set in motion. But the scroll itself is not opened until the beginning of our chapter 8, and even then the contents are not specifically noted as being “read” or even “looked at.” Rather, what evolves is a series of pictures, not a text with emphasis on words that make up straightforward prose sentences. John is addressing the readers’ imaginations and wants them to see by way of vivid imagery what God will let loose in the future, both theirs and that of those who are harassing and/or tormenting them.

With a crescendo of praise, and in some contrast to the preceding scene, the distinctively Christian thing now happens in heaven when the Lamb “took the scroll.” In language very much in keeping with what has preceded, and which is intended to inspire both wonder and praise as well as comfort and hope, the whole heavenly entourage of the previous scene now offers worship to the Lamb. But John sets this out carefully, both in terms of who does the singing and of the content of their songs.

Thus when the Lamb had taken the scroll, the first beings to respond are the two groups already in heaven: the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders, who fell down before the Lamb. The twenty-four elders are themselves further described in the language of the Levite singers in Chronicles, in that each one had a harp. Then, echoing Psalm 141:2 (“may my prayer be set before you like incense”), they are described as holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. These final words should not be treated as a kind of throwaway clause; rather once more they remind John’s readers that the prayers offered in light of their present suffering are being heard in heaven.

Following this heavenly obeisance to the Lamb, and now echoing Psalm 98:1, these heavenly groups sang a new song²³—new because it is now addressed to the Lamb, and sung in praise of him. At the same time the “new song” begins with a deliberate echo of the song that the heavenly throng had just sung “to him who sits on the throne.” Just as the eternal God is “worthy to receive glory,” so too the Lamb, who above was noted as “able to open the scroll”, is now praised as the One worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals. And just as God the Father was acclaimed worthy “because [he] created all things,” so now the Lamb is acclaimed as worthy because you were slain, a death that had the redemption of all peoples as its goal. Their song begins by acclaiming the means of his redeeming act, with your blood, thus intentionally using language from the Old Testament sacrificial system to heighten its affect. The song then proclaims the effect of that act, you purchased for God, now echoing language from Psalm 74:2, where the psalmist reminds God, as it were, that he had “purchased” Israel to be his own people. It then concludes with the breadth of the Lamb’s redemption, members of every tribe and language and people and nation.²⁴ With these words the Abrahamic covenant, with its inclusion of the Gentiles, is given a liturgical setting. In so doing John is affirming one of the frequent themes in the eschatological outlook of the Prophets—as well as the major passion in the ministry of Paul—that God chose Israel so that through them he might bless the whole world. Thus both the effect and the breadth of Christ’s redeeming work are extolled in the first stanza of this hymn.

The second stanza of the hymn then proclaims the goal of Christ’s redemptive act. The people Christ has redeemed with his blood have been made … to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God, a clear echo of John’s opening doxology in 1:5b–6; but now he adds that they will reign on the earth. Ordinarily priests make for very bad kings, and vice versa, since both human and “divine” power are in their hands. But this is a scene that is looking forward to the final, and thus eternal, redemption of God’s people. In doing so it thereby anticipates the restored Eden of 22:1–5, which concludes, “and they will reign for ever and ever.” Thus in the “new song” everyone celebrates the Lamb’s redemption, and what that means for his people—and this should especially be read with the preceding 1:9—3:22 in view.

But that is not everything; this is heaven, after all. So John adds, then I looked, not so much to see as to hear the voice of many angels, whose number was so huge that the Greek language had no configuration for it. Thus their number was innumerable: thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand.²⁵ And with what follows, one’s ability to visualize this dramatic scene becomes even more difficult, for this innumerable host of heaven is seen to encircle the throne and the living creatures and the elders. Such scenes as this are drama in verbal form and speak to the reader’s imagination; a textual “photograph” here would spoil everything.²⁶

These millions of angels, the entire host of heaven who encircled the throne, were speaking in a loud voice, probably not meaning that each of them was shouting, as it were, but that by all speaking at the same time they were heard as one loud voice. But John’s own concern is not with volume as such, but with the content of what they were saying; and here especially is a place where our chapter and verse divisions can easily get in the way of our “hearing” the text well. To get at what John himself is seeing/hearing, the reader may be helped by having the two adorations of our chapters 4 and 5 set side by side. One should especially note the similarities and the differences, which are extremely important theologically, both for John himself and for those who read what he has written.

You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power,	Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise
for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being

One can scarcely miss the individual emphases. Even though in John’s Gospel, God created all things through the Word (the Son), here that emphasis rests with the Father alone; and in giving praise to the Lamb (the Son), the focus is not on creation, but altogether on redemption (“because you were slain”). And with this the heavenly picture is complete. The eternal God—Father, Son, and Spirit—is both Creator and Redeemer; and to get there by way of hymnic poetry, John sees all heaven as worshiping the Father and the Son as Creator and Redeemer. If this is not said as precisely in the Revelation as in the Gospel that bears John’s name, that is the result not of theological imprecision on John’s part, but of the choice of genre, where “pictures,” which often are as good as a thousand words, when put into words must bear the weight of the necessary imprecision.

