The one who spoke with me had a measuring rod made of gold, in order that he might measure the city, its gates and its wall.  The city is laid out square; its length is equal to its width.  He measured the city with the rod; it was 12,000 stadia, the length, width and height equal.  He measured its wall, 144 cubits according to the measure of a man, which the angel was using.  The material of the wall is jasper, and the city is pure gold as transparent as glass.  Rev. 21:15-18.
 
    The Bible is like a gigantic cycle: it begins with a beautiful place of safety and security (Gen. 1; 2); sin, doubt, and disobedience come in (Gen. 3); then we follow the story of sin and disobedience from the beginning (Gen. 3); to the end (Rev. 20).  The New Jerusalem narrative attempts to describe the peace, security, and safety that will be in place after the destruction of sin (Rev. 21).  Scripture would not present a complete picture without the book of Revelation, nor would Revelation be complete without these last two important chapters.
 
    Is the New Jerusalem a literal city like those today?  Or is it a symbol of an indescribable reality?  If it is like ancient Jewish pictures of the glorious future, it is more symbolic than literal.  God did not intend it to satisfy the reader's curiosity about the architecture of the future, but to teach spiritual lessons that will change lives today.
 
    Tobit (in the Apocrypha), for example, describes an end-time Jerusalem whose gates consist of sapphire and emerald, and whose walls and streets are embedded with precious stones (Tobit 13:21, 22, Douay; 13:17, LXX).  But this description is just one of the many things for which Tobit praises God (Tobit 13:1, Douay).  Isaiah predicts foundations of sapphire, jeweled gates, and walls of precious stones (Isa. 54:11, 12), but they too are there for praise (Isa. 60:10-18, especially verse 18).  Zechariah, on the other hand, predicts that Jerusalem will be without walls, because the Lord will be a wall of fire around it (Zech. 2:4, 5).  So to assume that all of this description is meant as literal is questionable.
 
    What relevance does the vision have for us in a skeptical age?  The images are those of the author's time and place, but the central theme is clear.  Everything that human beings have hoped and dreamed for is attained, not by human effort, but in relationship with the Lamb.  And that relationship begins now.  The vision of the future New Jerusalem keeps our minds and hearts focused on the one thing that really matters.
 
Lord, help me to remember every day that paradise is not a Caribbean island, that the ideal city is not Hollywood, but that I will find the ultimate hopes and dreams of my life in relationship with You.

  [The city] has a great and high wall, having twelve gates.  And at the gates are twelve angels.  And the names of the 12 tribes of the sons of Israel are written on the gates.  Three gates are on the east, three on the north, three on the south, and three on the west.  The wall of the city has twelve foundations, and upon them are twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.  Rev. 21:12-14.
 
    Does God have an exact and detailed plan for every person's life?  Is there a "best decision" out there, part of God's perfect will for my life?  Or does God have many possible roads to get me to the same goal?
 
    For some of us, finding the very best route between two points can become an obsession.  I once planned a road trip from Michigan, where I live, to Florida.  I noticed that all the best routes seemed to pass through Chattanooga, Tennessee, so the big issue was how to go from Michigan to Chattanooga.
 
    I noticed that we could go down through Indianapolis to Nashville, and then across to Chattanooga.  Or we could head east from Michigan or Indianapolis into Ohio and come down through Cincinnati to Knoxville and beyond.
 
    I counted the miles and concluded that the shortest distance between my part of Michigan and Chattanooga is through Nashville.  On the other hand, the stretch from South Bend to Indianapolis is painfully slow, with lots of traffic lights, and Nashville can be tough during rush hour.  So if we headed east on I-80 into Ohio we could make the whole trip on superhighways.  On the other hand, that route seemed to be almost 100 miles longer.  On the other hand, the way through Lexington avoids Nashville, but is 40 miles longer.  On the other hand...
 
    Does God have the perfect route for all situations, or is the goal of our life what really counts?  The goal of our lives is to develop character and be among the group that will live in the New Jerusalem.  The shortest route, the easiest route, or the "best" route does not always develop character.  Sometimes we achieve character only be taking a back road that leads to a detour that puts us onto some potholed, gravel road.
 
    God knows what we need better than we do.  He can make the most of every route we take.  The thing that really counts is where we end up.  The contrast between the golden city and the lake of fire couldn't be more plain.  The slain Lamb has gone before us, so what counts is to follow Him no matter where the road of life takes us.
 
