The Book of Revelation

Word Study

"Apollyon," Greek Apollyon (Ἀπολλύων). The name means Destruction, Destroyer; the Greek Apollyon is built from the verb apollymi, "to destroy." Here is the stark contrast that runs through all Scripture. The enemy's name is Destroyer; but Jesus said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10), and added that the thief "cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy." Satan destroys; Christ saves. And even the destroyer is on a chain: he could not act until "the key of the bottomless pit" was "given," his locusts were "commanded" whom they could not hurt, and their torment was limited to "five months." The Destroyer himself operates only within the bounds God sets. So Apollyon unmasks the true nature of the powers of darkness, they exist to destroy, but shows them leashed by the sovereign God, whose own name and work is salvation.

"Abaddon," Hebrew abaddon. The Hebrew name John sets beside Apollyon means the same thing: Destruction, Destroyer. The Hebrew abaddon ("destruction") appears in the Old Testament as a name for the place of ruin and death (Job 26:6; Proverbs 15:11), so the king of the pit bears the very name of the abyss of ruin he serves. "They had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name... is Abaddon... Apollyon." The demonic swarm is ruled by a destroyer, for that is the character of Satan and his kingdom: to ruin, to torment, to destroy.

Explanation

The fifth trumpet opens the bottomless pit, and a plague of demonic locusts -- crowned, armored, with a king named Abaddon ("Destroyer") -- torments those who lack the seal of God, yet cannot touch the sealed. The horror is spiritual: this is the unleashing of dark powers upon a world that has chosen them. Notably, they are permitted to torment but not to kill, and only "those men which have not the seal of God." Even in the deepest judgment, God's protective seal holds, and the limits are His. The pit is opened by permission, and its terror serves the divine purpose of exposing where men's rebellion leads.

Gospel Focus

The fifth trumpet unleashes a horror from beneath: "a star fall from heaven," given "the key of the bottomless pit," opens the abyss, and out of the choking smoke pour "locusts" with the sting of "scorpions." These are no ordinary insects but a demonic host, grotesque and terrifying, described in nightmarish detail. Their assignment is not destruction of the earth's greenery but torment of "those men which have not the seal of God in their foreheads." Here the sealing of chapter 7 bears its fruit: God's own people, marked by His Spirit, are shielded from this spiritual torment, while those who have refused God are exposed to the very powers of darkness they served. The torment is so dreadful that "men seek death, and shall not find it," yet even here God restrains the plague: it may torment but "not kill," and only "five months," a limited season. This is judgment with a leash. The locusts have "a king over them," the "angel of the bottomless pit," Abaddon, Apollyon, the Destroyer, and their assault is the world reaping the bitterness of its rebellion, tormented by the very darkness it embraced. Yet the Apostolic reader marks the mercy woven through the terror: God's sealed ones are spared, the plague is limited, and the whole scene is a warning meant to drive the living to repentance before the door closes. "One woe is past; and, behold, there come two woes more." The torment of the pit is a foretaste of what it is to be given over to the destroyer, and a summons, while there is still time, to flee to the God whose seal is safety and whose name is salvation.

Word Study

"repented not," Greek ou metenoesan (οὐ μετενόησαν), from metanoeo (μετανοέω). To repent, metanoeo, is to change the mind and heart, a fundamental turning of the inner person that reverses direction, from sin to God, from idols to the living Lord. It is the very first command of the Gospel: "Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matthew 4:17), and the response God seeks in every soul. But here the word appears in its most tragic form: "the rest of the men which were not killed by these plagues yet repented not." Twice it is stressed, they "repented not... Neither repented they." This is the sobering heart of the chapter, and a truth every Apostolic believer must grasp: judgment by itself does not produce repentance. Terror can frighten, plagues can devastate, but they cannot change a heart that will not turn. Pharaoh hardened under the plagues of Egypt; and here, after horrors that killed a third of mankind, the survivors still cling to their "devils, and idols of gold, and silver," and to their "murders," "sorceries," "fornication," and "thefts." The problem was never lack of evidence; it was the hardness of a will set against God. Only the grace and goodness of God lead to true repentance (Romans 2:4), and only a heart broken and made new by His Spirit will turn. So metanoeo warns us: do not presume that suffering alone will bring you or others to God, and do not harden your heart, but turn to Him today, while His Spirit still calls.

Explanation

The sixth trumpet looses a vast army that slays a third of mankind, an overwhelming judgment poured out on an unrepentant world. Yet the chapter ends with the most sobering note in the book: "the rest of the men which were not killed by these plagues yet repented not" of their idolatry, murders, sorceries, and thefts. Judgment upon judgment does not soften a hardened heart; it only reveals its hardness. The plagues are meant to drive men to repentance, but sin cherished is sin that will not let go even under wrath. The tragedy of the lost is not lack of warning but refusal to repent.

Gospel Focus

The sixth trumpet sounds, and a voice comes "from the four horns of the golden altar", the same altar where the prayers of the saints ascended (8:3), reminding us again that these judgments answer the cries of God's people. Four angels "bound in the great river Euphrates," the ancient boundary from which invaders had always poured against God's land, are loosed at the precise moment God appointed: "prepared for an hour, and a day, and a month, and a year." Nothing is haphazard; the timing is exact. A vast army, "two hundred thousand thousand," with horses breathing "fire and smoke and brimstone," slays "the third part of men." Even here the judgment is measured, a third, not all, still restrained, still a warning. And then comes the verse that should break every heart: "the rest of the men which were not killed by these plagues yet repented not." After conquest, war, famine, death, torment, and slaughter, the survivors still would not turn. They kept worshiping "devils, and idols of gold, and silver, and brass, and stone, and of wood, which neither can see, nor hear, nor walk", lifeless idols, contrasted with the living God who sees and hears and acts. And they kept their sins: "murders," "sorceries" (the Greek is pharmakon, tied to drugs and occult practice), "fornication," and "thefts." This is the tragedy of the impenitent heart. God's judgments are real and terrible, but they are not redemptive in themselves; they cannot melt a will that refuses His grace. The Gospel is not "be frightened into obedience," but "be born again, turn to the Lord, and live." So the chapter presses the urgent question upon every reader: will you harden, or will you turn? The God whose seal protects and whose name is salvation calls now, tenderly and plainly, repent, and live. Do not wait for the woes to teach what only grace can.