A Letter From John: The Revelation
by Andy Wilkinson
Copyright 2011 by Andy Wilkinson
A Letter From John: The Revelation
The Apostle John sat at a small wood-plank table writing furiously with a quill on parchment, the end of the feather whipping back and forth. A wooden carafe of wine sat on the table, and he drank occasionally from a stoneware cup.
John held his left hand up, palm out, while writing with his right.
“Please, Lord, slow down. I can’t keep up.”
John dipped his quill and continued writing for a moment. He stood and paced around the room.
“I can’t send this letter.”
He continued pacing, agitated. He looked upward.
“I CAN NOT SEND THIS LETTER! The churches are looking to me for guidance and wisdom, something to cling to, hope, maybe, and a sense that all is well until I can be with them again.” He stepped over to the table, picked up the parchment and held it out in front of him.
“But you want me to deliver to them a story about spirits riding horses, a lamb with seven eyes and seven horns, locusts with faces like men and the hair of women … And my favorite! the red dragon with seven heads and ten horns. They will think I have gone mad. In my head I can hear them whispering among themselves, saying the gray haired old man has finally taken leave of his senses, just listen to what he is saying. And they may be right. After all, they say if you are going crazy you’re the last one to know. Perhaps at some point I passed from sanity to insanity and didn’t notice. And it is not without reason. Surely it is not. You see what my life is like. All I do, day after day, is sit and watch the Aegean Sea roll in against the shore and roll back out again. And I wait ... wait for you to give Emperor Domitian a heart so he will set me free from this wretched island … wait for inspiration so I can write words of hope and encouragement, something I can pass along to the Churches, to give them reason to carry on and continue the fight. They need that from me -- John the Apostle. I'm the only one left ... the other eleven are all dead ... martyred. I am the last remaining personal representative of the Son of God ... But why am I telling you this...”
John lifted his head upward and flung his arms out to his sides.
“They are looking for something special from me. But instead you want me to present them with this . . . craziness, this . . . this . . . apocalyptic babble.”
John stood quietly for a moment as if listening to a voice. He lowered his head and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Yes, yes, of course, who am I to question? You are right. You always know what’s best. I will finish the letter and have it delivered.”
John sat at the table, “This deity can be difficult,” he mumbled to himself. “He’s very inflexible. Oh, it’s true. I've spent most of my ninety years with Him and He hasn’t given in yet.” He rolled the parchment over and studied it for a moment.
“The churches mean everything to me,” addressing God again. “When I speak to them ... or write to them, I ask myself ‘what would Jesus say?’ He had such a wonderful way of making the complex seem simple, and a way of making the least among us feel important and needed.”
John took a sip of wine.
“You know ... sending him down here was one of your better ideas.” He chuckled, a small tentative laugh.“Oh, excuse me for being presumptuous.”
He walked to his only window, stared out at the sea and said, “Something I've always struggled with is why did He choose me? Of all people ... I was just a young man with a head full of crazy ideas. But He chose me. I tried to live up to the privilege ... and the responsibility. That responsibility became more apparent ... and daunting as time passed. I'm sure the whole group of us would have been scared out of our wits if we had realized what we were becoming a part of. And at first we were a little confused about why we had been chosen; what was our purpose, our mission. When Jesus talked about changing the world and its people, we thought He meant to free them from the government not from their sins. We were expecting to be part of a military coup; soldiers; warriors! We were prepared to be revolutionaries who would change the political and religious landscape of Israel and the Jewish nation.
“Oh, Peter was upset when he found out he wasn't going to get to kill Roman soldiers. He was such a big man and he loved a good fight. He had a bit of a temper problem back then too. Later when Malcus, servant to the High Priest came to arrest Jesus, Peter knocked him to the ground and cut off his ear. Jesus replaced the severed ear and rebuked Peter for his retaliation. As time went on, though, Peter learned to turn his ... um ... impetuousness into an asset. Looking back, I can see now why Jesus chose Peter. With a little polish and some patience he would become a great leader.
