The Lamb That Was Slain

It is said that science advances most not so much when scientists say, “Eureka!” as when they say, “That’s strange….” I have found that my understanding of the Bible is similar. Every now and then I see something in the Bible that makes me say, “That’s weird.” And sometimes such things make me nervous—could this be a contradiction or something? Could this point in a way that I don’t like? But when I have the courage to investigate these things I often find new ideas and insights.

Of course heresies often start when people take one strange idea from one verse and run rampant with it. No major teaching can be derived from a single verse. The Bible will always say a thing in many ways, giving many perspectives on its major ideas. This is both to give us confidence that we are understanding its teachings as well as to let us see the richness of its ideas by illuminating them from different angles.

All I can say is that when we see something strange in the Bible we must resist the temptation to run naked and dripping wet down the street shouting “Eureka,” as though we now held, for the first time, the keys to the kingdom. Instead we must explore the idea tentatively, attempting to link it with other ideas, and perhaps even admitting that we do not understand how it fits in with the main teachings of the Bible. We believe that the Bible has integrity, and therefore we can hold ideas that we do not understand in suspension. At some point they may make sense; if not to us, perhaps to others.

The first part of Revelation 13 describes the beast. Verse 8 tells us that “…all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” [This is the King James translation. The ESV seems misleading here; the Greek word order makes it far more likely that the phrase “from the foundation of the world” applies to “the lamb that was slain” rather than “whose names were written in the book of life”. Note that the ESV is a revision of the RSV and takes this reading from the RSV.]

Putting translation issues aside, let us consider the implications of the idea that “the lamb was slain from the foundation of the world.” Traditionally this was taken to mean that the crucifixion was foreknown from the foundation of the world. Among other things, this would imply that the fall was foreknown from the beginning. But what if there is another way to read this passage?

What if we read it exactly as it is written: “the book of life of the lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world”? C. S. Lewis, in his Narnia story, speaks of “deeper magic from before the dawn of time.” The suggestion I am making here is not what Lewis envisioned in his story. But suppose there is a deeper magic that surrounds creation.

What if the very process of creating souls, sons and daughters of God, necessitated a kind of death? What if, in order for there to be something besides God, and like God, the Son of God had to “make room” for it by emptying Himself?

Christians view creation as an act of grace, not something God “had” to do. What if it is, like grace in our age, also an act of sacrifice? Not sacrifice foreknown and foreshadowed, but sacrifice enacted at the very moment of giving life?

The New Testament tells us of two creations. One is the traditional “in the beginning” of Genesis 1 and John 1. The other is the “new creation” of 2 Corinthians 5:17 and Galatians 6:15. The vision of this new creation is further fleshed out in 2 Peter 3:10-15 and Revelation 21:1-5. Thus the “new creation” in Paul is a token and anticipation of the fullness of the new creation; it is an “already” being actualized in a world of “not yet.”

This new creation came at the cost of the blood of the Lamb. Could it be that the old creation also came at some unimaginable cost? I have always felt that in some way the ultimate love one could show is to bring someone into being. Even dying for us would have no meaning if we were not there to begin with. And in bringing us into being, God bore the consequences of everything we did.

At the very least he “knows”—in some sense experiences—every act of worship and every act of rebellion; every embracing of God’s purposes and every repudiation of those purposes; every act of love and every act of hate. And so every moment he enjoys his children, and every moment he suffers over those who reject his love.

This line of thought may leave many cold. But I think it shines light on some aspects of our own lives.

These days there is considerable controversy over having children. There are many arguments, especially economic, against having children, and especially against having many children. The reply to this, and it is valid, is that there are many joys in having children, in shaping their lives, and in seeing them mature. I have experienced all these joys.

But there is another aspect, that of sacrifice. In order to have children the parents must sacrifice. The mother sacrifices in carrying and bearing the child. The father sacrifices in subjecting his freedom and goals to the imperative of providing for and protecting the lives of his wife and child during their most vulnerable and needy periods.

Besides that, the parents must go through the process of allowing their children to separate and become distinct personalities, with their own goals and preferences. They must lovingly foster this separation for it to be a good, healthy thing. They must tread the fine line of allowing appropriate freedom while remaining supportive even in the face of what may seem like rejection.

Clearly there are many who reject this sacrifice. But I cannot help but think that in doing so they miss out on the most godlike experience anyone can have in this stage of the human condition. We have the opportunity to give life by giving of ourselves. Because that life has eternal potential, the way we act can shape eternity itself. The love we give now will be carried forward forever, both in the lives of our children and in the lives of their children and progeny.

Even if we have the calling of celibacy, we do not thereby escape sacrifice, or even, for that matter, the experience of giving divine life. The one called to serve God apart from marriage becomes the spiritual parent of many. Parents who offer their own physical children to God must hope that in doing so they offer their eternal lives; by loving them they love them into eternity. So with one who begets spiritual children.

In every case there is sacrifice. And for this reason it is plausible to me that when God initially created, there was a sacrifice, a Lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world.