For the One Who Rescued Me

Devotional

There's a song being sung at the center of the universe, and it isn't about you.

That's not a rebuke. That's relief. Because if it were about you, it would only be as good as you are.

John gets a look at it in Revelation 5, and what he sees is a Lamb. Not a lion on a throne with a sword. A Lamb, standing there looking like it's been killed. And every creature in heaven and earth is roaring at it. "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing."

Count those. Seven. In John's writing seven means complete, nothing left over. They're handing him everything there is to hand.

And notice nobody's pitying him. In the middle of all that glory the marks are still visible, and heaven isn't mourning them. Heaven is shouting about them.

Then the reason. "You were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation."

Ransomed. That's a market word. It's what you paid to get a slave out. It means a price got named, and somebody covered it, and a person walked out who wasn't going to.

So if you're in Christ, understand what happened. You didn't get swept up in a general amnesty. You weren't a rounding error in somebody else's rescue. You were bought. There was a number on you and he paid it.

And I want to ask you honestly: does that still land? Or has it worn smooth? It's possible to say "Jesus saved me" the way you'd say where you went to high school. True, settled, and no longer connected to anything about your Tuesday. Revelation won't let you keep it there. Heaven is not casual about this.

Look what the ransom made you. "You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God." He didn't just get you out of the fire. He gave you a title. People who were slaves to sin are now priests. People who stood condemned now stand in white robes at a throne. That's not just a change in your legal file. That's a change in what you're for.

Then chapter 7, and the scope of it. "A great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages." Nobody can count them. Whatever you think the church has been through, whatever it looks like from where you sit, the final number breaks the math.

And they're standing. Not cowering. Not waiting to see if they'll be allowed in. Standing, in robes they didn't buy, holding palm branches, which is what you carry when the war's over.

And listen to what they shout. "Salvation belongs to our God." Belongs to him. It's his. Not their sincerity. Not their track record. Rescued people don't brag about the escape. They say the name of the one who came in after them.

Here's the last thing, and it's the tenderest line in the book.

"The Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

The Lamb becomes the shepherd. The one who was sacrificed is the one who leads. He doesn't rescue you and then leave you to figure out the rest. He walks you to water.

And that last part isn't a crowd getting comforted. It's a hand on a face. God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Yours. The ones from the funeral. The ones nobody saw.

You don't have to earn a spot in that number. It was bought before you knew you needed it.

The song's already going. Get in.