Standing at the Cross: The Great Multitude of Revelation

Last class, we discussed the crucifixion and how the symbolism in Revelation connects to Jesus’s death on the cross. The dramatic events in Revelation serve as the spiritual backdrop to the physical events of the crucifixion. However, one key image remains unexplored: the crowds present at the cross.

You might wonder: If the end of the world and God’s final judgment have already taken place, where was I during this? Doesn’t Revelation indicate that all humanity will be present when judgment is administered? Today, I will attempt to answer these questions by exploring another: How does the presence of the crowds at the cross help us understand the significance of that moment?

Jesus was crucified at Golgotha, an Aramaic word meaning “the place of the skull,” which likely refers to the appearance of the hill, resembling a skull. Golgotha was in a public place, outside the city walls, but close enough to the city. This makes it visible to many people coming to Jerusalem, especially during a major festival like Passover, which would have attracted large crowds. It served both as a place of execution and as a visible reminder of Roman authority. Thus, at the foot of the cross, we encounter people from all walks of life.

We first encounter Mary, the mother of Jesus. She embodies the deepest sorrow, love and devotion to her son. She is joined by Mary Magdalene whose past has been redeemed and now is standing firm in faith. Other Marys were there, women who followed Jesus and supported his ministry. The only disciple we know of who was there was John, who demonstrated unwavering faith and loyalty. Peter was probably nearby but cowering in hiding. He had denied Jesus three times and suffered greatly for it. We also see the religious leaders, such as the Chief Priests and Pharisees who orchestrated Jesus’s crucifixion. They are standing there as symbols of legalism, hypocrisy, and spiritual blindness. We also encounter the two thieves on the crosses besides Jesus and their two different responses to Grace: one rejected Him, the other sought mercy. We encounter the Roman soldiers who tortured and crucified Jesus and are standing there mocking him. After Jesus’s death we learn about the Roman Centurion who presided over the crucifixion and proclaimed Jesus as the Son of God after witnessing the supernatural events that occurred. But then we can also imagine the multitudes who were coming into the city that day. They were coming to worship in Jerusalem for the Passover but instead encounter a torture scene. Some of them may be affected while others are indifferent trying to get inside the city before it gets dark. We can also imagine other people who are involved in the crucifixion who may or may not have been at the scene, such as Pontius Pilate, the highest authority in that land, washing his hands from any wrongdoing while thinking he can clear his conscience. But perhaps another important character that we tend to miss is Barabbas, the criminal who the crowds requested Pilate to release from jail in place of Jesus. Barabbas was the first person to experience the act of substitution and unmerited grace that Jesus provides us with on the cross. Barabbas was set free and allowed to live because Jesus took his place on the cross. He was an early example of the grace extended to all of us. He didn’t do anything to deserve it, he didn’t even know what had happened, nonetheless, he was set free.

The image we get from the people who were around the cross at that time is of a diverse group representing a wide range of emotions and perspectives. Some were followers of Jesus, deeply grieving His suffering, while others were mocking and jeering. Roman soldiers, indifferent to the significance of the moment, carried out their duty with cold professionalism, while the religious leaders looked on, smug and vindicated. In contrast, a few close disciples, including John and some women, stood by in sorrow, witnessing the ultimate sacrifice. So, we find the faithful and the saintly, we find the repentant, the doubtful, the hateful, and the sinner. We find the indifferent and the curious onlookers. We find people from all walks of life. This diversity is what makes the scene at the cross so powerful. That’s why the scene at the cross captures an interesting moment in history. The people there represent a cross section of all of humanity, they represent all of us, they represent you and me. Our response to what Jesus did for us varies, but we can find it represented by one of the characters standing at the foot of the cross that day. In essence, even today, we can find ourselves standing there in that moment, having a different response depending on our stage of life, emotional state, closeness to God, and a multitude of other factors. What does not change is what God did, the saint and the sinner alike needed the sacrifice of Jesus that day. And so, all of us stand witness to the need of humanity for God’s grace and redemption. 

The crucifixion of Jesus was a moment of profound suffering and apparent defeat. To those who stood at the foot of the cross, it seemed like the tragic end of a life filled with promise. Yet, what was visible at that moment was only part of the story. The book of Revelation gives us a heavenly perspective, showing us what was truly taking place through Christ’s death and resurrection. Let’s reconsider how one of the most well-known passages in Revelation fits in the crucifixion narrative—The Great Multitude in White Robes:

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” (Revelation 7:9-10)

Last class, we talked about the white throne, which is the judgment seat of God. Jesus hanging on the cross with a crown of thorns is the king who is delivering God’s judgment. So, the multitude of people around the throne represents all the people standing before the cross that day. All of humanity was present both at the cross and in the final judgment. It didn’t matter who they were or what they did, they were all wearing white robes and holding palm branches. This image is in sharp contrast with our understanding of judgment. We expect condemnation in judgment, but in the final judgment of God, we only find grace. 

