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§19 The Return of the Exalted Lamb: The Ultimate Event of Salvation’s History (Rev. 19:11–20:15)

Viewed in a macroscopic way, the main body of John’s book of visions narrates the three decisive moments of salvation’s history. Sharply put, John’s message to the seven churches is this: what has already transpired (5:1–11:19) together with what has not yet taken place (14:1–19:10; 19:11–22:6a) must inform the believing community’s response both to God and to its present tribulation (12:1–13:18). This section of Revelation, then, clarifies the community’s eschatological point of reference toward the present world order. In doing so, John completes his all-encompassing perspective from which the faithful disciple can view good and evil in order to “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.”

John does not introduce the reader to anything new in this section of his composition; indeed, the new covenant has already been established for God by the slain Lamb, and the “kingdom of the world” has already been defeated and replaced by the reign of God and God’s Christ. The reader will find, therefore, thematic continuity between this and previous sections of John’s vision (esp. Rev. 2–3; 7; 12–13). The essential difference, besides a temporal one, is spatial. This final section of Revelation tells the story of the future apocalyptic eruption of God’s salvation within human history; therefore, what has already been realized within the heavenly realm at Christ’s exaltation and what has been constantly predicted by the seer in Revelation are now envisioned as a concrete reality. The conclusion to God’s judgment of the anti-Christian kingdom and its ruling elite yields to God’s final and full redemption of the Christian kingdom and its ruling priesthood, which has been created for earth by Christ (cf. 5:10). John’s theological point resists any teaching that spiritualizes the revelation of God’s salvation within human experience. In fact, the Christian gospel proclaims the opposite: the triumph of God is a public and cosmic event, because the power of God reverses every social and spiritual dimension of human existence into conformity with the creator’s good intentions for it.

We have argued that current social pressures in John’s world threatened to corrupt the witness of those under his care. One evidence of such a compromise, expressed best by the gnostic teaching of the Nicolaitans at Ephesus and Pergamum and by the prophecies of “Jezebel” at Thyatira, is to differentiate between the “spiritual” and the “material.” That is, Christian spirituality is reduced to an exclusive concern for the personal and internal, or for the intellectual and religious aspects of human existence. Definitions of Christian discipleship exclude the sociopolitical (e.g., how one views the state and its public policy) or socioeconomic (e.g., how one spends money and views property) realities of life. In its most perverted forms, the church views its worship of God as a private affair; in its public life, the community of believers conforms to the secular norms and materialistic values of the surrounding society. The prophetic impulse of the Lord Jesus and earliest Christianity are thus silenced altogether. The unbelieving nations, who can see no real difference between the cultural myths and the church’s gospel, remain ignorant of God’s horrible judgment or of the prospect of peace under God’s transforming grace. In this way, therefore, the shift of venue from heaven to earth serves John’s pastoral purposes. His is yet another effort to make clear that humanity’s decisions, personal and public, have real and eternal consequences.

This section of John’s book of visions describes a single event, Christ’s return to earth, and its various results, concluding with the establishment of the eschatological community in the garden of the city of God. The composition is a collocation of seven different visions (19:11–16, 17–18, 19–21; 20:1–3, 4–10, 11–15; 21:1–22:6a), each introduced by the apocalyptic formula, “and I saw” (kai eidon). The sequence of these visions is not chronological, at least in a historical sense. John’s vision concerns the complexity of a single event, the second coming of Christ, and does not chart a series of events over an extended period of time. Each vision of the whole portrays a distinct and critical aspect of God’s coming victory in Christ. Together the seven visions comprise “a tour through an eschatological art gallery in which the theme of God’s victory at the end of history is treated in seven different pictures, each complete in itself with its own message and with little concern for chronology” (Boring, Revelation, p. 195). In this important sense, then, this material is not about eschatological timetables, but is a re-conceptualization of Christ’s second coming as the ultimate and concluding event of God’s vindication within history.