Lord, I want to be with You in the Holy City.  More than anything else I want my family and friends to be there too.  Today I want You to be in charge of the map.

 One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came to me and said, "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb."  He carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, possessing the glory of God.  Its radiance was like a precious stone, like a jasper, clear as crystal.  Rev. 21:9-11.
 
    The landscape along Interstate 57 in central Illinois is extremely flat, mostly farm fields and pasture, with an occasional stand of trees.  One overcast day in mid-March I was a bit startled to see what appeared to be a gigantic gray cross barely visible against the gray sky in the distance.  My first impression was that it must be some sort of industrial contraption that just happened to have the shape of a cross.  But as we drew nearer, it became clear that it was truly a representation of the cross of Jesus Christ, the beams set in diamond-shaped metal, perhaps 80 feet high.  There was no sign or other explanation as to why it was there by the road--it just was.
 
    I wondered if that monument was someone's response to a special intervention by God.  Perhaps he or she had been drowning in a lake and said, "Lord, if You'll save my life right now, I'll build You the biggest monument in the state!"  Or perhaps it was supposed to be the bell tower to a church, but he congregation ran out of money before it could construct the church itself.  Be that as it may, that cross is certainly the centerpiece of that portion of the Illinois landscape.
 
    It is like that with the book of Revelation, also.  If we are not careful, we might get the impression that the beasts, the vultures, the darkness, the earthquakes, and the hailstones are what the book of Revelation is all about.  But they are more like the general landscape of the Illinois prairie.  The true centerpiece of the book of Revelation is not war or catastrophe, not oil or the Middle East, but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
 
    One would expect that the arrival of the New Jerusalem would be an event in its own right.  The enormous size, the radiance, the unusual shape could easily be the centerpiece of the story.  But this book is the revelation of Jesus Christ.  So the New Jerusalem is no ordinary city.  It is the bride, the wife of the Lamb.  And John does not allow even the New Jerusalem itself to distract from the overwhelming focus on Jesus.  To read this book without gaining a clearer picture of Jesus is to miss the key point.
 
Lord, in my excitement over the glories of the future world, never let me lose sight of the fact that You are the real reason anyone would want to live forever.  I want to know You better every day for an eternity.

The one who overcomes will inherit these things, and I will be his God and he will be My son.  To everyone who is a coward, unfaithful, corrupt, a murderer, a fornicator, a sorcerer, or an idolater, and to every liar, comes their portion in the lake burning with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.  Rev. 21:7, 8.
 
    Idolatry was a major issue in New Testament times.  At the top of the idolatrous food chain was the emperor of Rome himself.  First-century Christians would have seen in Revelation a powerful declaration that the emperor "has no clothes." Caesar did not create this world (Rev. 4:11), he was not eternal (verse 8), and he did not redeem the people of the empire with his blood (Rev. 5:12).  While the splendor of Rome was alluring and impressive, its claim for worship was foolish.
 
    Just as first-century Christians resisted the attractions of empires to follow Jesus, so Christians today need to repudiate the idols of our generation.  We often find ourselves drawn to worship the idols of science, technology, wealth, and commercialism.  In the process we easily ignore the implications of Creation and the cross.  But such contemporary idolatry may soon prove to be as foolish as the claims made by the empire once were.
 
    In recent years the realization of the complex and sensitive conditions required for intelligent life to exist on earth had stunned the scientific community.  The universe appears, in fact, to have been incredibly fine-tuned for the benefit of humanity on earth at this point in cosmic history.  And scientists are discovering this insight across the board: in physics and astrophysics, classical cosmology, quantum mechanics, and biochemistry.  The existence of intelligent carbon-based life on earth depends upon a delicate balance of natural conditions.  If any part of this balance would become even slightly altered, life as we know it would not exist.  Today we have space for only one brief example.
 
    Water is one of the strangest substances known to science.  Its specific heat, surface tension, and physical properties are different from the norm.  For example, the fact that its solid phase is less dense than its liquid phase, so that ice floats, is virtually unique in nature.  But this property of water is essential to life.  If ice were more dense than water, it would sink to the bottom of bodies of water, where it would remain in the deepest parts until eventually all lakes and oceans would freeze solid.  Instead, ice forms a protective skin on the surface of reservoirs of water, keeping them from freezing down to the bottom.  This is one of many unique characteristics of water that are absolutely essential for heating and cooling, the formation of cell walls and membranes, and so many other aspects essential for human life.
 
