This is what we see: See the Multitude

This is what we see: not a lonely saint or a scattered few, but a multitude. A crowd too vast to count. A sea of people—different languages, cultures, stories, skin. Not competing. Not divided by borders or beliefs. But gathered, together, around love. 

I have a love–hate relationship with big crowds. I love the feeling of sharing something special with lots of people—at a concert, a vigil, a march for justice. But I don’t love the pushing, the heat, the anxiety of being pressed in. That kind of crowd makes it hard to breathe. 

And yet—when we truly breathe together, when we sing and pray and hope as one, something shifts. The multitude becomes holy. Real. Worthwhile. 

In Revelation 7, John sees something that changes everything. Up to this point, the world is trembling. Empires are raging. Suffering is loud. But then—John looks again. And he sees them: he sees the ones who endured. The ones who weep no more. The ones marked not by power, but by mercy. 

And maybe that vision matters more than ever. When headlines overwhelm us and the wars rage one. When cruelty is louder than compassion. When our own church is in a season of transition, full of questions and change. 

We need this reminder: We belong to a story bigger than this moment. We belong to a God who gathers, not scatters. A God who sees through the noise and calls us—even now—to breathe as one into something holy, healing, whole. 

This Sunday, we’ll gather to catch a glimpse of the multitude. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll hear the Spirit whisper: “You’re not alone. Look again. They’re here too.” 

The ones who keep showing up. The ones who sing in their sorrow. The ones who care, and pray, and hope—even when it’s hard. 

Maybe you’re one of them. Come and see. 

Peace, 
Pastor Katie