For the next few weeks, we’re dwelling in the book of Revelation—and we’re determined not to read it as doom, but as a promise. A vision not of destruction, but restoration. We’re being invited to name what we see, open our hearts wide, and listen for who God is calling us to become.
Of course, that’s not always easy.
Because the world often feels like it’s spinning too fast. New anxieties swirl. The ground keeps shifting. Even in our own church, the winds of change are stirring. It can be hard to know where to look. Harder still to know what to trust. And then—this week—we’re offered a vision.
John, exiled and alone, is caught up into the heavens. “Come up here,” a voice says. And suddenly he sees it: A throne at the center of everything. Lightning and jewels. Thunder and song. Winged creatures crying holy. Elders casting down crowns. A whole creation singing—not because they have to, but because they can’t not.
This isn’t glory like gold medals or magazine covers. This is the kind of glory that pulses at the heart of everything. The kind of glory that says: Even now. Even here. God holds it all.
Even when empires rise and fall. Even when churches shift and stretch and become. Even when your heart is tired and your vision clouded— Still, the throne remains. Still, the song rises.
This Sunday, we step into that vision. Not to escape the world, but to see it more clearly. To remember who sits at the center. To let ourselves be reoriented by wonder.
So come—with your questions and your longing. Come with your grief, your awe, your curiosity. Come to remember that God’s glory is not far off. It’s here. Breaking through.
And when we see it—even for a moment—we are changed.
Peace,
Pastor Katie