Revelation 1:4b-8
November 24
David A. Davis
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In the gospel of John, Jesus said “I am the bread of life”. And Jesus also said, “I am the light of the world”. “I am the door”. “I am the good shepherd.” “I am the resurrection and the life” “I am the way, and the truth, and the life”. “I am the vine”. In the Book of Exodus, at the burning bush, God said to Moses “I AM WHO I AM… You shall say to the Israelites, “I AM has sent me to you”. So, when one gets to the end of the New Testament and the Revelation to John, this verse ought to catch the ear. “I am the Alpha and the Omega” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” The Risen and Triumphant Christ, the Lamb upon the throne, at the end of Revelation says to John, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”
“I am,” says the Lord, who is, who was, and who is to come. It is not the Alpha and Omega that struck me this week. It is not the Lord as beginning and end that spoke to my sacred imagination. It is John the Revelator’s description that comes with the Lord God saying “I am”. “The Lord God who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” A chronology method, a logical word choice, and ordering of tense would simply affirm the Lord who was, who is, who is to come. But no, the phrase begins with “who is”. It is more than a matter of grammar or word choice. If not a coincidence, then it is a theological conviction. The description of the Almighty begins with the Lord who is. The God of the present. The God of the moment. The God of the here and now. There before the Victorious Christ who reigns in the Kingdom of heaven, there among the great cloud of witnesses, a crowd which no one can number, with a vision of the new heaven and earth about to be proclaimed, John affirms the God of the present. John the Revelator proclaims the is-ness of Jesus Christ.
I’m betting that you can imagine a Thanksgiving dinner table somewhere in the kingdom of God later this week. It is a small gathering because not all Thanksgiving meals are overflowing with attendees; multi-generations from the same family, worn-out travelers from out of state, and a kids’ table that’s just this side of being on the back porch. No, the table I’m picturing in my mind is much smaller there in the MacGregor’s home. There are only three MacGregors; George is the Dad. Cindy the Mom. Justin is all of 7 years old and in second grade. They were of the generation that usually traveled to see out-of-state family. But for a variety of reasons that every one of us could list, including the challenges these days of being with extended family, they are staying home for Thanksgiving this year.
Cindy had thought about inviting another family or two from the neighborhood, but she kind of didn’t want to ask and kind of assumed everybody else would be with family. She and George decided they would invite Mr. Wasley from church. They shared a pew with the Wasleys on Sunday morning about a third of the way back in the sanctuary on the left side. After Mr. Wasley’s wife had died a bit more than a year ago after 47 years of marriage, the pew friendship seemed to deepen. He loved to sing the hymns. He had mentioned that he had served as an elder and that he had been on the property committee when they redid the sanctuary. He always had some tidbits of history to share about the church. He was listed when the congregation celebrated 50-year members. Mr. Wasley was always patient with Justin (a bit more patient than Justin’s parents). He usually gave Justin a quarter after church. He never said why. But Justin was saving them now in his treasure box. Though Cindy remembered that the Wasleys had no children, she sort of thought he would have a better offer for Thanksgiving. She asked him one Sunday in early November. Much to Cindy and George’s surprise, Mr Wasley said “Well yes, thank you. That would be lovely.” Justin was probably the most excited that Mr Wasley said yes.
So just in a few days, the four of them are sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner (five if you count the is-ness of Christ at the table). The time comes for the prayer before the meal. Justin’s Dad, George had decided that instead of a formal prayer, he would simply invite each person at the table to share something for which they were thankful. Not wanting to leave God out of it completely, George goes first and makes sure his words of thanks are appropriately religious. He tells his four listeners that he is grateful to God for bountiful blessings in the last year and the privilege of sharing those blessings with family and friends for years to come. He also expresses gratitude that they can share the meal with Mr, Wasley. Cindy, in an attempt to acknowledge Mr. Wasley’s loss, shares that she is thankful for the special Thanksgiving memories that she has for meals and family gatherings past. She also mentions her memories of Mrs. Wasley when they used to serve coffee hour together at the church. She concludes by telling Mr. Wasley that she hopes this Thanksgiving might be the first new tradition that could include him at their table and in their family for years to come.
Now it’s Justin, the second grader’s turn. His dad had given him a heads-up earlier in the day so as not to spring this prayer plan on him. So, theoretically, Justin had time to prepare. He lets go of his mother’s hand on one side and Mr. Wasley’s on the other just to wipe the sweatiness off on his pants. And then looking around the table filled with all the food, Justin sort of blurts out, “I’m thankful for mashed potatoes, aren’t you Mr. Wasley?” Needless to say, Justin’s parents are a bit underwhelmed by their son’s prayer effort. So Justin’s dad suggests maybe it could have a little more to do with God. His mom takes his hand again with a bit of a tighter hold and says “Aren’t we also thankful for Mr. Wasley being here?” with that tone of voice that ends in a question but was more of a strong suggestion.
