Advertise on podcast: Meadowbrooke Church

I want to read you some quotes from some theologians and authors that you could have found or may even still be able to find in your local Christian books store:  Bob Wilkin: “One can be a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ and yet not be a disciple.”    Jesus: “You have abandoned the love you had at first.” (Rev. 2:4)   Joel Osteen: “God wants to increase you financially, by giving you promotions, fresh ideas, and creativity.”   Jesus: “Be faithful onto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” (2:10)   Robert Schuller: “Sin is any act or thought that robs myself or another human being of his or her self-esteem.”   Jesus: “You have some there who hold the teaching of Balaam...” (2:14)   Joseph Dillow: “A Christian can be carnal, even persistently so, and still be saved.”   Jesus: “You tolerate that woman Jezebel...” (2:20)   Joseph Prince: “The bottom line is that the Holy Spirit never convicts you of your sins. He NEVER comes to point out your faults.”   Jesus: “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” (3:1)   Kenneth Copeland: “God’s will is for you to prosper in every way—spiritually, physically, and financially.”   Jesus: “You have but little power, and yet you have kept my word.” (3:8)   Norman Vincent Peale: “Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.”   Jesus: “You say, ‘I am rich... I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.”   With each of the seven letters, Jesus repeats the same four words: “The one who conquers...” And then he follows up those words with some promises: “The one who conquers… I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God” (Rev. 2:7). “The one who conquers… I will give you the crown of life, and you will not be hurt by the second death” (Rev. 2:10–11). “The one who conquers… I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone” (Rev. 2:17). “The one who conquers… “I will give authority over the nations, and I will give him the morning star” (Rev. 2:26–28). “The one who conquers… will be clothed in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels” (Rev. 3:5). “The one who conquers… I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God, and I will write on him the name of my God and my own new name” (Rev. 3:12). “The one who conquers… I will grant him to sit with me on my throne” (Rev. 3:21).   As you may know, the title of this sermon series captures the central theme of the book of Revelation—a theme that can be summarized in a single word: Triumphant. But what does it mean to be triumphant? Jesus answers that question with four simple words: “the one who conquers.” So, the two questions before us this morning are: 1) What does it mean to “conquer”? and 2) What is promised to those who conquer?   What does it Mean to Conquer? Let me begin by explaining what our Lord does not mean by these four words. Conquering does not mean that saying a prayer or repeating what is often called “the sinner’s prayer” guarantees salvation. It does not mean that God will prosper you financially or physically. It does not mean that your self-esteem will remain untouched. It does not mean that becoming a “Christian” allows you to live with unrepentant sin without fear. It does not mean that you can be wrong about Jesus without consequence. It does not mean that you will be free from suffering in this life. And it certainly does not mean that you can rely on your own strength.   So, what then does it mean to conquer?   If our time in Revelation has not made this clear enough, let me point you to a verse that stands at the very center of John’s apocalyptic masterpiece—a verse that captures the theme of the entire book: “And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11, ESV). The Berean Standard Bible puts it this way: “They have conquered by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony. And they did not love their lives so as to shy away from death.”   Who did they conquer? They conquered the great dragon—Satan himself—who is called the deceiver and the father of lies. The apostle Paul speaks of this same reality in Romans 16:20: “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.”   But how is this possible?   It is possible, first and foremost, because of what Jesus accomplished through the incarnation. The eternal Son of God—fully God from all eternity—became fully man, being born of a virgin. He entered our world for this purpose: to accomplish redemption, to secure the forgiveness of sins, and to bring about the final defeat of sin, Satan, and death. However, the way Jesus secured the victory was not the way His disciples—or anyone else—envisioned it.   When Jesus entered Jerusalem for the final week before His crucifixion, He did so riding on a colt while the crowds spread their cloaks and palm branches on the road ahead of Him. They shouted: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!” (see Mark 11:1-10). The crowds rightly believed they were welcoming the promised King, but by the end of the week, some of their voices would fall silent while others would cry out, “Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:12-13).    Why? Because they misunderstood why Jesus came. They misunderstood what it meant for Him to conquer.   