Government vs. God

Governments at their best are necessary evils and at their worst, enslaving despots. They are substitute gods, demanding our ultimate allegiance and molding our destinies. But the most powerful government is yet to come, fulfilling the Utopian dream of global rule perfected by man—and it may not be as far away as we would like.

If you identify with the sense of Revelation being a riddle, welcome to the club! Here’s a spoiler alert—none of the theologians totally understand Revelation either. The Bible’s last book is a paradox. That’s probably not any great newsflash to you, whether you are in an ivory tower of academia or a pew in a local church. Though difficult to understand, it’s worth the effort. It’s the only book promising a blessing if we read it.

We’re all a bit stymied—just not as confused as we were a century ago! It’s not that we are that much brighter than those who preceded us, but there are new insights because of the time in which we live. A century ago, the talking-image in Chapter 13 sounded like a miracle by Satan. Today it just sounds like a robot with a built-in cell phone. Other things John saw won’t make sense until we approach their fulfillment. If John had talked about air travel in Revelation—not that he did—Luther would have had a hard time comprehending it as a normal event. Yet, it would be perfectly clear to us.

We must also not miss the forest for the trees. In the broadest view of human history, we have the story of an epic struggle over authority. In the microcosm, this struggle is each person’s desire to be his own god. At the macro level, humanity expresses its rejection of God’s rule by replacing him with its political organizations.

Ronald Regan campaigned on the slogan, “Government is not the solution; it’s the problem.” That sounded good, but few really believed it. Even fewer do today. The argument seems to have deteriorated into whom should the government elevate and whom should it diminish, rather than what functions should it exercise and which should it not.

The world has changed since the last wave of interest in Jesus’ return. Now the fences over which we gossip are oceans and continents. Phones answer our questions rather than our neighbors. Robots function automatically with little or no continuing instruction from us. Worse, we have to worry about our smart-TV eavesdropping and reporting our private conversations. The world has shrunk and problems in the globe’s far corners are no longer unilaterally solvable. We are a global village. Why not form a global government?

What follows is a view of Revelation, different from what your great-grandfather heard preached in 1920 during the heyday of prophecy study. Neither is this view colored by the mid-twentieth century fear of nuclear destruction—though maybe it should be. Some earlier speculation now seems silly and some of the things that were then unthinkable seem far more reasonable today.

Interpretations of Revelation have changed through the centuries because it is a mysterious book. We are closer to its final elements than ever before and therefore should be more perceptive than those who preceded us. That hope that things will clear up just before the end was given to Daniel 2,500 years ago. He came to the end of his last vision, perplexed. The angel explaining it said, “…the words are closed up, and sealed until the time of the end.” (Daniel 12:9) Daniel never fully understood what he had received. But nearer and nearer to “the time of the end,” believers should begin to recognize end-time fulfillments, if they are alert.

The Hebrew Scriptures forecast some empires that are yet to come—as well as ancient ones that no longer exist. Therefore, this is no time to disregard history or geopolitics. Much of the fog has gradually cleared through the centuries, but there are still pockets of ambiguity in some of the valleys.

Again, don’t miss the forest for the trees! The overriding story is the fight for authority. Two competing tracks of political authority exist. Israel modeled the first in its initial government. That governing form didn’t last—not because it didn’t work, but because Israel didn’t like it. They wanted what their neighbors had: a king. Israel preferred human rule where “might makes right,” because they expected to be the mighty ones. Government, however organized, is mankind’s attempt to organize and relate under human authority. In other words, we desire a paradise—but without God’s interference. We can boil history down to one question: who’s in charge, God or mankind? And if mankind, who specifically?

In the glimpse of that ongoing conflict, God, through John, reveals the unfolding of these two competing authorities. Currently, God’s way is his rule through redeemed individuals. We call that the visible Church. The other is the human attempt to create paradise without God—eventually seeking it in a global government.

The book of Revelation captures this continuous conflict with two major symbols. One is a seven-stemmed candelabra; the other, a sealed scroll. The lamps are congregations of gathered believers, God’s lamps through which Jesus shines. The opposing authority is portrayed as a sealed government document. Thus, the central story, painted in the broadest strokes, is the destiny of these two competing powers. Added insights fill out these two stories of competing rule. One authority continues into eternity under God; the other ends here.