We humans are by nature meaning-seeking creatures. Particularly in times that are disturbing or disorienting, religion is used to frame our experiences in terms of “plausibility structures”—narratives or systems of meaning that “make sense” of reality.[1] The question for Christians and non-Christians alike is, what type of narrative do we use to frame or give meaning to our experiences? This question is particularly relevant in this period when we are faced with a Covid-19 pandemic that threatens our nation and our world.
Christians & the Biblical Hope
For Christians, the answer to this question has been expressed in terms of the biblical “hope”—a term that is associated with our final salvation or redemption that is assured because of Christ’s resurrection. Peter describes God’s ultimate purpose for Christians as a “new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into an inheritance that can never perish” (1 Pet 1:3–4).
So far, so good. But, when we dig deeper, we realize that there is quite a bit of confusion about the ultimate hope of Christians—and of the world. In Jesus the Bridegroom, Brant Pitre describes the nature of this confusion in this way: The New Testament often describes the union between Christ and his church through the cross in terms of a marriage. But as every married couple knows, the wedding day is not the end but rather the beginning of a spousal relationship. In an ordinary Jewish wedding, after the wedding banquet and the sealing of the marriage covenant, the bridegroom takes the bride home to live with him. In the case of Jesus, however, something strange happens. Shortly after his wedding is inaugurated through his death and resurrection, Jesus the bridegroom leaves by ascending into heaven (Acts 1:1–11). What are we to make of this? As Pitre asks, “What kind of bridegroom marries his bride and then (literally) ‘takes off’?”[2]
The answer, of course, is that in the biblical story, although the wedding of Jesus, the Messiah, and his bride, the church, has begun (or been inaugurated), it is not yet complete. Jesus himself expresses this distinction between the “now” and the “not yet” in the Last Supper when he states: “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it anew in the kingdom of God” (Mk 14:25). So, when and how does the story end? How is the union of God and his people brought to ultimate fulfillment? What is the exact nature of the biblical hope or vision of the future?
It is here where there is a lack of clarity (and disagreement) over what the Bible actually teaches. As Pitre states: “While many people think of the end of the world (primarily if not exclusively) as a time of tribulation, apostasy, deception, and the coming of the Antichrist, the New Testament also describes the end of time in another way: as the eternal marriage of Jesus and his bride in a ‘new heaven and a new earth’ (Rev 21:1–2).”[3]
Hope Fulfilled—the New Jerusalem & the Lamb
Throughout the Old and New Testaments, the concept of the “wedding feast” is used as a metaphor for this final renewal and restoration of creation. More specifically, the image of the bridegroom returning to his bride is used to depict the renewal of God’s “marriage covenant” with his people. In this sense, the story of salvation in the Bible is a divine “love story” between God and his people—and indeed between God and his entire creation. This is why at the very end of the book of Revelation the “new Jerusalem” is depicted as “coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (Rev 21:2; cf. 22:17). In the Gospels, Jesus describes himself as the divine bridegroom coming for his bride; and he depicts the final age of salvation in terms of the image of a wedding feast. In fact, the Last Supper is in many respects a wedding banquet—the inauguration of a new wedding covenant that looks forward to the final wedding celebration spoken of by the prophets.[4]
In describing this final marriage of heaven and earth, John gives his readers a vision of the Holy City (Jerusalem) coming down from heaven, “prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (21:2). This picture of the new heaven and new earth is followed by a description of the Holy City as garden-like (22:1–5) and in the shape of a temple (21:10–21). In other words, the bride of Christ (the Lamb) is represented by a merging of three biblical metaphors or symbols: 1) the new Jerusalem; 2) the new temple; and 3) the new Eden.
Why is this significant? Simply because these three images represent the culmination of Israel’s story, the story of the “new Israel” (the church)—and indeed the entire story of redemption in the Bible. Jerusalem is often depicted by the Old Testament prophets as the “bride of God,” but also as an adulterous wife. But God’s promises are fulfilled through the new Israel, which John describes as built on the foundation of “the twelve apostles of the Lamb” (21:12–14). Furthermore, there is a new temple, because in the new heaven and new earth “the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple” (21:22). Finally, the bride of the Lamb is identified with the new Eden because God’s original purpose was to expand the boundaries of Eden (his first sanctuary) so that the entire earth could be filled with his presence. This original purpose is realized as the throne of God and the Lamb is now in the midst of his people and his glory is manifested throughout the new creation (21:11; 22:1–5).[5]
With these images, the divine love story—the story which we re–enact in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper—comes full circle. The story which begins in the garden with the “marriage” of Adam and Eve ends with the eternal marriage of God and his people in Christ, the Lamb.[6]
Being Followers of the Lamb
Finally, a word should be said about what it means for us to be followers of the Lamb in the context of Easter and the message of Revelation.
Biblically, the gospel, or the story of redemption, is best understood in terms of the reign of God which will one day fill the new heaven and new earth. This is the vision that John gives us in Revelation 7:9–10:
After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out with a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.”
In this passage, John is clearly also alluding to Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem during the Passover, when the great throng of people meet him waving palm branches and shouting:
Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the King of Israel! (Jn 12:13)
Shortly after this event, Jesus predicts the ultimate defeat of the prince of this world (Satan) through his death and resurrection:
Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. (Jn 12:31)
This vision of God’s reign is dramatized in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper or Eucharist. In the present age, the kingdom of God is “now and not yet.” It is critical that we keep this tension. For, as Russell Moore rightly warns, if we mistakenly bring the kingdom too near (already) we run the risk of utopianism and a politicized gospel. On the other hand, if we keep the kingdom too distant (not yet) there is the danger of cultural apathy or withdrawal from society. So the question is, “Where is Jesus ruling now, and how?” Jesus indicates that it does not come with shock and awe, but in secret and hidden ways, like yeast working its way through a loaf of bread (Mt 13:22).[7] The enthroned Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world (Jn 1:29), presently reigns primarily in and through his church (Eph 1:22–23), which is called to be a signpost of the kingdom. “The priorities of the King, seen in the ultimate restoration of creation, become the priorities of the colony of the kingdom: the church.”[8]
The “new heaven and new earth” is therefore not reserved solely for the future. Although we must still live in terms of the “not yet,” at the very center of the church’s story is the unique task of cultivating “new Edens” and “new Jerusalems”—places of healing and restoration in our cities, towns, and neighborhoods.[9] This takes on added meaning and significance as our nation—and the entire world—face the threat of Covid-19. As we approach Easter in this difficult time, we have the hope that because Jesus has defeated death itself all of creation will one day be set free from its bondage to corruption (Rom 8:21). But we also need to ask ourselves what it might look like for the present-day church to live out the vision of God’s reign, which will be realized in its fullness at the end of human history. For this is the driving metanarrative that defines our loyalty to Jesus Christ.[10]
[1] The term comes from Peter Berger, Sacred Canopy. [2] Pitre, Jesus the Bridegroom, 114–15. [3] Ibid., 115. [4] Ibid., 49. See also Long, Jesus the Bridegroom, 202–203. [5] Beale and Kim, God Dwells Among Us, 138–40. [6] Pitre, Jesus the Bridegroom, 128. [7] Moore, Onward, 58–9. [8] Ibid., 63. [9] See Leong, Race and Place, 73. [10] See Stassen and Gushee, Kingdom Ethics, 1st ed., 63.
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