The crowds believed their greatest need was for the promised King to overthrow Rome. In their minds, there was no greater tyrant than the Roman Empire. But what they failed to see was that a far greater tyrant ruled over them—their own sin. Their greatest need was not political deliverance, but reconciliation to a holy God, because their sin demanded His righteous wrath.   They had celebrated the Passover year after year, but they missed what it pointed to. That feast was never an end in itself—it was a signpost. It pointed beyond itself to a true and better Lamb—the Lamb of God—who would take away the sin of the world. Jesus was clear about how He would conquer, but because the crowds could not see past Rome, a suffering Messiah was not on their radar. Even His disciples struggled to understand that the Lamb of God had to suffer and die by way of the cross before there would ever be the Crown.  Isaiah 53 prophesied long ago: He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.... Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.    Jesus spoke plainly that this is what He came to do. On the way to Jerusalem shortly before Palm Sunday, He could not have been clearer: “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles. And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him. And after three days he will rise” (Mark 10:33-34).    Jesus conquered by living the sinless life we could never live and by dying the death under the wrath of God that we all deserved. He did not conquer by taking the lives of His enemies, but by giving His life to reconcile sinners to God. The Lion of the tribe of Judah has conquered—but He conquered as the Lamb who was slain (see Rev. 5:5–6). This is why all of heaven rejoices: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev. 5:12).   So how do we conquer? The answer is found in the very verse we just read: “And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11).  Do not miss what this verse is saying! It does not describe a different kind of victory than the one Jesus secured, but shows that we conquer by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony.    First, we conquer “by the blood of the Lamb.” Our victory is not based on our strength or effort, but entirely on what Jesus has already accomplished. The victory was won at the cross—not by us, but for us. Just as we are saved by Christ alone, we conquer by trusting that what He did was enough and that His righteousness is all we need.   Second, we conquer “by the word of our testimony.” In the book of Revelation, our testimony includes not only what we say but also the way we live in light of what we believe about Jesus. To confess Jesus as both Lord and Savior means living our lives based on that conviction, regardless of the cost. The word of our testimony is standing firm—refusing to compromise, refusing to bow before idols, and refusing to remain silent when the world demands our allegiance over Jesus.    Third, we conquer by “not loving our lives so as to shy away from death (BSB).” To conquer is not to avoid suffering, but to remain faithful through it. To conquer is to value Christ above comfort, above safety, and even above life itself. The world says, “Preserve your life at all costs.” But Jesus says, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 16:25).    I

In the ancient world, few cities were as impressive as Laodicea. It was a place of wealth,  influence, and self-made success. Known for its thriving textile industry, its production of  luxurious black wool, and its advanced medical practices, Laodicea stood as a symbol of  prosperity. When disaster struck with a devastating earthquake, the city famously refused outside  help and rebuilt on its own. Independence was not just a necessity—it was a point of pride. By  all outward measures, Laodicea lacked nothing.  Yet, there was a quiet irony rooted in the city’s life. Despite all its wealth and innovation,  Laodicea had no reliable water source. Its survival depended on water piped in from neighboring  cities—water that arrived neither refreshingly cold nor therapeutically hot, but lukewarm. Day  after day, residents lived with this subtle yet constant reminder: it is possible to be strong in  many ways and still lack what truly matters.  That tension isn’t limited to ancient cities. It’s a danger that affects every generation—and every  church. It’s possible to have resources, reputation, and even religious activity, and still be  missing something essential. It’s possible to feel secure while being spiritually vulnerable, to  seem full while being empty, to assume all is well when something deeply wrong is present. And  into that kind of situation, Jesus speaks—not to condemn from a distance, but to confront, to  awaken, and ultimately to restore.  Apathy Sickens the Soul (vv. 14-16)  Jesus knows! To each of the seven churches, Jesus declares: “I know your works.” He knows  their poverty, their tribulation, their faithfulness, and their failures—because He loves His bride,  the church. And to the church in Laodicea, He says: “I know your works: you are neither cold  nor hot” (v. 15). This is not an opinion, not a hypothesis, and not slander. What Jesus knows, He  sees—and what He sees is reality. How do we know? Because of who Jesus is. He is the Amen,  the faithful and true witness, and the beginning of God’s creation.  