What the Lamb is worthy … to receive includes three of the preceding acclamations of which the One who sits on the throne is worthy: power, honor, glory; now as the first, fifth, and sixth items. To these are added wealth and wisdom and strength … and praise. Thus, typical of the Christology of both the Gospel of John and the Revelation, the more expansive praise and adoration is offered to the Son; and that is not because the Son is more significant, but because our existence both now and forever is predicated on his death and resurrection. That is, the more extensive language of praise is fittingly reserved for the Lamb, who, even though he was the co-creator of all things, nonetheless in his incarnation endured the abuse and rejection of those he had created to bear the divine image on earth. In doing it this way, John is quite in keeping with the christocentric emphasis of the entire New Testament. By means of the Lamb, God both has been made known and has offered himself in a sacrificial way for the eternal redemption of those created in the divine image.

And with that, the entire throng of all created beings burst into a final doxology to both the Father and the Son. So as to miss none of these beings able to offer praise, John expands the singers to include every created being in the entire cosmos: every creature in heaven and on the earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them. But with this expansion, especially the final phrase “all that is in them,” he has created something of a redundancy that has left the reader with a moment of imprecision. What John ultimately intended seems easy enough—no created being with voice is excluded from this final praise. But the grammar itself is strained, since the beginning appellation “every creature” and the final phrase “and all that is in them” create a redundancy that is hard to put into meaningful English. Perhaps the best way to capture John’s emphases in English would be to enclose this final phrase with a pair of dashes; thus “I heard every creature in heaven and on the earth and under the sea—everything that is in them—saying.”

The climax of the narrative is thus reached in their doxology, which in the language of John’s Gospel is to both Father and Son together, but in the language of the present imagery is put, To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb. As before, the extremely high Christology is unmistakable, in that the praise that follows is that which can be given to God alone, or else one’s praise borders on a new form of idolatry, where the one and only God is now seen as two separate deities. Indeed, so radical is this new acclamation offered to the one God that the church was quickly thrown into at least two centuries of trying to hammer out how such revealed truth can be spoken in merely human language, without ending up either with two deities or with a way of handling Johannine Christology that would minimize the clearly divine nature and role of the Son.²⁷ But John himself is as plain as can be with this final acclamation. Thus both “to him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb”—and now picking up four of the acclamations from the preceding “song”—be praise and honor and glory and power forever and ever! It should perhaps be noted at the end, and hopefully not so as to diminish the glory and praise offered Christ as well as to the Father, that these four words, apparently taken at some random from the preceding list, are best understood not individually, but collectively. Their power lies not in their separate meanings, either in Greek or in English translation, but in their collective intensity, and thus their potential to arouse wonder and adoration in the readers themselves. And such readers, of any calendrical age and in every generation, are thus being invited into the praise that is offered to Father and Son together, which seems to be at least part of the intent of John’s own “for ever and ever.” Those who read only and do not worship would seem to have missed the implications of these final words, not to mention would stand aloof from what John would have expected of his first readers.

That such worship on the part of his readers is John’s own intent seems to be made certain by his final sentence, which wraps up the scene, as it were. Therefore, the final response to “the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand,” and to the worship of “every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea,” comes from the four living creatures and the elders. One should not miss the structural matters that make this whole scene work. Thus those who in the first round of praise above (vv. 9–10) sing the acclamation to the Lamb are given the final exclamation point to the praise in heaven: the four living creatures offer the final Amen, while the twenty-four elders fell down and worshiped.

Finally, one should note how nearly impossible it would be even to imagine that all of this is not aimed especially at the readers in the seven churches, who are undoubtedly expected by John, with the reception and reading of this letter, to join now in the worship that here is seen as belonging eternally to their own future existence “in heaven.” It would seem equally to miss John’s point and concern if later readers are not moved to do the same. Indeed, what is left for us at the least is to burst forth with our own “Amen!” to the eternal glory here described as belonging especially to the Lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ.

THE OPENING OF THE FIRST SIX SEALS (6:1–17)

In many ways the next section of John’s vision, our chapter 6, is one of the more difficult passages regarding the overall structure of the book. The reason for this is simple in terms of observation, but more difficult in terms of John’s use of visual images. On the one hand, the opening sentence of the passage continues with John himself as an observer in heaven when he sees the Lamb take the scroll (5:7) and open its first seal (6:1). On the other hand, once one of the four living creatures tells John to “come!” the scenes that follow have altogether to do with what is happening, or will happen, on earth. The sequence is consistent: “the Lamb opened,” “I heard,” “I saw.” In each case, what John sees while still “in heaven” actually happens on earth; and because of this shift of venue, there is no singing here!²⁸

At the same time, even though not immediately available to the person reading the book for the first time, here we are presented with the first of the three sets of seven. Since in many ways these sets hold some of the structural keys to the rest of the book, they need to be brought into the foreground in this first occurrence.

