My homiletics (preaching) professor trained me to make scripture easy to understand and to explain exactly what each passage means to my audience. While there is some value in biblical study and clear explanation for a group, we should not forget that Jesus didn’t always follow such a strategy.

Besides making difficult and challenging demands of his followers, Jesus made several confusing statements that left his audience wondering what he meant or even if he was possessed by a demon. As a result of these exchanges Jesus lost followers, received accusations, and was written off by many in his audience.

Many of his listeners stopped following when he claimed the following: I am the bread of life, my followers will never die, and you will see the Son of Man ascending and descending. He told parables with hidden and powerful meanings that cut to the hearts of some listeners and left others confused and bewildered.

Reaching an Audience

Jesus had a message from God to communicate, but he didn’t define success for his message by the size of his audience. It’s jarring to realize that Jesus could have probably grown a larger base of followers by toning down his message or explaining his theology better.

Perhaps we need to ponder this practice for ourselves as we consider the ways we teach and communicate spiritual truths. Are there times when we need to leave certain things unsaid so that our listeners are challenged to do their own thinking? Are we making it too easy to follow Jesus by always pressing for “the answer”?

The Benefits of Confusing Statements

Jesus left certain parts of of his message embedded in metaphors and parables so that his listeners had to ponder their meaning. I like the implication that understanding his teachings required dedicated time to think on them.

For disciples who are called to leave everything behind in order to follow Jesus, they shouldn’t be surprised when he also asks them to think long and hard about his teachings. John’s Gospel notes certain points (such as chapter 6) when the crowds balked at the words of Jesus. John, who often inserted explanations of what Jesus meant, didn’t offer an explanation for us either.

The author of the fourth Gospel knew that even as he recounted the life and teachings of Jesus, certain things should remain shrouded in mystery and ambiguity so that future disciples will ponder the teachings of Jesus anew and seek the guidance of his Holy Spirit.

This assaults are preferences for simple answers and clear explanations, but it assures us that the message of God can find a more lasting and permanent place in our hearts as we invest in pondering its meaning.

Can you imagine what would happen if your pastor began his sermon on God’s covenant with Abraham by comparing a modern business contract? We’d learn hardly anything of value about the ancient story from such a contemporary example.

In fact, we run the risk of misunderstanding the significance of certain elements of the story. There is much more value in comparing God’s covenant with Abraham to ancient Suzerainty covenants from the same time. In studying these ancient documents we discover the unique significance of what God promised Abraham.

By the same token, most scholars and teachers study Paul’s epistles by comparing them to letters written by Paul’s contemporaries. I doubt a comparison to a “Dear Abby” letter would provide the illumination we seek. The same goes for comparing the Gospels to ancient works of history.

Revelation as Literature

When it comes to Revelation, many read it as a blow-by-blow account of future history. They turn it into a prophetic and predictive mash up, seeing it as a highly symbolic chronicle of the future that can be matched up piece by piece with certain events and people.

However, there are a number of books quite similar to the book of Revelation that stand out as contemporaries and demand our attention. To ignore them would cut us off from the best sources we have for understanding a very confusing and symbolic book.

Many scholars agree that Revelation is undeniably a Christian form of apocalyptic literature. In doing this we are also affirming the Jewish roots of the New Testament that are easy to overlook 2,000 years after these books were written.

Revelation as Apocalyptic Literature

When I first read Jewish apocalyptic literature, my mind almost exploded. I kept thinking to myself, “This is just like the book of Revelation!” There were heavenly visions, angelic guides, symbolic beasts and horns, battles between good and evil, and God’s triumph and judgment of evil.

For example, have a look at 2 Esdras 16 and consider if any of that sounds familiar. Chapter 15 should sound familiar too for that matter. For more info, see: Esdras.

In short, Revelation utilizes many of the existing literary elements of a particular genre. The original audience of Revelation would have known how these elements worked and interpreted them accordingly.

This means we need to understand how apocalyptic literature functioned within the Jewish context and how the author of Revelation used this form to communicate with his audience. It is quite possible that the author of Revelation was John the apostle and he did in fact have a heavenly vision. However, whether or not that actually happened, he certainly used a very familiar form to communicate a particular message.

This is quite different from the Gospels, which are documenting historical events that truly do matter. The Gospels hinge on the historicity of what they say about Jesus, but Revelation is performing a different function as apocalyptic literature.

Apocalyptic literature was written during times of persecution as a way to encourage the faithful to endure to the end, to trust that God is fighting evil, and that God will triumph in the end. The symbolism and other-worldly nature of the writings may have been particularly helpful in avoiding the notice of authorities.

Therefore, if Revelation was a form of apocalyptic literature written during a time of persecution, which is most likely the case, what does this mean for our interpretations? Is this the end of the end as we know it? Should we toss our end times charts and the theology of the Left Behind Series? That’s where we’re going tomorrow.

Today I am offering a very brief snapshot of the history of interpreting Revelation, made all the more limited because I’m focusing on the outcomes that have impacted evangelicals. I’m generally going to avoid labels and technical terms in the interest of brevity, but these links will provide a next step with more information about Revelation and Christian eschatology.