John first narrates the second coming as an eschatological war, predicted earlier (17:14). Jesus is first the warrior, who eats at the grisly “supper of God” (19:17–18), and only later is he the groom, who participates in the joyful “wedding of the Lamb” (cf. 21:9). Each successive scene portrays the Lamb conquering the ruling elite of the evil dominion, first the beast with its earthly followers (19:17–21) and then Satan (20:1–10), who has been consigned to earth following Christ’s coronation in heaven (12:7–17). With God’s reign firmly established on earth, God is now prepared to judge the “great and small” (20:11–15; cf. 19:5) in accord with biblical prophecy (Dan. 7:9–10). With the passing of the symbols of fallen creation, “death and Hades” (20:13–14), John invites the readers into a new creation and to the wedding of a restored Israel and God’s Lamb who live with God forever (21:1–22:6a). When the eschatological community receives the promised inheritance from God, of course, the readers have reached the high point of the whole book. John’s concern for the vitality of his audience’s witness is finally addressed by referring not to his readers’ history but to God’s future.

Finally, while John’s use of the formula, “and I saw,” is important as an organizing device, his startling negation of the formula in 21:22, “and I did not see a temple in the city,” cues the reader to recall 11:19’s grand opening of the temple in heaven. The reader now understands the full import of the vision of the seventh trumpet in the overall context of Revelation: God’s triumph over the Evil One in heaven that took place at Christ’s exaltation foreshadows God’s triumph over the Evil on earth that will take place at Christ’s parousia. The first heaven (and its temple) will pass away (cf. 21:1) and a new Jerusalem (without a temple) will be the dwelling place where God lives with redeemed humanity forever (cf. 21:3). This development reflects Revelation’s portrait of salvation’s history—from exaltation to parousia, from heaven to earth.

19:11 / In his first vision of Christ’s parousia, John again draws from the font of Jewish tradition, which sometimes cast its anticipation for a Messiah in militaristic images (cf. Ps. Sol. 17:23–27). It is Messiah, after all, who will rule the nations with an iron scepter (cf. Ps. 2:9; Rev. 19:15) and who alone can rightly claim Caesar’s title, “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

Some have complained that this violent imagery is out of keeping with other NT portraits of Christ’s return. Moreover, they say, it is out of keeping with NT Christology that depicts Jesus as a “Prince of Peace” and not as a mighty warrior. These are legitimate concerns. If we limit our discussion to Revelation, however, we should first understand the images of this future “war on earth” and of the earlier “war in heaven” (12:7–12) as belonging to the same symbol system. The interpreter’s second concern is to make theological meaning of this symbol system: what do these symbols of war tell us about God and about God’s gospel? Sharply put, the theological issue at stake is God’s decisive vindication of Christ and God’s certain triumph over evil through him. If this is also the essential point of our present text, then John’s apocalyptic portrait of Christ’s return is consistent with NT Christology, which instructs the reader that the Lord’s parousia is God’s cosmic (and so final) vindication of Christ and also of his disciples (Ladd, Revelation, p. 252). The dramatic character of the war-images intends this rhetorical effect: it helps focus on a person (more than an event) in whom the entire community of faith finds its life’s meaning and direction.

A final note: when the prophet speaks of the second coming of Christ, he is not claiming that Christ has been absent from us since his ascension. In the Fourth Gospel, this concern is first expressed by Thomas, who wondered how he could find his way to God (John 14:5), after the “One Way” to God predicted his imminent departure from the disciples (John 14:1–4). Jesus responds to their fear by promising them the Paraclete, who will continue to convey his comfort and instruction to them (John 14:15–31). According to Johannine teaching, then, the purpose of the parousia is not to resume the messianic work, since it continues through the Paraclete. Rather, the Paschal Lamb returns to earth in order to usher in on earth what is already a reality in heaven.

