“His eyes were like a flame of fire…I fell at His feet as dead.” Rev 1:14,17
A part of me longs to see Jesus face to face more than anything else; a part of me shutters at the thought. Although I know it will be awesome and totally transformational, I am also keenly aware that “it is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Heb 10:31 NASB).
This is not typically the way we portray Jesus these days. We default to the gentle Shepherd image, of One who offers mercy, solace, unconditional acceptance, and embrace. I memorized Psalm 23 in Sunday school before my fifth birthday, and these words have pillowed me through life’s valleys for nearly sixty years. I am so, so grateful for this heritage, knowing I have unfettered access to God—just as I am, no matter what, no matter when. And yet…
I’m struck that Biblical encounters with God are not always a kumbaya affair. Sometimes, vulnerable and ashamed, we search high and low for fig leafs or we duck behind the nearest tree. Sometimes it ends up being a wrestling match that lasts all night long. When God showed up on Sinai, the children of Israel decided it was safer to stay in the camp rather than risk approaching the quaking mountain where loud thunder, lightening and thick clouds made them cower and cringe.
When Joshua saw the Lord as he approached Jericho, he immediately “fell on his face to the earth” (Jos 5:14). So did Ezekiel (Eze 2:1) when the heaven’s opened and he beheld his Maker. Isaiah’s instinctive reaction to seeing the Lord high and lifted up was to cry out, I’m doomed, ruined, undone! (Is 6:5). In the presence of such holiness, he was suddenly, intensely aware of his own unworthiness and impurity.
John had been one of Jesus’ closest friends. He is often called the Beloved, referring to himself in his Gospel as “the one whom Jesus loved”. John mentions leaning upon Jesus’ bosom as they sat together during the Last Supper. And yet, when John sees the Resurrected Christ while in exile on the island of Patmos, he begins the Book of Revelation by describing Jesus not in concert with our meek and mild stereotypes. He holds stars in His hand and there is a sharp sword coming out of His mouth. His countenance is “like the sun shining in its strength” (Rev 1:16). His eyes are on fire.
The same eyes that the prophet Hanani had described as “run[ning] to and fro throughout the earth to show Himself strong” (2 Chr 16:9) fell squarely on John and nearly scared him to death…literally. They searched him to his core in what had to have been one of the most sobering moments of any human in history.
These same eyes then began to inspect the churches in seven prominent cities in what is now Turkey. The first words he speaks are repeated to each church: “I know your works…” (Rev 2:2). His eyes perform visual surgery. Nothing escapes their scrutiny. They were able to penetrate and with perfect clarity scan the breadth and depths of each congregation, and to diagnose without prejudice the true condition of every man and woman. He deftly discerns every thought and intention of our hearts, as the author of Hebrews says, adding “there is no creature hidden from His sight, but in all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Heb 4:12,13).
Despite the spine-chilling prospect of being overwhelmed and floored by a face to face encounter with the Ruler of the Universe, deep down I know there is nothing we need more than to have a revelation of who Jesus truly is, to feel the burn and weight of those blazing eyes, then receive grace “by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear” (Heb 12:28).