Jesus is the Amen—the “Yes” to all of God’s promises. He does not merely affirm what is true;  He is the fulfillment of it. As Paul writes, “For all the promises of God find their Yes in  him…” (2 Cor. 1:20). As Sam Storms puts it, “Jesus doesn’t just say, ‘Amen’; he is ‘the  Amen’… the validation of all that God has promised.”1 He is the faithful and true witness. You can trust Him. What He says is not only honest—it is truth. He never misreads, never  exaggerates, and never speaks in error. What He sees is reality (Rev. 1:5). And in contrast to the  Laodicean church—who prove to be unreliable, unfaithful, and ineffective—Jesus remains  utterly dependable, completely faithful, and the true witness. His words are not unkind, but  lovingly and truthfully direct. Because He is faithful and true, He neither misspeaks nor  misleads—He tells the truth that must be heard.  1 Sam Storms, To the One Who Conquers (Wheaton, IL: Crossway; 2008), 196. Finally, Jesus is the beginning of God’s creation—not that He has an origin, but that He is the  source of all creation and the beginning of the new. “All things were made through  him…” (John 1:3), and through Him God is making all things new: “If anyone is in Christ, he  is a new creation…” (2 Cor. 5:17); “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5). And it  is this Jesus—the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation—who  now says: “I know your works…” What works? Jesus answers: “you are neither cold nor  hot… you are lukewarm” (v. 15).  Laodicea was heavily dependent on external water supplies. On one side of the city was  Colossae, known for its cool, refreshing drinking water. On the other side was Hierapolis, known  for its hot springs, believed to bring healing through their minerals. Colossae’s water refreshed;  Hierapolis’ water healed. By contrast, water was brought into Laodicea—likely from nearby  thermal sources—and by the time it arrived, it was no longer hot and not truly cold, but  lukewarm, mineral-laden, and often unpleasant to drink. It lacked the refreshing quality of cold  water and the therapeutic value of hot water—it was useful for neither. And this is the word  Jesus uses to describe His church. In fact, He goes even further: “So, because you are  lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (v. 16). The Greek  word for “spit” literally means “vomit.” Listen to the way the BSB translates this verse: “So  because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to vomit you out of My  mouth!”  Many have interpreted Jesus’ desire for the Laodicean church to be either cold or hot—cold  meaning spiritually dead and hot meaning spiritually alive—as a sign of His anger over their  indifference. However, a better understanding considers the local context of Laodicea. Jesus is  calling this church to be like the cold water that refreshes or the hot water that heals, instead of  being ineffective by offering neither. The church had lost sight of her purpose in the city, and as  a result, her actions were revolting to her Groom—she had become so spiritually ill that she was  practically useless. They offered neither healing to those who were spiritually sick nor  refreshment to those who were spiritually thirsty. They were missionally useless. With that in  mind, let’s examine what Jesus says to this church.  Self-Sufficiency Bankrupts Life (vv. 17-18)  This sickness born from their apathy was symptomatic of a deeper problem: self-sufficiency.  Those within the church in Laodicea had come to believe they were doing just fine on their own.  It is true that missional apathy leads to spiritual blindness, but it is also true that the more self-sufficient we believe we are, the less effective we become. The more we depend on ourselves,  the less we depend on Christ—and the less we depend on Christ, the more spiritually lifeless we  become. Jesus said of the Christian,   I am the true vine, and My Father is the keeper of the vineyard. He cuts off every  branch in Me that bears no fruit, and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes  to make it even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have  spoken to you. Remain in Me, and I will remain in you. Just as no branch can bear  fruit by itself unless it remains in the vine, neither can you bear fruit unless you  remain in Me. (John 15:1-4; BSB)  Life and fruit-bearing come only as we remain connected to the true vine, who is Jesus. The life giving sap of the vine is not something we can produce on our own—we need the vine. The lie of  self-sufficiency is that we can bear fruit apart from Him. But the reality is this: the less we  depend on the vine, the more lifeless we become. This is exactly what happened to the church in  Laodicea.  The true testimony of Jesus concerning His church in Laodicea was something their apathy and  self-sufficiency had blinded them from seeing. Here is what Jesus said: “For you say, ‘I am  rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable,  poor, blind, and naked” (v. 17). In other words, they had taken their eyes off the all-sufficient  Christ and, in doing so, developed a deeply distorted view of themselves. In claiming to be  “rich,” they could not see their need; in saying they had “prospered,” they could not see their sin;  and in believing they needed nothing, they revealed the depth of their pride. This is what made  their condition so repulsive—it made Jesus want to vomit.  