Once before John saw heaven standing open (cf. 4:1), and he was ushered into the transcendent realm. In that case, a “door” into the heavenly throne room of God was opened to him. In this case, however, John finds a white horse and its rider coming out from the heavenly throne room toward earth. The color, white, is an eschatological symbol; and the white horse is a symbol of victory (cf. 6:2). Thus, John recognizes that the vision he is about to see concerns the coming triumph of God’s salvation on earth, which has now been completed through the one who rides on the white horse.

Because God is faithful and true (cf. Isa. 66:16), and because God makes judgments with justice (cf. Rev. 19:2; 16:5), these are appropriate characteristics for the messianic rider (cf. Rev. 1:5; 3:14; Isa. 11:4; Ps. 96:13), who comes to earth from God’s throne and makes war against God’s enemies. On this eschatological battleground, the faithfulness, truth, and justice of God’s reign will be revealed for all to see.

19:12–13 / With the disclosure of the rider’s identity, the battle’s outcome is apparent even before it is waged. The reader knows the rider’s identity by looking into his eyes which are like blazing fire. He is the coming Son of Man (cf. 1:13–14; 2:18; Matt. 24:26–31, par.), whose justice derives from his vigilant care of his people (cf. Caird, Revelation, p. 241) and from his ability to penetrate the pretense and deceptions of the Evil One (cf. 19:20; 20:8; cf. Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 279). Further, he has the status as God’s anointed Messiah and appointed Lord over the cosmos. As symbolic of his singular authority, vividly expressed by his name “King of kings and Lord of lords” (19:16), he wears many crowns.

The precise meaning of the rider’s unknown name is contested and insoluble. The interpreter’s essential problem is to understand this name in relationship to his public names, “Faithful and True” (19:11), “Word of God” (19:13), and “King of kings and Lord of lords” (19:16). John has already used the secrecy motif to legitimize his authority as seer (10:4): having knowledge, especially revealed knowledge, to which others have no access is a form or symbol of one’s “power” over them. In this same sense, perhaps John has included this identifying mark as a symbol not only of Christ’s authority but of his own.

Additionally, the interpreter should understand the rider’s publicized names as related to his messianic mission as Word of God (cf. John 1:1–18), in which he is “Faithful and True” to God, and after which he is exalted to his current status as “Lord of lords” (cf. John 20:28; Phil. 2:9–11). In this sequence, the unknown name would be made public only after his eschatological mission is completed. Significantly, in Revelation’s benediction, Jesus does “name” himself “the Alpha and the Omega” (22:13)—the Lord God’s name (1:8). Perhaps this is the unknown name, disclosed only after the “Day of the Lord” is completed and Christ’s full equality with God is disclosed in the new Jerusalem.

The rider is dressed in a robe dipped in blood. Since the eschatological battle has not yet begun, the blood on the rider’s robe can not be that of God’s enemies; it must be his own. Rather than consider this a midrash on Isaiah 63:1–6, where the stained robe symbolizes God’s just retribution against God’s enemies (Mounce, Revelation, p. 345), we prefer the patristic advice that recommends this image be understood by Revelation 5:5–6. The essential christological theme of Revelation demands that we view the conquering Lion first as the slaughtered Lamb (cf. Caird, Revelation, pp. 242–44). On his robe are the stains of his passion, because of which he is called the “Faithful and True” to God’s love and by which a people has been purchased for God. This is why the rider is also named the Word of God. Although interpreting the significance of Jesus as the incarnate Word of God carries a variety of meanings, that this conviction is central to John’s understanding means that through Jesus’ messianic mission “God fulfilled his divine purpose” (Mounce, Revelation, p. 346). According to John, in the passion of God’s incarnate Word an eternal age was set into motion, when God’s promise of a restored Israel would be fulfilled. In this sense, the supreme manifestation of Messiah’s glory is not political power but self-sacrificial passion (cf. John 12:23–43). Ironically, it is at the parousia of the Word expressed as slain Lamb that the age will come to its conclusion.