We talked before about the significance of the white robe, the robe of righteousness. But we get a fascinating image here. The soldiers at the cross gambled for Jesus’ robe, they saw His garments as something to be gambled for and possessed to the point of leaving him naked. But in Revelation, the multitude stands clothed in white robes—robes that were given to them by Jesus for free, without the need to try and win anything. “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” (Revelation 7:14). Jesus was stripped so that we could be clothed. His blood, which stained the wood of the cross, is what makes these robes white. In earthly terms, blood stains fabric; in divine terms, His blood cleanses and purifies. In Revelation, we see that righteousness is not something won, but something given—a gift from the Lamb.

The great multitude is also holding palm branches. Why a palm branch? It’s a dull green thing. The new creation can be holding something much more beautiful, such as a rose or a lily, or a multitude of other magnificent flowers. Why palm? In the Old Testament, the palm tree and its branches were a symbol of justice. Holding and waving a palm branch means that you have been justified. A palm branch may be the thing you get after the books of life are opened and read before the throne. The cross is what justifies. But palm branches carry another important meaning. Palm branches appear only twice in the New Testament, the first time was on Palm Sunday, when Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey and the people welcomed Him as a king, some of them spreading their robes or palm branches in front of him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” (John 12:13). Palm branches were a significant national and religious symbol of Israel, deeply embedded in their history, culture, and worship. In fact, the current currency of Israel, the New Israeli shekel, features a palm branch on the back of the one-shekel coin and a whole palm tree on the front of the 10-shekel coin. In both biblical and historical contexts, palm branches represented Jewish identity, national pride, victory, and divine blessing. 

The crowd at Palm Sunday were welcoming Jesus with jubilee as the king of the Jews who will establish the physical nation of Israel by triumphing over the roman empire. The slogan they shouted is significant as well. “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” (John 12:13). Hosanna is a Hebrew word meaning “save us, please.” Yet, just days later, instead of Hosanna, the crowd would cry out “crucify him!” The palm branches of celebration were cast aside as the people rejected their Messiah. They were disillusioned of their dreams of having a king and instead they demanded a terrible death of the imposter. 

This is what makes the passage in Revelation so magnificent. The multitude passage of Revelation redeems the symbolism of the palm branches. We see a return of the palm branches as the multitude before the throne waves them in triumph, fully aware of who Jesus is and what He has done. The kingdom of God has been established, but it is a spiritual kingdom and not a physical one. The symbolism of palm branches in Revelation tells us that Biblical Israel is not a physical nation. It is not the country that since its creation has been destroying the land and native people of Palestine. It is a spiritual nation made up of people from all walks of life, waving their palm branches in front of the King while declaring the salvation of the Lord.

We also see the return of the slogan shouting: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” It is fascinating how the image of the multitude mirrors that of the crowd on Palm Sunday. The fact that Jesus was crucified at Passover, the Jewish holiday celebrating their freedom from captivity and oppression in Egypt, points to the same idea of the spiritual freedom we receive through His sacrifice. The people standing at the cross that day are the ones standing in front of the throne in Revelation. The sacrifice of Jesus is what made that possible. 

But the symbolism of that Revelation passage does not stop there: We pick it up from Revelation 7:11:

All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, 

12 saying:

“Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength

be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!”

13 Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”

14 I answered, “Sir, you know.” And he said, “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

15 Therefore,

“they are before the throne of God

    and serve him day and night in his temple;

and he who sits on the throne

    will shelter them with his presence.

16 ‘Never again will they hunger;

    never again will they thirst.

The sun will not beat down on them,’

    nor any scorching heat.

17 For the Lamb at the center of the throne

    will be their shepherd;

‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’

    ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

We usually read these passages without thinking about any substitution on God’s part. We imagine that God, the omnipotent, is capable of offering all these promises without feeling the burden. Yet, Jesus suffered greatly before and during his crucifixion. He had no shelter, He hungered, He thirsted, He was beaten, He was scorched under the sun. His emotional and spiritual suffering was even greater than His physical suffering when He cried to God in anguish, “my father, why have you forsaken me?”