Now consider their claims in light of the first three beatitudes from Jesus’ Sermon on the  Mount: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… Blessed are  those who mourn, for they shall be comforted… Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit  the earth.” Those who find life in Jesus, begin by recognizing their spiritual poverty, yet the  church in Laodicea claimed to be rich. Those who belong to Christ mourn over their sin, yet the  Laodiceans believed themselves to be prospering. Those who walk with Jesus lay aside their  pride and depend on Him, yet this church believed they needed nothing.  Because they had taken their eyes off Jesus, they had become something very different from  what they believed themselves to be. They thought they were self-sufficient. The irony is  striking: while they believed they had prospered in three ways, Jesus reveals six realities that  define their true condition.  They were ignorant: They did not realize how far they had fallen.  They were wretched: They were spiritually dried up and miserable.  They were pitiable: Their condition was shameful—their witness empty and ineffective. 4. They were poor: Though materially prosperous, their compromises left them with  nothing of eternal value—nothing to show for what Christ purchased on their behalf. They were blind: Though their city was famous for its eye salve, the church could not  see, because it had taken its eyes off Jesus. They were naked: Though clothed in the city’s finest garments, before Christ they stood  exposed and ashamed.  It is striking that Jesus lists six deficiencies. In Scripture, seven often symbolizes completeness,  while six falls short of that fullness. Whether intentional or not, the message is clear: this church  was deeply incomplete. They believed they had everything—but in reality, they were lacking in  every way. They thought they were thriving, but in truth, they were spiritually bankrupt, having  believed the lie that they could live the Christian life apart from absolute dependence on Jesus.  So what solution does Jesu

There is a passage in the Bible that has challenged my pride while also encouraging me when I  feel completely inadequate. By the world’s standards of intelligence or success, I probably  shouldn’t be serving as a pastor, teaching, or writing. Growing up, my parents were told that I  probably wouldn’t go to college because I wasn’t considered smart enough. I spent much of  junior high and high school in learning-disabled classes, and until my senior year I barely passed  most of my courses. Yet after I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ, I began to understand  something that changed everything: what ultimately matters is not what the world thinks we are  capable of doing, but what God says through His Word.  During my junior year of high school, I read something in 1 Corinthians 1 that has stayed with  me ever since: “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who  are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Cor. 1:18). Then, a few verses later Paul says  something that has continued to humble and encourage me ever since:  “Consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly  standards… But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise. God  chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong… so that no human being  might boast in the presence of God” (1 Cor. 1:26–29)   Those words changed the way I saw my life. I began to realize that what ultimately matters is not  what the world thinks we are capable of doing, but what God chooses to do through us.  Not long after reading those words, I attended a Billy Graham crusade in Philadelphia in 1992,  where I sensed God’s call to ministry. By God’s grace, I was eventually able to attend what is  now Cairn University. It took me seven years to finish a four-year degree, but I later went to  seminary and entered ministry.  So what is my point? I am who I am today because I have a Savior who opens doors no one can  shut and shuts doors no one can open. That is exactly what Jesus tells the church in Philadelphia.  He can use the weak. He can use the foolish. He can use people the world has written off. All He  asks is that we keep His word and do not deny His name.  The city of Philadelphia was founded sometime between 197 and 138 B.C., most likely by King  Eumenes II of Pergamum or his brother Attalus II. Its name means “brotherly love,” a title  connected to the loyalty Attalus showed toward his brother, earning him the nickname Philadelphus—“the brother-lover.” Philadelphia itself was not a large city—perhaps  ten to fifteen thousand people—but it sat at an important crossroads leading into Phrygia, giving  it influence beyond its size.   