19:14–16 / The armies of heaven may consist of angels as most scholars contend. This association agrees with the Jewish apocalyptic tradition (cf. T. Levi 3:3) and would have been understood by John and his audience; however, their eschatological dress of fine linen, white and clean, together with their white horses calls to mind the eschatological community (cf. Rev. 7:9–17; 14:4; 19:8; 22:14). Further, unlike angelic armies in other apocalyptic portrayals, which actually participate in the eschatological battle, these armies were following him as a community of disciples (cf. 14:4) and do not wage war with Messiah. In our view, the image intends to convey an important theological point: God’s promised salvation is fulfilled by Christ alone; however, its blessing belongs to all those who “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.”

Like most narratives of war in Scripture, Christ’s conquest of God’s enemies is unconventional. The point of biblical battles is not to defend militarism; the point is to defend the faithfulness of God. Thus, Christ destroys the evil nations not with a literal sharp sword but with the proclaimed word that comes out of his mouth (cf. 1:16; Isa. 11:3–5). But what words come from Messiah’s mouth? The Christian proclamation of the slain Lamb, who is named “Faithful and True” (cf. Eph. 6:17). That is, by the preaching of the gospel about Christ’s faithfulness to God, the claims of the anti-Christian kingdom and its rulers are exposed as lies and deceptions; and by its message, God’s condemnation of the nations is found to be true (cf. Heb. 4:11–12).

The other two images which John draws from the OT—the one of an iron scepter (Ps. 2:9) and the other of the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty (cf. 14:20; Isa. 63:3)—are also used of the justice of divine judgment against evil. They are symbols of real power, but power consistent with the incarnate Word of God, the slain Lamb. They are used here to underscore his right to rule as KINGS OF KINGS AND LORDS OF LORDS (cf. 17:14) and thus the power of proclaiming a gospel centered by him. Who can possibly stand against its claims or deny the surety of its promises? Christ’s vindication as Lord over earth and the realization of the gospel’s promises within history simply bear testimony to what heaven has already confirmed.

This third name for Jesus is written on his robe and on his thigh. Many have wondered why John would report how Christ will publicize his name; all assume the name carries theological significance in relationship to itself. Both within the ancient world (cf. Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 281–82) and within Revelation (13:16–17; 14:1; 17:3), the social function of marks indelibly tattooed into human flesh was to indicate a person’s community. A name on a robe, like names on company coats or team jackets today, may also have identified a person’s group; and its quality typically indicated one’s standing within it (cf. James 2:2). The rider’s identity is already known; what this third name, tattooed on his thigh and emblazoned on his robe, indicates is his status as Lord over God’s eschatological community.

19:17–21 / John’s second (vv. 17–18) and third (vv. 19–21) visions are of the eschatological war, already predicted in 16:16 and 17:12–14. Of course, there are many mythological and biblical antecedents of a final, cosmic battle, which John undeniably draws upon (esp. Ezek. 38–39), for he follows a similar plot. The forces of good are pitted against the forces of evil, including actual enemies, for one last show-down, when good triumphs and evil is destroyed. In John’s version, the reign of God is represented by God’s Messiah and his community of disciples; they are opposed by armies consisting of all people … small and great, who have refused to repent and give glory to God, and those evil powers who lead them, the beast and the kings of the earth.

However, “no battle is described; there could be none in John’s theology” (Boring, Revelation, p. 199). The outcome of the eschatological war has already been decided by the cross and the empty tomb; the second coming only makes God’s victory manifest. Thus, John first sees an angel standing in the sun, where all the birds flying in midair can see and hear its announcement about the great supper of God (cf. Ezek. 39:17). The angel has invited vultures to this feast, even though its purpose is not unlike the Lamb’s wedding feast, in which the faithful are invited: both beasts and disciples are convened together to eat a supper which celebrates their creator’s triumph. Yet, in stark contrast to the Lamb’s feast, which celebrates the victory of God for the Lord’s people, this grim and grisly supper for vultures commemorates the victory of God over those who have rejected the Lord (cf. Caird, Revelation, pp. 247–48).

