All Things New
How the heart of the Christian faith is our confidence in God's ability (and promise) to make all things new.
Near the end of the biblical story, we are given a vision that gathers together everything God has been doing from the beginning. John writes in Revelation:
“Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and He will live with them. They will be His peoples, and God Himself will be with them and will be their God.” (Revelation 21:3)
It is difficult to overstate the significance of that promise. The goal of God’s work in the world is not merely moral improvement, religious devotion, or even individual salvation. The great hope of the Christian story is God with His people. Not distant. Not symbolic. Not temporary. God dwelling fully and finally among those He loves.
This promise is not a sudden idea that appears at the end of the Bible. It is the culmination of a theme woven throughout Scripture. From Eden to the tabernacle, from the temple to Christ Himself, the story of the Bible is the story of a God who continually moves toward His people.
The most striking expression of this movement comes in the Incarnation. John describes it with breathtaking simplicity: “The Word became flesh and took up residence among us” (John 1:14). The eternal Son of God did not remain distant from the world He created. He entered it. He took on flesh, walked dusty roads, shared meals, wept with friends, and carried the weight of human suffering.
The Incarnation reveals something profound about the way God relates to His creation. Madeleine L’Engle once wrote, “There is nothing so secular that it cannot be sacred, and that is one of the deepest messages of the Incarnation.” If God has stepped into the ordinary fabric of human life, then no part of life is beyond the reach of grace. The everyday becomes a place where the presence of God may be found.
Without the Incarnation, the Christian message would lose its depth and power. As Michael Spencer once observed, if Christianity were reduced to little more than advice about kindness, it would hardly be enough to sustain a life, much less confront death. What makes the Christian story meaningful is not simply what we are told to do. It is the announcement that God has come near, that He has entered our broken world and opened the door to hope beyond it.
Yet God’s presence is not merely a matter of proximity. Scripture repeatedly speaks of God’s affection for His people. The language is deeply personal, even startling. In Psalm 16, we read, “As for the holy people who are in the land, they are the noble ones. All my delight is in them.” The prophet Zephaniah offers an even more vivid picture: “The Lord your God is among you… He will rejoice over you with gladness. He will quiet you with His love. He will delight in you with shouts of joy.”
These passages reveal a God who does not simply tolerate His people. He delights in them. The God who created the universe is described as rejoicing over His people with singing. It is an image that overturns many of our assumptions about God. His presence among His people is not reluctant; it is joyful.
The New Testament deepens this idea even further through the language of adoption. Paul writes in Ephesians that God “chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world… and in love predestined us to be adopted through Jesus Christ for Himself.” Through Christ, believers are not merely forgiven or restored; they are welcomed into the household of God. They become sons and daughters.
Adoption is a powerful word because it speaks of belonging. God’s relationship with His people is not transactional or temporary. It is familial. The presence of God among His people is the presence of a Father who has brought His children home.
When Revelation speaks of God dwelling with humanity, it also describes the peace that flows from that presence. The passage continues with words that have comforted generations: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away.”
This promise echoes earlier prophetic hopes. Isaiah declared that one day God would “destroy death forever” and wipe away the tears from every face. The vision of Revelation is the fulfillment of that promise. The brokenness of the world, its sorrow, fear, and death, is not permanent. God’s presence brings an end to the forces that have wounded creation for so long.
Fear also loses its grip in the presence of God. The psalmist writes, “God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble. Therefore, we will not be afraid.” Faith does not deny the reality of danger or suffering, but it places those realities in a larger story. The presence of God reshapes how we face the uncertainties of life.
Jesus Himself spoke about the kingdom of God in a way that reshaped expectations. When asked when the kingdom would arrive, He answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with something observable… for the kingdom of God is among you.” In Christ, the reign of God had already begun to break into the world.
Yet the kingdom is also still coming. The resurrection of Jesus marks the beginning of a renewal that will one day encompass all creation. As theologian N. T. Wright has written, the resurrection signals God’s new project, not to remove people from the earth but to fill the earth with the life of heaven. The prayer Jesus taught, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven”, points toward this future.
This vision of renewal reaches beyond humanity alone. Paul writes in Romans 8 that creation itself is waiting for redemption. The natural world, marked by decay and frustration, longs for the moment when God’s restoration is complete. The entire creation is described as groaning, as though in the pains of childbirth, waiting for the new life that God has promised.
The cross of Christ stands at the center of this restoration. Paul writes in Colossians that God was pleased for all His fullness to dwell in Christ and that through Him God is reconciling everything to Himself, “whether things on earth or things in heaven”, by making peace through the blood of the cross. The scope of Christ’s work is vast. It reaches as far as the curse itself.
The Christian hope, then, is not an escape from the world but the renewal of the world. Too often, the future of faith has been imagined as leaving the earth behind for a distant heaven. But the biblical story points toward something more beautiful: the restoration of creation itself. The world God made will not be abandoned. It will be redeemed.
This hope shapes how believers live in the present. Paul writes that we were saved in hope; hope for something not yet fully seen. We live between promise and fulfillment, trusting that the God who began this work will bring it to completion.
The final vision of Scripture is not of souls departing the earth but of God descending to dwell with His people in a renewed creation. The story ends where it began: with God walking among His people, creation restored, and life flourishing as it was always meant to.
It is a vision that invites patience, faith, and perseverance. But above all, it reminds us that the last word in the story of the world will not belong to suffering, decay, or death.
The last word will be this:
“Look, I am making all things new.”