Reading Revelation, Part III: Here and Now Vs. There and Then
There is nothing like studying Revelation to take oneself out of the mundane troubles of this life and to adopt a "long view," i.e., eternal view.
I've been embroiled in a matter at work that has taken up far too much of my time and emotional energy. It is one of those academic matters that proves the quip, "The reason conflicts in academia are so bitter is that the stakes are so small." It really came down to a few hundred dollars in someone's pay, but it ended up being far too life-sucking. I am not happy with the outcomes (my side lost), but such is life.
However, it was a wake-up call from God about far more than I can get into here. Mainly, my priorities in my career life. Consequently, I am working to shed unnecessary, octopus-like commitments that have wasted my time and energy from the "best" because they seemed "good."
So this leads me to sitting at the dinner table with my husband last night having a snack before bedtime. We had salmon, rice, and broccoli for dinner, very healthy, but not filling for the long term. I spoke of how in my reading of MacArthur's commentary on Revelation he writes that in the new heaven and new earth "former things are passed away" and we will have no memory of this life. "I don't like that," I said. "I enjoy the beauty of nature, relationships, and arts here." I guess I'm just a humanist in that regard, as a person who has taught in the humanities for 40-some years probably should be.
My husband is less sanguine about this life, for a number of reasons. He wondered why I was so in love with the here and now when there is so much evil. "That's true," I said, "but it's sort of like the end of OUR TOWN, where Emily goes back to living for a time and the dead tell her not to, it will be too painful, and they are slowly forgetting it."
"But," he reminded me, "she says 'it is all too wonderful' speaking of this life. The Bible tells us that the next life is what is all too wonderful."
I couldn't argue with him. Later that evening I read a chapter on Tiberius from Barry Strauss' TEN CAESARS and was reminded how evil human beings really are--and these were the tyrants under whom John's audience lived.
The art and academics which I enjoy comes from humankind's search for beauty but also from struggle and wickedness. It is beyond my imagining to see what John is depicting, and my natural reaction is to allegorize or spiritualize it, at least somewhat. That reaction demands some scrutiny and recalibration.
I've been embroiled in a matter at work that has taken up far too much of my time and emotional energy. It is one of those academic matters that proves the quip, "The reason conflicts in academia are so bitter is that the stakes are so small." It really came down to a few hundred dollars in someone's pay, but it ended up being far too life-sucking. I am not happy with the outcomes (my side lost), but such is life.
However, it was a wake-up call from God about far more than I can get into here. Mainly, my priorities in my career life. Consequently, I am working to shed unnecessary, octopus-like commitments that have wasted my time and energy from the "best" because they seemed "good."
So this leads me to sitting at the dinner table with my husband last night having a snack before bedtime. We had salmon, rice, and broccoli for dinner, very healthy, but not filling for the long term. I spoke of how in my reading of MacArthur's commentary on Revelation he writes that in the new heaven and new earth "former things are passed away" and we will have no memory of this life. "I don't like that," I said. "I enjoy the beauty of nature, relationships, and arts here." I guess I'm just a humanist in that regard, as a person who has taught in the humanities for 40-some years probably should be.
My husband is less sanguine about this life, for a number of reasons. He wondered why I was so in love with the here and now when there is so much evil. "That's true," I said, "but it's sort of like the end of OUR TOWN, where Emily goes back to living for a time and the dead tell her not to, it will be too painful, and they are slowly forgetting it."
"But," he reminded me, "she says 'it is all too wonderful' speaking of this life. The Bible tells us that the next life is what is all too wonderful."
I couldn't argue with him. Later that evening I read a chapter on Tiberius from Barry Strauss' TEN CAESARS and was reminded how evil human beings really are--and these were the tyrants under whom John's audience lived.
The art and academics which I enjoy comes from humankind's search for beauty but also from struggle and wickedness. It is beyond my imagining to see what John is depicting, and my natural reaction is to allegorize or spiritualize it, at least somewhat. That reaction demands some scrutiny and recalibration.
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