John then envisions the battle’s end; however, there is no actual fighting, since Christ’s armies are really not soldiers but disciples, and his weapon is the preached gospel of Jesus Christ rather than conventional military arms. Indeed, the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies … and … the false prophet are those who reject the truth of the gospel and by so doing make war against the rider on the horse and his army. While the beast, kings, and false prophet are symbolic of the powers of the evil kingdom, their armies are not then demonic—any more than the Lamb’s army is angelic. The beast musters his troops from among the unbelieving world. While they were killed with the sword that comes from the mouth of the Lord (19:15; cf. Isa. 11:4), their fate is “postponed” until after the millennium (cf. 20:8).

This is not the case of the first beast and false prophet (cf. 13:13–17). These two members of the unholy trinity are the first two to be thrown alive into the fiery lake of burning sulfur. Satan (20:10), along with death and Hades (20:14) and all unbelievers (20:15), will follow. The place of their eternal torment is identified only in Revelation in the NT, even though the association of eternal punishment with “fire” and “water” motifs is common. The source for John’s image could have been the volcanic sites in the Dead Sea region, where burning sulfur caused an offensive stench. This seems an appropriate image for the fate of the rebellious, idolatrous anti-Christian kingdom.

20:1–3 / The next two consequences of Christ’s parousia envision the destiny of the final and most powerful member of the evil trinity, Satan. Because Christ’s first advent resulted in Satan’s banishment from heaven (cf. 12:9), the reader assumes that Christ’s second advent will have a similar effect on earth—and so it does, as we will soon find out. At first, John sees not the dragon, but rather an angel coming down out of heaven to earth where the Evil One now lives. This angel comes as Satan’s jailer. In the one hand, it holds the key to the Abyss to lock and seal it over the devil, and in the other a great chain to bind him for a thousand years. His evil influence, which stems from deceiving the nations, has ceased altogether until the close of the thousand-year period when he must be set free for a short time.

In keeping with our treatment of Revelation, this fourth vision should not to be understood as the next in a sequence of historical events that follow Christ’s parousia. This seems clear from the context, since John has already envisioned the destruction of the nations (19:15, 21), even though here he speaks of their deception by Satan as though they still existed. Nor should we assume that a thousand years refers to chronological years, since John has consistently employed the numbers and dates of God’s reign for theological purposes.

Indeed, one’s interpretation of this difficult passage is largely determined by how one understands the idiom, a thousand years or millennium. In doing so, the interpreter must resist determining the text’s meaning ahead on time in light of certain theological assumptions, whether premillennial, postmillennial, or amillennial. The interpreter should also be careful not to force a particular idea of the millennium to function as a testing ground for one’s hermeneutics or the litmus test of one’s orthodoxy. Such ideological or apologetic interests tend only to obscure the profound theological freight the idea carries within Revelation.

The idea of a limited messianic reign on earth of specified duration, falling immediately prior to the inauguration of the eternal reign of God on earth, is not found in the OT or in any Jewish writing of John’s day. What one does find, however, in both the OT and intertestamental writings, is a firm hope in the eternal reign of God on earth that begins with the triumph and reign of God’s messiah. Revelation’s idea of a millennial reign provides a depth of meaning to John’s conviction that Christ’s second coming legitimizes his lordship upon earth.