The seven seals (6:1—8:5)

The seven trumpets (8:6—11:19)

The seven bowls (15:1—16:21)

1. White horse

1. Earth 1/3 scorched

1. Painful sores

2. Red horse

2. Sea 1/3 to blood

2. Sea to blood

3. Black horse

3. Water 1/3 bitter

3. Rivers to blood

4. Pale horse

4. Sun 1/3 darkened

4. Scorching sun

5. The martyrs

5. The locust plague

5. Total darkness

6. The earthquake

6. Fiendish cavalry

6. Froglike demons

a. 144,000 sealed

a. The eaten scroll

a. The heavenly call

b. Great multitude

b. The two witnesses

b. Gathering for battle

7. The seven trumpets

7. The consummation

7. Earthquake levels Babylon

A few observations about all of this are in order before turning to the seals themselves. First, the only matters in the rest of the book that are not included in this scheme are chapters 12–14 and 17–22, which have their own role to play in the overall narrative, and which will be noted in detail at the proper time. Second, this kind of schematizing belongs to the apocalyptic form of writing, and therefore is not to be considered a blow-by-blow unfolding of the future. Third, both the trumpets and the bowls clearly echo the plagues of Egypt—a matter the earliest readers could scarcely have missed—while the bowls themselves also echo the trumpets.²⁹ In so doing John is inviting these early Christian readers to recognize similarities between Pharaoh’s persecutions of Israel and the Empire’s soon-coming persecution of the church.

It seems very likely that by this schematization John intended these three sets to be seen together in some way. But whereas the seventh seal evolves into the seven trumpets, another scheme is at work that ties the trumpets and bowls together (which will be noted at the proper time; see pp. 207–9). Nonetheless, despite these structural similarities, this opening group of seven is a set unto itself, with very little correspondence to the two that follow. In fact in the present case the initial set of four are not “plagues” at all, nor are they eschatological. Thus they are almost certainly not intended to relate to the final, eschatological conclusion of all things; rather they have all the markings of a prophetic word regarding the near future for John and his readers.

This observation is reinforced by the content of the fifth seal, in which martyred believers appear, and again by the seventh seal, which is not an event on its own at all. Rather this seal evolves into the seven trumpets, thus implying that when the last seal is broken, the scroll itself is opened. All of this together, including the way the seals are introduced in the preceding scene (ch. 5), suggests that the seals themselves are not to be tied directly to “what is to happen shortly” regarding eschatological events as such. Rather, the breaking of the seals paves the way for what follows, but they are not themselves the major event(s).

Finally, everything narrated about the scroll in chapters 4 and 5 points to its significance in the unfolding drama: its being in God’s right hand; its role in both the introduction of and praise to the Lamb; John’s dramatic weeping. At stake, of course, is what has been narrated in the letters to the seven churches, where there is constant warning of an impending trial and the repeated promise that the faithful will be victors. The drama itself will unfold with the opening of the seventh seal in 8:1. So to heighten the drama, John has chosen to use the opening of the seven seals as a means of communicating the reason for the (necessary) divine intervention that will come later. Thus the present material functions very much like the overture of an opera: all the major themes that will appear in the opera are woven together into a (hopefully) captivating invitation to listen to the rest. So in this case all the major themes of the “divine drama” are here presented in a sequential way through the four horsemen, the martyrs, and finally the earthquake. The rest of the book will provide the actual drama that spells out the story.

Seals One through Four: The Four Horsemen (6:1–8)

¹I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come!” ²I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.

³When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” ⁴Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill each other. To him was given a large sword.

⁵When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. ⁶Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “A quart³⁰ of wheat for a day’s wages,³¹ and three quarts of barley for a day’s wages,b and do not damage the oil and the wine!”

⁷When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” ⁸I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. The four riders were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.

Once more borrowing imagery from Zechariah,³² John begins this vision with the appearance of his “four horsemen of the Apocalypse.” These now infamous figures present three basic problems for the reader: first, their role in the narrative itself, especially as part of the overture to the whole and the prelude to seals five and six; second, the meaning of the first one, since the final three are quite clear; and third, how to deal theologically with the fact that they are called forth by divine activity.

We begin with their role in the narrative. Notably, even though this is apocalyptic-type imagery, John goes to some lengths to make sure that the reader does not miss what they represent: conquest, war, famine, and death. This is the obvious cycle of centuries of conquest by the earthly powers, with focus on the present one, Rome, but without any overt or covert indication of such. The scene is a clear continuation of what has preceded; thus John watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. The drama continues in the same venue by moving from sight to sound, as one of the four living creatures speaks in a voice like thunder, inviting John to come!

Next, moving back from sound to sight, John looked, and there before me was a white horse, followed by a description of its rider. The description is in three parts, and with these, combined with the “white horse,” most of the difficulties begin for later readers. John begins by noting that in his hand the horseman held a bow, which is elaborated by the third descriptor: he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest. These two surround the more difficult one, that he was given a crown, the first of two such passives (for this and the next horseman). But in light of the summary sentence at the end (v. 8b) the passives seem to include all four riders. Although this may be nothing more than a way of indicating that the horsemen had power to conquer, it seems highly likely, in light of 13:2, that John assumes Satan to be the actual giver of power; yet it is expressed in passives because nothing lies outside God’s own eternal sovereignty.

