Day

Today’s Passage: Revelation 6

You have just left the throne room, where every creature in heaven and on earth bowed down and sang that the slain Lamb is worthy to take the scroll and open its seals. Keep that song ringing in your ears. The seals are breaking, and what steps out from under them is severe. Six of the seven open in this chapter. The first four unleash riders on horses. A living creature summons each rider with a single word. Each receives a specific, limited authority: a rider with a bow bent on conquest, a rider on a red horse sent to take peace from the earth, a rider on a black horse holding scales while a voice dictates the price of bread, and a rider named Death with Hades trailing behind him. The pattern then breaks. The fifth seal opens on an altar. Underneath it wait the souls of those killed for the word of God. They ask the oldest question the suffering church knows. The sixth seal shakes the sky itself. The mighty men of the earth, men who have never feared anything, run for the caves and beg the rocks to crush them. The chapter closes on a question nobody in the text can answer. Through all of it, the hand breaking the seals belongs to the Lamb. Remember this fact as you read: every seal is opened by the Lamb Himself. Not one rider of ruin moves without His command. The ancient cry of “how long?” receives a white robe, a promise that God is keeping an exact count, and no date at all.

Revelation 6:1–6 (BSB)

¹ Then I watched as the Lamb opened one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come!” ² So I looked and saw a white horse, and its rider held a bow. And he was given a crown, and he rode out to overcome and conquer. ³ And when the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” ⁴ Then another horse went forth. It was bright red, and its rider was granted permission to take away peace from the earth and to make men slay one another. And he was given a great sword. ⁵ And when the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” Then I looked and saw a black horse, and its rider held in his hand a pair of scales. ⁶ And I heard what sounded like a voice from among the four living creatures, saying, “A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius, and do not harm the oil and wine.”

The Lamb opened. John says this first, and he repeats it at the second seal, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth. He taps his finger on the table so you do not miss the point. Every rider comes out from under a seal broken by the Lamb. Nothing here has slipped its leash. Nothing is running wild while heaven wrings its hands. The world often looks like a place where conquest, war, hunger, and death do exactly as they please. Believers feel that reality in their bones. John’s vision places a slain and risen Lamb at the center of the throne with the scroll in His hands. His hand opens what opens. That fact leaves the horror exactly as terrible as it is, while stripping away its meaninglessness. The chapter asks you to carry both truths at once.

Then comes the summons. One of the four living creatures around the throne says in a voice like thunder, “Come!” The riders are called. They do not gate-crash heaven’s scroll. They are summoned out of it. A string of passive verbs runs through the four seals. The first rider was given a crown. The second was granted permission and was given a great sword. The fourth pair were given authority over a fourth of the earth. The text refrains from naming the giver, because the Bible uses passive verbs to speak about God without inserting His name into an ugly sentence. Every scrap of authority these riders hold is on loan. It is measured out and revocable. That fact offers massive comfort in a frightening chapter.

Now we look at the riders. Here you must read with care, because this is the exact place where readers reach for a timeline. Christians who love this book read the first rider in three main ways. Some see Christ Himself or the gospel going out in conquest, since white is heaven’s color in Revelation and a rider on a white horse appears again at the end of the book. Others see human conquest itself, the war of ambition, standing at the head of a sequence that leads directly to war, famine, and death. Still others see a counterfeit, a deceiving power imitating Christ closely enough to ride a white horse and wear a crown handed to it. Careful, prayerful believers hold each of these views. Scripture leaves the debate open here, and this study will do the same. We ask you to grant that same grace to your brother. We can preach exactly what the text says: he holds a bow, he receives a crown, and he rides out to conquer. Conquest opens the sequence because conquest is where massive human misery begins.

The second and third follow right behind. Peace leaves the earth and men slaughter one another. That is a bleak, factual description of human behavior when God lifts His restraint. Then comes the black horse, the scales, and a voice from among the living creatures fixing the price of bread. Even here, a voice from the throne sets the terms. The famine has a ceiling. The command at the end, “do not harm the oil and wine,” draws a hard boundary line. Judgment in this book always operates under divine limits. God always draws a boundary around it, and He draws that boundary from the throne.

Revelation 6:7–11 (BSB)

⁷ And when the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” ⁸ Then I looked and saw a pale green horse. Its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed close behind. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill by sword, by famine, by plague, and by the beasts of the earth. ⁹ And when the Lamb opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the testimony they had upheld. ¹⁰ And they cried out in a loud voice, “How long, O Lord, holy and true, until You judge those who dwell upon the earth and avenge our blood?” ¹¹ Then each of them was given a white robe and told to rest a little while longer until the full number of their fellow servants, their brothers, were killed, just as they had been killed.

