"And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, singing,
'Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever! Amen'.” (Revelation 7:11-12)
At the last, nobody needs to toot their own horns or stroke their own egos. At the last, all creation finds its deepest fulfillment in giving glory to God, rather than needing to hog the attention for themselves.
I find that truly fascinating, and honestly rather refreshing.
As we continue taking a closer look at the passage that many of us heard in worship this past Sunday, I'm struck at how effortlessly all these different beings break into song praising God, like it is the most natural thing in the world for them. You don't get the sense that anyone there in the heavenly throne room feels slighted, unrecognized, underappreciated, or overlooked. They worship God, not grudgingly or like they are in a trance and being manipulated, but like they are more fully alive themselves when they are pointing beyond themselves to God. That's the secret, which has been staring us in the face all along: we are most fully ourselves, not when we are puffing ourselves up to get more attention, but when we are naming God's goodness and recognizing God's glory. And at the very same time, as an ancient father of the church named Irenaeus once put it, God is glorified in human beings who are fully alive. God doesn't need to make us grovel or crawl on our knees over gravel and broken glass in order to feel important; rather, we are more joyful, more at peace, and more truly ourselves in those moments when we lift up the goodness of God--that is, when we worship. The scene here in Revelation is not of some egocentric cosmic tyrant who feels big and powerful when he forces his creations to fawn over him; it's rather of God's creations realizing that the living God is worthy of their praise. And I am convinced that John, the writer of Revelation, might well say the same of each of us, as well: we are more fully who we were made to be when we are offering up ourselves to point to God's goodness.
If that notion seems strange to you, let me propose a thought experiment. Picture a river that flows into a larger body of water--a lake, a sea, or an ocean. Right here in my own back yard is the Maumee River, flowing up and out to Lake Erie, for example. The river is most fully being what a river is meant to be when it is pouring itself out into the Lake. A river that holds onto all of its water, or refuses to pass it along to the lake or the sea, well, it's become a very long pond, or maybe it's dried up altogether. But a river is most truly a river when it allows its water to flow outward toward its destination. The missing water that "goes away" into the lake doesn't lessen the river, but in fact, it is the very act of giving up that water toward the larger body that makes it what it is meant to be.
I want to suggest that our meaning and purpose are very much the same: we are made for pouring ourselves out in love toward God--and because of who God is, toward our neighbors. We don't become less ourselves when we glorify God or offer our praise, but rather we are more ourselves. We don't feel belittled or diminished by naming God's goodness or singing of God's love, generosity, and justice--rather, we are somehow more truly what we were meant to be. In fact, I would suggest that when we do turn inward to toot our own horns, brag about our own "greatness," or feed our own egos, that's when we are actually settling for less than full life. When our own sense of self-importance turns us inward, we end up wasting our time, energy, and love trying to get other people to compliment us or praise us, and it feels empty, doesn't it?
So in this new day, hear this passage from Revelation as an invitation to be more fully alive. The insecure loudmouths will keep wanting to puff themselves up and talk about their own (imagined) greatness, but we don't have to waste our breath tooting our own horns. We can find ourselves more fully ourselves when we are offering our lives completely to God--like the old hymn says it, "lost in wonder, love, and praise." We are meant to be rivers, not stagnant ponds, after all.
All praise to you, God, for you are good--and you have shared your goodness with us to give us life. For this we give you thanks, and in this, we receive our fulfillment.
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