Homily for Easter 3 Year C
Revelation 5:11-14
If you and I were writing the story of the world—
if we were putting someone at the center—
who would we pick?
Maybe a king.
Maybe a president.
Maybe some powerful CEO.
Someone who knows how to win, how to rule, how to make things happen.
That’s how the world has always thought.
The biggest throne. The sharpest sword. The loudest voice.
That’s who rules.
And truth be told, it’s what we expect too, isn’t it?
We assume the strong survive. The bold rise. The rich inherit the earth.
That’s the air we breathe.
But John—John sees something else.
John looks.
John listens.
John writes from exile, from the rocky island of Patmos, far from any throne or palace.
And what he sees is this:
The center of the universe is not a throne draped in gold.
The center is a Lamb.
Imagine walking into the throne room of the universe… and finding a lamb.
Not a lion.
Not a general.
Not a Caesar.
A lamb that looks like it has been slain.
A Lamb, looking slaughtered but alive.
Wounded.
Scarred.
Standing.
And all around—the angels, the creatures, the elders—
they are not bowing to power or riches or fame.
They are singing to the Lamb.
“Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might
and honor and glory and blessing.”
They sing not to the strong,
but to the scarred.
Not to the conqueror,
but to the one who was crushed—and lived.
The whole creation joins:
“Blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”
Because in the end,
the Lamb does not just stand at the center—he holds the whole thing together.
The throne is his.
The wounds are still visible.
And the song is forever.
Now—let’s be honest.
This messes with us.
Because we know what winning looks like.
Or at least—we think we do.
It looks like climbing higher, pushing harder, coming out ahead.
But John’s vision—
John’s vision says: No.
The One who reigns forever is the One who gave himself away.
The One who is worthy is the One who poured himself out in love.
The true power of the world—the real center of history—is not domination.
It’s sacrificial love.
And here’s the hard question:
Which song are we singing?
Because there are two choirs in this world.
One sings to thrones and towers and missiles.
One sings to the Lamb.
One says: “Might makes right.”
One says: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain.”
Every day—
every choice—
every moment—
we are choosing which choir we belong to.
Now listen again.
This isn’t just someday, when everything’s fixed.
The vision John sees is already real.
Already the angels are singing.
Already the earth and sea and sky are lifting their voice.
Already Christ reigns—not in cruelty but in wounded love.
You and I are invited to sing now.
You and I are invited to live now—
to live as if the Lamb is already Lord.
Because he is.
So what does it mean?
It means we refuse to live by fear.
It means we reject the lies that violence wins.
It means we stop chasing after the world’s crowns.
It means we love when it’s costly.
We serve when it’s hard.
We forgive when it feels foolish.
It means our lives—your life, my life—
become a hymn,
a song of blessing and honor and glory and might.
It means that in a world where so many kneel before Caesar,
we stand and say:
“Worthy is the Lamb.”
Today—
this very moment—
the heavens are roaring with praise.
Today—
this very moment—
the universe is echoing with worship.
And here we are—
standing on the edge of it,
invited to join in.
Will we?
Will you?
Blessing and honor and glory and might—
to the One who loves us,
to the One who frees us,
to the Lamb who reigns.
Forever and ever.
If you were writing the story of the world—
if you were putting someone at the center—
who would you pick?
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PDF with footnotes: Homily for Easter 3, Year C (PDF)
Video link: https://vimeo.com/1080414915?share=copy
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