Lord, help me to discern clearly between the alluring claims of today's idolatry and the clear evidence of a loving Designer.  Help me to build my life around the things that truly last.

  And He said to me, "It is done.  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.  To the one who is thirsty I will give freely (without cost) from the spring of the water of life.  Rev. 21:6.
 
    Our God is the greatest of all givers.  In Jesus Christ He sent the greatest gift ever presented to the human race.  Because of the cross, the water of life is freely available to all who recognize their thirst (John 7:37-39).  Sin, however, makes many of us deeply unwilling to accept the gifts of God.  To receive a gift is to, in some degree, lose control of our lives.  As a result, many vulnerable people feel reluctant to take gifts, even those from God.
 
    An e-mail I received some time ago well illustrates this human tendency.  A friend, recounting evangelistic experiences in the Philippines, reported the following story.
 
    "During the first night of the series I noticed a young preteen girl that seemed grumpy.  She was constantly out of sorts with the people around her.  When I bent down and simply asked what her name was, she seemed a little shocked but managed to blurt out, 'Sherry.'
 
    "From that moment on I made it a special mission always to greet her and smile at her whenever I met her.  Sherry would react ambiguously by both smiling and running away.  At times she would run behind where I was sitting and lightly touch me on the shoulder and then disappear into the crowd.
 
    "Sherry always wore a pin that kept her hair in a neat bun.  Wanting to express my affection for her, I purchased another hairpin and gave it to her.  She put the pin on once, but a few minutes later she reappeared with nothing in her hair.  From that point on, Sherry wore nothing in her hair when she came to the meetings.  The message was quite clear.  Nobody gets close to her, and she was going to show me just who was in control of the situation.
 
    "The last day of the meetings were coming up, and I decided to take a risk and buy the girl another present for her hair.  This time it was a bright-pink heart with a rubber band attached.  I had the hair clip in a plastic bag and dropped it in her lap while she was sitting.  Sherry acted a little startled, and I walked away, because I knew I had disturbed her comfort zone.
 
    "I didn't see the child much the rest of the day.  I thought perhaps I shouldn't have risked giving her another gift.  But as I was leaving, a hand reached out to faintly touch my elbow.  Running away as usual, a smile on her face, in her hair Sherry had the bright-pink tie I had given her that morning!  A deep sense of peace and satisfaction filled my soul.  She had finally accepted the gift."
 
Lord, give me the courage to accept Your greatest Gift and allow Him to mold my life in whatever way You will.

 And the One sitting on the throne said, Behold, I am making everything new!"  And He said, "Write, because these words are faithful and true."  Rev. 21:5.
 
    Do you really want God to make everything new?  Aren't there some things you like better when they are old?  Isn't that warm coat, with the familiar colors and the fraying threads in the collar, better than the latest fashions, with the colors that don't quite suit you and the lack of features that you just can't live without?  Doesn't that bald husband with the annoying leg twitch have features that you just wouldn't trade for a new model? any new model?  Have you ever bought a new (or newer) car that just didn't feel as right as the old one?  Sometimes old is better.  Old things can be reliable and practical.  The known is often better than the unknown.
 
    Not long ago my university made the building I work in new.  It had the old building gutted to the core and constructed a major addition incorporating many offices and classrooms.  But I miss my old office greatly.  In it I had bookshelves everywhere, even in the coat closet.  Come to think of it, I had a closet in the old office--a place to hang a coat or a spare jacket, to store my graduation gown, to keep an extra pair of shoes and an umbrella, just in case.
 
    The new office has an extra-large work space that I have industriously filled with clutter.  But my new desk doesn't have as many drawers as my old, tiny one, and I have lost track of many papers as a result.  The new office has space for far fewer books, and I have had to take many of them home, causing confusion and inefficiency as a result.  I have less space for files, so I have also had to divide them between home and office.
 
    But there is no going back.  The powerful air handling system in the new building means no more students sleeping in class because the air is hot, stuffy, and stale (they have to come up with other excuses now).  The technology of the new building allows us to explore teaching options that have improved learning a great deal.  The configuration of the building has done wonders for the seminary community, enhancing the quality of relationships among students and teachers.  And the suite of offices in which I work, in spite of their inefficiencies, is like a little piece of home away from home.
 