In order to illuminate this point, the interpreter must first reconstruct the kind of millennium that was known to John and his readers (cf. Boring, Revelation, pp. 206–8). The idea of a messianic reign was fashioned in the context of a rabbinical debate over biblical eschatology (cf. Ford, Revelation, p. 352). One prominent voice in this debate was “prophetic” and viewed God’s salvation as the coming transformation of human history. According to this view, the messianic reign (i.e., a “millennium”), the “trigger” for God’s eternal reign, would begin when world evil is overthrown by Messiah and human existence is thereby allowed to conform to God’s original intentions for it. Another voice was “apocalyptic” and viewed God’s salvation as the passing away of human history as we know and experience it. In this case, Messiah comes from outside of history to establish a new order which replaces the old. What is most important to note about this debate is that these differing rabbinical voices agreed that the “day of Lord Messiah” would be transitional and lead a restored Israel into God’s eternal reign of shalom. Earliest Christianity, shaped within the womb of Judaism, took part in this debate and agreed with this consensus: the “day of the Lord Jesus” is transitional and will lead a true Israel into God’s promised rest. Thus, in Revelation, John’s idea of a thousand years interprets the second coming as a transitional messianic reign that will trigger the passing away of evil and usher in eternity. John uses the idea of a millennium to interpret the parousia rather than to insert it as a separate piece in a larger, more complex and temporal eschatological puzzle.

We might add that the early Christian saying found in 2 Peter 3:8, which itself is a midrash on Psalm 90:4, provides us with another important clue for interpreting John’s idea of Christ’s millennial reign. In 2 Peter’s “little apocalypse,” the author contends against those who scoff at the hope of the day of the Lord (3:3–4). The theological implication of their resistance to the “blessed hope” of Christian faith is that God will not fulfill the promise of a new creation (3:5–7). The ethical implication is that without hope there is little motivation “to live holy and godly lives” (3:11). In 2 Peter 3:8–9, the centerpiece of this passage, the author responds to the scoffers: salvation’s history proceeds according to God’s timetable and not according to humanity’s. And God’s timetable accords with God’s patience, which waits on unbelieving humanity so that “no one (need) perish, but everyone (may) come to repentance” (3:9b). In context, the delay of Christ’s return is interpreted by God’s patience, and God’s patience discloses God’s own faithfulness to commitments made. Christianity’s firm hope, tried in the face of scoffers, rests in a God who is a promise-giver and a promise-keeper.

As an expression of God’s redemptive patience, 2 Peter reformulates time itself so that “with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day” (3:8). God’s patience resists human calculation (cf. Jubilees 4:30). In this sense, the events that comprise the day of the Lord (3:10) may seem to take a millennium—especially to scoffers! In our view, then, the idea of a millennium found in 2 Peter is symbolic for the redemptive plan of a faithful God whose promises are patiently fulfilled according to a divine timetable and not one drawn up by scoffers or well-meaning prognosticators (cf. Acts 1:7; 1 Thess. 5:1–2).

John may well have known 2 Peter’s idea of a millennium and utilized it here. The situation of 2 Peter is similar to the one that faces the first readers of Revelation. Further, both authors root their pastoral exhortations in a common theological conviction that God will restore a people who have truly repented and remained faithful to God’s gospel. On this basis, we suspect that the phrase, a thousand years, functions in John’s vision similar to 2 Peter as an idiom for the faithfulness of God; thus, the parousia vindicates not only the slain Lamb but his faithful God.

Within this framework, then, we are now able to locate John’s millennial perspective on Christ’s second coming. According to its first reference in 20:2, the millennium deals with the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil, or Satan and the final stage of his career as deceiver. God’s faithfulness, revealed fully at Christ’s parousia, concerns first of all Satan’s banishment from earth, where God’s people and not Satan’s are destined to reign (cf. 5:10). Actually, this concluding chapter in Satan’s story comprises two periods of time introduced here by John: not only the thousand years of Satan’s exile, but a short time after his exile when he will be released to do what he does best—deceive the nations. We should assume that both periods of time, as God counts it, bracket the conclusion in the history of God’s struggle against Satan, during which God has always had the upper hand.