The ultimate question here has to do with who this rider is intended to represent, a difficulty that stems from the combination of the color white and the fact that “he was given a crown.” Since the latter seems intended to identify him as someone with ruling authority, the real issue has to do with the color white, which elsewhere is either the color of eschatological victory (see 3:4–5, 18; 6:11; 7:9, 13) or the color reserved for Christ (1:14; and esp. 19:11). But in the present narrative this can hardly be a picture of Christ; after all, Christ is the Lamb who opens the seals, and therefore even in apocalyptic literature cannot at the same time be this horseman. Moreover, this horseman belongs to a sequence that finally ends in death and leads to the martyrs’ cry in verses 9–10. But if he not Christ, who then? The best answer seems to be that John intends this figure to be a demonic parody of Christ, just as the beast in chapter 12 is presented as a parody of the Lamb. If so, then this first figure, which points ultimately to the Roman Empire, is part of the overture that depicts, and thus anticipates, the awful events that are to follow. Such an understanding seems confirmed by the fifth and sixth seals, which anticipate the two major concerns of the whole book: the persecution and suffering of God’s people, and God’s judgment on their persecutors. Thus these four horsemen logically precede the next two seals as the cause of the martyrs’ suffering.

When the Lamb opened the second seal, John heard the second living creature say, “Come!” What follows in this second instance is unique to the series. Instead of the repeated, “I looked, and there before me,” John says simply, then another horse came out, whose rider, in keeping with the scheme of color identifications, is atop a fiery red horse. The further description of him makes it clear that he represents war itself, since he was given power to take peace from the earth by making people kill each other. Almost as an afterthought, John adds a note about the weapon by which he was identified as the ultimate human power: To him was given a large sword. One would not need to know much about “ancient history”³³ to recognize these first two horsemen as representing the Roman Empire, which was at its peak of conquest and domination of the Western world at the time John was writing from Patmos as a prisoner of the state.

With the opening of the third seal and the invitation to come! from the third living creature, John moves toward something prophetic, as he sees the inevitable outcome of the activities of the previous riders. The next rider therefore sits atop a black horse, imagery that depicts famine at its worst. In what evolves into the longest of the four descriptions, John elaborates on the inevitable outcome of Rome’s greed and exploitation, expressed here with especially poignant imagery: Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. At first reading one might be tempted to think that here the Empire itself was to be “weighed and found wanting”; but what rather seems intended by this description is a prophetic judgment on Rome for its fiscal and imperial ways. Indeed, what is prophesied is a famine of such severity that one “denarius,” which elsewhere in the New Testament represents a day’s wages, will buy only a small amount or wheat or barley. The picture is therefore one of severe famine, which is moderated only slightly by the final, especially puzzling imperative, do not damage the oil and wine. Among the many options that interpreters have offered for this unusual moment, the most likely would seem to be a historical reflection on the furor created by the emperor Domitian in 92 CE when he ordered half the vineyards in the province of Asia (of which Ephesus was the capital) to be cut down so that he could increase the wheat supply for the Empire. Fortunately the good sense of others prevailed, so that the vines were spared. If indeed this is the historical situation behind John’s final note, then this is now a word spoken directly to the emperor himself as to what not to do in a famine of grain. Thus the trees (producers of olive oil) and the vines (producers of wine) are to be spared.

The climax of this series is finally reached when the Lamb opened the fourth seal, and as one now expects, the final voice, that of the fourth living creature, signals for John to come! As John looked this time, there before him was a pale horse. And to make sure that no one misses the inevitable final result of the sequence to this point, John identifies its rider’s name as Death. Then, in keeping with the personification throughout, Hades was following close behind him. Thus the picture is not that of people such as those in John’s Christian community who had died, and would be in their graves awaiting resurrection, but of those who have rejected Christ and have been assigned to “Hades.”

At the end of the scene John notes that the four riders³⁴ were given power to bring death over a fourth of the earth. In apocalyptic literature such a numerical figure is not intended to be precise; rather it represents a large, but not complete, devastation that would be created by God’s ultimate enemy, Satan. The deaths are then attributed to three sources, thus picking up the devastations caused by the final three horses: human destruction (to kill by the sword), so-called natural disasters (famine and plague—note especially how the latter follows the former), and becoming prey to the wild beasts of the earth.³⁵ Although one cannot be sure why John added this final dimension to the devastation, it most likely simply points to reality; in a famine the “wild beasts of the earth” will feed on human beings themselves.

One should note at the end that the alleged theological problem raised by the preceding description—the four horsemen as being called forth by Christ—is more of our own making than John’s. His pictures are not intended to be a precise, blow-by-blow account of the future. Rather, he is trying to portray the larger realities that will one day take place on the earth; and in order to get there, John uses this vivid imagery to tell the story of the present. In any case, John seems to have three basic theological concerns in the greater vision: first, to portray graphically the majesty and sovereignty of God the Trinity (chs. 4–5); second, to reassure the churches that God, not the imperial enemy, is ultimately in control, hence Christ breaks the seals and the four living creatures call for the evil ones to do their thing; and third, to point out that the way to victory is not through an escape from death or martyrdom, but through death itself. Divine vindication will come later, but God’s victory unmistakably leads through the cross. As Charles Wesley put it, “It is the way the Master went, should not the servant tread it still?”