    And I take comfort in the knowledge that in the new earth "I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (1 Cor. 13:12, NIV).  When God makes all things new, we will still recognize the ones we love.  Our surroundings will be perfectly suited to our needs.  In heaven the new will be constantly renewed, yet the familiar will be preserved.  Only the flaws will be gone.  Our joy will be complete.  And I won't miss the fraying threads.
 
Lord, I can't wait to see that new world in which we will have no regrets.

   [God] will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death, neither will there be any more sorrow or crying or any more pain, because the former things have gone away.  Rev. 21:4.
 
    Will God wipe away tears by causing us to forget all the hardships and suffering of this life?  Or will we remember the hurts clearly yet they won't devastate us anymore?  How far will the "former things" have gone away?  I suspect we will still remember, but the pain will be gone.  The memories of our personal history are worth retaining--they are part of who we are and what we have become.  When memory has lost its power to wound, it still retains its capacity to develop depth of character.
 
    Those severely wounded by life can find it hard to imagine that time could strip painful events of their power to cause tears.  But with God's help it can happen.  And sometimes the process doesn't take long.
 
    My youngest daughter and I staggered out of our beds at 1:30 in the morning.  Recently baptized in the Red Sea, she had committed to a night climb of Mount Sinai.  We set out with several others at 2:00 a.m., trailed by camel drivers certain we wouldn't make it to the top without help.  "Camel, good camel, very nice," they mumbled to each of us every five minutes.
 
    The darkness was deep, broken only by flashlights.  As we dug the toes of our athletic shoes into the scrabbly red soil of the mountain, occasional shooting stars flashed by behind us.  The 7,400-foot mountain became steeper and steeper as the path approached the great wall that signaled the last third of the climb.  The camel drivers continued to follow, certain that some of us would soon succumb to muscular gridlock.  And some did.  But my daughter forged determinedly on.
 
    The steepest part of the climb is the legendary staircase to the top--750 steps carved almost vertically out of the red rock.  Rest stops became more and more frequent as bodies cried out for mercy.  But we made it!  No camels!  No donkeys!  Just sore muscles.
 
    By midmorning my daughter and I returned to our hotel.  She flopped facedown on her bed and lay absolutely still for a moment.  Then her head popped up, and she said, "Remind me to never, ever do anything like that again!"  Her head dropped facedown into her pillow, and I didn't hear from her for several hours.
 
    A few days later in Germany a bright-eyed girl looked up eagerly at me, without warning, and said, "Dad, when can we climb Mount Sanai again?"  It took me by surprise, but it shouldn't have.  The memory was fresh, but he pain had vanished.  You could say that the "former things" had gone away, yet in another sense they had not.
 
Lord, give me patience to make it through this day, knowing I am one step closer to the new earth that You have in mind for us.

[God] will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death, neither will there be any more sorrow or crying or any more pain, because the former things have gone away.  Rev. 21:4.
 
    I love you, Dad."
 
    It was the last thing that Howard had heard his daughter say.  What had prompted her to make the phone call that ended with those words?  Did she know that the bus she was about to board would explode?  Wasn't he supposed to die before his child did?  Howard felt alone in his grief.  The apostle Paul has promised that God wouldn't lay on us burdens greater than we could bear (1 Cor. 10:13), but Howard wasn't so sure anymore.  The heaviness in his chest left him breathless at times.
 
    He sought comfort in the words of Jesus: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" (Matt. 5:4, NIV).  But the promise did not seem to be fulfilled in Howard's experience.  Although he read the text, he didn't feel comforted.  A sense of loss continued to wrench him apart. 
 
    I wonder what Mary thought when she saw her Son on the cross, he pondered.  It's interesting that the Bible does not record any emotional outburst from her.  She never cried out, "What are you doing to my Son?"  Did she know that He was supposed to die?  Did she understand it as part of some cosmic plan?  Why didn't she run over and offer to take His place? 
 
    When spring came, Howard felt a little better.  As the roses began to bloom he remembered happy times with his daughter planting and enjoying the bushes.  But then the rains came, and he felt gloomy again.  "I still relive that tragedy-laden phone call as if it were yesterday," he said.  "Lord, I still don't understand Your plan!"
 