The fourth horse is the color of a corpse. For the first time, John names the rider. Death rides, and Hades, the realm of the dead, follows close behind like a cart behind a horse, gathering what falls. It is a grim picture, and John refuses to decorate it. Their weapons are the four ancient judgments the prophets knew by heart. Ezekiel names them in the exact order John uses:

"For this is what the Lord GOD says: ‘How much worse will it be when I send against Jerusalem My four dire judgments—sword, famine, wild beasts, and plague—in order to cut off from it both man and beast?" Ezekiel 14:21 (BSB)

Then comes the measurement. Authority over a fourth of the earth. Even Death rides on a short chain. Death has limits. Death does not get the last word in this book. The One holding the scroll was dead, is alive forever, and holds the keys of Death and Hades in His own hand. Say that out loud to yourself when the weight of this chapter presses on you.

The fifth seal opens, and the scene changes entirely. We see no horse, no rider, and no thunder. John sees an altar. Under the altar, in the exact place where the priests poured out the blood of the sacrifices, wait the souls of those slain for the word of God and for the testimony (μαρτυρία) martyria, pronounced mar-tyr-EE-ah. Strong's G3141, testimony, witness, evidence given. The word is martyria. In everyday Greek, it meant the evidence a witness gives in court. It was the sworn statement of someone who saw a thing with his own eyes and stated the facts under oath, regardless of the cost. John uses this word and its family more than any other New Testament writer. Revelation is saturated with it. John bears witness. Jesus is the faithful witness. Antipas is God’s faithful witness. Here, the souls under the altar are those who held on to the testimony. Over time, history did something to this word. Because so many people who gave that testimony were killed for giving it, the Greek word for a witness became our English word martyr, meaning one who dies for what he believes. That shift serves as a historical record of what happened to Christians, rather than a change in definition. Being a witness means telling the truth you have seen about Jesus Christ, speaking openly in a world that demands your silence. Dying is the price some pay for it. All of us must give our testimony. It is the exact same word. they upheld. The people killed are in heaven. They are conscious, awake, and speaking. Their place is beneath the altar of God. Heaven counts their deaths as an offering poured out to Him. The world saw a wasted life and a brutal end. Heaven sees a sacrifice at the altar. God has never mislaid or misfiled anything a believer has suffered for the sake of Christ. It is all at the altar, and God knows exactly where it is.

Then they speak. Their words reveal the pastoral heart of the chapter. “How long, O Lord, holy and true, until You judge those who dwell upon the earth and avenge our blood?” This prayer directly addresses His name and His character. They call Him holy and true. They are saying: You are righteous and You keep Your word, so how can this continue? It is the oldest prayer of the suffering church. It did not begin at that altar. The psalms are packed with it. God put those prayers in His own book so His people would know they have permission to pray them.

"For the choirmaster. A Psalm of David. How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long must I wrestle in my soul, with sorrow in my heart each day? How long will my enemy dominate me?" Psalm 13:1–2 (BSB)

If you have ever prayed that prayer over a sickness that will not break, a wrong nobody ever answered for, or a church under pressure in a hostile nation, you have prayed with the saints under the altar. Heaven’s answer contains no date, no timetable, and no chart. It provides two things: a robe and a word. “Then each of them was given a white robe and told to rest (ἀναπαύω) anapauō, pronounced ah-nah-POW-oh. Strong's G373, to give rest, to refresh, to let one catch his breath. Anapauō is a warm, physical word. It describes what you do when the heavy load comes off your shoulders and you sit down. It means to refresh, to give rest, to let someone catch his breath. Jesus used it in the sentence that has carried more weary people than any other He spoke: “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Paul uses it to describe friends who refreshed his spirit when he was worn thin. It describes the deep ease of someone whose work is finished and who is totally safe. That is what heaven says to the martyrs. Heaven says rest. Their fighting is over. Their case is filed with the Judge of all the earth. While they wait, they are clothed in white and at rest in His presence. This offers massive comfort to anyone waiting for an answer God has not yet given. The wait serves a specific purpose. He gives His people rest inside it, and He reserves the right to withhold the date. a little while longer.” God does not hand His waiting people a schedule. He hands them a garment of vindication and commands them to be at peace.

Then comes the reason for the delay. They are to rest “until the full number of their fellow servants, their brothers, were killed, just as they had been killed.” God is keeping count. He knows the exact number. He is not indifferent to it, and He will not be one short. The delay is deliberate. It proves the patience of a God who has the power to answer but chooses His own timing. Every day judgment holds off is another day people presently far from God are called home.

