Tag Archives: The Book of Revelation

On Eschatology and the Beatific Vision

In my last episode of Thinking Theologically (see here), I reflected on the nature of the Christian’s hope in the face of death. Do we simply go to heaven when we die, or is there something more for which we are waiting? (See also my post, “On Christian Hope: Heaven or Resurrection,” here.) The point of all this is that we must recover the priority of resurrection and new creation in contemporary evangelical eschatology. Christian hope is not simply “dying and going to heaven.” We await bodily resurrection and the renewal of creation. However, there is a danger of swinging the pendulum too far in the other direction, as it were. A beautiful renewed earth, embodied existence, culture, work, relationships, and the like are genuine eschatological goods—but are they the highest good? What are we to make of the traditional doctrine of the beatific vision, the idea that the final blessedness of redeemed humanity consists in seeing and enjoying God forever? After all, Paul can say that to depart and be with Christ is “far better” (Phil 1:23). So, which is it? I would submit that the Christian eschatological hope is neither merely resurrection and new creation nor an immaterial vision of God detached from creation. Rather, the resurrection of the body and renewal of creation provide the embodied setting for the beatific vision, in which redeemed humanity reaches its final blessedness by dwelling in the unveiled presence of the Triune God.

Of course, the Christian hope is irreducibly bodily. This cannot be denied. In Romans 8:23, Paul reminds us that “we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” In the same way that Christ was raised bodily from the dead, so we too, as his people, will one day be raised in glorified bodies. His resurrection is the pattern for ours. This is the logic of the resurrection. (On which, see here.) Salvation, therefore, does not culminate in the permanent separation of the soul from the body. God created human beings as embodied creatures, and his work of redemption restores the whole human person rather than liberating the soul from embodied existence. This is important for how we understand the beatific vision. To say that our final blessedness consists in seeing and enjoying God does not require us to abandon the bodily character of Christian hope. The redeemed who see God will be resurrected human beings, restored to the embodied existence for which God created them. The beatific vision is not the replacement of embodied human existence; it is the perfection of embodied human existence in the presence of God.

Neither, by the way, does embracing the beatific vision require us to abandon our concept of a renewed creation. In Romans 8, Paul deliberately connects the liberation of creation with the glorification of God’s children. Creation presently “groans” under its bondage to decay, even as we ourselves groan while awaiting the redemption of our bodies (Rom 8:21–23). The two hopes belong together. Just as God will redeem our bodies from death, so creation itself “will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children” (8:21). The biblical hope, therefore, is not the abandonment of the created order but its renewal. This trajectory reaches its culmination in Revelation 21, where John sees “a new heaven and a new earth” and the New Jerusalem descending “out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:1–2). The direction is significant: redeemed humanity does not permanently escape upward from creation; rather, God’s heavenly reality comes down to transform the dwelling place of humanity. Resurrection and new creation thus belong together as essential dimensions of Christian eschatological hope. But this raises an important question: what ultimately makes this renewed creation the blessed existence for which Christians hope? A renewed creation is essential to Christian hope, but the biblical story does not reach its climax merely by telling us that everything has been made new.

What, then, constitutes the supreme glory of the new creation? John provides the answer almost immediately: “Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God” (Rev 21:3). The great hope of the new creation is therefore not merely that death has been defeated, the curse has been removed, or creation has been restored—glorious though each of these realities will be. Its supreme glory is the presence of God himself. Indeed, this is the destination toward which the entire biblical story has been moving. Humanity begins in Eden dwelling in the presence of God. After the entrance of sin and humanity’s exile from his presence, God nevertheless dwells among his covenant people through the tabernacle and temple. In the incarnation, the Word himself “dwelt among us” (John 1:14), and through the Spirit God now dwells among his people in the church. Yet each of these anticipates the consummation, when God will dwell immediately and permanently with redeemed humanity in the new creation. The glory of the new creation is not ultimately that everything has been made new, but that the God who makes all things new dwells there with his people.