The city was filled with temples and altars to many gods, and the fertile volcanic soil  surrounding it made vineyards central to its economy and to the worship of Dionysus. Another  defining feature of Philadelphia was instability. The city sat in an earthquake-prone region, and  tremors were frequent. Ancient writers describe how people often fled outside the city walls  when the ground began to shake, unsure whether their homes would still be standing when the  tremors stopped. It is to this small, pressured, and often unstable church that Jesus now speaks.  Trust Jesus Because He Is the Righteous Branch of David (v. 7)  Each of the seven letters begins with a statement about who Jesus is that connects to the vision of  Christ in Revelation 1. Here in this letter John does the same thing—but he also reminds us why  Jesus has the authority to say what He says. In case you have forgotten, let me remind you who  Jesus is:  He is the Alpha and the Omega (1:8, 17).  He is the faithful witness (1:5).  He is the firstborn of the dead (1:5).  He is the ruler of the kings of the earth (1:5).  He is the one who loves us and freed us from our sins by His blood (1:5). 6. He is the one who made us a kingdom, priests to His God and Father (1:6). 7. He is the one who is coming with the clouds (1:7).  He is the one who is, who was, and who is to come—the Almighty (1:8).  John then describes the glorified Christ standing among His churches:  He is the Almighty (1:8).  He is the Son of Man and the Son of God (1:13).  He is our great and perfect High Priest (1:13).  His hair is white like wool because He is all-wise and all-knowing (1:14).  13. His eyes are a flame of fire because He is all-seeing (1:14).  He feet are burnished bronze because He is omnipotent (1:15).  His voice is like the roar of waters because He is the agent of creation (1:15). 16. He holds the seven stars in His right hand because He is the head of the Church (1:16).  And then Jesus Himself speaks:  He is the First and the Last (1:17).  He is the Living One (1:18).  He died and is alive forevermore (1:18).  He holds the keys of Death and Hades (1:18). He embodies all of these characteristics because He is the One spoken of in Jeremiah 23:5–6: “Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will raise up for David a  righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute  justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved, and Israel will  dwell securely. And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The LORD is our  righteousness.’”  If that is not clear enough, let me say it plainly: Jesus is Yahweh. And because He is fully God  while also fully man, He is our righteousness.  Because He is God, Jesus is both the Holy One and the True One. To call Jesus the Holy One is  to declare His deity. Isaiah writes, “To whom then will you compare me, that I should be like  him? says the Holy One… Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these?” (Isa.  40:25–26). The title reminds us that Jesus possesses the same holiness and divine authority as the  God of Israel.  Jesus is also called the True One, meaning He shares the same nature and essence as the Father.  In Revelation 6:10 the martyrs cry out to God as “holy and true,” the same description given  here to Christ. These titles remind us that Jesus is not merely a teacher or prophet—He is God.  Because Jesus is the Holy One and the True One, He holds the key of David. That means He  alone has authority over the kingdom of heaven. He alone determines who enters and who does  not. The key does not belong to Muhammad, Buddha, or the founder of any other religion—it  belongs to Jesus Christ. That is why Jesus said, “I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will  be saved” (John 10:9). As Paul declares, “There is one God, and one mediator between God  and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Tim. 2:5). Because He holds the key of David, He opens  what no one can shut, and shuts what no one can open.  Trust Jesus Because He Is Sovereign Over Every Door (v. 8)  It should not surprise us that Jesus knows the works of this church. What might surprise some  people—especially in a culture where bigger is assumed to be better—is that the church in  Philadelphia had “little power.” Yet despite their size and influence, Jesus says to  them, “Behold, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut.”  Now pause for a moment and consider what Jesus says about this church. The believers in  Philadelphia did not have a large budget. They had no stage lights, no impressive programs. All  they had was Jesus and His Word. But is that not the story of the entire Bible? There was nothing  impressive about Noah when God called him to build the ark. There was nothing outwardly  remarkable about Abraham when God chose him to become the father of a great nation. There  was nothing intimidating about David when he stood before Goliath with a sling and a few  smooth stones. When the prophet Samuel went to Jesse’s house to anoint the next king of Israel, God reminded him of something we often forget: “For the LORD sees not as man sees: man  looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).  