The vision of the blowing of the seven trumpets of Revelation 8-11 should be understood against the background of the Old Testament. In other words, the blowing of the seven trumpets is an important series of interventions by God on behalf of his people. Oftentimes we can read the blowing of the trumpets as a way to see God intervening in the realm of mortality, working to redeem, warn, and save his people. We must read these chapters to see the idea that God remembers his people.
These chapters outline the idea that God’s wrath kindles against those that oppress his people. These are not natural disasters, but the shaking of heaven against the wickedness that must not last. John is giving this as a message of comfort to a people who were oppressed, this is one of the main purposes of apocalyptic literature. It was a message of hope to the oppressed.
Purposes of Trumpets
In the context of ancient Israel, the blowing of trumpets had theological importance. Trumpets were used to announce the coronation of the king (2 Samuel 15.10; 1 Kings 1.34, 39; 2 Kings 9.13, 11.14).
Trumpets were used to summon the Israelites to war (Judges 3.27, 6.34; Jeremiah 51.27).
They were used to gather Israel (Numbers 10.2-7; 1 Samuel 13.3-4; Nehemiah 4.20; Joel 2.15-16).
Trumpets were used to warn Israel of the danger that was approaching (Jeremiah 4.5, 19-21, 6.1-17; Ezekiel 33.3-6; Amos 3.6).
They were used in the context of temple liturgy and holy wars (Leviticus 25.9; Numbers 10.9-10; Joshua 6.4-20).
The message of these chapters is that the destruction is targeted towards those that are hostile to the gospel message and the faithful followers of God. The seven trumpets portray judgments on those who have rejected the gospel and have failed to receive the seal of God on their foreheads. I like how Bryce in our podcast illustrated how Nephi was allowed to comment on the vision, since he saw what John saw, but he was not allowed to show the vision in his writing.
In Nephi’s commentary, Nephi makes this point:
And the blood of that great and abominable church, which is the whore of all the earth, shall turn upon their own heads; for they shall war among themselves, and the sword of their own hands shall fall upon their own heads, and they shall be drunken with their own blood. (1 Nephi 22.13)
So much of 1 Nephi 22 is a commentary on these chapters! If read carefully, the saints can see that to Nephi these things were both spiritual and temporal. They are allegorical and they are literal (see 1 Nephi 22.1 and verse 27). However these chapters are read, it is certainly read as literal and figurative to Nephi as we see his commentary in 1 Nephi 22.
The Little Book Interlude
What is the book that John is supposed to eat? This is the question Joseph Smith asked the Lord.
Q. What are we to understand by the little book which was eaten by John, as mentioned in the 10th chapter of Revelation?
A. We are to understand that it was a mission, and an ordinance, for him to gather the tribes of Israel; behold, this is Elias, who, as it is written, must come and restore all things. (D&C 77.14)
In other words, the little book that John ate was his calling. What a perfect image. His calling to bring home Israel would taste sweet yet would cause great bitterness. This is service to God. It is both bitter and it is sweet. It is his mission, his calling to save all he can, to help Jesus. Jesus is begging him to help him save his people!
I love the story Bryce shared on the podcast.
Go Save the Lambs
The day school was out at the beginning of each summer, our family went to our ranch in Wyoming. It was there with my parents and brothers and sisters, and a few cousins mixed in, that I learned about family loyalty; love and concern; birth and death; that one must finish a job once it is started; and, to quote my father, “There are only two things important—the family and the Church.”
One year my father was waiting for us as we arrived. He said he had a big job for my brother Clay and me to do that summer. I was about twelve at the time, and my brother was two years older. Pointing to the field by the side of the house, my father said, “Do you see all of these lambs in that field? I’ll share the money we get for the ones you raise when we sell them in the fall.” Well, we were excited. Not only did we have a significant job to do, but we were going to be rich! There were a lot of lambs in that field—about 350 of them. And all we had to do was feed them.
However, there was one thing that my father hadn’t mentioned. None of the lambs had mothers. Just after shearing, there was a violent storm that chilled the newly shorn sheep. Dad lost a thousand ewes that year. The mothers of our lambs were among them.
To feed one or two baby animals is one thing, but to feed 350 is something else! It was hard. There was plenty of grass, but the lambs couldn’t eat the grass. They didn’t have teeth. They needed milk. So we made some long, V-shaped feeding troughs out of some boards. Then we got a great big tin washtub, ground up some grain, and added milk to make a thin mash. While my brother poured the mash into the troughs, I rounded up the lambs, herded them to the troughs, and said, “Eat!” Well, they just stood there looking at me. Although they were hungry and there was food in front of them, they still wouldn’t eat. No one had taught them to drink milk out of a trough. So I tried pushing them toward the troughs. Do you know what happens when you try to push sheep? They run the other way. And when you lose one, you could lose them all because others will follow. That’s the way with sheep.
We tried lining up the lambs along the troughs and pushing their noses down in the milk, hoping they’d get a taste and want some more. We tried wiggling our fingers in the milk to get them to suck on our fingers. Some of them would drink, but most of them ran away.
Many of the lambs were slowly starving to death. The only way we could be sure they were being fed was to pick them up in our arms, two at a time, and feed them like babies.
And then there were the coyotes. At night the coyotes would sit up on the hill, and they’d howl. The next morning we would see the results of their night’s work, and we would have two or three more lambs to bury. The coyotes would sneak up on the lambs, scatter the herd, and then pick out the ones they wanted and go after them. The first were those that were weak or separated from the flock. Often in the night when the coyotes came and the lambs were restless, my dad would take out his rifle and shoot in the air to scare them away. We felt secure when my dad was home because we knew our lambs were safe when he was there to watch over them.
Clay and I soon forgot about being rich. All we wanted to do was save our lambs. The hardest part was seeing them die. Every morning we would find five, seven, ten lambs that had died during the night. Some the coyotes got, and others starved to death surrounded by food they couldn’t or wouldn’t eat.
Part of our job was to gather up the dead lambs and help dispose of them. I got used to that, and it really wasn’t so bad until I named one of the lambs. It was an awkward little thing with a black spot on its nose. It was always under my feet, and it knew my voice. I loved my lamb. It was one I held in my arms and fed with a bottle like a baby.
One morning my lamb didn’t come when I called. I found it later that day under the willows by the creek. It was dead. With tears streaming down my face, I picked up my lamb and went to find my father. Looking up at him, I said, “Dad, isn’t there someone who can help us feed our lambs?” (Jayne B. Malan, The Summer of the Lambs, October 1989 General Conference)