Chapter Seven - Revelation and the Rough Draft

CHAPTER SEVEN

Revelation and the Rough Draft

BY THE SECOND and third centuries, the early Christian movement had scrolls flying everywhere.

Gospels. Letters. Sermons. Visions.
Some encouraging. Some confusing. Some straight-up bizarre.

Churches were reading from different collections. Some had Paul’s letters. Some had Mark and Matthew. Some had other books entirely — stories of Jesus’ childhood, philosophical mashups, even secret teachings passed around in underground circles.

There was no official “New Testament” yet.
Just a rough draft of Scripture in progress.

Then there was that book.

Revelation — last in the modern Bible, and last in line to be accepted.

It’s a wild ride: dragons, beasts, plagues, swords coming out of mouths, a cosmic war, a lake of fire, and a vision of a new heaven and new earth.

Some churches loved it. Others weren’t so sure.

It was written in the style of apocalyptic literature — think Daniel, but dialed up to eleven. And while some saw deep hope in it, others saw danger in how easily it could be misread. Even today, it’s probably the most quoted and misunderstood book in the Bible.

But eventually, it stuck.
It felt like a fitting end — not just to the New Testament, but to the whole sweep of Scripture.

Not everything made it in.

There were a lot of other writings floating around, including:

• The Gospel of Thomas — a collection of Jesus’ sayings, no narrative
• The Gospel of Peter — includes a talking cross (yeah, really)
• The Shepherd of Hermas — moral parables and dreams
• The Epistle of Barnabas — interpretive takes on the Old Testament

Some of these were loved by certain communities. Some were considered useful, but not inspired. Others were just too odd or too recent.

It wasn’t always about heresy. Sometimes it was just about vibe.
Did it sound like Scripture? Did it line up with what people already believed? Did churches actually use it?

That’s how the early canon got shaped — not by a vote, not by a flash of divine light, but by long, slow, communal consensus.

Books that were widely read, respected, and theologically solid… stayed.
Others quietly faded out.

Remember the Septuagint — the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible?

It included a handful of books that weren’t in the Hebrew original. Ones like Tobit, Judith, 1 and 2 Maccabees, and Wisdom of Solomon. These became known as the Apocrypha or Deuterocanonical books.

Catholic and Orthodox churches kept them.
Protestants removed them.
Jews never had them in their Hebrew canon to begin with.

So depending on which Bible you open, you might see 66 books, 73 books, or even more.
Same library — different shelves.

So it took centuries for the Bible to “settle.”

There was no single moment where everyone said, “This is it.”
But by the 4th century, most of the New Testament was locked in.
Churches had figured out what they trusted.
And the canon — while still flexible in a few corners — was mostly in place.

It wasn’t neat.
It wasn’t instant.
But it worked.