One of the great missionary stories of church history is that of Henry Martyn. Martyn was a  brilliant scholar at St. John’s College, Cambridge, graduating at the top of his class in  mathematics and positioned for a prestigious academic career. Yet he was physically frail and  had an unusual appearance. Despite this, he fell deeply in love with a woman named Lydia  Grenfell, who saw past his outward appearance.  But Martyn soon became convinced that God was calling him to take the gospel to India—the  one place Lydia had said she would never go. Faced with the choice between the woman he  loved and the path God had placed before him, Martyn chose obedience. At twenty-four he left  England for India, where he translated the New Testament into Hindustani and Persian. The  hardships of that work took a toll on his health, and at thirty-one he died while traveling through Turkey.  Yet in those few short years God used Martyn in remarkable ways. His life reminds us that when  Jesus opens a door, He can use a person however He chooses. The question is not whether the  path will be easy, but whether we will trust Him enough to walk through the door He opens.  Henry Martyn once said, “The spirit of Christ is the spirit of missions. The nearer we get to Him,  the more intensely missionary we become.”1  Trust Jesus Because He Loves His People (v. 9)  In his commentary on Revelation, Daniel Akin said of this verse: “Our Lord has a general love  for all but a particular love for His children.”2 How true that is. These Christians, like those in  Smyrna, faced opposition not only from the pagan world but also from certain Jews who opposed  the church and the gospel. These individuals likely took pride in being truly Jewish because of  their biolog

The city of Sardis once symbolized wealth, power, and security. During the reign of King  Croesus in the sixth century B.C., it gained fame for its riches, much of which came from the  gold deposits of the Pactolus River flowing through the city. Situated strategically at the western  end of the Royal Road, Sardis prospered as a central hub of commerce and influence. Yet the  city also harbored a hidden vulnerability. Despite its seemingly invulnerable position atop a steep  acropolis, Sardis fell more than once because its guards failed to remain watchful. In 546 B.C.,  the Persian king Cyrus captured the city when his troops discovered an unguarded path up the  cliffs while the city slept. Centuries later the same thing happened again under Antiochus III.  Each time Sardis fell not because its defenses were weak, but because its people had grown  complacent. The city’s greatest weakness was its false sense of security.  By the first century, Sardis was largely living on memories of its former greatness. Its wealth and  influence had faded, and the surrounding hills were dotted with large burial mounds—so  numerous that the area was sometimes called “the city of a thousand hills,” a landscape  dominated by tombs. Against this backdrop, Jesus speaks to the church in Sardis with sobering  words: “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” (Rev. 3:1).  The church appeared lively on the outside—active, recognized, and respected—but Christ, who  knows the heart, revealed a deeper reality. Like the city itself, the church in Sardis had become a  community living on its past reputation rather than its present spiritual reality. And the sobering  truth about these letters in Revelation is that they were never meant for Sardis alone. At the end   of each letter Jesus says, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the  churches.” In other words, the question this passage forces us to ask is not simply, What was  wrong with Sardis? The real question is this: Could a church look alive on the outside while  slowly dying on the inside?  The Living Dead  Jesus introduces Himself to this church as the One who holds the seven spirits of God and the  seven stars. The seven spirits symbolize the fullness of the Holy Spirit—the Spirit sent by the  Father and the Son to dwell with God’s people, guiding and empowering believers to fulfill His  purposes (John 16:7–15; Acts 1:8). The seven stars are either angels or the pastors of the  churches; for the sake of argument, we will assume they are angels assigned to serve the  churches. What is the purpose of this introduction? The sevenfold Spirit and the seven stars serve as  witnesses to the true spiritual state of the church in Sardis. Nothing about their condition is  hidden from Christ. The Spirit who gives life sees them, the heavenly witnesses observe them,  and the One who holds them all in His hand now delivers His verdict: “I know your works. You  have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead” (Rev. 3:1).  Like the city of Sardis, this church took pride in past successes and missional engagement from a  time when it was truly alive. By the time Revelation was written, however, those achievements  had become little more than a reputation. Something had changed over the years; a breach had  opened, and a weakness the church failed to address was exposed. In their complacency, much  like the leaders of Sardis before them, those responsible for guarding the church grew careless  and failed to take the enemy’s threats seriously. This church believed itself to be alive when it  was not.  