**The Scroll and the Lamb**

The throne room of heaven blazed with an unearthly radiance, its light shimmering like molten gold and sapphire. Around the throne, the four living creatures—covered in eyes before and behind—stood in ceaseless vigilance, their voices thundering like rushing waters as they proclaimed, *”Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!”* The twenty-four elders, robed in white and crowned with gold, bowed low, casting their crowns before the throne, their worship rising like incense.

Then, in the right hand of Him who sat upon the throne—the One whose glory outshone the sun—John saw a scroll. It was sealed with seven seals, its edges bound tightly, its contents hidden from all creation. A mighty angel, his voice shaking the heavens, called out, *”Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?”*

A hush fell over heaven. No one in all the expanse of creation—no angel, no elder, no spirit—stepped forward. None could claim the right to unveil the mysteries of God’s judgment and redemption. John wept bitterly, for it seemed the scroll would remain unopened, the purposes of God forever concealed.

But then, one of the elders turned to him, his voice gentle yet triumphant. *”Weep no more! Behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that He can open the scroll and its seven seals!”*

And there, between the throne and the four living creatures, amid the elders, stood a Lamb—as though it had been slain. Its seven horns spoke of perfect power, its seven eyes the Spirit of God sent into all the earth. The Lamb stepped forward, and as He did, the heavens trembled. The One who sat on the throne extended His hand, and the Lamb took the scroll.

At once, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each held a harp and golden bowls full of incense—the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, a melody never before heard in heaven:

*”Worthy are You to take the scroll and to open its seals, for You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth!”*

Then, as if heaven itself could not contain the worship, countless angels encircled the throne—myriads upon myriads, their voices a roaring tide of praise:

*”Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!”*

And from every corner of creation—from the highest heavens to the earth below—a chorus erupted, shaking the foundations of eternity:

*”To Him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”*

The four living creatures cried, *”Amen!”* and the elders fell on their faces in worship.

The Lamb, the worthy One, stood before the scroll, His scars a testament to His victory. The time had come. The seals would be broken. The mysteries of God’s plan would unfold. And all creation held its breath, awaiting what was to come.