Let me recall the other places where the same metaphor is employed.
We find the Apostle, in the immediate prospect of death, rising into
a calm rapture in which imprisonment and martyrdom lose their
terrors, as he thinks of the 'crown of righteousness' which the Lord
will give to him. The Epistle of James, again, assures the man who
endures temptation that 'the Lord will give him the crown of life
which He has promised to all them that love Him.' The Lord Himself
from heaven repeats that promise to the persecuted Church at Smyrna:
'Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.'
The elders cast their crowns before the feet of Him that sitteth upon
the throne. The Apostle Peter, in his letter, stimulates the elders
upon earth to faithful discharge of their duty, by the hope that
thereby they shall 'receive a crown of righteousness that fadeth not
away.' So all these instances taken together with this of my text
enable us to gather two or three lessons.
It is extremely unlikely that all these instances of the occurrence
of the emblem carry with them reference, such as that in my text, to
the prize at the athletic festivals. For Peter and James, intense
Jews as they were, had probably never seen, and possibly never heard
of, the struggles at the Isthmus and at Olympus and elsewhere. The
Book of the Revelation draws its metaphors almost exclusively from
the circle of Jewish practices and things. So that we have to look in
other directions than the arena or the racecourse to explain these
other uses of the image. It is also extremely unlikely that in these
other passages the reference is to a crown as the emblem of
sovereignty, for that idea is expressed, as a rule, by another word
in Scripture, which we have Anglicised as 'diadem.' The 'crown' in
all these passages is a garland twisted out of some growth of the
field. In ancient usage roses were twined for revellers; pine-shoots
or olive branches for the victors in the games; while the laurel was
'the meed of mighty conquerors'; and plaited oak leaves were laid
upon the brows of citizens who had deserved well of their country,
and myrtle sprays crowned the fair locks of the bride.
And thus in these directions, and not towards the wrestling ground or
the throne of the monarch, must we look for the ideas suggested by
the emblem.
Now, if we gather together all these various uses of the word, there
emerge two broad ideas, that the 'crown' which is the Christian's aim
symbolises a state of triumphant repose and of festal enjoyment.
There are other aspects of that great and dim future which correspond
to other necessities of our nature, and I suppose some harm has been
done and some misconceptions have been induced, and some unreality
imported into the idea of the Christian future, by the too exclusive
prominence given to these two ideas--victorious rest after the
struggle, and abundant satisfaction of all desires. That future is
other and more than a festival; it is other and more than repose.
There are larger fields there for the operation of powers that have
been trained and evolved here. The faithfulness of the steward is
exchanged, according to Christ's great words, for the authority of
the ruler over many cities. But still, do we not all know enough of
the worry and turbulence and strained effort of the conflict here
below, to feel that to some of our deepest and not ignoble needs and
desires that image appeals? The helmet that pressed upon the brow
even whilst it protected the brain, and wore away the hair even
whilst it was a defence, is lifted off, and on unruffled locks the
garland is intertwined that speaks victory and befits a festival. One
of the old prophets puts the same metaphor in words imperfectly
represented by the English translation, when he promises 'a crown' or
a garland 'for ashes'--instead of the symbol of mourning, strewed
grey and gritty upon the dishevelled hair of the weepers, flowers
twined into a wreath--'the oil of joy for mourning,' and the festival
'garment of praise' to dress the once heavy spirit. So the
satisfaction of all desires, the accompaniments of a feast, in
abundance, rejoicing and companionship, and conclusive conquest over
all foes, are promised us in this great symbol.
But let us look at the passages separately, and we shall find that
they present the one thought with differences, and that if we combine
these, as in a stereoscope, the picture gains solidity.
The crown is described in three ways. It is the crown of 'life,' of
'glory' and of 'righteousness.' And I venture to think that these
three epithets describe the material, so to speak, of which the
wreath is composed. The everlasting flower of life, the radiant
blossoms of glory, the white flower of righteousness; these are its
components.
I need not enlarge upon them, nor will your time allow that I should.
Here we have the promise of life, that fuller life which men want,
'the life of which our veins are scant,' even in the fullest tide and
heyday of earthly existence. The promise sets that future over
against the present, as if then first should men know what it means
to live: so buoyant, elastic, unwearied shall be their energies, so
manifold the new outlets for activity, and the new inlets for the
surrounding glory and beauty; so incorruptible and glorious shall be
their new being. Here we live a living death; there we shall live
indeed; and that will be the crown, not only in regard to physical,
but in regard to spiritual, powers and consciousness.
But remember that all this full tide of life is Christ's gift. There
is no such thing as natural immortality; there is no such thing as
independent life. All Being, from the lowest creature up to the
loftiest created spirit, exists by one law, the continual impartation
to it of life from the fountain of life, according to its capacities.
And unless Jesus Christ, all through the eternal ages of the future,
imparted to the happy souls that sit garlanded at His board the life
by which they live, the wreaths would wither on their brows, and the
brows would melt away, and dissolve from beneath the wreaths. 'I will
give him a crown of life.'
It is a crown of 'glory,' and that means a lustrousness of character
imparted by radiation and reflection from the central light of the
glory of God. 'Then shall the righteous blaze out like the sun in the
Kingdom of My Father.' Our eyes are dim, but we can at least divine
the far-off flashing of that great light, and may ponder upon what
hidden depths and miracles of transformed perfectness and unimagined
lustre wait for us, dark and limited as we are here, in the assurance
that we all shall be changed into the 'likeness of the body of His
glory.'
It is a crown of 'righteousness.' Though that phrase may mean the
wreath that rewards righteousness, it seems more in accordance with
the other similar expressions to which I have referred to regard it,
too, as the material of which the crown is composed. It is not enough
that there should be festal gladness, not enough that there should be
calm repose, not enough that there should be flashing glory, not
enough that there should be fulness of life. To accord with the
intense moral earnestness of the Christian system there must be,
emphatically, in the Christian hope, cessation of all sin and
investiture with all purity. The word means the same thing as the
ancient promise, 'Thy people shall be all righteous.' It means the
same thing as the latest promise of the ascended Christ, 'They shall
walk with Me in white.' And it sets, I was going to say, the very
climax and culmination on the other hopes, declaring that absolute,
stainless, infallible righteousness which one day shall belong to our
weak and sinful spirits.
These, then, are the elements, and on them all is stamped the
signature of perpetuity. The victor's wreath is tossed on the ashen
heap, the reveller's flowers droop as he sits in the heat of the
banqueting-hall; the bride's myrtle blossom fades though she lay it
away in a safe place. The crown of life is incorruptible. It is
twined of amaranth, ever blossoming into new beauty and never fading.