The Fifth Seal: The Martyrs (6:9–11)

⁹When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. ¹⁰They called out in a loud voice, “How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” ¹¹Then each of them was given a white robe, and they were told to wait a little longer, until the full number of their fellow servants and brothers and sisters were killed just as they had been.

While the preceding four seals have both similar structure and similar content, this seal and the next have only a roughly similar structure. Together they depict the two key groups of those who live on earth at the time of John’s writing: the followers of the Lamb, who have been slain by “those who dwell on the earth” (vv. 9–11); and those who dwell on the earth themselves (vv. 12–14). The absolutely crucial matter for the rest of the present narrative, not to mention for the book as a whole, are the questions raised by the two groups. The martyrs ask, “How long, Sovereign Lord, … until you avenge our blood?” (v. 10). The rest, on their day of judgment, cry out, “The day of their [God and the Lamb’s] wrath has come, and who can withstand it?” (v. 12). These two seals, therefore, complement each other while at the same time they prepare one for much that follows.

The content of this fifth seal comes in three clear parts, corresponding in this case to the verse numbering. In verse 9 the martyrs are described as those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. This is another remarkably prophetic moment in the book, since up to this point the only known person to be martyred because of his faith was Antipas of Pergamum (2:13). What John sees clearly is that his was but the beginning of hundreds more to come. Their martyrdom in this case—and of the many more to come—would be the result of their adherence to “the Word of God” and to maintaining their own “testimony.” This is now the third instance of the combination of “word” and “testimony,” which appeared first in 1:2 and 9, where the latter is called “the testimony of Jesus.” As before, the two phrases most likely mean “the word from God” and “their testimony about Jesus.” Here the emphasis is not on the content of their testimony as such, but on their loyalty to it; it was “the testimony they had maintained.” In John’s view this is the essence of what had led, and would continue to lead, to martyrdom—the insistence on the part of believers that the crucified, now risen Jesus is Lord, the only Lord, and thus not the emperor, who as a mere earthling would dare to assume such a title for himself. Indeed, probably as much as, if not more than, anything else, this unyielding persistence on the part of these early believers to refer to the risen Jesus alone as “Lord” would lead them toward a path of martyrdom. Thus, in its own way this seal in particular anticipates much of the rest of the book.

The opening of the seal is itself described in three clear parts. First, the martyrs are described as under the altar. Since there will be no altar as such to be found in heaven (!), this imagery is most likely occasioned by the fact that in Jewish thinking their temple was a kind of earthly counterpart to heaven, as noted earlier regarding the lamps and sea of glass (4:5–6). That these martyrs are followers of the Lamb is made clear by John’s use of the same verb for them as for the Lamb himself—they have been “slain.” Moreover, the reason for their martyrdom echoes that found earlier in the book, where John identifies himself as their fellow sufferer, because of “the word of God and the testimony [to Jesus]³⁶ they have borne” (6:9).

These martyrs, in turn, called out in a loud voice the first of the two leading questions that anticipate the rest of the book. The address itself, Sovereign Lord, is language from the Septuagint, used most likely in this case as a Christian affirmation about the living God vis-à-vis the emperor. As much as Vespasian may have wished to think of himself as the “sovereign lord” of his vast empire, that empire nonetheless had known boundaries that limited his actual sovereignty, whereas there are no such limitations to the living God. The addition holy and true, which occurs only here in the Bible in this combination, is nonetheless language used in descriptions about God that can be found throughout the Old Testament. “Holy” describes God’s eternal character; “true” reminds the readers of God’s veracity. In this case, the description is especially relevant to the prayer itself, which appeals to that veracity in light of the present martyrdoms. Thus their question is not one of if or whether, but in keeping with the Psalmists, it is when (“How long?”),³⁷ since God’s holiness and trustworthiness are foundational to their expectation of judgment on those responsible for their deaths.

The expectation of judgment itself is expressed as a doublet, and assumes the much larger expectation of judgment on all who are not followers of the Lamb, identified here simply as the inhabitants of the earth. But in the present case this much larger group is given specific identity in relationship to the anticipated martyrdoms; thus at issue is how long … until you … avenge our blood, which has been spilt by “the inhabitants of the earth.” At this point one should remember that, whatever else, this is an apocalypse, a writing intended to offer some measure of comfort to its readers in terms of ultimate realities, even if present ones will be of little if any comfort. And if their plea sounds negative in the ears of modern readers in Western cultures, in fact most such readers would be less than pleased to live under the heavy-handed rule of the kind of totalitarianism of the Roman Empire, even though it was of a more “enlightened” variety. After all, the Neronian persecutions were but a small foretaste of the holocaust that would be periodically unleashed against Christians in the succeeding two centuries.

The striking response to this plea of the martyrs tends to serve as anything but a comforting word to those in distress, since basically the answer is that it will get worse—far worse—before it gets better. Thus each of them was given a white robe, language that both picks up on the promise made to the faithful in Sardis (3:4–5) and anticipates the final resurrection, which will be further noted in this way in 7:13–14. But before that event, they were told to wait a little longer, the reason for which is that there will be many more martyrdoms before the end itself. This is expressed in terms of the full number of their fellow servants and brothers and sisters who would be killed just as they had been.

