Revelation 5 & Isaiah 56

by Isaac Shao

Exiled on the island of Patmos, isolated from the world, cut off from the ones he loved, the apostle John received his apocalyptic vision: a sealed scroll in the hand of God; yet no one was found worthy to open it, so he began to weep loudly. Centuries earlier, the prophet Isaiah spoke of the outcasts of Israel, who lamented their separation from God’s people, and the hopelessness of their future. The beginnings of today’s readings in the books of Revelation and Isaiah seem to share a sentiment of despondency.

The penitential season of Advent invites us to pull back a little from excess, to consider the conditions growing darker and more hostile outside our windows. I am thankful for the distinct seasons of our locale, and that includes winter, which through its encroaching darkness and frigidity, imposes a degree of temporal exile from the world of lucidity and activeness under sunlight. By now we have certainly felt the effect of shorter, colder days, and we won’t feel light and warmth return for a good while longer. Yet this season can be a gift of creation to help us live out the drama of salvation.

As we light the Advent candles, read the words of the scriptures, and wait in anticipation, we participate in a time of desolation in the grand narrative. Yet this is also the time of God’s piercing consolation. Even as we weep for the violence in the world and the sorrows in our lives, we hear “weep no more” and share in the vision of the Lamb that was slain, who is worthy, who reigns over all heaven and earth. Even as we brood over our own failings and blindness, we are encouraged to keep justice and do righteousness, gathered and included in God’s joyful house of prayer.

While in exile and isolation, John of Patmos experienced revelation that brought him closer to the creator of all things than imaginable. While rejected by Israel, the outcasts receive acceptance and promise from the Lord of all peoples. May God bless our Advent meditations and labors, and transform our desolation into glory.

Isaac Shao works as an engineer and lives in Jamaica Plain. When he’s not coding in C you may find him reading Tolkien or drawing saints.

Revelation 3:7-22

by Heather Kaufmann

In Revelation 3:7, the Spirit says to the church in Philadelphia, “Look, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut.”

In Revelation 3:20, the Spirit says to the church in Laodicea, “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

In revisiting this passage, I was struck that the image of a door is used in the Spirit’s address to both churches, but with very different meanings: in the first instance, Jesus is Himself the open door (as we also read in John 10:9-10); but in the second, the church and the believers therein are the door, on which Jesus is knocking.

Why does the Spirit of God give two parallel-yet-distinct door metaphors for these two churches?

We find a few clues in the words surrounding verse 7 and verse 20. The Spirit says of the church in Philadelphia, “I know you have but little power, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name” (vs. 8). God’s invitation here seems to be – “Take heart! Though you are weak, the door is still open to you and no one can shut it.” But then to the church in Laodicea, the Spirit says, “I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (vs. 15-16). God’s invitation here seems to be – “Pay attention! I am knocking on the door and asking you to respond—to no longer be lukewarm for the Gospel.” The Spirit encourages the first church to remember that Jesus is the open door (i.e. that no one can now separate them from God), and then exhorts the second church to listen to His knocking (because right now, He’d rather spit them out of His mouth).

As I’ve meditated on these words, I’ve been asking myself two questions: What helps me to remember that the door to God is always open to me? And, What keeps me from hearing God knocking on the door of my heart?

Most often, I’m reminded that the door is open to me through a tangible encounter with God’s love—when He meets me in prayer or in the writing of a poem, when a friend offers generous hospitality, when I look up at the canopy of leaves above my head in a forest... Almost always, it’s a time when I’ve paused to listen, to seek Him, to give thanks. Meanwhile, what often keeps me from hearing God knocking on the door to my heart is a desire to stay in control—sometimes this looks like resistance to surrendering some part of my will to God’s will; sometimes like a desire to hold onto pride or bitterness or discontent; sometimes it’s just falling prey to busyness and a neglect of the Sabbath. Almost always, it’s a time when I’ve fallen out of the practice of attuning to God and attending to the gifts that He's offering me.

So friends, whether you are holding fast to the knowledge that God’s door is always open to you, or struggling to open the door to your own heart before God, may you find moments this week to pause, to look up, and to stay attuned to His work as we wait for His coming.

Heather Kaufmann lives in Bedford and loves poetry and walking in the woods. You can find some of her poems via Twitter/X at @HeatherElizK.

Revelation 1, Luke 12:35-53

by Gareth Cleveland

“Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near” (Rev. 1:3). We may have any number of internal reactions to this proclamation, but I admit that for me, one of them is a sense of trepidation. Am I ready for Christ’s return? Will I have checked the right boxes and appropriately regulated all my thoughts and emotions in order to be eligible to participate in the coming kingdom?

In my childhood and even young adult years, I sometimes experienced a similar anxiety and need for control that would arise in the days leading up to Christmas. I was prone to fear that if I did not prepare for and take in the season in just the right way, it would be a loss, and desolation would follow. Thus on many occasions I pursued unhelpful rituals and sought to conjure up the right feelings. Thankfully, in recent years I have begun to understand that this is not the type of Advent waiting our Lord desires for us.

Given that Revelation is a book known to many for its apocalyptic images of judgment, I find it striking how the opening paragraphs root us in who God is. We are offered “grace” and “peace” not only from John but from the Triune God himself (v. 4-5), and then reminded that we are both loved and “freed from our sins by his blood” (v. 5). When John is overwhelmed by Christ’s splendor in v. 17, Jesus’s first words to him are “Fear not”, echoing the angels who spoke to Mary, Joseph, and shepherds, among others.

Though Jesus’s words in Luke 12:35-53 may summon some of that same anxiety about our readiness, let us not miss that only a few verses earlier, he says “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (v. 32). Though he will “come at an hour you do not expect” (v. 40), his desire – more than to judge – is to “bless” and “serve” (v. 37-38) those who have waited for him patiently and faithfully.

With that knowledge, let us wait in hope, peace, and joy, for the time is near.

Gareth Cleveland lives in Brookline with his brother. A lifelong New Englander, he is grateful to get the chance to live in the Hub, and to wait in hope with the CotC community.