    One day he came across Revelation 21:4: "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" (NIV).  They were words from the future--words he was longing to hear.  Howard came to realize that they explained Matthew 5:4 as well.  Those who mourn do not always receive comfort in this life.  The future tense is a promise that doesn't always apply to the here and now.
 
    But both texts are clear in this.  Howard will see his daughter again.  Because he believes in eternal life, he has gradually found comfort in Revelation's vision of hope.  Even though his daughter lies in a grave, he knows that Jesus will return again.  And when He does, God will wipe every tear away and the mourners will be comforted forever.
 
Lord, I have often felt frustrated by prayers that went unanswered, tragedies not prevented, loved ones I have lost.  Help me trust Your future promise.

  I saw the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will tent with them.  They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God."  Rev. 21:2, 3.
 
    A young woman diagnosed with a terminal illness learned that she had three months to live.  So as she was getting her things in order she contacted her pastor to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.  She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
 
    Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the parishioner suddenly remembered something very important to her.  "There's one more thing," she said excitedly.
 
    "What's that?" the pastor replied.
 
    "This is very important," she continued.  "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
 
    The pastor stared at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
 
    "That surprises you, doesn't it?" she said.
 
    "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request."
 
    The young woman explained.  "In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.'  It was my favorite part, because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie.  Something wonderful--and with substance!  So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand, and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?'  Then you can tell them: 'Keep your fork...the best is yet to come.' "
 
    Our text's description of the future is written with the past in mind.  God's eternal reward for His people includes the restoration of both Jerusalem and the Garden of Eden.  His people will live in a "garden city" that offers the best of both worlds: the peace and tranquility of a garden combined with the bustling excitement of a beautiful city.  And best of all, God Himself will be there with us.
 
    Keep your fork.
 
Lord, from the beginning of my life I have sensed that there has to be something better ahead.  Thank You for the precious promise of the New Jerusalem.

 And I saw a new heaven and a new earth.  For the first heaven and the first earth had gone away, and there was no more sea.  Rev. 21:1.
 
    According to this text, the new earth will be quite different from the world we know.  But how can we be sure the earth will survive the end in a meaningful form?  The studies of science are certainly not encouraging.  They suggest that the universe is headed either for collapse and fiery meltdown or expansion and a big freeze.  Neither option sounds attractive to me.  But why worry about that?  Long before the universe could come to an end, scientists anticipate a solar explosion that would leave no trace of earth.
 
    So what hope is there that a new heaven and a new earth might replace the old ones?  Scientist-theologian John Polkinghorne believes that we have only one source of hope--the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  He points out that we are not the first generation in which people questioned the promises of God.  Jesus faced skeptics too.
 
    Like many in our time, the Sadducees did not believe in an afterlife.  They tried to trap Jesus with an ingenious story about a woman who became the wife of seven brothers, one after the other (Matt. 22:23-26).  Each had died without children, leaving to the next the duty of marrying his widow.  So, said the Sadducees, "Whose wife will she be at the resurrection, considering she was married to all seven?" (see Matt. 22:28).  In other words, if any kind of life exists after death, how could God untangle a relational mess like this?
 
    The challenge did not catch Jesus off guard.  Cutting right through their smoke screen, He reminded them of that God said to Moses at the burning bush: "Have you not read what God said to you, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'?  He is not the God of the dead but of the living" (verses 31, 32, NIV).  Jesus' argument may be puzzling at first, but it is a powerful one.  The patriarchs mattered to God when they were alive.  Would they not still concern Him after their deaths?  Would God simply discard them after they had ceased to exist?  Wouldn't He rather retain their identities in His heart until he could make them alive again?
 
    Our best hope for the future, therefore, is not in science or human ingenuity--it is in divine faithfulness.  God put together this world and the life in it.  If He did it once, He can do it again.  To know Him is to trust Him.  If He has promised a resurrection, He will be faithful to carry out what He vowed.  The resurrection of Jesus reinforces the Old Testament promise (Isa. 26:19).  Because God raised Jesus from the dead, we know that He will do the same for the followers of Jesus as well (1 Cor. 15:20-23).  His faithfulness is our best hope.
 
Lord, You are the faithful God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  You have proved faithful in the little things of my life.  I will trust You to be faithful when the end comes.