The combination of “fellow servants and [siblings]” is especially striking, not only because it is the only biblical occurrence of such a combination but also because of their order of appearance. Almost certainly nothing should be made of the latter observation regarding their order, since John here seems to be reminding his readers that they are Christ’s “servants,” whatever else, and at the same time they are also siblings of the same heavenly Father. The greater—and immediate—issue lies with the final clause saying many more are about to be killed just as the earlier martyrs had been. Their significance will be further highlighted in the vision of the heavenly multitude that follows in 7:9–17. Thus even though John’s ultimate concern in this book is to reassure his readers of their final destiny, despite present and anticipated increased suffering, he neither downplays nor enhances the latter reality. They are, after all, followers of the Crucified One, whose own death was at the hands of the Empire, even though it had been instigated by the fear and hatred of the very people he came to deliver.

The Sixth Seal: The Great Earthquake (6:12–17)

¹²I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, ¹³and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind.

¹⁴The heavens receded like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.

¹⁵Then the kings of the earth, the princes, the generals, the rich, the mighty, and everyone else, both slave and free, hid in caves and among the rocks of the mountains. ¹⁶They called to the mountains and the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us³⁸ from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb! ¹⁷For the great day of their³⁹ wrath has come, and who can withstand it?”

The sixth of the seven seals is in direct response to the question posed by the martyrs in the fifth seal, “How long, Sovereign Lord, … until you judge the inhabitants of the earth?” As such, and like its predecessor, the opening of this seal further anticipates the final judgment described later in 16:16–21 and 20:7–15. In this case, however, the answer is not an immediate response, in light of what they are told, but God’s ultimate response—God’s judgments poured out especially on those responsible for the martyrdoms described in the opening of the preceding seal. John’s own place in the vision now moves from the preceding “I looked”/“I saw” to the more anticipatory I watched as he opened the sixth seal. The judgment itself is expressed in terms of a great earthquake, a phenomenon used twice by the prophets as a symbol of God’s wrath and/or judgment,⁴⁰ and which occurs elsewhere in this book either in these terms or as a prelude to God’s judgments (8:5; 11:13, 19; 16:17–21).

The description that follows begins with a graphic portrayal of the supernatural phenomena that affect the entire known universe, beginning with the heavenly bodies (vv. 12–14) and concluding with the human response to it—from the mighty (“kings”/“princes”) to the weak and lowly, including slaves (vv. 15–17). Thus, first up is the sun, which turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair.⁴¹ Thus the first cosmic wonder is the darkening of the sun, the source of both light and life on the earth. Next up is the moon, described as the whole moon, which turned blood red. It seems very likely that with these descriptions John intends his readers to see the cosmos as in mourning over the events on earth, brought on by the earthquake. The cosmic collapse is so total, going beyond the sun and moon to include the stars in the sky, that it is first described and then offered a comparison so as to make the description more poignant. The stars thus fell to earth in the same way that figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind, a description that assumes ripened figs that have not yet been harvested.⁴² With the sun blackened, the moon blood red, and the stars having disappeared, finally the heavens themselves receded like a scroll, thus appearing to have been rolled up. The final apocalyptic description has to do with the earth itself, so that every mountain and island was removed from its place. All of this, one must remember, is the direct result of the earthquake John witnessed; and along with John one must visualize, not take it literally, since in the next sentence everyone … hid in caves and among the rocks of the mountains.

This latter point needs to be made because in the final scene the mountains exist both as a place in which people can hide and as a preferred source of judgment, as over against a source of panic. Thus what follows is a description of the entire human populace seeking to escape divine judgment by hiding “in caves and among the rocks of the mountains.”⁴³ John begins his description of the human populace at the top, as it were, and works his way down from the tyrants to the populace itself. Thus he begins with the rulers, the kings of the earth (cf. 18:3)⁴⁴ and the princes, who are most likely to be understood as the emperor and all his subordinate rulers in the various provinces, who were either under direct Roman rule (as was Judea) or indirect rule through a local “king” (as was Galilee). These are followed by two other specific groups of people in positions of power: the generals and the rich. These are then followed by the designation the mighty, which in this case is probably best understood as a final catch-all term, functioning very much the way “et cetera” does in English. Following these various forms of “the mighty,” John finally includes everyone else, both slave and free; and with this he has simply included all of the known human race that made up the Roman Empire.

The various people themselves prefer the indirect judgment of the destruction by the rocks and mountains rather than a direct encounter with God and Christ. But their place of refuge in “caves and among the rocks of the mountains” is recognized as inadequate in the face of such a cataclysmic earthquake, which is to be understood by all as an expression of divine judgment. In describing their panic, John borrows language from Hosea 10:8,⁴⁵ describing their plight as a yet future fulfillment of that prophetic word. John’s narrative indicates that such people would much prefer death from so-called acts of God rather than having to face the eternal God himself, Father and Son, in the place of judgment. Thus they want to be hidden from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb. It turns out, therefore, that their fleeing to the mountains is not for refuge from the earthquake as such but rather from God’s wrath, which they recognize to be present in the shaking of the sky and land.

