All Saints’ Day is a war story. And in Christ crucified and risen, it’s also a victory story.
On All Saints’ Day, November 1, we sing, “Thou wast their rock. Their fortress and their might. Thou, Lord, their captain, in the well-fought fight. Thou, in the darkness drear their one true light. Alleluia! Alleluia!”
On All Saints’ Day, we tell the story of the dead in Christ who rest from their labors. To paraphrase another old hymn, “We sing to Christ our leader, who conquered in the fight. And won for us forever, our gleaming robes of white.”
On All Saints’ Day, we sing and tell stories and remember. We remember the baptized, who have conquered death by the blood of the Lamb. We remember the unseen army of the redeemed, the ransomed by Christ crucified and risen, who await with us the day of resurrection. We remember the saints in heaven, and the saints on earth joined together by Christ the captain of our salvation. We remember that, while we feebly struggle, they in glory shine. Our hope is sure. Victory is certain. The happy ending is on the horizon. We weep. We mourn. We grieve. But not without hope. Every candle lit. Every bell tolled. Every note sung. Every name read. Every tear shed reminds us of this truth. All Saints’ Day is a war story.
In the Scriptures, dead men do tell tales: the wages of sin is death. But that’s not the end of the story. When the Lord of hosts sends his prophet Ezekiel into the valley of dry bones, he sends him into the breach, a wasteland wrought by Israel’s wickedness. Into the trenches carved by Israel’s idolatry. Into the remains and ruins and no man’s land of Israel’s manifold sin. To Ezekiel’s eyes and ours, it looks as if Israel has lost the battle. Conquered. Defeated. Dead.
“Son of man, Can these bones live?” Well, can they, we wonder? Yes they can, says the Lord:
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.” So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army (Ezek. 37:9-10).
Ezekiel saw what we celebrate on All Saints’ Day: an exceedingly great army. The army of the redeemed. The army of the resurrected.
When the Alpha and the Omega gave John a revelation of the things that must soon take place, he placed him right in the middle of the heavenly muster. A great and mighty multitude of innumerable saints. All tribes. All languages. All nations. An exceedingly great army washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb. The army of the baptized. Platoons of saints loved by the crucified and risen Lord.
“Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” I said to him, “Sir, you know.” And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
“Therefore they are before the throne of God,
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore;
the sun shall not strike them,
nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of living water,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Rev. 7:13-17)
What John sees in Revelation 7 is what we celebrate on All Saints’ Day. And even though John isn’t told the names of those wrapped in blood washed, holy vestments, we know their names. They are our sons and daughters. Grandmothers and grandfathers. Mothers and fathers. Brothers and sisters. Friends, fellow saints, and faithful soldiers of the cross. They are the blessed dead who have died in the Lord. We know their war stories. We still remember their words of faith and wisdom. We still miss the feeling of holding their scar-ridden, wrinkled hands. We still feel the sting of tears when the Lord of hosts sent his holy angels to bring them home to him. And yet we rejoice, knowing that the saints in heaven rest from their labors. For the saints rest, not on the laurels of their good works, but in the steadfast love of Christ. They rest as we do, in the victorious Lamb who was slain and yet lives, whose blood set us free
We stand with them waving the victors’ palm branches. Shouting the praises of the Lamb and the Lion of Judah and the Root of David who has conquered. For all the saints. For you, his holy ones. His army of the redeemed. His army of the baptized. His army of the resurrection is yet to come.
To be sure, in this life, we weep. We mourn. We grieve. But not without hope. For when Christ, our crucified and risen King, gathers us together on All Saints’ Day, we are gathered with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. Imagine that the next time you kneel at the communion rail. You are here on earth in the foxhole where the battle rages around outside. But you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by a holy band of brothers and sisters in Christ. Saints in heaven and earth. Together under the banner of Christ crucified and risen.
And if this is a day for remembering and singing and telling war stories, we must not forget to tell the greatest war story of them all, the one that begins in defeat but ends in victory. The one that begins in tragedy but ends in triumph. The one that looks bleak and black on Good Friday, but ends in with the light and life of Jesus’s resurrection on Easter Sunday.
Yes, All Saints’ Day is a war story, and a victory story. Which means, it’s also a death and resurrection story. For the Lamb who was slain rose from the dead victorious. The saints who have gone before us will rise from the dead. And so will you. An exceedingly great army of the resurrected in Christ.
In this life, every day is a war story. When we sit beside the deathbed of a beloved grandparent. When we stand over the graveside of a dear friend, father, or mother. When we get that dreaded phone call from the oncologist. When the night of fear and despair and dread comes up on us. When the shadow of death seems to haunt our every step. On those kinds of days we ask the same question asked of Ezekiel: “Can these bones live? Can my bones live, O Lord?”
And what’s Jesus’ answer?
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Hold my cup of wine and watch this. “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26).
Yes, All Saints’ Day is a war story. And in Christ crucified and risen, it’s also a victory story. In Christ, it’s a death and resurrection story. And in Christ, it’s your story too.
On All Saints’ Day we tell our war stories. We remember the faithful departed soldiers of the cross. We rejoice that Christ has destroyed and defeated the last enemy of death and the grave. And we lift our voices to join the throng of the baptized, the redeemed, the army of the resurrected Lord: Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.
A blessed All Saints’ Day to you!
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