Yet Revelation goes even further. The promise is not merely that God will dwell with his people, but that “they will see his face” (Rev 22:4). Here we arrive at what Christian theology has traditionally called the beatific vision. The word “beatific” refers to blessedness, and the doctrine describes the final blessedness of redeemed humanity as consisting in the immediate knowledge and enjoyment of God himself. This hope appears throughout the New Testament. Jesus promises that the “pure in heart” will “see God” (Matt 5:8). Paul explains that although we presently see “only a reflection as in a mirror,” we will one day see “face to face” (1 Cor 13:12). Likewise, John declares that when Christ appears, “we will be like him because we will see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Of course, none of this means that finite creatures will somehow become capable of comprehending the infinite God exhaustively. The Creator-creature distinction remains. Rather, the redeemed will know and enjoy God with an immediacy, purity, and fullness impossible in the present age. We presently know God truly, but our knowledge remains mediated and incomplete. In the new creation, faith will finally give way to sight. The highest blessing of the age to come is therefore not merely that we will live forever, but that we will live forever in the unveiled presence of God.

We should not, therefore, think that we must choose between resurrection and the beatific vision, as though one represented a properly biblical hope while the other reflected an overly spiritualized view of salvation. The New Testament holds them together. We will see God as the resurrected and glorified human beings he created and redeemed us to be. Our resurrected eyes will behold Christ, our ears will hear the worship of the redeemed, and our glorified bodies will inhabit the renewed creation in which God dwells with his people. Indeed, the closing chapters of Revelation bring all these realities together. John sees a city, a river, the tree of life, the nations, the servants of God, and the throne of God and of the Lamb (Rev 21–22). Yet at the center of this renewed creation stands the remarkable promise that God’s servants “will see his face” (22:4). New creation is not an alternative to heaven because heaven comes down. Resurrection is not an alternative to seeing God because we are raised to enjoy God as whole human beings. And the beatific vision is not an escape from creation because God’s unveiled presence is the supreme glory of the new creation.

This is why Scripture can speak of God himself as the inheritance and supreme good of his people. The psalmist declares, “LORD, you are my portion and my cup of blessing” and confesses that “in your presence is abundant joy; at your right hand are eternal pleasures” (Ps 16:5, 11). Likewise, Psalm 73 asks, “Who do I have in heaven but you? And I desire nothing on earth but you” (73:25). Such language does not diminish the goodness of God’s created gifts. Rather, it places those gifts in their proper order. We should certainly look forward to a renewed creation free from death, suffering, and the curse. We should look forward to resurrected bodies, restored relationships, and the fullness of human life as God intended it. But none of these things constitutes our highest good apart from God himself. Indeed, Revelation describes the New Jerusalem as having no temple because “the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple,” and needing neither sun nor moon because “the glory of God illuminates it” (Rev 21:22–23). The greatest gift God gives his people in the new creation is ultimately himself. Every other eschatological good finds its proper place within that supreme and everlasting good.

What, then, is the Christian’s ultimate hope? It is not simply that our souls go to heaven when we die. Neither, however, is it merely that our bodies will be raised and we will inhabit a renewed creation forever. We await the return of Christ, the resurrection of the dead, the renewal of creation, the removal of death and the curse, and, above all, the unhindered presence of God himself. Resurrection describes the embodied form of our final salvation. New creation describes its created setting. The beatific vision describes its supreme blessedness and end. This is precisely the picture with which the biblical story concludes: “There will no longer be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face” (Rev 22:3–4). Christian hope is therefore gloriously earthly without being earth-centered and gloriously heavenly without being disembodied. We await resurrection and new creation because God intends redeemed humanity to live forever as the creatures he made us to be. But the supreme glory of that life will not be merely that death is gone, creation is renewed, or our bodies have been raised. It will be that we will see his face. The new creation is the world of our eschatological hope, but God himself is its object.


