Doing the Laundry

sermon by Torin Eikler
Acts 16:16-34 Revelation 22:12-17, 20-21

My grandfather is one those believers who want to use the book of Revelation to predict the second coming. Last time I spoke to him about it, I think he said we are somewhere in the sixteenth chapter which would mean that the angels are in the process of pouring out the seven bowls of God’s wrath. (The dragon and the lake of fire are yet to come, but we’ve got a few chapters before they arrive. So, don’t worry too much just yet.) But, I’m not convinced that this piece of apocalyptic literature written by John was intended to give a timeline.

The lion’s share of biblical scholars – at least the ones that I have read – are in agreement that rather than a guide book filled with landmarks, Revelation is a metaphorical book filled with poetic juxtapositions that challenge our understandings. That is to say, the events that it lists, the numbers it uses, the pictures it paints are not intended to be taken literally. Some of the coded references may suggest real places and events of the time when it was written, but for the most part, it was written using sacred numerology and symbolism that resist logic and reason. It relies on the images and emotions to open the door to inspiration and truth, and rather than our analytical minds, our imagination is the key to understanding – or experiencing - Revelation.


With that in mind, I’d like you to take a moment to imagine God’s paradise since that is the reward that Jesus offers. It’s a big task, perhaps, but there are no right or wrong answers. No one is more qualified than you when it comes to your own imagination. So, try to picture yourself in paradise….

What do you see? ….

What do you hear? ….

Anyone want to share? Remember, there are no right or wrong answers….

Did streets of gold figure in any of your visions? How about walls studded with gems? A glowing presence filling everything with light? Angels or harps or saints in white robes kneeling in adoration?


When I was a youth, I came across a song by a Brethren singer that talked about the streets of heaven being paved with gold and how unappealing that was to “folks who’ve been raised in a simple way.” It was a catchy tune that is still with me, and it got me wondering for the first time what heaven might look like. There are lots of different descriptions out there, and once I started paying attention, I found myself lost in the variety and confused by the differences.

To be honest, I was overwhelmed, and none of the things I read or heard really caught my imagination for long. I still lose interest when a conversation turns in that direction because when I imagine heaven, the background is fuzzy. I couldn’t tell you what I see, but I could tell you what I hear and what I feel. I hear other people. They’re not singing hymns of praise and adoration. They are talking to one another about life and love. They are greeting loved ones, friends they knew in life, and those they are just meeting for the first time – offering hugs and words of kindness. I’m certainly not alone. None of us are, and that’s what makes it feel so nice – so warm and welcoming – so filled with love – so much like home.


Well, … this is Revelation, and there is more to this text than visions of heaven. There is still that lake of fire in there after all, and the reading today began with the lines, “See, I am coming soon, my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work …. Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates.” So, there is something to “worry” about after all – washing our robes.

It seems that it’s time to use our imaginations again, because I’m pretty sure this doesn’t really mean doing the laundry. If it were that simple …. Well I just don’t think God is worried about the state of our appearance as much as the fruit we bear. What does that mean, then – washing our robes? And, how do we do it?


One of the first things that comes to mind is baptism. The Psalmist says, “wash me and I shall be white as snow,” and John the Baptist promised that one was coming who would wash us with the Spirit. By water and the Spirit we are made clean, spiritually, and enter into the grace offered by God through Christ, and that is an important part of our spiritual life that I don’t want to belittle. But I think that this text may be referring to something else. Something that is a part of our faith journey – part of our lives and work as followers of Christ.

And what, exactly is that work? What is it that makes up such an important part of our faith lives? “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and with all your mind” and “love your neighbor as yourself” was Jesus’ response to a similar question. That feels right – feels like it could be the answer. But it is big and vague, and I have trouble imagining what it would look like to love my neighbor as myself because it seems clear that Jesus is not talking about love as a static state of being. He’s talking about love that comes out in action.