It’s hard for us to imagine God suffering. The whole point of God being God is to be above this human fallibility. As we talked about before, however, the Bible presents us with many images of God the father suffering on our behalf. Passages such as this one from Revelation promise us that God will take away our suffering, which brings us to the question: Does the suffering of Jesus offer any redemptive qualities for our suffering? Did Jesus have to suffer to lift the burden of our suffering, and if yes, then how?

We want an end to suffering, an end to pain. But we don’t know what we are talking about. Our lives wouldn’t be possible without pain, and we wouldn’t grow without suffering. So, what are we to make of these promises?

The suffering of Jesus on the cross reveals that God is not distant in our pain, that our suffering is not a sign of abandonment. He has felt hunger, thirst, abandonment, and physical agony—experiencing the depths of human suffering. Because of this, we can trust that God understands our struggles in the most intimate way. The suffering of Jesus transforms our physical suffering. It is no longer meaningless. Jesus did not suffer meaninglessly and the same goes for our suffering as well. 

Our suffering will eventually lead to growth, renewal, and hope (read 1 Peter 1:6-7, where trials are described as refining gold). We fail to see the blessing in suffering. The Catholic priest Henri Nouwen says that vulnerability is our gift that we give to others. For us and for Jesus, suffering is when we are most vulnerable. Suffering opens our eyes to our true human state; to how weak, fragile, and broken we are. Nouwen says that my gift to others is not my strength, but my willingness to become powerless, to start a fellowship of the weak. This is where God’s healing power will become visible, because only through vulnerability are we able to accept God’s grace. Suffering teaches us the hard work of love; it teaches us how to be compassionate. The passion of Christ was about enduring suffering with purpose and intense love. The word passion comes from the Latin passio, which is derived from pati, meaning “to suffer.” From this root, pati, also comes compassion, meaning “to suffer with.” To be compassionate is to suffer with others who are suffering, to feel the pain and anguish of others in your own body, to lay down your life for your friends. What we have to offer others when they are suffering is our vulnerability and the assurances of God’s grace.

It is also important to note that what Jesus suffered physically was the spiritual consequences of our sins. The spiritual suffering that sin puts us through, the feelings of guilt, shame, fear, and despair, have been conquered through the suffering of Jesus on the cross. We now need to spiritually suffer no more, we can start our journey of healing and reconciliation with God right now or any time we are ready. 

Let us summarize all of the symbols we talked about today. We first saw the cross as the throne of judgment. Jesus, crowned with thorns, sat as the king delivering God’s justice—not by condemning the world but by taking the judgment upon Himself. Second, the diverse crowd at the crucifixion—followers, skeptics, enemies, and the indifferent—mirrors the great multitude in white robes before the throne in Revelation. This tells us that we, and all of humanity, were represented at the cross, just as all of humanity will stand before God. Third, the blood of the Lamb at the cross is where we get our white robes of righteousness—garments that Jesus was stripped of on the cross. The fourth symbol are the palm branches, which were transformed from the misguided expectation of Palm Sunday of a king for the physical nation of Israel into participation of a spiritual kingdom of God. The last thing we talked about was the suffering, where the suffering of Jesus on the cross transforms our physical suffering by giving it meaning, telling us that this is where God meets us and teaching us how to be more loving. The suffering on the cross also relieves our spiritual suffering. We can rest assured in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. 

Where does all of this take us? Ultimately, this leads us to grace and to a response: to stand before God, clothed in His grace, declaring, “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.”

Does it comfort you or does it anger you that people, like Barabbas, who have never known Christ will also be saved? Where do you find yourself in the crowd at the cross? Are you standing in doubt, mockery, or faith and love? And how will you respond to the Lamb who was slain?

Donald: I don’t know where you gathered your thoughts to share with us this morning, Michael, but if those were your thoughts, they were profound. You did a masterful job outlining the crucifixion in a meaningful way for us to understand. So, thank you.

Anonymous: I was thinking of the symbol of the palm branches as you were talking. I remember Jericho, known as the “City of Palms” (Deuteronomy 34:3), the hottest and lowest spot in the world, and in Palestine. God directed the Israelites to march around it seven times, and the walls of Jericho fell down, leading to their victory (Joshua 6:2-5). This event marked the beginning of their journey to the Promised Land. Perhaps because of that event, Israel takes the palm as its national symbol. It signifies that victory comes from the Lord, not from kings or anybody else.

Michael: There is more symbolism of the palm in the Old Testament, but I didn’t want to delve into it extensively. It’s also related to Sukkot, another Jewish holiday, making it a very important symbol for Israel.

