I was given a reed like a measuring rod and was told, “Go and measure the temple of God and the altar, with its worshipers. … Then God’s temple in heaven was opened, and within his temple was seen the ark of his covenant. And there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake and a severe hailstorm. (Revelation 11:1, 19)

This is an odd set of bookends to the 11th chapter of Revelation that we didn’t get to on Sunday.

The first verse or so is likely a reference to the earthly temple that John is told to go and measure. The final verse is about God’s heavenly temple of which that earthly version was only a copy. These are curious, but not unimportant references.

And what they refer to is an assurance that no matter the chaos and uncertainty that God’s people were facing, they were set apart as God’s worshiping community, which was a place ordered, measured, and secure against the uncertainty of the moment.

Not only that, but the place of worship before God was a place that had correspondence with the heavenly temple. And there, in that heavenly temple, God’s presence and promises were real. There was the Ark of the Covenant: God’s throne and mercy seat—the signs of his rule. There was thunder and earthquakes also, the signs of God’s presence.

And, because there was correspondence between earth and heaven through Jesus Christ, the earthly place of worship also became a sanctuary for God’s people. A sanctuary held secure by God’s rule and presence on earth as it is in heaven. Worship creates a little embassy of the Kingdom of God wherever two or three are gathered.

Craig Barnes has a section in his book The Pastor as Minor Poet that speaks to what’s going on here, I think. It goes like this…

He says: “A disaster is anything that makes us feel like the stars are falling down. That’s why it’s called a dis-aster. The late University of Chicago theologian Mircea Eliade claimed that all religions are centered on an axis mundi, or a sacred pole that keeps earth connected to heaven. This can be a totem pole, the center pole of the tribal hut, a temple, or the cross of the Christians. Whenever there is a disaster, no matter how personal or global in scope, people rush to their axis mundi to insure that the heavens are not collapsing on top of them.”1

So whether in the uncertainty or disasters of our present moment or in the uncertainty or disasters of John’s day, the sanctuary of our worship and the cross of Christ give a steady place to return to remind us that no, the sky is not falling. Earth and heaven remain connected and secure because God’s presence is still with us and his rule is still sure.

  1. Craig Barnes. Pastor as Minor Poet: Texts and Subtexts in the Ministerial Life (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), p. 44.