The content of the sixth seal concludes with all these people, “the mighty” and lesser ones together, giving the reason for their preference for death by earthquake rather than to experience divine exposure. Thus they ask the second great question that will be taken up in the rest of this book. Acknowledging that the great day of their wrath has come, they ask, who can withstand it?⁴⁶ Thus the martyrs ask, “how long?” and those responsible for their plight ask, “who can withstand the divine wrath?” We need here to note by way of anticipation that chapter 7 offers the immediate response to the latter question, while chapter 8 offers the first expression of the divine wrath. The rest of the book then goes on to spell out the reasons for the divine wrath and the nature of the salvation offered to God’s own people—who are soon to experience human wrath of considerable proportions.

Fusing the Horizons: Getting One’s Priorities in Order

In the materials that follow, from chapters 7 through 17, John offers a relentless picture of God’s judgments, both temporal and eternal, against Rome and its empire for their role in the upcoming onslaught of God’s people—which actually transpired during the two centuries following the writing of this document. But John also has his priorities fully in order, so he does not begin with the coming assault. Rather he begins with these marvelous pictures of heaven, with focus on “the One sitting on the throne” and on “the slain Lamb.” Only then, in our chapter 6, does he offer his “preamble” to the rest of the book (through chapter 20). In the present three chapters he thus reminds his readers that no matter what may befall them, nor how severe it may turn out to be, “God is the Master yet.” The earth and all that is in it are still God’s work and God’s love.

Nonetheless, John’s present concern in chapter 6, given the world’s relentless litany of conquest, war, famine, and death, is to reassure his readers that even though many of them will become martyrs, God will ultimately respond to the Empire’s tyranny with full divine judgment. Since most of us would prefer to rest even now in the scenes of chapters 4 and 5, the closing scene of heaven in the latter of these makes it clear that John is there dealing with what God’s ultimate redemption of the world will look like. Chapter 6 likewise makes it clear that until then, God’s people who refuse to laud the Empire and “worship” its emperor will experience their tyranny. Throughout the rest of the book, John will regularly remind his readers as to how beguiling the great harlot can be.

In present times the beguiling temptress is an even more subtle siren, taking the form of an economic and cultural complex that has allowed the large majority of citizens in both English-speaking North America and much of Europe to rest in the basic comfort of the “sweet buy and buy”—despite its economic disparities and coarse underbelly of sexual wantonness and continual pursuit of pleasure as an end in itself. If the believer’s resistance to such a lifestyle comes onto the world’s radar—or electronic screen of some kind—such a person can be assured that their contrary point of view will not go unnoticed, and will lead to their being scorned or ostracized. As Isaac Watts put it strongly, this “vile world” is “not a friend to grace, to help us on to God,” because there are indeed still “foes for us to face,” subtle though so many of them may be. Thus modern readers also need to return to the present scenes again and again to be reminded that this planet is still “our Father’s world,” and a continuing object of God’s love and grace.

1. That is, the sevenfold Spirit.

2. This noun occurs 17 times in chs. 4–5, thus making it clear that it is the central visual reality in this series of visions.

3. John’s Greek text is quite ambiguous at this point, as to whether the meta tauta (“after these things”) concludes the present sentence or stands at the beginning of the next sentence, especially so since there is neither punctuation nor spaces between words in the earliest Greek evidence. Later scribes clarified this problem by adding a kai (“and”) at the beginning of the next sentence (and thus the KJV begins v. 2 with “and immediately”). This is almost certainly John’s intent, even though this usage of meta tauta is especially strange.

4. It is of interest to note that John avoids naming God at this point, since the prophets and Psalmists from whom John is borrowing showed no such reluctance (cf. 1 Kgs 22:19; 2Chr 18:8; Isa 6:1); but see also Ezek 1:26–27, whose reluctance to do so probably serves as John’s forerunner.

5. The reason for this, of course, is that in the entire NT understanding of things, the Spirit is on earth to continue the work of Christ in the life of the believer and in the church as a body.

6. The Greek word used here (zoa) has proven to be difficult to put into English; literally it means “a living thing/being,” but it was unfortunately (apparently on the basis of the first two) rendered “beast” in the KJV, thus leading to centuries of unfortunate understanding, not to mention pictures (!).

7. At the human level it might find expression over the beauty of a woman or the physique of a man.

8. This, after all, is a native Aramaic speaker expressing himself in Greek.

9. Several witnesses, including one of considerable importance (codex A), do not contain v. 4 at all. But this is a clear case of omission, rather than addition, based on the fact that both vv. 3 and 4 end in exactly the same way (oute blepein auto, “neither to look at it”), and a scribe (perhaps more than one) in returning to the text he was copying picked it up at the end of our v. 4, rather than v. 3, so that he copied vv. 3 and 5, but without v. 4.

10. The Nestle-Aland²⁷ text also has 4 paragraphs, but in this case vv. 1–5, 6–7, 8–10, 11–14. These differences simply indicate that, unlike most places in the Revelation, the paragraphing here is not immediate to the reader, even though the flow of the narrative itself is easy to follow.

