The Lion of Judah

[Revelation 5:1–10]

I have a weird obsession with various forms of endurance athletics. Not that I participate in any of them, but I love watching and studying them. I read a book and watched a documentary on Mark Beaumont—a guy who crushed the record for cycling around the world. The previous record was 123 days. He was able to do it in just over 78 days. That meant he had to ride 240 miles a day averaging a speed of 15 miles per hour and do that every single day for two-and-a-half months. It’s incredible. When he was asked how he accomplished such a feat he made a very interesting comment—a comment that’s been made by numerous endurance athletes over the years. He said that the physical side of things wasn’t the most difficult part. The most difficult part of any endurance activity is the mental and emotional aspects. As soon as you start to suffer, your brain and emotions begin to tell you things that aren’t necessarily true. The more tired and exhausted you become, the less clearly you begin to see things.

I’ve seen this over and over again in my own life and in the lives of other people. When we enter into times of difficulty and struggle—or to connect this with Advent, into seasons of darkness—we begin to get weary, weak, and worn out. And the more tired we get, the weaker we get, the more our minds and emotions begin to run amok and cause problems. We enter into seasons where we’re so tired and weak and weary that we can’t see things clearly. Sometimes we think we can see things clearly, but we really can’t.

That’s why in those moments we begin to lose hope because we can’t even begin to imagine a world in which things get any better. All we can see is the battle in front of us—the darkness around us—and we can’t see any sliver of light breaking into that darkness. So, we get weaker and weaker and blinder and blinder, losing more and more hope along the way.

This is the situation in which the book of Revelation was written. It was written to a church that was severely suffering in darkness. They were weak and worn out from the battle. Their minds were running down paths that weren’t helpful and weren’t bringing them any comfort and hope. They couldn’t see any possible way in which things could actually get better—they couldn’t see any form of victory—no light in the darkness. So, John writes them a letter to open their eyes to reality—to reveal something to them about what is actually happening right now, in the midst of the darkness and in the midst of their suffering. And what he shows them is the fulfillment of all of God’s promises.

This morning we talked about some of these beautiful promises that were spoken over God’s people in general, but over the Tribe of Judah in particular. They were told that they would be overcomers and conquerors. They were told that kings would come from their tribe. They were told that the earth would give them praise and honor. Yet, even though they saw little glimpses of those promises throughout their life, they hadn’t seen them fully. Yet, they didn’t give up complete hope. Rabbinical writings tell us that the tribe of Judah always held onto the symbol of the lion for their tribe. You can imagine them “flying the Lion flag” as they encamped in the desert, serving as a reminder of God’s promises to them that a Judah would one day be a lion.

Now, in the midst of the church’s darkness—when the church is having difficulty seeing any forms of victory or hope—John shines a light in their darkness so that they can finally see things more clearly. He pulls back the curtain into heaven and shows the church an elder—one of the elders seated on a throne in heaven. This is a picture of the church triumphant—those who have made it through the suffering and trials and darkness of this life, but are now sitting in heaven, in victory with their God and their savior. The churches in darkness see that victory will eventually come and they receive hope.

The elder also speaks saying, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” (Revelation 5:5, ESV). Not only does the elder show the church in darkness that victory is on the horizon—that the sun is coming up—but he tells them why. Look! The Lion of Judah has conquered and overcome. The church no longer has to look forward only hoping for this reality. It has happened. It is finished. Jesus Christ is the Lion of Judah—he is the fulfillment of all of God’s promises of victory—and he already had overcome. It is finished. The church couldn’t see that in the midst of their own suffering and darkness. They had been blinded to that reality. So, God sheds some light in their darkness.

What’s interesting about this imagery is that when the camera angle changes things look different than we expected. We’ve been told that we need to keep our eyes on the Conquering Lion of Judah, but when the camera shifts to show us who he is, we see something different. We read, “And between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain…” (Revelation 5:6, ESV). These are not two different pictures. The Lion is the Lamb and the Lamb is the Lion. The Lion has overcome and conquered BECAUSE he was slain and BECAUSE he was wounded and suffered. He did not conquer and overcome DESPITE these things but THROUGH them. It’s another reminder for God’s people in darkness that victory doesn’t come apart from suffering, but rather victory comes through suffering.

This is one of those things we need to be reminded of over and over again because we quickly lose sight of these things in the midst of our own suffering. Like I said at the beginning, as we get worn down and worn out in our suffering and darkness, we become blind to reality. It happens to every, single one of us—that’s why it’s called darkness. And in those moments of darkness and blindness we can easily lose hope because we can’t see beyond the darkness. And the reality is, in order to persevere in these moments, it’s more of a mental and emotional battle than a physical battle—not always, but often. Often what is needed to persevere in these moments is to lift up our eyes—force ourselves to lift up our eyes OR have a faithful friend or family member lift our eyes—to see beyond the darkness. Or, to use the analogy of Revelation, to open our eyes and shine some light into our darkness. We need to see Jesus Christ—the Lion of Judah, the Lamb that was slain—sitting in victory in heaven and surrounded by the church victorious. We need to see that because that is true right now—even in the midst of our current darkness. Because Jesus Christ has overcome, by faith in him we can also overcome. That’s why we read later on, “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony…” (Revelation 12:11).

As we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ tonight, we are reminded that the victorious Lion who has overcome the world, was born in a stable. He lived on the earth like us, suffered like us, and experienced darkness and despair like us. Yet, through his sufferings—through his life, death, and resurrection—he overcame the world. And because he has overcome the world, we can overcome as well by faith. We can have faith that he understands our darkness and despair. We can have faith that he will lead us and guide us through our sufferings and trials. And we can have faith that we will overcome—not by our own strength, but by his grace, by the blood of this Lion/Lamb and the word of our testimony. It’s by faith in Jesus Christ that light begins to shine in our darkness and we begin to have hope in the midst of the battle. As that light shines on us, we’re reminded that "Christ's death, as well as the ongoing sufferings of the church, have been and are continually being turned into victory" (Beale, 115).