Conditional Comfort

“and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

This passage is often quoted during memorial services and funerals to reassure us that our loved ones who have died are “in a better place.” They are now free from all mortal suffering and sorrows, and God Himself will comfort them.

It’s a lovely image: a kind and gentle Father drying the eyes of his beloved child. Unfortunately that lovingkindness is meted out in small portions. According to the Seer of Patmos, God the Father only loves some of his children.

Wonderings

I wonder about the use of this scripture during funerals — or any other time, for that matter; the book of Revelation is a troubling text, to say the least. I wonder how these words strike those who know the rest of the book, those who have heard of the tales of terror and destruction predicted against those who fail “the test.”

I wonder about the hurt and grieving exile who was entranced by these visions. John had experienced the brutality of worldly rulers; he understood their power to coerce, corrupt, and destroy. He had seen loved ones abused and murdered; heard them scream in fear and pain; seen families torn apart and communities in ruins. He had witnessed terrible things, evil deeds, unconscionable, utterly unjust actions.

I wonder about his sorrow over the deaths of his friends, his yearning for their salvation, his loneliness, his longing for justice, his passion to put things right. Did he take comfort in imagining a small, exclusive paradise?

I wonder about the kind of God that John had come to worship in his painful solitude. And I wonder — based on what he thought he saw — who among all Creation can hold any hope of redemption.

The Chosen Few

According to John of Patmos, very few will make the heavenly team; only those who have come through the time of trial and stayed faithful and true will stand before God’s throne singing their special song. The text places the number of celestial citizens at just 144,000.

That represents less than 2% of the most recent census of New York city, fewer than 0.04% of those living in the United States, and less than 0.002% of the worldwide population. When we apply that number to all those who have ever lived on earth, the result is that approximately 0.000135% will be saved.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a little worried. Our odds don’t look too good.

The Competition

The situation is all the more alarming when we compare ourselves to the competition. I’m not nearly as generous as my friend, nor as caring as my coworker, I certainly don’t have the patience of a saint, or as devout a prayer life. I’ve been known to cuss in traffic.

And those heavy hitters like Mother Teresa, Albert Schweitzer, Dorothy Day, John XXIII, Martin Luther King, John Wycliff, etc., etc., will throw the scale ’way off. If that’s the case, I really really hope God grades on a curve.

Even so, things look grim.

Is a blissful eternity reserved for only a few? Is our Creator’s love limited? Do you have to be close to perfect or nearly invincible to be a card-carrying member of the Heavenly Club?

Those Who Fall

And what of those who have not survived “the time of trial”? What of the ones who have succumbed to addiction, despair, pain, or hopelessness? Are we to believe that our loving God can ever turn away from a soul in need?

When his filth-covered son was a long distance away, his father saw him and was overwhelmed with love and pity — and he ran to him and hugged and kissed him... The father told his servants, “We’re going to have a grand celebration, for this son of mine was dead and is now alive — he was lost and has been found!” ~ The Parable of the Prodigal Son, Luke 15:20-41

Does anyone relish the loss of a weak and vulnerable spirit? What heart could wish that a troubled soul would drop into dark and eternal oblivion? If a child fell down a well, would we not climb down to save her — even if she “shouldn’t have been playing so close to the edge”?

If an earthly parent grieves the illness of his child, if he will move heaven and earth to rescue her — how much more so will our heavenly Father? Will we stop to scold or assign blame, or restore the life of the child? And, once she has been saved, we will hold her close to our heart, hugging her as if we will never let her go.

A Damaged Soul

I think we can extend that same compassion, and look for that same redemption for John of Patmos. He, too, was a wounded, suffering soul; drunk with rage and intoxicated by fantasies of retaliation.

There was nothing he could do, no rebuilding, no healing, no helping, for he had been sent into exile. On a distant shore, isolated and alone, the horrible images must have preyed upon his mind.

Brooding on the evils he had seen, the desire for justice turned to a thirst for revenge. His friends deserved a reward for their faithfulness, and the wicked — and the world they ruled — ought to be destroyed. Surrendering to anger and frustration, John could only envision a new heaven and a new earth if this present world was turned into a lake of fire.

God’s Goodness and Mercy

But God’s way is not our way. The Holy One is merciful, the Giver of Life and Bestower of Grace. The Creator does not destroy, does not fight fire with fire, or respond to hatred with hate. God loves us; completely, deeply, endlessly — and he sent us his Son to prove it.

"The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made. ~ Psalm 145:8-9

God does not give up on us. Ever. And that blessed assurance is truly comforting.

Virtual hugs and real-time blessings,

Deborah +

This Week's Suggested Spiritual Exercise

Reflect on this passage:

The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made. ~ Psalm 145:8-9

That holy, healing love applies to all of us. Let the mystery and awesome joy of that love flow through your soul and bring you peace.