Texts about a punishing God from Revelation are difficult to interpret. On one hand, we see the culmination of salvation history—the bride prepared for the wedding in radiant white clothes. On the other hand, we have the image of Christ as a warrior, wearing a cloak soaked in blood at the head of the heavenly armies, who strikes down nations and presses the winepress of the Almighty God's avenging wrath. I probably wouldn’t choose this verse as the motto for my preaching office or as a vision for a church. Is this really the same Jesus and the same God we read about elsewhere in Scripture? Fighting, even punishing… couldn’t it be described differently? Without the clashing of weapons? You probably know the theories about two gods—the Old Testament God who is angry and harsh, and the New Testament God who is kind and loving. But it’s probably not that simple.
When we look at how God is sometimes presented in certain Christian circles, Richard Niebuhr’s statement sums it up well, a statement he made in connection with liberalism as a kind of credo for that movement: “An unwrathful God brought a sinless man into a kingdom without judgment by preaching without a cross.”
But the image Scripture gives us is different. We read about a God who gets angry, about humans who sin, about judgment and the cross. Even about hell and eternal condemnation. This is not an invention of some bloodthirsty Christian fundamentalists, but this is what we read in the Bible, and it is also how many theologians and thinkers understand it. Miroslav Volf from Yale University wrote: If God did not get angry at injustice and lies and did not put a final end to violence, He would not be a loving God worth worshiping. Volf says violence arises from a lack of faith in God’s justice, because then we have to take matters into our own hands. Nobel laureate Czesław Miłosz wrote: The real opium of humanity is the belief that after death there is nothingness. A deeply comforting thought—that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, and murders we will not be judged. C. S. Lewis wrote: There are only two kinds of people—those who say ‘Thy will be done, God’ and those to whom God will finally say: ‘So be it.’ Everyone in hell chose it themselves. Without choosing their own fate, hell would not be hell.
None of these mentioned thinkers would be classified as bloodthirsty fundamentalists. I wanted to support the words we read in our text from Revelation by citing theologians and thinkers who do not question the words about judgment, punishment, and conflict.
Looking at current theological discussions, one of the major topics is ethics. This discussion has partly come to light due to questions surrounding gender and homosexuality. I am not addressing these areas now, but I want to examine the positions from which many people argue. A basic argumentative premise in this area is: I have the right to do what I want, or better, what I feel—provided I do not harm anyone. And since God is kind, He must respect our private preferences. The idea that someone would judge my behavior belongs to the Middle Ages. Tim Keller comments that there are two intertwined cultural narratives: No one has the right to tell me how to live my life as long as I don’t harm others—this is the narrative of freedom; and then the narrative of identity: I must be true to myself and have the right to openly express my deepest desires and dreams regardless of others’ opinions. In short, the basis is my freedom and my sincerity.
Understandably, this narrative or this mindset penetrates the church as well, and talking about judgment, saying that something is wrong or right, declaring moral judgments is unacceptable to many—not only non-believers but also believers. All we need is love. Period. That is true, but does it mean that love equals approval of our preferences?
How then should we read these texts in this climate? Or should we just dismiss them as culturally conditioned?
Now, how does all this relate to the text we read? Did I stray too far?
I see three areas here: judgment—justice—conflict, not only here but spanning the whole book of Revelation.
About Jesus, it says He “judges and wages war righteously” (Rev 19:11).
Judgment—it is Jesus who judges here, not humans. But if we read about judgment and justice, it presupposes that truth, lies, good, and evil exist, and Jesus will assess and judge them. Of course, we are forgiven sinners, but grace is from sin, from the evil we commit. The criterion of evil is not what someone intended or sincerely felt. A clue may lie in how Jesus is named. John here returns to his Gospel and writes that His name is the Word of God. I know none of us have the final interpretation of God’s Word, and I know how so-called biblically believing Christians unintentionally discredit the Word by pretending they have the right interpretation, and on the other side, liberals who tend to deconstruct the texts. But this should not divert us from the desire, ambition, and effort to seek the truth in God’s Word. God will judge, but we—somewhat crudely called religious professionals—are tasked with bringing God’s truths to light, and how people respond is up to them. In this context, I think of Paul’s statement, “Let no one perish because of me.”
Justice. I have already quoted M. Volf. His books reflect his horrific experience of the Balkan wars in the 1990s, and this experience is imprinted on some of his works. Volf wrote about God’s justice: My claim that the practice of nonviolence requires faith in divine retribution will be unpopular in the West. But the emergence of the thesis that human nonviolence stems from faith in God’s refusal to judge requires the calm of suburban home life. In a sun-baked land soaked with innocent blood, this pleasant creation of liberal minds vanishes. Volf, in line with our text, says God will judge and that He is angry at lies and injustice. Therefore, we do not have to be ashamed of our desires, our thirst for God to overthrow Putin and establish justice. And it does not have to be only geopolitics but also our daily struggles. Here we might say, fine, one day it will come, God will enforce justice, but now we must endure. Yes, we will not overthrow Putin, but it makes sense already now to strive for justice, or thirst for justice. N. T. Wright put it beautifully: Whatever you do in the present—painting, preaching, embroidering, teaching, building hospitals, digging wells, fighting for justice, caring for the needy, loving your neighbor—will endure into God’s future. Everything we do is part of what we can call working on God’s kingdom. We are already working on what will be fully revealed in the texts we read in Revelation. Somehow our struggle for justice will endure into the world to come.
Conflict. Scripture ends with the New Jerusalem, but it is preceded by much conflict. Here we see the battle against the false prophet, who performed miraculous signs, against the beast; both were quite successful because many were deceived, many knelt before its image, and it performed miraculous signs. It’s not like Jesus comes with His angels and instantly executes judgment and wins the battle. It won’t just happen by itself. If we do not enter the fight, evil will prevail. A few years ago, I published a book How to Destroy the Church. To be authentic, I tried to put myself on the other side, truly take the side of evil. I wrote it on vacation and admit it ruined part of my vacation. I am thinking about a sequel, but I’m actually afraid. It scared me how much evil is even inside me, and I’d rather leave that closed somewhere. Why do I say this? We are part of a battle that we fight partly with ourselves but also for the church and God’s kingdom. And sometimes that means conflict. Just like it is here. I’m not saying that those who are conflictual are blessed or that the more conflictual you are, the holier you are, but that conflict and struggle belong in our ministry. Sometimes our preaching failures are that we went into conflict and shouldn’t have, but sometimes we should have gone into conflict and didn’t. We were just afraid the other side would crush us, or we were simply too comfortable. But even from this short passage, we see that victory precedes conflict and that the battle fought in heaven somehow reflects what we experience on earth.
Conclusion: We live in a world or social bubble where people rarely talk about judgment or truth. Maximum freedom is important, limited only by whether I harm others and whether I sincerely feel that. But Scripture speaks of judgment, justice, and conflict. Ultimately, all these belong to Christ, but we cannot resign ourselves from these issues. Therefore, we are called to seek the truth revealed in Scripture and Christ, to long for justice, and to engage in the fight. Of course, it hurts, but let us be comforted that in this battle we are with Christ, and I believe also with one another. May this pastoral reflection motivate us to enter the battle where we must, and also into the battle fought in prayer, in spiritual struggle.