“No, no, no,” says Mr. Wasley, interrupting both parents who were trying to perfect Justin’s prayer by some parental form of Roberts Rules. Right then, during that prayer, just in those few moments, time sort of stands still for Mr. Wasley. He finds himself thinking about what his afternoon could have looked like all by himself, and how much he missed eating a meal with someone other than the news anchor or the host of Sportscenter on ESPN. He thinks of how food never would taste as good as food used to when his wife cooked it. This time standing still moment is almost an out-of-body experience now for Mr. Wasley as he tells himself and the Risen Christ at the table how thankful he is for this Lord’s day friendship that has come from the pew. He tells Jesus that some weeks his conversation with the MacGregors is the longest he has had with anyone all week. Mr. Wasley finds himself wishing this moment with Justin and Cindy and George, this moment with he and them and Jesus would last for hours. With the wisdom of age, he understood Justin’s word of thanks better than the parents, and perhaps exactly how Justin intended it. Being thankful to God for the very moment, yes for the past and yes for the future, but for the very moment, for the very moment the way a child understands the moment, something that is, something right now, like hot mashed potatoes with melting butter just waiting to be served. And right then and there in the timelessness of it all, Mr. Wasley silently admits to God and to Jesus and to the Holy Spirit that it has been more than a little while since he has offered such a prayer of thanks for what is. For his life in the here and now.
“No, no, no…it’s my turn.” Mr. Wasley starts to speak. He looks around the table, looks at Justin’s parents, takes Justin’s hand, and with a grin and a sparkle and a squeeze and a sense of gratitude he had not felt in a long time, Mr. Wasley says, “Yes, Justin I am very thankful for mashed potatoes” and he pauses a beat or two, “actually, Justin, I am quite thankful for hot, fresh biscuits as well, with just a touch of gravy.” He stops with that and together Justin and Mr. Wasley offer a robust “amen” and pick up their forks. Justin’s parents glance at each other with a bit of confusion on their faces. The unseen Christ at the table heaves a sigh, nods his head yes, and offers a bit of a smile.
Before the church affirms the God of the past, we ought to sing praise to the God who is. Before we stand and proclaim the God of the future, we ought to be standing and pointing to the God who is. Before we find ourselves drawn to the stories of Jesus recorded in scripture and before we fall on our knees before Jesus, the Lamb of God who sits upon the throne, the One who shall reign forever and ever, the One who is surely coming again, you and I, we ought to give witness to Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, the Savior of the world, who is. On this Christ the King Sunday on the threshold of Thanksgiving Day, giving thanks to God and to Jesus and to the Holy Spirit, God the three in One, giving thanks for the God of the here and now, not unlike the way a child lives and celebrates the moment. Giving thanks for the presence of Christ at the table of our lives.
Theologian Karl Barth argues that the message of Jesus’ past is proclaimed, heard, and believed in order that it should no longer be past, but present. For him, a community interested only in the historical Jesus would be a community without a guiding spirit. Likewise, a community that endures a certain emptiness now, a passive, futile waiting, a kind of church-based gestation period that only counts the days waiting for Christ to come again, well, according to Barth, it’s just unspiritual. Meaning it is a community lacking in the evidence of the work and the presence of God, the gifts of the Spirit, a spirit of thankfulness for the moment. In Barth’s own language, “It must never be forgotten that He who comes again in glory, this future Jesus, is identical with the One proclaimed by the history of yesterday and the One really present to His own today.” (Church Dogmatics III.2. p.468). That presence, that “isness” of Christ is made known as the community gathers around Jesus himself in worship, a community that lives by and with Christ the King, through faith. “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”
If I had to try to tell Justin and his second-grade church school class about the “is-ness of Jesus Christ”, I wouldn’t describe a feeling inside or point to spiritual high upon a mountain top or faith hero or today. I would invite them to stand here with me and look out at you, right now. A community that with the passion of its worship believes that Christ is present, that in this weekly gathering, Christ is at the center. A community with all of its brokenness and frailty believes that Christ’s love binds us together. That Christ’s love is our only comfort in life and in death. A community that knows itself to be sent out in service, not fill out our resumes, not to facilitate team building at the office, not to achieve honorable mention in faith-based initiatives, but solely because Christ calls us now, Christ sends us now. We know ourselves to be the hands and feet of Christ for this moment, for this time, for this place.
Even here and even now, even today, celebrating the Is-ness of Jesus Christ. “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”