From the book of Judges, we see how desperately humankind needs heroes. It is easy to accept that the majority of us are imperfect and flawed (Paul calls it being "merely human”, a scathing rebuke to the Corinthian church (1 Cor. 3:3)), but the humanity in us yearns for someone among us who is better, who rises above the status quo and achieves what we know our sin-infected hearts never could. Somehow, we hold on to the hope that not everybody is like us—surely, out there, somewhere, there must be someone who really is good. 

We do like the ideas of omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence; more importantly, we like the idea of being worthy. But though we instill these qualities in the impossible superheroes we dream up for ourselves, we still can't convince ourselves to really believe the possibility of a being that is perfectly capable of all these yet without a single weakness. We are so used to our own foibles that every hero must fail us, at some point or other. This is why we include a fatal flaw: the kryptonite, the Achilles's heel, the vice, the monster lurking just beyond the reach of the spotlight. We only dare to hope for a hero who can be marginally better than us. We have learned to make do with imperfect champions. 

So, in Judges, we see how, like us, Israel would cyclically and irresistibly lean into the gravity of wickedness at every facet of society. Without a king as the embodiment of heroism, every man resorted to doing as he thought best, which was unavoidably no good at all. God would respond deliberately and fiercely, as He always does to sin, and Israel would fall to the nadir of their existence, terrorised and almost dehumanised by their enemies. Inevitably, they would cry out to God for a saviour, some hero. And God would respond by raising up a judge time and again. 

Sometimes reluctantly, sometimes gallantly, they would swoop on to the scene as champions among men, defenders of their people and land, favoured ones—better ones. The tales are thrilling in the telling: all Israel would be moved as one man from Dan to Beersheba, to rally around them and fight with them and be ruled by them. They would even be willing to offer leadership for generations to such a man (Judg. 8:22), certain that they had finally found someone deserving. 

But what they would always discover a little too late is that these judges of Israel were all heroes in borrowed capes. Their virtue and valour were not their own. Judge after judge was exposed as also merely human, after all. Ehud's bloody cold-bloodedness, Barak's faithless hesitation, Gideon's trepidation and idolatry, Abimelech's murderous disregard, Jephthah's foolish rashness, and Samson's uncontrollable lust and rage hit Israel with whammy after whammy. Even more disappointing were Eli and Samuel's inability to raise their children right, and the myriad of personal failures that attended the first chosen king, Saul. 

Among us, there is no-one who is worthy—no, not even one. The rest of the Bible, if we are honest, is still just a catalogue of human failure: failing God, failing His people, and failing ourselves. From the Old Testament to the New, spanning endless generations, unworthiness runs in our blood: Adam was just the beginning. When John the Revelator is allowed a peek into the eternity of humanity in Revelation 5, what he experiences demolishes him: 

“Then I saw in the right hand of him who sat on the throne a scroll with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, ‘Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?’ But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it." (Rev. 5:1-3). 

In that moment, John is granted to comprehend the stark depravity of the human race. All of creation, the whole universe, is looking on, but the race of man fails yet again. Who is worthy? In the length and breadth of space and time, across the universe and all its inhabitants, Heaven makes diligent search for even just one person who can walk up before the absolute holiness of God, confident enough to take that scroll—but there is silence. God has not changed; His holiness holding out that scroll has not changed. In all His dealings and interactions with mankind, in all the relationships He has built with them and their stories that He has told, He has always known that none is worthy. 

Where is Job, with his self-righteous preening, daring God to show up? Where is David, and the "integrity of my hands"? Where are all the people we have called "good people"? They hide themselves in shame, as we together—all of humanity—suddenly recognize our unworthiness. 

And all the people that we have been lauding as heroes stand stock-still as well in the shadows, unmasked. Abraham was God’s friend, but he was not worthy. Joseph hung on to his integrity, but he was not worthy. Moses was the meekest man on earth and spoke face-to-face with God, but he was not worthy. Joshua led the people forward into the penultimate Promised Land, but he was not worthy. Deborah fought the battles of God, but she was not worthy. Ruth was virtuous in many ways that mattered, but she was not worthy. Elijah called down fire and rain from heaven, but he was not worthy. Daniel prayed three times a day, but he was not worthy. Esther destroyed the enemy of the Jews, but she was not worthy. All the priests and all the kings and all the prophets—Phinehas dealing a deathblow to the shameless sinner; Eleazar solemnly taking the place of his father struck dead for his rebellion; Hezekiah; Josiah; Solomon and all his wealth and wisdom; Isaiah granted a vision of heavenly worship; Hosea surrendering his marriage; Zechariah witnessing the activity of the spiritual realm; Ezra and Nehemiah rebuilding the temple and the walls and the people of Jerusalem; Ezekiel the son of man; and all the others... Not a single one of them was worthy. John the Baptist called for revival and a return to the Father, but he was not worthy. Dorcas was so kind-hearted and generous, but she was not worthy. The 12 apostles, the 120 of the upper room, the 3000 of Pentecost, the 5000 after the miracle at the Beautiful Gate, and all the members of all the churches were not worthy. Apostle Paul spent his latter life raising and building the people of God, but he was not worthy. John the Revelator himself was so close that he laid his head on Jesus' chest, but he was not worthy. 

These were commended for their faith: “who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated— of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth” (Heb. 11:33-39). The world was not worthy of them, but they were not worthy of God. 

Do you not—just for a moment—finally see why the Revelator broke down into bitter tears? No pretense here, no whitewashing and comparing ourselves to ourselves, forgiving our own dirt by comparing it to others’ The smear of sin has corrupted us all together. We all have gone astray. We all don’t measure up. 

All our heroes fall facedown, like the god Dagon, before our God. If they are honest with themselves and with us, they are humbled like Job—“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further” (Job 40:4,5). If they insist on dishonesty, God must force them to humility, like He did Nebuchadnezzar, making them finally bow-- "Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, for all his works are right and his ways are just; and those who walk in pride he is able to humble." 

It is into this bleak scene that a new character is introduced. Here is our white knight, the true Avenger and Superman and Batman and Doctor Who and whatever other name we call our heroes. Here, finally, is an end to the roll call of “Not Worthy”; into humanity steps a hero who is in no need of a borrowed cape. He is nothing like us: no one sneers in knowing contempt at some hidden flaw; He is really and fully worthy: 

“Then one of the elders said to me, ‘Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.’ He went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne.” Rev. 5:5,7 

Revelations 4 is all about Heaven’s enthralled worship of the Father. But here, now, when a hero has so timely and perfectly saved our face, all of the hosts of Heaven, first, burst forth into enraptured praise; an inspired and contagious melody breaks out among creation: untaught, but its notes have long been woven into the fibre of our existence: 

 “And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp... And they sang a new song, saying: ‘You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.’” Rev. 5:8,9 

But here is what is even more beautiful. The Lamb of God, who is alone worthy, makes us also worthy: 

"You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God, and they will reign on the earth.” Rev. 5:10 

Worthy of every name and every crown and every praise, worthy indeed of all authority and all our worship: the hero who has no flaws, and who never dies. Lord Jesus, Lamb of God, may my heart see as John saw and hear as John heard. May I join in with the universe’s worshipful chorus. May I ever be awestruck by Your worthiness: 

“Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they were saying: ‘Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!’ Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power for ever and ever!’ The four living creatures said, ‘Amen,’ and the elders fell down and worshiped.” Rev. 5:11-14 

Amen.