On the Theological Unity of Daniel’s Visions

The unfortunate reality today is that the bulk of biblical scholarship on the Book of Daniel is mired in the abyss of higher critical presuppositions, not the least of which is a thoroughgoing rejection of predictive biblical prophecy as such. Because of this the Book of Daniel is viewed as a composite work that was compiled in the middle second century BCE in the midst of the Maccabean Crisis. This view would seem to be supported by the linguistic and generic divisions that exist within the text. Linguistically, chapters 2 thru 7 are written in Aramaic while chapter 1 and chapters 8 thru 12 are written in Hebrew; similarly, though not an exact correspondence, chapters 1 thru 6 comprise the court tails while chapters 7 thru 12 consist of the visionary material. The conclusion then of most biblical scholarship on Daniel is that the eschatological expectations of Daniel are essentially a contradictory hodgepodge of ex eventu (after the fact) depictions of the actions of the Seleucid King Antiochus IV Epiphanes.

Of course, to defend the book’s 6th century Danielic authorship would go beyond the limits of this medium, but in the space that follows I would like to briefly demonstrate the essential unity of Daniel’s visions. The clearest indication of this unity comes in the correspondence between Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in chapter 2 and in Daniel’s vision in chapter 7. While these chapters come from seemingly disparate parts of the book, they both present a sequence of four kingdoms followed by the establishment of the Kingdom of God. Of course, critical scholarship widely identifies these kingdoms as Babylon, Media, Persia, and Greece. This is mostly because they understand the actions of the fourth kingdom, and particularly the little horn, to be fulfilled in the actions of Antiochus IV Epiphanes during the Maccabean Crisis from 167-164 CE. I will come back to the identification of these kingdoms in a little bit, but suffice it to say here that it is difficult to see how Daniel’s expectation for the establishment Kingdom of God is fulfilled in this time period. The subsequent period of Hasmonean independence which followed was a far cry from the grandeur of Daniel’s expectations.

This is especially so when we turn our attention to Daniel chapter 9; in that chapter, Daniel is praying about the end of the exile, and he receives an answer from the angel Gabriel, which reads,

Seventy weeks are decreed about your people and your holy city—to bring the rebellion to an end, to put a stop to sin, to atone for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy, and to anoint the most holy place.

Daniel 9.24

It seems rather clear that these seventy weeks span the timeframe from Daniel’s day (“from the issuing of the decree to restore and rebuild Jerusalem” in verse 25) to the time of final consummation, the time of “everlasting righteousness”. Because of this, we may presume then that the seventy weeks of Daniel 9 cover the same span of time as the visions of Daniel 2 and 7.

Now, the key to identifying the four kingdoms mentioned in Daniel’s sequence would seem to come in Daniel chapter 8. In that chapter, Daniel sees a vision of a ram with two horns, one longer than the other, and a goat whose large horn was broken off and replaced by four smaller horns. Again, the angel Gabriel gives the interpretation.

The two-horned ram that you saw represents the kings of Media and Persia. The shaggy goat represents the king of Greece, and the large horn between his eyes represents the first king. The four horns that took the place of the broken horn represent four kingdoms. They will rise from that nation, but without its power.

Daniel 8.20-22

This interpretation indicates that the second kingdom in Daniel’s sequence should be understood as the unified Kingdom of the Medes and Persians. It is described as a ram with two horns, one longer than the other (8.3) and as a bear which was raised up on one side (7.5). The third kingdom, then, should be understood as the Kingdom of Greece which is represented, of course, by Alexander the Great and the Diadochi, the four generals who followed him. They are variously described as a goat whose large horn was broken off and replaced by four smaller horns (8.8) and as a leopard with four wings and four heads (7.6).

This understanding is confirmed in Daniel chapter 11, where we read,

Three more kings will arise in Persia, and the fourth will be far richer than the others. By the power he gains through his riches, he will stir up everyone against the kingdom of Greece. Then a warrior king will arise; he will rule a vast realm and do whatever he wants. But as soon as he is established, his kingdom will be broken up and divided to the four winds of heaven, but not to his descendants; it will not be the same kingdom that he ruled, because his kingdom will be uprooted and will go to others besides them.