As one theologian explains, the language used to describe this church’s condition “is a figurative  overstatement (hyperbole) intended to emphasize the church’s precarious spiritual state and the  imminent danger of its genuine death.”1 Thankfully, the One who walks among His churches is  the Living One who was once dead but is now alive forevermore (Rev. 1:18). The risen Christ  has the power to raise the dead.  In his book Autopsy of a Deceased Church, Thom Rainer identifies several factors that often lead  to the death of a church. Among the symptoms he describes are the following: The Great Commission became the Great Omission.  The church has no clear sense of purpose.  The church becomes obsessed with its facilities.  Another common symptom of a dying church is that its past becomes its hero. Instead of  pressing forward in the mission Christ has given, the church begins living in yesterday’s  victories rather than engaging in today’s calling. When this happens, the church becomes lethargic. When churches take their eyes off Jesus and focus on the illusion of past strengths,  they become lethargic. When churches take their eyes off Jesus, they become vulnerable to the  attacks of the enemy who seeks to kill and destroy.  This is not only true of churches, because when Christians lose focus on Jesus, they become  sluggish and more susceptible to the enemy’s attacks. Jesus warned us about these dangers: “The  thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10). Richard Phillips explains it this way:  If we are not vigilant, we may find that an enemy has scaled our walls, opened our gates,  and brought us destruction. Not only are churches overthrown when pastors and elders do  not watch, but families are conquered when fathers and mothers are not diligently on  guard against sinful influences. Moreover, individuals are overthrown by careless neglect, having failed to watch for the devices of the enemy and be on guard against  temptations to sin.2 1 G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament  Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Carlisle, Cumbria: W.B. Eerdmans; Paternoster Press, 1999), 273. The apostle Peter urges everyone who makes up Christ’s church: “Be sober-minded; be  watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to  devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). It is very possible that the reason some think they are alive, while there is  barely a spiritual pulse within them, is because they have given the enemy a foothold. Yet they  continue talking about past successes while Jesus sees through it all, and the Holy Spirit testifies  that they are spiritually asleep and in grave danger.  The Call to Live  Thankfully, if you are here and the Holy Spirit is confirming in your heart right now that you are  in a precarious spiritual state and in imminent and grave spiritual danger, there is hope! There  are five commands Jesus gives to those who are not yet dead but in a deep slumber. The leaven  that the church of Sardis is told to get rid of is spiritual apathy! In this moment, it is not yet too  late, but if you stay in your apathy, then you may be dead. Here the five commands in verses 2- 3, “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your  works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard.  Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know  at what hour I will come against you.”  Command 1: “Wake up!”  The first of the five commands Jesus gives is, “Wake up!” This command itself is evidence that  not everyone in Sardis was dead. Revival begins when people see and understand the dangers  that surround them. It begins when sleeping Christians awaken to the voice and majesty of Jesus  and no longer cling to the past or the comforts of the present, but instead long for and cling to the  Christ who is coming soon.  So, wake up! Wake up to the One who “is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near  to God through Him” (Heb. 7:25). Wake up to the One who was “made sin who knew no sin”  on our behalf (2 Cor. 5:21). Wake up to the One who hung on the cross so that you might know and experience “the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ  Jesus” (Eph. 2:7). Wake up to the Lion and the Lamb “who loves us and has freed us from our  sins by His blood” (Rev. 1:5). Wake up to the First and the Last, the Living One (Rev. 1:18a).  Wake up to the One who died and is alive forevermore and who holds the keys of Death and  Hades (Rev. 1:18b).  Wake up! And if you are awake, turn to those who are slumbering and shake them until they rise,  because today is the day to seal the breach and stand firm.  2 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani,  Reformed Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 135. Command 2: “Strengthen what remains!”  After you wake up, strengthen what remains before it is gone. Lay aside mediocrity and be  content no longer with the illusion of apathetic safety. The house is on fire, the foundation is  unstable, and there is a breach that can no longer be ignored. Daniel Akin writes of this church:  “Their faith was not radical; it was almost invisible.... They were so weak in their confession of  Christ that they bothered no one. Like the unfinished temple of Cybele in their city, they too  were incomplete in what Christ saved them and called them to be.”3  How do you strengthen what remains? You have God’s Word, don’t you? Turn to His Word.  Read it regularly. Sit under the preaching of His Word. God has spoken—so listen often. The  apostle Peter reminds believers what remains: “…you have been born again, not of perishable  seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God.” (1 Pet. 1:23).  You serve a God who hears His people, so pray that He would revive you in the same way He  can make dead bones live (see Ezek. 37:4ff.) and keep praying. Pray again and pray some more.  He has also gi