More specifically, in four ways this final stage of Satan’s career is much like its previous stage inaugurated at Christ’s exaltation (cf. 12:7–17). First, and most essentially, it is with the advent of Christ’s reign that Satan is defeated. Second, Satan is again demoted, this time from earth to the “Abyss.” Clearly, this manifests God’s triumph and sovereignty over the Evil One. Third, his demotion is expressed as a further constraint placed upon Satan by God, making it now impossible for him to deceive the nations. Before he could and did deceive the nations through his demonic agents, even though he could not deceive or threaten the faithful church. Finally, the dragon recognized that his time on earth was short (cf. 12:12); and Revelation itself always makes the period of Satan’s activity definite in time in concert with God’s ordination. This vision of Satan’s banishment from earth not only confirms the limited duration of his siege; it also indicates that the final stage of his defeat is also definite and has an end. Its first period lasts for a thousand years and its second for a short time—and then what? In light of this history, the reader should assume that there is certainly another judgment awaiting Satan following this period of time. But to where is Satan demoted after the Abyss?

20:4–10 / John’s next vision actually continues from the preceding one by combining an additional, more positive commentary on the millennium as a consequence of the parousia (20:4–6) with an expanded note on his earlier (and cryptic) comment that Satan must be released from exile in the Abyss “for a short time” (20:7–10). Together, then, these two visions (20:1–10) form two different perspectives of the final stage and status of Satan’s struggle against the vastly more powerful reign of God’s Christ, who is now revealed as the “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

When Satan was bound in the Abyss for a thousand years, the eschatological community came to life and reigned with Christ. This was the community of Christ’s disciples (14:1–5), who had been beheaded because of their testimony for Jesus and because of the word of God during the “great tribulation,” together with those who had not worshiped the beast—i.e., the idols of the social order. This resurrected body is not the martyr church as some argue (e.g., Caird); rather, this is the whole community of “overcomers.” The eschatological community is composed of two groups of believers, the martyred and unmartyred faithful, all of whom have met the conditions of Christian discipleship (14:4–5). Thus, John refers here to all those within his seven churches who repent or endure and so overcome evil for good (cf. Rev. 2–3). Insofar as the experiences of these seven congregations parallel those of congregations of every age, this first resurrection includes all believers who remain faithful to Christ.

They are seated together on thrones symbolic of their earthly reign (cf. Dan. 7:9; Luke 22:30, par.; 1 Cor. 6:2–3) as priests for God (cf. Rev. 1:6; 5:10; Heb. 9:14)—a royal priesthood on earth (Exod. 19:6). Echoes to the “new song” (5:9–10) abound; indeed, the slain Lamb has returned with his blood on his robe to realize in history what God has already accomplished on the cross. The import of this picture of the millennium, then, is that the parousia is a day of vindication for the Messiah’s community, even as it is for the Messiah. The church is triumphant too because of God’s Lamb (cf. Mounce, Revelation, pp. 358–59).

The point can be more keenly made when the two different images of the millennium are juxtaposed. On the one hand, John envisions an exiled Satan; and on the other, he envisions a reigning Christ with his devoted community. In spite of current appearances and experiences, God’s creation belongs not to Satan but to God’s Christ and his people, earth’s true royalty. Unlike those who rule over Satan’s kingdom, the faithful community will reign as priests and serve God’s interests (Schüssler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 123).

Much has been made of the contrast between the first resurrection and the second death as that relates to the idea of the millennium. Some have maintained that the idiom, first resurrection, implies a “second resurrection.” Some would define a second resurrection in the terms of a realized eschatology (so Caird, Revelation, pp. 254–55), while others prefer the terms of a futuristic eschatology (so Ladd, Revelation, p. 268). John never speaks, however, of a second resurrection; therefore, the interpreter should understand first resurrection within this context as a symbol for the eschatological priority God accords to the regnant community of Christian overcomers. They are the first to experience the blessing and holiness of the eschaton when Christ returns in his glory (cf. Ford, Revelation, p. 350). John employs this idiom as an exhortation for those in his embattled audience to overcome evil.