11. The Greek preposition here is epi (“on”), thus implying an open hand with the scroll “on” it, although the English idiom would still be “in it.”

12. At the same time this imagery probably also contains an allusion to Dan 12:4, where Daniel was told to seal up his scroll until the end of time.

13. That is, the sevenfold Spirit

14. This imperative has been left out of many modern English versions (NEB, REB,  NAB), including the NASU, but has been kept in the NASB. The imperative in this case is best understood as part of the drama, and therefore should be kept, even though for meaning as such it is unnecessary at this point.

15. This imagery also has its OT roots, this time in Isa 53:7: “he was led like a lamb to the slaughter.”

16. Indeed, God’s righteous judgments are on display throughout, which are brought to dramatic expression finally by means of the One seated on the white horse (19:11ff.).

17. In this case, v. 7: “He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.”

18. On the NIV footnote as the proper way to understand John’s language of “seven spirits of God,” see p. 6 above.

19. A significant number of Greek manuscripts have this participle in the present tense, most likely as some later scribes’ way of giving the text currency for their own day.

20. See esp. the extended discourse in John 13–16, of which 15:26 is typical: “When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father—the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father … ”

21. The phrase “seven eyes of the Lord” appears in Zech 4:10, and is most likely the OT source of John’s description.

22. Some manuscripts they reign.

23. Thus they are “obeying” what was expressed in the Psalm by way of imperative, where God’s people are urged to “sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things” (98:1; cf. 96:1).

24. It is of some interest that the listing of peoples in this passage (“tribe”/“language”/ “people”/“nation”) occurs 6 more times in the Revelation (7:9; 10:11; 11:9; 13:7; 14:6; 17:15), with the same 4 words in all but 10:11 (“kingdoms” instead of “tribe”) and 17:5 (“multitudes” instead of “tribes”), and sometimes plural instead of singular, but no two are in the same word order. Below is the list of terms in order for each passage.

25. The Greek is as ambiguous as the English translations: myriades myriadōn kai chilades chiliadōn. The language itself is borrowed from Dan 7:10, where in Daniel’s vision “thousands of thousands attended him [the Ancient of Days]; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.”

26. In the same way as is anyone’s attempt to paint such a scene for the sake of others, since people’s visual imaginations differ from one another. Thus everyone’s own visual image is “right” in such an instance.

27. Some scribes, in as early as the fourth century, omitted the kai (“and”) between “on the throne [and] the lamb,” thus creating the anomaly “to the Lamb who sits on the throne.” If this were purposeful, it would seem to have been intended to heighten, not to minimize, the deity of Christ. More likely it was simply an accidental omission.

28. This shift in venue is what creates a measure of difficulty for interpreters as well. Does one divide the material in keeping with the location of the activity of the vision (thus chs. 4–5, as most do), or in keeping with the vision itself with John still in heaven (chs. 4–6, as I have chosen to do)? Here is a case where there is no “right” way.

29. For further observations regarding the relationship between the trumpets and the bowls, see the discussion of the bowls on pp. 207–9 below.

30. About a liter

31. Greek a denarius

32. This time from Zech 1:8, whose vision began with “a man riding a red horse,” behind whom were “red, brown and white horses,” presumably with riders on them, although that is now expressly said.

33. I put this in quotes because it was the name used for this time period in history classes when I matriculated in college some 55 years ago.

34. At least that seems to be the most likely option with regard to John’s ambiguous “they,” which could also be limited simply to “Death and Hades,” as the NIV itself seems to imply.

35. With these disasters John is once more borrowing from Ezekiel, this time 14:21: “when I send against Jerusalem my four dreadful judgments—sword and famine and wild beasts and plague.”

36. A large sector of the Greek manuscript tradition has here added “to [lit. ‘of’] the Lamb,” but not the manuscript lying behind the received text on which the KJV was dependent.

37. See inter alios Ps 13:1; 79:5; 89:46; 90:13; 119:84; cf. Isa 6:11 and Zech 1:12.

38. See Hosea 10:8.

39. Some manuscripts his.

40. See Isa 29:6 and Ezek 38:19. The reader should be reminded that earthquakes are especially unsettling, even in a scientific age where they are understood; how much more so, therefore, in a pre-scientific age, when the most foundational reality of all, the earth itself, rumbles and heaves.

41. One might compare this with Joel 2:31, whose imagery is slightly different (“the sun will be turned to darkness”).

42. John is here again borrowing from the prophets, this time from Isa 34:4: “All the stars in the sky will be dissolved, and the heavens rolled up like a scroll; all the starry host will fall like withered leaves from the vine.”

43. Language that clearly echoes Isa 2:10, 19, and 21.

44. John’s language here echoes (is borrowed from?) Ps 2:2: “the kings of the earth rise up … against the Lord and against his anointed.”

45. The Hosea text reads, “They will say to the mountains, ‘Cover us!’ and to the hills, ‘Fall on us!’”

46. In this case their question echoes the sentiment, but not the precise language, of Joel 2:11.

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