+ All Saints’ Day (observed) – November 2nd, 2025 +
Revelation 7:9-17; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12
Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church
Milton, WA
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sometimes we hide them behind sunglasses, or try in vain to wipe them away. Other times we get embarrassed or act tough: “I’m not crying; you’re crying.” Pop musicians, from Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons to Fergie try to convince us that, “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” But the truth is, we all have tears.
Tears of overwhelming joy like Sarah in Genesis, who I imagine laughed till she cried as she held in her hands the gracious, unexpected, promised gift of her son Isaac.
Tears of loss and longing, like Israel in exile, weeping beside the rivers of Babylon as they remembered Zion.
Tears of guilt or shame, like King David mourning the death of his son and the consequence of his sin.
Tears of pain and anguish, where we join the Psalms in lament: “How long, O Lord?” “How long, O Lord, will the cancer spread?” “How long will homes, marriages, friendships remain broken?” “How long will the tempest of anxiety, fear, worry, doubt, and despair cloud my mind?”
And then there are tears like we experience on All Saints’ Day, as we remember the faithful departed. Tears of grief. Loss. Death. Like our Lord’s tears as he wept at his friend Lazarus’ tomb. We see a familiar sight, hear a sound, or catch a smell, or even sing a beloved hymn – for me, it’s always For All the Saints - and we grieve. Grandparents. Parents. Aunts and uncles. Sisters or brothers. Husband. Wife. Sons, daughters, miscarried children. Close friends.
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, like those who have gone before us this past year:
William Gieck. Helen Myer. Steve Pelissier.
We grieve and weep, but not without hope. For our Lord who knows every hair on our head, also knows each sorrow and comforts us.
He gave John a comforting vision to share with us. St. John was given to see what is not seen, a sneak peek into the heavenly realms to perceive what no eye has seen and to hear what no ear has heard. What John heard was the number 144,000 – a perfected Israel. Twelve times twelve times a thousand. That’s what John heard.
What John saw was a great multitude that no one could number. People from every nation, tribe, people, and language. Standing before Christ the Lamb, clothed in sun-glare white robes waving palm branches in an eternal feast of tabernacles, a perpetual Palm Sunday, crying out with one voice,
“Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” And with them angels and elders and the four living creatures who represent the whole created order worshipping God with the perfected seven-fold praise: “Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever. Amen.”
Sounds incredible. Beautiful. Joyful. We long to see what St. John saw instead of what we see around us now. But here’s the comforting thing, everything John saw is yours – now by faith, and one day by sight. And until that Day, everything John saw happens here every Sunday, every Divine Service. We may not see it, but when we kneel at the communion rail, we kneel together with those loved ones who have died in the faith. All of us in the faith, are gathered together by Christ around His Supper. Heaven comes to earth come together in this very spot. Like Jacob, we rest our weary heads here where heaven meets earth. How awesome is this place, this is none other than the house of God and this is the gate of heaven
Then one of the elders calls out to John: Who are these arrayed in white robes, and from where did they come? Sir, you know.
“These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
They were fellow believers who died confessing Jesus is Christ and Lord. Members of the seven congregations of Asia Minor who suffered persecution, hardship, even death for the Name of Jesus. The vision is intended for comfort. They died in great tribulation, but they’re safe. Sheltered by God. Shepherded by the Lamb whose blood cleanses them. Every sadness and sorrow is ended for them. Every tear has been wiped away by the hand of God. We feebly struggle, they in glory shine.
And yet for John’s readers, for all who receive this strange letter we call, "The Revelation”, the time of tribulation continues.
Jesus knew we would have days of tears, suffering, and grief. So he gave us John’s Revelation to give us comfort in the midst of suffering, joy in the midst of sadness, hope in the midst of despair, light in the darkness, life in death.
It’s comfort for a church under siege, for Christians whose brothers and sisters in Christ are being fed to beasts or set on fire or hacked to pieces for the name of Jesus. It’s comfort for an exiled pastor who can’t be with his people on the Lord’s Day but can only be with them in the Spirit as he prays in the Spirit. It’s comfort for us as we see the dark clouds of persecution gathering on the horizon. Will the church survive the years ahead? Is there hope for tomorrow? Or the next day? Jesus’ answer to us in the vision of the Revelation is a resounding.. Yeah and Amen! in the conquering Lamb who was slain but lives whose blood has made us to be kings and priests enthroned with Him at the right hand of God.
Life in this great tribulation is not easy. We know tears. And yet, the Lord who knows our tossing, turning, and every one of our tears (Psalm 56:8). Those tears that well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks - tears of grief and mourning, of sorrow and shame, of good-byes and partings, of pain and anguish, of longings and lost loves, of old wounds and new ones – God will wipe every one of those precious tears from your eyes.
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, even in tears, this is your hope; and your tomorrow and your today: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
A blessed All Saints’ Day to each of you…
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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