Anonymous: It’s like they’re saying, “Our victory comes from us, not from the Lord,” compared to the large group in Revelation, raising the branches and proclaiming, “Salvation belongs to our God” (Revelation 7:9-10). It’s a comparison between the present, the future, and the past.

Carolyn: When the Lord said, “It is finished” (John 19:30), I always see it as twofold. He had come through this great tribulation, and it was all done. I wonder about the judgment that took place at that moment when the Lord gave up His spirit. Was His life on Earth masterfully taken into the hands of God, leading to reconciliation? I might not be using the right terminology, and I hope you can convey that. I just need a little clarification on this twofold aspect and where grace was truly demonstrated to the whole world at the crucifixion. Is that where the judgment took place, granting us grace? Before, they had all the sacrifices to obtain what was called grace. I have a few thoughts. Palm Sunday is a jubilant time for me; I feel it deeply. Then, at the crucifixion, it was a sad time, but also jubilant because it was a time of victory.

C-J: I think this is all about the reunification of humanity. Reflecting on God in the Garden of Eden and His disappointment when Adam and Eve didn’t fully understand their relationship with Him. When they chose idolatry or acted out of ignorance, not fully grasping the consequences, God had to find a way of restoration. Metaphorically, I see parallels in Israel and Palestine today. It’s heartbreaking; they are brothers and sisters, so intermingled. My heart cries because pride and ego led Israel, in my opinion, to decimate Palestine, thinking it would change things, but it was a tremendous mistake. When others perceive a winning side, they join it, and humanity shows its willful ignorance and selfishness. But thank goodness for the hope and promise.

Donald: In that context, what do you think is the purpose, the role, the value of suffering? What does it do to us personally? Is it good to suffer?

C-J: It’s humbling. It causes us to recognize how much we have to be grateful for. Without suffering, we might not realize our blessings. God is everywhere and in everything. In my experience, when I’ve been in dangerous situations, my first reaction is to try to make things work. My second reaction is to let go and let God. It’s God’s grace that saves us, feeds us, gives us the parents we have, and teaches us lessons. But people get angry—”How come you have more than me? Why can’t I have that?”—instead of realizing that God is asking us to be vessels of His grace: to bring food to the hungry, to smile at others. We must constantly remember that it isn’t about us; it’s about God.

Donald: But do you think there’s an appropriate amount of suffering that’s beneficial? At what point does it become too much and just horrible? A little suffering, a little pain, provides a reference point, but at a certain point, it seems like enough is enough.

C-J: I think those called to that ministry are made up differently. I look at soldiers, people in concentration camps, those who go days without food because none is available. It’s unfair, but God gives those people incredible grace. When I walk into an African American church, with its mixture of African traditions and rhythms, I see people of great faith who have endured great tribulation. That stress, that trauma, is in their genes, yet they choose God with such vibrance. They smile, laugh, and proclaim, “God is good.” They praise spontaneously during sermons, and you can feel the energy shift. Instead of just a message, there’s this incredible energy of faith. They’re all in with praise and worship. It’s an incredible experience.

Michael: You’re asking very important questions. The question of suffering needs at least one class on its own. One thing that affected me was learning about Mother Teresa. People mention her as someone who gave so much, but many don’t know she suffered spiritually, often feeling that God was far away from her. Figures like Nelson Mandela, who spent time in jail, and Gandhi also endured suffering. It seems there’s much to learn from suffering. However, not everyone learns the lesson. There must be a certain attitude towards it that leads to learning.

C-J: Those are models. Mother Teresa came from a wealthy family and left that behind to be a servant of God, picking through garbage in India with the people there and praying for them. The sisters who followed her were never in hunger and thirst; people came out of their houses to ensure they had what they needed. Those who do such work have a special portion of God’s presence and grace. It’s not measured by “I deserve this,” but by the humility of being chosen by God to do His work. There’s a profound humility there.

Jay: I think the Bible is replete with ideas about suffering and its role. One familiar passage is Romans 5:1-5:

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:1-5)

This passage correlates suffering with positive outcomes. But, to be blunt, I think that stinks. The original Garden of Eden story doesn’t start with suffering; it’s not needed for a relationship with God. This concept of needless suffering turns many into atheists. How can you reconcile a God of pure love and grace with the necessity of suffering to build character and hope? That’s a huge disconnect for me. I agree with Michael; the concept of suffering needs to be examined more deeply. If, in the Garden, a valuable and meaningful relationship with our Creator was possible without suffering, then why now? Is suffering required only because of sin—as a kind of quid pro quo? Are we just trying to reframe it as something good? Or does suffering truly have meaning?

