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Throughout Revelation, we gets visions of the martyrs in heaven. For example:
When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slaughtered because of the word of God and the testimony they had given. They cried out with a loud voice, “Lord, the one who is holy and true, how long until you judge those who live on the earth and avenge our blood?” So they were each given a white robe, and they were told to rest a little while longer until the number would be completed of their fellow servants and their brothers and sisters, who were going to be killed just as they had been. (Rev. 6.9-11)
Given the persecutions and trials the seven churches in Asia were facing or were about to face, such visions would have provided consolation and instilled courage. They might be killed, but Revelation assured them that they would be safe.
It struck me during this conversation about how the news of Jesus' resurrection would have electrified first-century audiences. That was a world bullied by imperial terror. A world where crosses littered the landscape. Routine and public torture was used to enforce submission and compliance.
And then, in the middle of this terrorized world, news of a crucified man who had come back to life.
Goodness, if that were true, then everything changes. And most crucially, a psychological change. An eschatological fearlessness becomes a moral capacity.
With news of the resurrection, the fog of fear begins to dissipate and the bullying power of empire starts to fail.
