Ask the birds and they will tell you. Seek and ye shall find. Do not conform… but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
Growing up in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, I absorbed a certain fear of the Book of Revelation. And I think that’s the reputation of the book? Calamities, destruction, apocalypse. Some of these things happen on a grand scale; we see them on television, read about them. But sometimes those disasters happen within; sometimes we destroy one another. I was broken, but I’m on the mend.
It’s one thing to hear a word as a child; it’s quite another to see it with your own eyes when you’re grown.
A sermon I heard years ago harped on the “fearsome” aspect of God described in Revelation 4, perhaps focusing on the creatures covered in eyes, or the elders falling to their faces around the throne. It made God seem unapproachable; separated from me by a “sea of glass.” Surrounded by “grown-ups.”
Yet slowly, faithfully, and beautifully, God introduced himself to me using those exact same verses:
1 After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” 2 At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. 3 And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne. 4 Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads. 5 From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. In front of the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God. 6 Also in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.
In Exodus, this is the God that made the Israelites, including Moses, “tremble with fear.” Moses, however, dared to climb. In his heart – the heart that God kept beating by the miracle of a floating basket and motherly love – he knew that approaching “the throne” is the most worthwhile endeavor imaginable. Beyond imaginable. He trusted that more than anything else.
And that’s all he has ever asked of me. Through every storm in my life. And the God I know – he isn’t scary. He isn’t mean. He isn’t shouting at me, or admonishing me, or punishing me. He’s inviting me. He’s inviting you.
Revelation 4 describes a God with an open door to Heaven. Saying “come up here.” This is the God of rainbows and nourishing rains. And not just any rainbow – it encircles the throne. He is the treasure, stored in Heaven, at the end of the rainbow. He is the certainty following the storm.
This is the God described in Hebrews 12:
18 You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; 19 to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, 20 because they could not bear what was commanded: “If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned to death.” 21 The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, “I am trembling with fear.”
22 But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, 23 to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, 24 to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.
When I hear thunder now, I hear “I will never leave you or forsake you.” I hear the promise, loud and clear. And I see my Savior, assuredly riding on the clouds. In the thunder, I hear the gallop of colt’s hooves, bounding toward Jerusalem. I see the lightning, turning night into day. I see the Jesus who rebukes the storms and makes the waters level as clear glass.
It is difficult to imagine anything “shining like an emerald,” or that has the “appearance of jasper and rubies,” until you’ve seen a hummingbird in flight. Emerald green that glitters in the sunlight. Amethyst purple, fuchsia, lapis blue. Jasper and rubies, too! I see them every day in the rufous hummingbird that perches proudly in a tree just outside my window.
Ambulant gemstones. Believe them when you see them. Let yourself feel awe. They are reminders, every single one, of the free gift, the eternity, available to us all.
If this weren’t enough, Jesus reminds us that even these are nowhere near as precious as we are in Luke 12:
6 Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. 7 Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
27 Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 28 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith!
When your storm comes, seek him. You will find him as you find the hummingbirds – in laughter, vitality, and endless flight! In the thunder, know he’s calling, and know it’s worth the fight. Like Moses, like Jesus, enter the cloud! And know your Maker is waiting on the other side.
Devin Tooma is a lover of Jesus, a poet, and “dog mom” to Roux the poodle. She has recently discovered the La Sierra University Church family.