Daniel 11.3-4

The rest of chapter 11, then, goes on to detail the various campaigns of the “King of the North” and the “King of the South”, which describes the various conflicts between the Seleucids and the Ptolemies during the Third and Second century BCE respectively. The point of all this is to say that Daniel’s sequence of four kingdoms is best understood to refer to the progression of empires from Babylon to Medo-Persia to Greece and finally to Rome*. Of course, it must be noted that while the Roman Empire corresponds to Daniel’s fourth kingdom, it doesn’t completely fulfill it. That fulfillment comes ultimately in the eschatological kingdom of the beast, which is described in Book of Revelation, but this is a topic for another time.

By way of conclusion, then, Daniel’s visions reveal a remarkable and multifaceted unity in their expectation despite their seeming disparities. Daniel chapters 2, 7, and 9 give the overarching flow from Daniel’s day to the establishment of God’s Kingdom, and chapters 8 and 11 zoom in on the specific actions of the second and especially the third kingdom. More importantly, this understanding lays the foundation for the typological connection that Daniel draws between the third and fourth kingdoms, specifically between the actions of Antiochus IV Epiphanes and the eschatological little horn of the fourth kingdom. In addition, it helps us see how Daniel’s eschatological paradigm serves as the foundation for the message and ministry of Jesus, especially the Olivet Discourse, and for the message of the New Testament, particularly the Book of Revelation.

Of course, the most important aspect of all of this is the certain promise of God’s victory over His enemies and the enemies of His people. Our hope rests not in earthly powers, nations, or empires, but in the Kingdom of God and in His promised Messiah. That Messiah came incarnate 2000 years ago. He lived a perfect life, and then, He died on the cross for sin and rose again. Forty days later, He ascended to be seated at the right hand of the Father, and He left us this promise, that in the same way he ascended, he will also one day descend in glory and power (Acts 1.11). This is our glorious hope, and so we pray, “Amen, Come, Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22.20)

For further study, see:
Hamilton, James M. With the Clouds of Heaven: The Book of Daniel in Biblical Theology. New Studies in Biblical Theology. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2014


On Historical Context and Purpose in the Book of Revelation

It is commonly accepted wisdom among most Christians that the Book of Revelation is the hardest book of the Bible to interpret and understand, and it certainly does stand out as one of the most unique books of the New Testament. Those who do attempt to read it are immediately confronted by literary forms, images and symbols, and pastoral concerns that are so unlike their own lived experiences that they tend to put it down faster than they picked it up. Couple this with the myriad of disagreements that exist over the meaning of all these details, and it seems easier to simply leave this book of the Bible to the domain of trained Biblical scholars. However, the book itself affirms, “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear the words of this prophecy and keep what is written in it, because the time is near.” (Revelation 1.3) So, when we neglect and ignore this final book of the Bible, we miss out on the blessing that it very clearly promises. But how do we overcome the intimidating and off-putting obstacles that keep us from drinking deeply from its pages?

When we are met with an interpretive challenge like the Book of Revelation, we must return to our basic hermeneutical convictions, those fundamental interpretive principles that help us navigate the Scriptural waters. And one of those rules that is particularly helpful for understanding the Book of Revelation is this: A text without a context is a pretext for a proof text. In other words, when we understand who the biblical author is writing to and why he is writing to them, we are in a better position to understand what he is saying. Or to put it another way, the meaning of the text must be grounded in the inspired intention of the biblical author. He is writing to real people with real needs, and he intends for his message to truly address those needs. If we come up with an interpretation that would make zero sense for the original audience, then we must reevaluate our understanding of the text. Of course, any reconstruction of the historical audience must begin with the details in the text, but historical sources from the time period can add additional detail to our understanding of the audience and their situation.

