Religion: true or false?

Revelation is a scary read for scary times. I have always maintained that the more confident people are in asserting that they understand Revelation, the more wary we should be of believing them. For myself, I believe that the book was written to help Christians make sense of the cataclysmic events that unfolded in the reigns of Nero, Vespasian, Titus and Domitian towards the end of the first century. It is therefore not appropriate simply to correlate John’s apocalyptic symbolism with people or events of our own day. Nevertheless, the message of the book, arcane though it may be at times, has the potential to help us interpret the troubled times in which we live today.
 
In Revelation 12-13, John portrays an unholy trinity of a dragon, who is thrown down from heaven, and two beasts, one from the sea and one from the earth. People worship the dragon (an image of Satan) and the first beast (probably the Roman Empire) because the dragon has given its authority to this beast. The description of the second beast suggests that it is a counterfeit version of what is true: this beast has two horns ‘like a lamb’, yet Jesus is the true Lamb of God. It performs miraculous signs, making fire come down from heaven, echoing the divine power given to the prophets Elijah and Elisha. When people make an image of beast from the sea, the beast from the earth gives ‘spirit’ to that image so that it speaks, parodying the way in God speaks through the Spirit to the churches in the opening chapters of the book. This second beast is false, counterfeit religion, a religion which in some ways looks like the real thing, but isn’t; a religion which takes worship which should be reserved for God and directs that worship to Empire (13:12).
 
In 312 CE, before the battle of Milvian Bridge, the Roman Emperor Constantine sought God in prayer and was given a vision of a beaming cross bearing the words, in hoc signo vinces: 'by this sign you will conquer'. It was, apparently, enough to convert him to Christianity. The following year he issued the Edict of Milan, legalising the faith that the Empire had persecuted so viciously for so long. He is the man who passed legislation to make Sunday a public holiday and to identify December 25th as a celebration of the birth of Christ. Amongst historians and theologians, the jury is still out on whether these events amounted to the Roman Empire submitting to the authority of Christ, or Constantine legalising Christianity as a way of cementing his own authority. Did the church lose its soul when it became the religion of the Empire? (Sounds like a good essay question to me…)
 
These reflections help me make sense of the awkward fact that Vladimir Putin appears to be a deeply committed Christian. His mother baptised him secretly when he was a baby and gave him a cross, which he now wears at all time, and it is said that he prays daily in a small chapel adjoining the presidential office. He has criticised the West for abandoning traditional Christian values and his rule in Russia was once described as ‘a miracle of God’ by the head of the Russian Orthodox Church.
So, is his faith counterfeit, or is it the real deal? I suppose the litmus test rests in the answer to the question, which matters most to him, God or Russia? Whose cause is he really serving? What does he worship? His invasion of Ukraine suggests that, bottom line, his religion serves his political ends. As soon as the Christian faith is employed to promote any partisan cause, it becomes idolatrous. If God does not come first, something is seriously wrong, and the consequences of that can be catastrophic.

Tim Carter