“Now this may sound disrespectful, even strange: Jesus had a way of scaring people. If we hadn’t known better we would have thought him to have been a practical joker. He could suddenly appear out of nowhere. One night we disciples were in a boat crossing a lake. A strong wind came up and the disciples were afraid. So Jesus just walked out to the boat … yes, right on top of the water, like a seafaring apparition. Now they were really scared. Not long after that--speaking to me in private--Peter referred to Him as the ‘Frightening Christ’. He repented immediately and swore me to silence. Well … until now, of course. But enough time has passed.
“Back to the question of why He chose me. I wasn't like Peter. I was more thinker than fighter, not good with a sword but handy with the quill. And I was very young too, so maybe he hoped I would be around for a while to chronicle his words and deeds.”
John rolled up the scroll and sat down.
“... And there were many words and many deeds to write about. There was this one time ... Now this was after his reputation had grown, after he was proposed to be the Messiah ... and there had been many over the years claiming to be the One ... but people could see a difference in Jesus ... they just knew ... And by this time the word of the miracles had gotten around and the crowds were growing, and ... Anyway, this one time he was speaking to a crowd of about a thousand people sitting on a hillside. There was a group of children playing off the side and one of the children, about five or six years old, was upset, and crying. Jesus stopped speaking to the crowd and called to the child and waved him over. He sat on a rock and spoke to the child. The whole throng of adults was straining to hear what He was saying. Why would the Messiah waste His time with this child? Jesus took the little boy's face in His hands, kissed him on the forehead and sent him back to his playmates. The boy cheerfully rejoined his group as if nothing had ever been wrong. Jesus stood and faced the crowd, and what He said next left them bewildered and silent. He pointed to the little boy and said, ‘Unless you become as that child you can not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.’”
John went to the desk and picked up the quill.
“They just stood there, stunned.” John waved the feather. “I could have knocked them over with this feather.
“Oh ... let me tell you the word spread of this strange declaration and for many days there was much debate among the followers and much interest among those who were just curious, and the name Jesus, and the words of Jesus, and the deeds of Jesus soon became the most popular subject in the land.
“I have a friend--a slave--in the king’s palace who overheard Herod talking to his wife. Herod said, “You’ll never believe what those crazy Jews are up to now. They have found their Messiah … again … a simple carpenter … how pathetic. He has no money, no property and he has been known to keep the company of whores and thieves. This is their Holy Man? Ha! How can this uneducated peasant stand against the Roman Empire? This poor creature won’t ev
en last as long as the other so-called Messiahs.’”
John took a sip of wine from the cup.
“This may have been the turning point ... the beginning of the end as they say. You see, he had also gotten the attention of the powerful leaders of the church and they were not happy with this self-proclaimed Son of God, or with his popularity. Jealousy and fear drove them to take desperate measures. So using their power and political connections … they had him killed.”
John stood and assumed an authoritative posture as if delivering a decree and said: “They thought it was over. Well ... that's the end of that trouble-maker ...”
John stood with one foot on the other, his arms stretched out and his head hanging down. “Crucified! Silenced! Now his pathetic band of followers can quietly search for the next great savior. But the people were not silenced. And the name, Jesus, would not go away. But not like the name of a martyr, or a war hero ... no, something much more threatening, something on a much grander scale.
“And I have it on good authority from one of Pilot's aides that he acted strangely on the day they shed the blood of Jesus. Pilot would wash his hands and stare at them with fearful eyes and then wash them again ... and again.
“But Jesus just would not go away. You know how we humans are. You tell us we can’t have something, we say, OH REALLY! And when the powers-that-be try to stamp out the memory of someone special to the common people, that person’s memory grows larger. And he became more popular in his death than in his life. And we began to write his story--some of the other apostles and me. And little groups began to form and the fellowship grew and spread, and the name Jesus was spoken by more people than any other name in the world.”
John spread his arm outward.
“JESUS!”
He held this position for a moment, then looked up as if hearing a voice.
“Yes Master. ... No, I was just reminiscing about the ... Oh, yes the letter. Well ... honestly, Lord, I sort of hoped you had forgotten about that. I have an idea for a letter of my own, without the … um, odd creatures, and I was thinking … Yes, Lord, yes, right away...”
John returned to the table and began to write. He held up his left hand.
“Please Lord, a little slower.” John dipped the quill in ink and continued to write furiously. “Yes ... yes I understand ... Armageddon … Yes, I have it.”