Fortunately for us, John identifies his intended audience directly; in chapter 1, verse 11, we read, “Write on a scroll what you see and send it to the seven churches: Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.” We must affirm that these were seven real churches that were located in the Roman province of Asia Minor, or what we would call modern day Turkey. Each one of these seven churches is addressed directly in the letters of chapters 2 and 3, but the author’s concern for these churches cannot be limited to these first few chapters, even if they are primary for understanding the particular needs of these churches. The entire book was written to and for the members of these seven churches of Asia Minor. As to the date of writing, there are two views that are held by biblical scholars. The majority view holds that the book was written during the reign of the Emperor Domitian (81-96 CE); the minority view suggests that the book was written during the reign of the Emperor Nero (54-68 CE). Either of these dates is possible for the book’s composition, but a review of the historical evidence slightly favors the later date, meaning that the Book of Revelation was probably written sometime around 95 CE.

Regardless of which date is preferred, it is clear that these seven churches were facing challenges both internally and externally. These Christians were living in a world that was openly hostile to their faith in Christ, and while there was no official imperial policy of persecution at this time, they were facing intense social pressure in their local communities to compromise their convictions and conform to the Roman way of life. Culturally, they simply had no where to belong. The Jews had rejected them, and the Gentiles would not accept them. They were ostracized marginalized outsiders who did not belong to the world they lived in. And Jesus is writing to them through John to encourage them to persevere in faithfulness, to hold on to the blessed hope that is His appearing. The Revelation is a reminder that they are part of something bigger than themselves, that the victory and vindication that they long for is ahead of them, and that there will be a day when all oppression shall cease. This is the message of Revelation. It is not about beasts and bowls; rather, it is about Christ, our King, who is coming again in glory and power to do away with sin once and for all and establish His perfect Kingdom on earth.

Of course, there are those who would disagree with this assessment of the message of Revelation. Some, particularly those who hold to an early date for the book, would suggest that part or perhaps all of the book was fulfilled in the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. Problems with the early date notwithstanding, it is not clear how this understanding addresses the needs of Christians living in the Roman province of Asia Minor. As noted above, they were facing persecution from the Jews living in those cities, but Jerusalem was not the primary enemy that they were facing. In fact, the Book of Revelation makes it clear that while earthly enemies may affect us, they are not our ultimate foe anyway. Therefore, the destruction Jerusalem would hold little promise for bringing their persecution to an end and accomplishing the victory that the book promises. Further, it isn’t clear how the book’s descriptions of “all the nations”, “all those who live on the face of the earth”, and “the whole earth” can refer only to the people of Israel or the citizens of Jerusalem. So, while this view attempts to maintain the book’s relevance for the original audience by positing all fulfillment in the first century, in actuality, it does the exact opposite. In fact, it completely undercuts the hope and blessing that the book promises its readers, both in the first century and today.

The Book of Revelation paints a glorious and beautiful picture of the hope that is ours in Christ Jesus. It is the promise of a world that is free from the contamination of sin, free from the heavy burden of the curse, free from all opposition to Christ and His people. As Christians, we must remember that this is our blessed hope. This world’s troubles and difficulties are not the end of our story; no, we are part of something that is bigger than ourselves, an eternal story that far surpasses our momentary lives here on earth. Moreover, the Book of Revelation teaches us that our sufferings, our difficulties, our heartaches, they matter deeply to God. He takes note of every wrong, every insult that we suffer, and one day, He will right those wrongs and vindicate His people. This is the central message of Revelation. Of course, the difference is in the details as they say, and there are still many details within the pages of Revelation that we must wrestle with. But this is the point, we must wrestle with them. We cannot ignore or neglect this last book of the Bible simply because it is too challenging, too difficult, too different. We must explore with our minds and our hearts what the Spirit is saying to His church. We must pray that He will give us ears to hear, and when we engage this book in earnest, we may be confident that we will find the strength to persevere and hold fast in hope.

For further study, see
Osborne, Grant R. Revelation. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2002.


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