"The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise as some understand slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish but everyone to come to repentance." 2 Peter 3:9 (BSB)

The exact slowness making the martyrs cry out is the slowness that saved most of us. If God had answered that prayer on the day it was first prayed, where would you and I be?

Revelation 6:12–17 (BSB)

¹² And I watched as the Lamb opened the sixth seal, and there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black like sackcloth of goat hair, and the whole moon turned blood red, ¹³ and the stars of the sky fell to the earth like unripe figs dropping from a tree shaken by a great wind. ¹⁴ The sky receded like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was moved from its place. ¹⁵ Then the kings of the earth, the nobles, the commanders, the rich, the mighty, and every slave and free man hid in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains. ¹⁶ And they said to the mountains and the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of the One seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb. ¹⁷ For the great day of Their wrath has come, and who is able to withstand it?”

The sixth seal takes hold of the things human beings assume will never move. The ground under your feet, the sun in the sky, the moon, the stars, the horizon itself, the mountains that have stood for centuries: all of them shift. The sun goes black like the coarse dark cloth of a mourner’s garment. The moon turns the color of blood. The stars come down the way a fig tree drops its unripe fruit when a hard wind hits the branches. It is a rural picture, and all the more unsettling for its familiarity. The sky rolls back like a scroll being wound up and put away. This is the settled language of the prophets for the day of the LORD. John’s readers heard Joel and Isaiah in every single line.

"The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and awesome Day of the LORD." Joel 2:31 (BSB)

Readers often use this passage to thrill themselves. John describes the day the created order gets out of the way so the Creator can be seen. Everything a human being uses to steady himself is yanked out of his hands in an instant. Verse fifteen shows the result.

Look at the list of people: kings, nobles, commanders of armies, the rich, the mighty, and finally, “every slave and free man.” John names seven ranks. He moves from the absolute top of the ladder to the absolute bottom. He means every last person, with nobody left out. The entire social order of the ancient world, the ladder men schemed and flattered and murdered to climb, is flattened in half a sentence. On that day, a crown offers no help. A fortune provides no cover. The poorest slave stands on the exact same ground as the emperor. Every rank runs for the caves. Isaiah had already seen them go.

"Men will flee to caves in the rocks and holes in the ground, away from the terror of the LORD and from the splendor of His majesty, when He rises to shake the earth." Isaiah 2:19 (BSB)

Then they say the most desperate thing in the chapter. They ask the mountains to fall on them. They would rather be crushed under a mountain than looked at by God. They ask to be hidden. They choose complete annihilation over the face of the One seated on the throne. This is what sin does to a soul left to itself. Sin makes a man want, above all things, not to be seen. Notice that they name Him correctly. They know whose face it is. There is no atheism in that verse. They possess the correct information, and they still hide. A massive amount of the unbelief in our world hides for the exact same reason.

Then John sets two words side by side: “the wrath (ὀργή) orgē, pronounced or-GAY. Strong's G3709, settled anger, wrath, deliberate opposition to evil. Orgē describes the settled, deliberate disposition of a will set against something. Greek had another word for the sudden blaze that flares and dies. When applied to men, orgē usually needs curbing. Human anger is tangled up with pride, impatience, and wounded vanity. That is why James says the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. When applied to God, it is an entirely different thing. It is holiness with its eyes wide open. It is the steady, unrelenting opposition of a perfectly good God to everything that ruins what He made. Remove it, and you make God indifferent. A God who could look at cruelty and the blood of the innocent and feel nothing would not be worth worshiping. The wonder of the gospel centers on the cross. The Lamb whose wrath this is drank it down to the bottom for everyone who trusts Him. This same orgē, this settled opposition of God to evil, fell on Him instead of on us. That is why the same book can show you the wrath of the Lamb and the blood of the Lamb, and mean both with total conviction. of the Lamb.” The Lamb is the gentlest picture in Scripture. In this very book, He is the slain one. He is the one who was killed and did not fight back. His blood purchased people for God from every tribe and tongue. Yet His is the wrath they flee. The next verse names who sits on that throne: “the great day of Their wrath.” Their. The One seated on the throne and the Lamb, together, sharing one wrath between them. There is no higher statement of who Jesus Christ is than that pronoun. This book makes the claim without blinking.

The chapter ends on a question. “For the great day of Their wrath has come, and who is able to withstand it?” John lets the question hang in the silence, asked by terrified men in a cave. Then he closes the scene. The question is meant to be felt before it is answered. Who is able to stand? Not the kings, not the commanders, not the rich, and not one of us on our own merit. Let the question stand exactly where John left it. Carry it with you into the next chapter. Heaven has an answer, and it is not the one the men in the caves would have guessed.