Uncertainty About an Unusual Book

During the 100-300’s Revelation was included in many, though not all, lists of New Testament books in the West, while it was rejected by many churches in the East. It was generally interpreted as a prediction of the immanent return of Jesus in the future, but after Constantine rose to power Christians began to interpret it in more symbolic ways, a trend that generally held throughout the following years.

The return of Jesus wasn’t literal or immanent, but was rather a spiritual reality. The millennial reign was already in process, and the book did not line up with contemporary or future events and people.

Generally speaking, Christianity became increasingly distant from its Jewish roots after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 AD, an event that Christians fled due to the warnings of Jesus. While I can’t vouch for every theologian that followed, generally speaking the Jewish roots of the New Testament became less important, especially in the case of an obscure book such as Revelation that bore a resemblance to a small body of Jewish writings.

If Revelation wasn’t about the immanent return of Jesus in a series of cataclysmic global events, it also wasn’t recognized as a particularly Jewish kind of book. Without either of these options on the table, theologians in the west struggled to interpret it.

The Urgency Returns

Throughout the years Christian scholars wrestled with the meaning of Revelation, and throughout to the Reformation debates continued about its value. In the early to mid 1800’s, evangelical theologians in America found fertile ground for a reading of Revelation that interpreted it as a prophecy of future events that foreshadowed the literal return of Jesus.

An urgency and anticipation gripped evangelicalism in America and eventually in other countries. Some groups took the extreme measures of setting actual dates for the return of Jesus, but by and large the greater impact was one of urgency for evangelism and a fervency to remain close to Christ—shifts that leaders such as Moody viewed as beneficial.

However, throughout the late 1800’s the popularity of this view also led to a general withdrawal from many social programs that focused on serving the poor. In fact, historian David Bebbington cites this theological shift as influential in the gradual move away from evangelical social action at the turn of the 20^th century (The Dominance of Evangelicalism p. 200).

What’s Different Today?

Many modern scholars today make the faulty assumption that historians today care about the facts more than ancient historians and scholars. Just look at the circus known as the Jesus Seminar that has sought the real Jesus, but generally muddies the water. Such scholars see our traditions as a liability to be removed, which is quite wrong and unhelpful in the majority of cases.

However, when it comes to Revelation, the literary context of the book has been so widely unknown and its history of interpretation so uncertain and shifting, that I think a reexamination of the book is warranted. While we are not more intelligent or more committed to the facts than those before us, we do have a new angle on the book of Revelation in light of its contemporaries in Jewish literature.

By doing this, I think we can take some huge steps forward in our understanding of Revelation, our grasp of the larger biblical story, and the points of application to our daily lives.

Then my father-in-law mentioned a passage from the Bible related to that thought. I pondered it a bit and thought it was a nice idea.

Then I looked at that passage again a year or so later, and it blew my mind. It’s John 3:27-30.

To this John replied, "A man can receive only what is given him from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, ‘I am not the Christ but am sent ahead of him.’ The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less.

This is a truly incredible scene in the Bible. John had started a mass movement that many responded to. Keep in mind that Apollos was found in Ephesus (western coast of modern Turkey) teaching about John the Baptist years later. John was not a one-hit wonder, a passing fad, or a figure who fell from public favor.

He was simply over-shadowed by someone greater.

Though John wasn’t exactly living the comfy lifestyle that people such as myself practically demand of God—I’m not big on eating bugs—he could be described as “successful” in his ministry. Who would want to walk away from the kinds of crowds he drew?

The only way he could do that without losing his mind was by arriving at peace over God’s plan for his life, accepting the role that God set before him. In fact, he took great joy in being eclipsed by Jesus.

I know we all imagine ourselves as the leading role in the drama of our lives. Sometimes I get talking about “my life” and carry on for way too long. Who doesn’t love talking about himself/herself?

And so here’s the part where my mind started to overheat. What if the only reason why I’m here is to enable someone to do something great? What if I’m only here to set the stage for someone else? What if I’ll never see any of it come to fruition.

John sure didn’t. Come to think of it, from Abraham right on through the prophets, none of them saw what God had promised them—the blessing that would come to all people through the Messiah. John was SO CLOSE, and then he lost his head…

Sorry about that. I’m trying to cut down on those.

Rather than starring in my own drama, I may just be an extra or some kind of supporting role. And here’s the crazy thing, I can find a lot of peace and joy in playing my small part, whatever it is.

Perhaps the place where this has become most real is my profession of writing. The whole idea of writing is to build some kind of name, brand, and reputation for yourself. Without that, editors will ask, “Who are you and why are you the person to write this book?” It’s hard to walk that fine line between building a career and becoming a self-absorbed, self-serving narcissist.

One day God brought the thought to mind that perhaps I’ve become a writer simply to help other writers who will be better, more popular, and, sniff sniff, paid in larger sums. At that point I realized that I just need to do what God sets before me and not worry about the results. I can play a small part well, find contentment and joy, and then celebrate when I’ve helped someone else rise up to fulfill his/her God-given calling.

That can be a tough pill to swallow, but while I force it down my throat, I can also find renewed satisfaction with the role that God has chosen for me to fulfill even today. If only it paid a little better…