he who has an ear, let him hear...

I read Revelation this morning, Chapters One and Two, while sitting in my car before church. It was actually just a “I have a few minutes before I want to head in so I’ll read a little bit…why not Revelation?” kind of thing. I read 2:12-17 a couple of times through (the message to the church of Pergamum) and was struck by the promise of the white stone with the new name written upon it. I pondered what my own new name could be, this name that no one knows but she who receives it. Then I went in.

Service was good, though I had to pull out my notes just now to remind myself what the sermon was about. (You could, I suppose, draw one of two conclusions from that statement. Either the sermon was slightly forgettable, or I have a progressively bad memory. I leave it up to you to decide.) A moment during one of the songs, however, is quite stuck in my head. We were singing “I Will Rise” and it seemed particularly poignant to me today. Struggling a bit this week with discouragement, anxiety, doubt, and failure, the hope-full verse that struck me was:

There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Across the aisle from me was a gentleman, eyes closed, quietly singing along. He was seated, not in a comfy blue chair, but rather in a wheelchair…one designed for the long haul, by all appearances. And he was singing:

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

And I thought about how very dark this world can be, how many tears have been shed through the ages. How we are each afflicted with our own crippling disease, that can bind us and break us. How very much we need healing. How very much we need a Healer. And my heart cried “Come, Lord Jesus.”

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In Small Church, Stephan started with a devotional. On Revelation 2:12-17. The Pergamum church was reminded that Jesus had a two-edged sword, and that He would come quickly to them wielding that sword if they did not repent. Stephan suggested that each edge of the sword (Word) served a purpose. One to cut, one to heal. He also spent a few minutes on the white stone, explaining that the Roman judicial system used a black stone to indicate guilt, a white stone to indicate innocence.

I’m not going to try too hard to bring this all together into one tidy little epiphany right now. It’s still churning (and burning) around. Maybe it’s connected, or maybe I’m so far behind in my lessons that God decided I needed to double up today. But I do know this:

We may be broken and weak, but Jesus heals.
We may be guilty as hell, but Jesus saves.
We may be drowning in the darkness, but the Dawn is drawing near.

Come, Lord Jesus.