"For this reason they are before the throne of God
and worship him day and night within his temple,
and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.
They will hunger no more and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat..." (Revelation 7:15-16)
Some folks who occupy seats of power use their status only for their own advantage and self-promotion... but not God. The visionary writer of Revelation says that God almighty who reigns in heaven and earth chooses to use that position to protect and provide for us--indeed, the living God chooses to be our shelter.
What an utterly beautiful contrast to the self-serving autocrats of history, ancient and modern, who only care about serving themselves with their offices. The real and living God uses the position of divine authority to meet our needs, not to have God's ego stroked.
And what an image John of Patmos uses in these verses, which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday, to describe God's tender care. "The One who is seated on the throne will shelter them," he says. The Greek is even more evocative--it suggests God is pitching a tent, or even that God becomes the tent itself that provides the shade so that "the sun will not strike them, no any scorching heat" (something John and his readers, all living in sultry Mediterranean climate, could surely appreciate). It's also the same word underneath the claim in the poetic prologue of John's Gospel, that in Jesus, "the Word became flesh and dwelled among us"--again, carrying the imagery of a tent, or the ancient tabernacle of Israel which symbolized God's presence dwelling among the people in a tent-like structure they would set up and tear down as they moved through the wilderness.
This, John says, is what God's kind of "kingship" and "reigning" look like--not a golden parachute to cover God's narrow self-interest, but a canopy spread out over all of us to protect us. The living God is fundamentally other-centered rather than self-centered. And God's way of using power is always pointed outward at caring for and protecting those who are vulnerable, not merely being surrounded by fawning sycophants. In fact, as John points out, it is exactly because God chooses to shelter us from the divine throne that makes God worthy of our worship--it is because God is different from the self-serving autocrats, emperors, and ruler from the dustbin of history that God is truly worthy of our allegiance and worship. Caesar wants more glory, territory, and power for himself. Same with Alexander the Great of Greece and Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon before him. Same with Pharaoh in Egypt and every other tinpot tyrant of every era. None of them are truly worthy of our devotion--but the living God is, because the living God chooses to be our shelter, come what may, so that whatever else is out there to threaten us, God will absorb it and keep us from feeling its fury.
That's the other thing implicit in this image. If God--in God's own being, God's own self--becomes the canopy to shelter us or the tent to enfold us, then whatever dangers or troubles may be around will hit God, who offers God's own presence to protect us like a mother hen with her brood under her wings. That promise of the sun not striking us, or any scorching heat--that is possible only if God chooses to be the shelter who takes all of that fire and holds it at bay so that we are spared. It is fundamentally an image of self-giving and sacrifice--a God who is willing to take the hit so that we may live. It is the sort of God who goes to a cross, isn't it?
When I hear these words from Revelation's seventh chapter, then, I hear it like a love song, earnest and courageous. It reminds me, actually, of a song by Ray LaMontagne, titled appropriately, "Shelter," and whose refrain has this line to it: "Listen, when all of this around us will fall over/ Tell you what we're gonna do/ You will shelter me, my love/ And I... I will shelter you." It sounds rather like the promise of God here in Revelation--but of course with one notable exception: the living God doesn't need our help to shelter the divine. God makes a decidedly one-sided promise here, offered freely to that innumerable crowd in white robes from every nation, language, and people group, to be our shelter, but without seeking our help, protection, or power in return. That's the beauty of our God: being our shelter and our refuge simply because we are the ones who need it, and not in order to get something from us. That is the God whom we worship.
And that is why God is worthy.
All praise to you, O God, who shelters us. We give you thanks for offering your own life to be our refuge.
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