Spirit”; hence prophecy, which comes by the Spirit, had ceased. But John belongs to God’s “new era,” evidenced by the coming of the Spirit. Thus John says about his book that he “was in the Spirit” (1:10–11), and that what he writes is “this prophecy” (1:3; 22:18–19); and this because “the testimony of [the risen] Jesus is the Spirit of prophecy,” that is, that the message given by and about Jesus is the clear evidence that the prophetic Spirit has come.
The result is that John has given the church a combination of apocalyptic and prophetic. The book is cast in the mold of apocalyptic: it was born in (or on the brink of) persecution; he intends to speak about the End; it is a carefully crafted piece of literature, using cryptic language and also the imagery of fantasy; and it is ultimately dealing with salvation and judgment. But above all else it is prophetic in intent and content. Thus it is a word from God to their present situation, but written against the backdrop of the future, with its certain judgment and salvation. At the same time this book comes as an epistle, written to and for the churches in their present situations. Whatever else, it is not a word sealed until the end of time; for John, with the death and resurrection of Christ, the End had already begun. He writes for the encouragement (and watchfulness) of churches that stand on the brink of a holocaust about to be let loose on them by the Roman Empire.
John’s purpose thus seems eminently clear. He is told to write what he has seen (in these visions), which is about “what is and what is about to happen” (1:19). The beatitude (1:3) is for the one who reads this aloud to each congregation and for those who listen and keep what is written. Since one cannot “keep” judgments on others, this seems clearly to be a call for them to “keep the faith” in light of what they are about to experience at the hands of the Empire. And that leads us to the questions of why, when, and who.
The Revelation: Why Was It Written?
In raising the question of purpose one comes to the crucial matter of the Revelation’s being a letter as well as an apocalypse. On this point two matters dominate the entire book, both of which emerge early on. First, the most dominant theme throughout the book is that of the Holy War. This biblical motif, which begins in Genesis 3:15 with enmity between Satan and the woman and her offspring, is the main theme of Exodus 15, and is picked up again in Joshua 6:1–3 and 1 Samuel 8. In John’s Revelation the theme takes on a thoroughly New Testament twist, where it is played out at the highest theological levels. Here God is called ho pantokratōr, which is used regularly in the Septuagint to translate the Hebrew term “God Almighty,” mostly in contexts of God as warrior (= “Yahweh of hosts [heavenly armies]”). Furthermore, in his earliest appearance in heaven the risen Christ is identified as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah” (5:5), picking up language from the blessing of Judah in Genesis 49:10–12 with its promise that “the scepter will not depart from Judah.” Moreover, the elder who makes this identification for John then notes that this “Lion from Judah” has “triumphed,” a verb denoting victory in battle, which makes seventeen of its twenty-eight New Testament appearances in this book. Nonetheless, when John turns to see the mighty Lion, all he sees is a Lamb—a “slain Lamb” at that—the figure that dominates the Revelation until Christ finally appears as a heavenly warrior (19:11–21).
The role of God’s people is to engage in the Holy War. And herein lies the heart of the book, because their lot in the war will be one of suffering, which for them is both already present and impending. Indeed, what makes John a true prophet is that he has divinely been given insight to recognize that the martyrdom of Antipas of Pergamum (2:13) was but the forerunner of many more to come. Thus this theme pervades the book, beginning with 1:9 (“I John, your brother and companion in the suffering”) and repeated several times in the letters to the seven churches (2:3; 2:8–9; 2:13; 3:10), while each of the letters concludes with the verb for “triumph” noted above (NIV, “those who are victorious”).
Furthermore, one of key passages early on in the book is 6:9–11, where the fifth seal when opened reveals “the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained.” This is followed in 7:14 with the great multitude in white robes who “have come out of the great tribulation,” and who now appear in heaven “before the throne of God,” where they are promised no more suffering (vv. 16–17). The same thing happens again in the opening visions of the second half of the book (12:11 and 17), where their suffering and death is linked to their “holding fast their testimony about Jesus.” Then, in the rest of this half of the book (chs. 13–22) their suffering and death are specifically attributed to the Empire itself (“the beast”).1
This motif is the obvious key to understanding the historical context of the book, and fully explains its occasion and purpose. John himself is in exile, apparently for his faith; others are at the same time experiencing various degrees of suffering. John has the prophetic insight to recognize that the martyrdom of Antipas of Pergamum (2:13) is but the beginning of a holocaust that will soon overtake those who proclaim as Lord not only someone other than Caesar himself, but One whom a former Caesar had executed as a criminal of the state. At the same time—and this is John’s greater urgency—chapters 2 and 3 make it plain that there are some internal disorders that make him not at all certain God’s people are ready for the great onslaught that is about to come upon them. Indeed, at issue for him is a church that is on the brink of disaster—concern over the issue of sovereignty and oppression by the Empire, on the one hand, and fear lest the church not be able to resist it, on the other.
This especially accounts for the words found in the opening and closing inclusio. In 1:3 God’s blessing rests on those who “keep” (NIV “take to heart”) what is said in this book; in 22:7 the closing benediction rests on “those who keep the words of the prophecy in this scroll.” This also accounts for the (otherwise strange) collocation of verses 11 to 15 at the very end:
11Let those who do wrong continue to do wrong; let those who are vile continue to be vile; let those who do right continue to do right; and let those who are holy continue to be holy.”
12“Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what they have done. 13I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.
14“Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. 15Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
Here is a sudden, concluding appeal for faithfulness and watchfulness, with a beatitude for God’s faithful ones and an (assumed) curse on all the others.
Such a view of things further accounts for the repeated warnings throughout the book; especially those in connection with the plagues and, in chapters 13–14, about going along with the beast. Thus when John sings his funeral dirge over Rome in chapter 18—one of the truly great moments in all of Scripture—it is accompanied by this final warning (v. 4):
‘Come out of her my people,’2
so that you will not share in her sins,
so that you will not receive any of her plagues
Thus the main themes are clear. The church and state are on a collision course of some magnitude over who runs the universe, and John fully recognizes that power and victory presently appear to belong to the state. But because of Rome’s arrogance and oppression, God will bring her to ruin. Thus (still in ch. 18):
6Give back to her as she has given;
pay her back double for what she has done.
Pour her a double portion from her
