Every Color of Face, One Family

(Revelation 7:9-17)

The night was cold and the sky was crowded, and an old man named Abraham stood outside his tent with his head tipped back. "Look up," God said to him. "Count the stars, if you can." Abraham tried. He got a little way and lost his place, and started again, and lost it again. You cannot count the stars. There are too many. "That many," God said. "That is how big your family will be."

It was a promise. God keeps his promises, all of them, for as long as it takes.

Now come to the very end of the story, where a man named John was given a window into heaven. Through it he saw a crowd, so wide and so deep that nobody could ever number it. Abraham's stars, every single one, standing on their feet at last.

John looked closer.

They were not all the same. There were dark faces and light faces and every face in between. People who had spoken a thousand different languages, from islands and deserts and cold places and warm ones. Every tribe. Every tongue. Every kind of person you could imagine, and more kinds you couldn't.

The family was not too small for one more. The family was so big it filled the sky.

And they were all looking at one place. At the center of everything stood a Lamb, gentle, wounded once and alive now. The whole enormous crowd was singing to him and waving branches, gladder than they had ever been in all their lives.

One of heaven's helpers turned to John. "These people," the helper said, "have come through hard things. Tears and fears and long, long nights. But they belong to the Lamb now."

Then the Lamb came down and stood among them, close enough to touch. He became their Shepherd, the kind who knows each sheep by name and never miscounts the flock. He led them to springs of cool, living water, where no one is ever thirsty again.

And he went from face to face. Every color of face. With his own hand he wiped away their tears. Every tear. Until there were none left to wipe.

There was always a place for you. Before you were born, before you ever felt left out, before you ever stood in a room wondering if the family was already finished, your name was one of the uncountable stars. He counted you in on the night he made that promise, and he has never once lost his place.

The Lamb who wipes the tears, the Shepherd who knows your name, is reaching for you now. The singing has already started in you. And the springs, and his hand on your face, are waiting for you up ahead.