Revelation 7:13-14 Then one of the elders asked me, ‘These in white robes–who are they, and where do they come from?’ I answered, ‘Sir, you know.’ And he said, ‘These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’”

The great tribulation–it’s a fitting metaphor for life, isn’t it? No one denies that we have some good days. We enjoy happy moments along the way. But we are never far from some struggle. School and work, family and relationships, health and finances, church and government–these all become battlefields at some time or another. We might think some people have life easier, but I know of no exceptions.

I could illustrate with examples, but you know well enough what I am talking about. George Banks’s observation in Mary Poppins might feel a little pessimistic, but it’s hard to argue it’s not realistic, and Mary Poppins herself never does:

“The children must be molded, shaped and taught
That life’s a looming battle to be faced and fought.”

A great tribulation, in other words, just like the heavenly elder tells John.

In light of the tribulation, we might expect the clothing of these people to be a little soiled. Actually, we wouldn’t be surprised if it were filthy and tattered, especially considering the root cause of our tribulation–the sin with which we and every human on the face of the earth and across the span of history must contend. Some of that is the sin outside of us, the lovelessness or persecution we have to endure. We tend to focus on that.

But the real battle is the one inside, our own inner struggle to believe and behave. We’ve been knocked down far too many times in that fight. Sometimes it has been more of a wrestling match, rolling around in the mud. We hardly get up off the ground. Our lives, our reputations, get soaked through and deeply stained.

But that’s not what John sees, is it. “They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” I wear white shirts a lot. Every Sunday it’s a white shirt under my suit coat or robe. If I nick myself shaving Sunday morning, I try like mad to stop the bleeding before I get dressed, to keep my shirt clean. If I get some on my collar, then I change shirts right away, and the one with the blood-stain gets pretreated and soaked in water immediately. Those things aren’t easy to get out.

The blood of the Lamb stains our robes white. It cleanses our lives and reputations before God. We didn’t start that way. We didn’t get that way on our own. Our robes have to be washed from what they were. But when we pass through Jesus’ blood, everything washes away. He is, after all, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. He isn’t one part of a bigger process, the pre-soak cycle, the rinse cycle, or the spin cycle that gets our robes ready to dry and wear. The blood that poured from his wounds on the cross, carrying his life away with it, undiluted and unassisted, makes us clean and pure and presents us spotless to God. That’s where the Lamb’s shepherding begins: He lays down his life for his sheep. He rescues them by washing them clean with his own blood.

That’s why the people John sees in this part of his vision have been rescued in another way. “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation.” That’s a much happier way of describing what we commonly refer to as “death.” These are they who have died. Because Jesus washed them clean, death was not a great punishment. It was a rescue. It was an escape. The struggle with sin, the fire of persecution, the labor and toil that rob our joy and make life hard–that was behind them now. They have come out.

And so will we, because the Lamb rescues his people from sin and death.