Whenever I hear a speaker open with the words, “Turn to the Book of Revelation,” I tend to get a little uneasy. I get nervous because I never know how that speaker is going to handle the mysterious material in the book. Oftentimes, the comfort derived out of Revelation is from “knowing what’s going to happen.” But, very plainly, that’s not even close to the comfort Jesus gives.
Nativity scenes are strange to me. They’re strange because we’ve decided, against all evidence to the contrary, that we have to have the wise men from the east in attendance at Jesus’s birth. And, as Matthew 2 tells us, our stubborn insistence to include them at the nativity exposes our lack of understanding why we remember the wise men in the first place.
Sermons from the Book of Revelation tend to make me nervous. I squirm in my pew when I hear the words, “Turn in your Bible to the Book of Revelation.” This is usually because the speaker is about to “impress” with their eschatological knowledge and expertise. However, such trepidation at Revelation is unfounded, and such eschatological dot-connecting superfluous when you consider the first five words of the entire book.
I am always leery of stories that publish that claim to corroborate Scripture. I’m conflicted when I read stories like these. On one hand, I’m intrigued by something ancient being found and “proving” Scripture. On the other hand, I’m saddened that stories like this garner so much attention and are gobbled up by Christians everywhere. We like stories like this because we think, “Aha, see, I told you so!” But the Bible never defends its veracity, it assumes it.