Together Adam and Noah and Melchizedek and Joseph and Moses and Joshua and Samson and Solomon and Jonah, and they would not make a fragment of a Christ, a quarter of a Christ, the half of a Christ, or the millionth part of a Christ. He forsook a throne and sat down on His own footstool. He came from the top of glory to the bottom of humiliation, and exchanged a circumference seraphic, for a circumference diabolic. Once waited on by angels, now hissed at by brigands.

We have a natural tendency to attempt to understand what we don’t know by extrapolating from what we do. This works well in much of life, but not so much when it comes to theology, for God comes before comparisons and supersedes them all. When it comes to Christ, he is more unlike than like what we know. This quote from the old preacher De Witt Talmage celebrates how Christ was “the great unlike.”
All good men have for centuries been trying to tell whom this Substitute was like, but every comparison, inspired and uninspired, evangelistic, prophetic, apostolic, and human falls short, for Christ was the Great Unlike.

Adam a type of Christ, because he came directly from God;
Noah a type of Christ, because he delivered his own family from the deluge;
Melchizedek a type of Christ, because he had no predecessor or successor;
Joseph a type of Christ, because he was cast out by his brethren;
Moses a type of Christ, because he was a deliverer from bondage;

Joshua a type of Christ, because he was a conqueror;

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If the academics are to be believed, every closet in Middle Earth is absolutely stuffed with creatures eager to launch Pride Parades in Mordor and Drag Queen Story Hour in the Shire (the definitely gay Samwise Gamgee could take all of his children).

It was inevitable that the LGBT movement would eventually claim J.R.R. Tolkien. Those cultural figures too towering to be toppled and too beloved to be cancelled must be co-opted to serve the new governing ideology: their work misinterpreted; their lives pored over for the slightest hint of anything that can be called “queer”; their work forcibly mutated beyond all recognition. In short, they must transition. Truth no longer matters because we can now identify things precisely as we choose.
Thus, the process of queering Tolkien has begun, especially as Amazon prepares to launch their new series based on his work (into which they have already sunk hundreds of millions of dollars). One journalist penned a lengthy essay last year insisting that Sam and Frodo were gay, which is perhaps inevitable in a society that is increasingly incapable of distinguishing intimacy from sex. (Sam’s marriage to Rose and their thirteen children is, apparently, irrelevant, as is the obvious truth that Tolkien would not have included, even covertly, a gay romance, being as he was, a traditionalist Catholic with views on sexuality are precisely what you’d expect them to be).
Over at The Guardian, Ben Child admitted that it was unlikely that Tolkien himself intended for anyone to read queerness into his canon—but this inconvenient fact, according to Child, simply doesn’t matter. The trilogy, he insisted, has “obvious queer connotations” despite the fact that Tolkien likely “saw hobbits as childlike innocents, mere sprites who lived long, long ago, in the mists of a sexless, Eden-like, ancient Faerie” and that “it’s hard to imagine that Tolkien had anything particularly carnal in mind.” Despite all that—and the fact that these lusty fan theories are easy to debunk—Child states that the “debate over just how gay the Lord of the Rings really is will no doubt be raging in another hundred years.”
The Tolkien Society, which has been colonized by LGBT activists, clearly concurs. Last July they hosted a conference called “Tolkien and Diversity,” an epic, two-day literary vandalization. Here are just a few of the included lectures:

Cordeliah Logsdon – Gondor in Transition: A Brief Introduction to Transgender Realities in The Lord of the Rings.
Christopher Vaccaro – Pardoning Saruman?: The Queer in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.
Robin Reid – Queer Atheists, Agnostics, and Animists, Oh, My!
Danna Petersen-Deeprose – “Something Mighty Queer”: Destabilizing Cishetero Amatonormativity in the Works of Tolkien.

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The disciples saw Jesus before his death, resurrection, and ascension, before he had shown them all that he is and all that he had done. In this vision we see Jesus in his complete post-ascension power and glory. Nothing is missing. 

“I wish I could have seen Jesus, just like the disciples did.”
You might crave this, especially in hard times. To be next to Jesus, to listen to him and see him face-to-face. To be comforted by that living presence.
In fact, we have been given something even better than that. Revelation 1:9-17 brings us face-to-face with Jesus. Through John’s eyes and ears we see and hear him. And by the Holy Spirit this vision becomes immediate and alive. Here we do not just read about someone who once came face-to-face with Christ. Instead, the Holy Spirit brings us here and now into his actual presence.
Why is this “better” than what the disciples had two thousand years ago? It is better because the disciples saw Jesus before his death, resurrection, and ascension, before he had shown them all that he is and all that he had done. In this vision we see Jesus in his complete post-ascension power and glory. Nothing is missing. Are you ready?

I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus (Rev. 1:9).

They say that John was the only disciple not to die a violent death. Yet he was forced to “patiently endure” for Jesus. He was exiled by the authorities to Patmos, a rugged little volcanic island in the Dodecanese, two hours by ferry from the coast of Turkey. The Sea is a major character in Revelation, appearing in twenty-one verses. John was certainly in the midst of it on that rocky crag.
The NIV version of Revelation 1:9 describes John as “a companion in the suffering…that are ours in Jesus.” Suffering also means pressure. Jesus said, “‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). Persecution and pressure are integral to the Christian life.
Exile was intended to get John “out of the way.” God used John’s exile, however, to record this apocalyptic vision, which would help and strengthen Christians for millennia to come.

I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet saying, “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea” (Rev. 1:10-11).

This is the only “Lord’s Day” reference in the New Testament. Most think that it is Sunday, the first day of the week, the day of Jesus’ resurrection, and of Pentecost. Two other passages describe Christians gathering on “the first day of the week” (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor 16:12), so it is no surprise that from the very beginning the church called Sunday “the Lord’s Day” and gathered that day to worship Christ.
This is what John was doing. He was “in the Spirit,” and the Holy Spirit gave him the extraordinary vision which we are about to read. A “loud voice like a trumpet” seizes John’s attention like the priestly trumpets that called Israel to assemble in God’s presence. That is exactly where John finds himself and where he is commanded to write what he sees on a scroll. Only a select few in the ancient world were trained to write and read, so John’s ability was a rare one. How wonderfully he used that skill.
The seven churches that John writes to are all in Asia Minor and form a roughly clockwise circle. Seven letters were written into one large letter that was to be passed from church to church and read out loud. No doubt it was also copied.

Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man. (Rev. 1:12-13a)

John turned to see the same Son of Man that Daniel 7:13-14 describes, coming “with the clouds of heaven” (Rev 1:7). Note that he is “among” the lampstands. We will come back to that. Look now at how Jesus, the Son of Man, is portrayed to us with eight symbols. Each of them is very important.
1. Jesus’ Priestly Robe and Sash

[He was] clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest (Rev. 1:13b).

Moses had clothed Aaron with a tunic and sash (Lev. 8:7). It was the basic uniform of an Old Testament priest.
His robe and golden sash identifies Jesus also as a priest and mediator. He speaks to us on God’s behalf and prays to God on our behalf. He stands before God interceding and pleading for the salvation and welfare of his people. Be encouraged, for he is most certainly heard:

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. (Heb. 4:15)

2. Jesus’ White Hair

The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow (Rev. 1:14a).

As we age the pigment cells in our hair follicles die. With less melanin our hair becomes more transparent, appearing grey, silver, or white. This is not a disaster. In the Bible some “snow on the roof” advertises wisdom, the experience that comes with having travelled around the sun a few more times than one’s contemporaries.
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