C-J: I think that not everyone suffers in the way you’re describing, but suffering builds empathy. If God opens our eyes to the world as it truly is, I don’t know how anyone could not cry. Even if it’s not our own pain—how can you not weep when you see a mother holding an infant wrapped in death, having to say goodbye to a child who never even walked? When you see young couples devastated, famine, war, disease—it becomes impossible to remain unmoved.

If you’ve never truly been wounded—if you’ve never lost something that can never be replaced—then your empathy may lack that rawness, that depth of pain that compels action. That kind of experience is what makes us stop during the day and say, “Lord, lay Your hand upon this person,” or “Help me to understand,” or “Open the eyes of our understanding so this doesn’t continue.” It changes our relationship with God. We become instruments in His hands—sometimes to cry, sometimes to pray, sometimes to put on a coat and give it to someone who has none.

Donald: I think suffering is a consequence of living in a sinful world. In a world broken by sin, pain is inevitable. What I’m pondering now is Revelation, where Satan is thrown into the lake of fire and suffers eternally (Revelation 20:10). Now that’s suffering. So how do we reconcile that with what Jay just said? Apparently, our actions and thoughts have consequences, and one of those consequences can be suffering.

C-J: All of it is a learning experience—meant to draw us closer to God and help us see ourselves and others. Not everyone responds, but many are transformed when God pricks them. Take Paul on the road to Damascus: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). Paul was certain he had done no wrong—he was a Pharisee, loyal to the tradition. But he lacked relationship. He followed ritual, tradition, and human expectations, but the Holy Spirit revealed something different: “Not your way—My way.”

We cannot look only through human eyes. It’s only when we begin to see God in all things that we start to understand. Yes, this is a wicked and evil world—but it is still God’s domain.

Anonymous: I wanted to share two more verses about suffering. The first is Romans 8:17: “Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory.” And the second is 1 Peter 4:1: “Therefore, since Christ suffered in His body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin.” So suffering can have a sanctifying effect—it cleanses us from sin. It’s a glory to suffer with Jesus.

Reinhard: I want to go back to the suffering of Jesus. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He began to feel the weight of what was coming. That’s why He prayed so intensely, asking the Father if the cup could be taken from Him (Luke 22:42). But He endured it—through the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Golgotha. The suffering Jesus endured was extraordinarily painful. We talk about His agony, but imagine: why would the Son of God—God Himself—go through this?

Because He took on the sins of the world. As Isaiah 53:5 says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” Jesus bore the sin of humanity as a human being—fully God, yes, but also fully man. When He said, “It is finished” (John 19:30), that was the climax of His earthly mission. He fulfilled multiple purposes: teaching how to live, how to love, how to obey God’s will—and most importantly, completing the plan of salvation.

In the Old Testament, a priest would transfer the sin of a person onto an animal, a symbolic act of atonement (Leviticus 16). Similarly, our sins were laid on Jesus. As John the Baptist said, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). His suffering, death, and resurrection fulfilled that purpose.

The grace He gives is not just for those who lived after Him, but also for those before. God’s grace is timeless—it covers all who seek Him. That was the core of His mission: to save, to show how to live, and to demonstrate to Satan that God is sovereign.

Don: I wonder if the verses Jay and Anonymous read can be understood not just physically but spiritually. That the suffering we experience in life—rooted in the separation that happened in Eden—is a spiritual suffering. And maybe the suffering of the cross is not just the end of pain, but the beginning of reconciliation. The resurrection marks the end of that suffering. I’d never thought of it this way before, but perhaps we should see it as a spiritual process more than a physical one.

C-J: I think you’re on to something. Look at the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32). There was great joy when the son returned, even though he felt unworthy. Meanwhile, the older brother was jealous: “I’ve done everything you asked, and you welcome him back with a feast?” That story reflects what it might feel like when the relationship is fully restored—when our sins are remembered no more. I can’t even imagine what that fullness of grace will feel like. But it will be transformational.

Don: Your essay, Michael—it was brilliant. It helped us think more deeply about the crucifixion and the people at the foot of the cross. In those people, we see not only ourselves, but the whole sweep of the Old Testament. Jonah is there, Job is there, Jacob and Abraham—all reflected in those moments. You didn’t even mention Simon of Cyrene, a foreigner with no Jewish ties; or Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, wealthy men. As you pointed out, there’s a cross-section of humanity at the cross. It was a brilliant essay. Thank you.

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