In the middle of [the city's] main street, and on each side of the river, was a tree of life bearing twelve fruits, which were produced month by month, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Rev. 22:2.
The phrase at the end of this text has always fascinated me. If the New Jerusalem is part of a perfect world, what need is there of healing? Sickness and death are a thing of the past by this time (Rev. 21:4). So physical healing must not be what is in view here. The text says that the healing is not for individuals, but for "the nations." Often based on the Hebrew term goyim, the word refers to both foreign nations and Gentiles.
It has been suggested that the "healing" of Revelation 22:2 deals with national and linguistic barriers. People of all nations, tribes, and languages inhabit the New Jerusalem. The leaves of the tree of life represent overcoming the hurts and the barriers that keep people apart. The goal is the elimination of all mental and emotional barriers between Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female, and the bringing together of the saved into one united family in Christ Jesus (Gal. 3:28; Rev. 21:24-26).
In recent years the world has seen a foretaste of this in South Africa. Eugene de Kock is a White South African who served for many years as the commander of state-sanctioned apartheid death squads. He is serving a 212-year sentence in a Pretoria prison for crimes against humanity. A Black female psychologist, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, interviewed de Kock for a total of 46 hours. For her safety, guards kept him chained to a chair bolted to the floor, and her chair was on wheels so she could roll to safety if he lunged at her.
de Kock. however did not behave like the monster she expected. Instead, he asked permission to meet with the widows of several Black policemen, men whose executions he had arranged. He wanted to apologize to them privately. To the surprise of both de Kock and Gobodo-Madikizela, one of the widows confessed, "I was profoundly touched by him." To their even greater surprise, all the widows "instinctively" forgave him.
Did such a man deserve forgiveness? There is more to it than that. Forgiveness is something that seems able to transcend cruel reality and racial and cultural hatred to reach down to the heart and make things right even though it may seem impossible. And the amazing thing is that, more than absolving the one forgiven, forgiveness seems to heal the one who forgives. The White man's pain so moved the Black psychologist that at one point, oblivious to her own safety, she reached out and touched his shaking hand. The gesture startled them both. The healing of the nations had begun.
Lord, I pray that the healing of the nations might begin in my heart today. Strengthen me to extend Your forgiveness to all within my reach.
The phrase at the end of this text has always fascinated me. If the New Jerusalem is part of a perfect world, what need is there of healing? Sickness and death are a thing of the past by this time (Rev. 21:4). So physical healing must not be what is in view here. The text says that the healing is not for individuals, but for "the nations." Often based on the Hebrew term goyim, the word refers to both foreign nations and Gentiles.
It has been suggested that the "healing" of Revelation 22:2 deals with national and linguistic barriers. People of all nations, tribes, and languages inhabit the New Jerusalem. The leaves of the tree of life represent overcoming the hurts and the barriers that keep people apart. The goal is the elimination of all mental and emotional barriers between Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female, and the bringing together of the saved into one united family in Christ Jesus (Gal. 3:28; Rev. 21:24-26).
In recent years the world has seen a foretaste of this in South Africa. Eugene de Kock is a White South African who served for many years as the commander of state-sanctioned apartheid death squads. He is serving a 212-year sentence in a Pretoria prison for crimes against humanity. A Black female psychologist, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, interviewed de Kock for a total of 46 hours. For her safety, guards kept him chained to a chair bolted to the floor, and her chair was on wheels so she could roll to safety if he lunged at her.
de Kock. however did not behave like the monster she expected. Instead, he asked permission to meet with the widows of several Black policemen, men whose executions he had arranged. He wanted to apologize to them privately. To the surprise of both de Kock and Gobodo-Madikizela, one of the widows confessed, "I was profoundly touched by him." To their even greater surprise, all the widows "instinctively" forgave him.
Did such a man deserve forgiveness? There is more to it than that. Forgiveness is something that seems able to transcend cruel reality and racial and cultural hatred to reach down to the heart and make things right even though it may seem impossible. And the amazing thing is that, more than absolving the one forgiven, forgiveness seems to heal the one who forgives. The White man's pain so moved the Black psychologist that at one point, oblivious to her own safety, she reached out and touched his shaking hand. The gesture startled them both. The healing of the nations had begun.
Lord, I pray that the healing of the nations might begin in my heart today. Strengthen me to extend Your forgiveness to all within my reach.
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