Conviction of Things Not Seen

Sometimes when I look at the world, I begin to despair. There seems not enough space for the thousands of refugees worldwide fleeing war, genocide, brutality, and injustice. Even if we realize there is enough space, the generosity of nations with stability and peace increasingly frays under the inrushing of numbers difficult to manage or adequately support—sadly, at times, yielding to other forms of racism. The United States in particular is faced with the question of how it will define its “greatness” in the present historical moment. Will it become increasingly insular, protecting its borders at any cost? Will it disregard its immigrant roots and narrate an American identity that forgets its founding cry for “liberty and justice for all” and the invitation to “give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses”?

As Christians, this is exactly the moment in which we must hold intently to an eschatological reality yet unseen. We catch a glimpse in Revelation 7 of God’s ultimate vision for God’s people: “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb.” Every person equally beloved and given refuge at the seat of the throne. Together they live into a new doxological reality. Every path, every nation, every race, every language, every person joins in a singular gaze upon the Lamb and a singular hymn of praise. John’s Revelation offers us a vision of diversity honored and preserved—an exquisite portrait of unity precisely in embodied diversity. This vision of all creatures living into the fullness of God’s inestimable goodness is the hope—the telos—of all life itself to which we are called today to embrace with a conviction of things yet unseen.