The second death, on the other hand, is a euphemism for the fate of those who do not share in the eschatological blessing of eternal life (cf. 2:11; 20:14). They are those who have not received the transforming power from God that reverses death into life; they are those who have not met the conditions of Christian discipleship. What their destiny is in objective terms, however, we can only imagine, for John writes “with parables and symbols which point to ideas beyond their verbal expression” (Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 299).

John now returns his vision to Satan, who has been released from his exile “for a short time.” Why does John insist on the necessity of Satan’s short-term freedom? Why must the nations be deceived once again, since the reader already knows they will be destroyed? The essential clue to these questions lies within the passage itself, and more specifically in John’s clever substitution of Gog and Magog for the nations. Jewish tradition had already recognized these rulers of Ezekiel’s prophecy (Ezek. 38–39) as types of world rulers, whose evil power and cunning were directed against Israel. God will destroy them in vindication of God’s faithfulness toward Israel in the eschatological battle “during the days of the Messiah” (cf. 3 Enoch 45:5). According to Ezekiel, God uses sword (38:21), fire (39:6), and burning sulfur (38:22) to execute judgment against the prince Gog and Magog. John also finds these instruments of divine judgment in his vision; so that fire … devoured Gog and Magog, and their lord Satan is cast into the lake of burning sulfur where he joins the beast and the false prophet (cf. 19:20). They will be tormented day and night for ever and ever (cf. Rev. 14:10). John’s rehearsal of the well-known prophetic typology of “Gog and Magog” does not predict a particular event or place, but rather imagines another result of Christ’s parousia (cf. Ezek. 39:25–29).

This is, then, Satan’s final demotion. Why he continues to act in character after his prison term of a thousand years had ended, and why the nations allow Satan to seduce them away from that which could give them shalom, speaks to the very nature of sin. Satan’s ongoing role within salvation’s history, even in defeat, is to force humanity’s ultimate decisions concerning eternal life and death. The Evil One’s mission is to deceive humanity so that it does not choose wisely. One’s free decision to rebel against God or to worship God is the result of certain habits of mind and heart. Recall that the only force used by the rider on the white horse was the sword of his mouth; the only source of power used by his enemy is deception. The spiritual struggle is for the nations’ mind! It is this which explains John’s insistence on repentance—the transformation of the mind—the very thing the nations refused to do—for this is required to change rebellion into devotion. Without it, they are rather easy prey for the deceiver, even though he leads them toward their own destruction.

20:11–15 / Next the seer sees a great white throne and him who is seated on it; he witnesses there the last judgment as yet a final episode in the concluding chapter of God’s triumph at Christ’s parousia. What is so striking about this vision is not John’s recapitulation of the universal judgment theme—that the dead, great and small, stood before the throne to be judged by God according to the books. Rather, it is the realization that God’s judgment of all creatures and nations, and of Satan and his unholy comrades, does not yet conclude the history of evil. The final enemies are death and Hades (cf. 1:17–18) because they are the results of evil in the world. They too, together with the demonic sea, have lost their power over redeemed humanity with Satan’s demise.

The great white throne symbolizes God’s great power over evil’s reign. Before the throne, the books kept in heaven to record what the dead had done are opened. This act does not represent God’s smothering omniscience so that every person’s every deed has been recorded by God to be broadcast at some later time. Rather the proper meaning of this image is to note with confidence that God’s record is accurate and fair and God’s judgment is “faithful and true.”

The book of life is kept by the Lamb as the essential artifact of his reign (cf. 21:27); in it he records the names of those who overcome (cf. 3:5), his faithful disciples, and those who will reign with him. To them the promised life is given by the one who sits on the throne; they are those who have been purchased for God by the Lamb’s blood and have been made into a kingdom to reign on earth and into priests to serve our God (cf. 5:9–10; 20:4–6). This book is the kingdom’s register: in it are the names of those who have reserved space in the new Jerusalem because of their faith in and faithfulness toward God and God’s Lamb.