Matthew 25 and the verses about the sheep and the goats that we all know so well are a bit more concrete, and since they deal with the final judgment they seem particularly relevant:
“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, … for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

That gives me a little more to go on. I can picture myself giving out food and water, visiting people, caring for the sick, and even welcoming strangers. I expect that you can imagine yourselves doing those things too. I can picture it, but I don’t do it all that often. For some reason, it still seems too big for me and my life. There is so much suffering and loneliness and hunger in the world. If I try to wrap the arms of my heart around it all, I just can’t do it. Even though each individual action should be easy, they are overshadowed by despair and resignation because of the impossibility of doing it all. Sure Jesus did it, but Jesus was … well … Jesus, (and we lesser folk are a little short on divine compassion and suffering patience to measure up.) But we heard another example of someone (two people actually) washing their robes today.

Paul and Silas had done it again. They were in prison for doing the Lord’s work. (Well it’s not quite that simple. They did cast out a demon in the name of Christ, but they did it for selfish reasons – namely annoyance – which makes them a great example for those of us who sometimes react badly under stress.) Anyway, they were in their cell praying and singing hymns when an earthquake hit, opening all the doors of the prison and unfastening everyone’s chains.

What would you do if you were the chance to escape prison presented itself; especially if you felt you had been beaten and locked up unjustly? I’m pretty sure I would jump on the opportunity to save myself. But no, not only did Paul and Silas stay put, they somehow convinced everyone else to do so as well, and all for the sake of the jailor who would have been in a pickle if they had left. That takes a good deal of courage and a self-less faith.


Balancing self-interest with compassion … caring for the needs of others ... loving neighbors as if they were ourselves. Paul and Silas were doing the work of love as they followed the will of God. Can you picture yourself doing something like that – washing your robe with love?



There is another vision of heaven that I have heard told…. A woman was at prayer when she was lifted out of her body by the Spirit. After a time of hearing and seeing and feeling nothing by the love of God surrounding her, she found herself gazing upon a banquet table laden with food and drink in plenty. Around the table were endless numbers of people, each with his or her place. She asked if this was heaven for she would have been overjoyed to sit at such a table with all those she had ever loved, and heard in reply, “look closely.”

When she did, she realized that everyone had a look of frustration and despair on their face and angry curses were on every tongue. As she watched, she realized that though there was food and drink in front of each person, they could not eat or drink because they had no arms. To be sure, their spoons were long enough to reach the table all the same, but that same fact kept them from getting the food into their mouths try as they might. Thinking of eternity spent longing for the food in front of her, she breathed, “That would be hell.” The vision faded and another took its place.

There in front of her was the same table filled with and endless supply of food and surrounded by people with long spoons and no arms. She didn’t understand why she was being shown all this again. She turned away, shielding herself from the torment on the people’s faces.

Again she heard the words, “look closely,” and when she forced herself to look, she found with surprise that the scene was not at all the same. These people were happy. They smiled and laughed and spoke graciously to one another, offering words of gratitude and praise. She wondered at the difference until she noticed one man lean forward, gathering a bite of food with his spoon and feeding it to the woman next to him. The woman, after chewing with relish, returned the favor. And then she realized that at this table everyone was happy and well-fed precisely because they each cared for needs of their neighbors.



Imagine what the world would be like if we did that. Could that be heaven – the Kingdom of God come down to Earth? Or if that’s too big (and it probably is), imagine what Morgantown or Waynesburg would be like. Could we build the new Jerusalem, shining with the love of God? Or if that’s still too big, imagine this congregation if we washed our robes like that? Would we see the loneliness in our sisters and brothers and spend time visiting with them? Would we recognize the signs of financial difficulties or family struggles in their faces and find some way to relieve the strain? Would we notice the gifts that we each have and support one another in developing them?

What would it be like if we loved each other not with the static, warm-fuzzy kind of love that said hello on a Sunday morning but with an active love that cares for the needs we each have in real ways or holds each one gently as it challenges them to live more fully into their potential? Do we have the courage and the faith to make it real?

What would it look like?

How would it feel?

Imagine….