What you see, hear, and say matters.  I once heard a pastor say, “Your eyes and your ears are the gateways into your mind and heart.”  That is exactly right. What we allow in shapes what we believe, and what we believe shapes  what we say and do. This is one of the reasons God takes very seriously what people say in His  name. It is not only what you claim about Him, but how you represent Him before your family,  your friends, your neighbors, and your coworkers. Words spoken in God’s name carry eternal  weight.  That is why Scripture warns us so clearly:  “But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name that I have not  commanded him to speak… that same prophet shall die… when a prophet speaks in  the name of the LORD, if the word does not come to pass… that is a word that the  LORD has not spoken” (Deut. 18:20–22).  Jesus added His own warning:  “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are  ravenous wolves… You will recognize them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:15–17).  And then there is this sobering word for anyone who teaches the Bible:  “Not many of you should become teachers… for you know that we who teach will be  judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1).  You had better be certain that God has spoken before you claim to speak for Him. To say, “God  told me,” when He did not tell you—to claim divine authority where there is none—is no small  matter. It is to speak falsely in His name. And that is exactly what was happening in Thyatira.  The woman Jesus calls “Jezebel” stands as a warning—not only to false teachers, but to any  church willing to tolerate them.     The Idolatry of Thyatira (v. 18)  Thyatira was not a political capital like Ephesus or Pergamum. It was a working-class trade city,  known for its guilds—wool workers, bronze craftsmen, bakers, potters, tanners, leather-cutters,  and especially merchants of purple dye derived from the murex mollusk, a dye that was  exceptionally expensive and rare. Economic and religious life were tightly intertwined.  Belonging to a guild meant participating in pagan feasts and immoral practices. For a Christian,  refusing to participate could cost employment, reputation, and stability. In a city like that,  compromise did not look rebellious—it looked reasonable. It looked practical.  Jesus reveals Himself as the Son of God, with eyes like a flame of fire and feet like burnished  bronze. The people of Thyatira knew fire. They were familiar with the heat of the kiln, where  clay was hardened, and with the intense flames required to refine and shape bronze. But the fire  in Christ’s eyes is not the fire of craftsmanship—it is the fire of perfect vision. His gaze burns  through every façade. He sees what is done in secret. He knows every hidden thought. He  searches the heart.  And His feet of burnished bronze speak not of artistry but of authority. They embody unshakable  strength and sovereign power. Whatever beauty the guilds could forge with their skill, it pales  before the majesty and omnipotence of the Son of God who walks among His churches. His  authority cannot be molded. His judgment cannot be reshaped. He stands firm, and He sees all.  He sees what a congregation may overlook. He discerns what lies beneath activity and affection.  He had given time to repent, but repentance had not come. What the church would not confront,  Christ Himself would. And yet, even here, there is mercy. To those who refused compromise, He  gives no heavy burden—only this: hold fast until I come. The promise is not comfort in this  world but participation in His reign and the gift of the Morning Star—Christ Himself. Thyatira  reminds us that love without truth becomes dangerous, and tolerance without repentance  becomes poison. Christ calls His church not merely to grow but to remain holy.  We will consider what this church did right before we look at Jesus’ rebuke for what they did  wrong.  The Good that the Church Was Doing in Thyatira   This sermon marks the halfway point in this section in Revelation on the seven churches and it  would be good for us to pause to make sure we do not miss what it is that Jesus knows about  each of the churches:  The church in Ephesus: “I know your works, your toil, and your patient endurance...” • The church in Smyrna: “I know your tribulation and poverty...”  The church in Pergamum: “I know where you dwell.... Yet you hold fast my name...” • The church in Sardis: “I know your works. You have a reputation of being alive, but you  are dead.”  The church in Philadelphia: “I know your works... and yet you have kept my word and  have not denied my name.”  The church in Laodicea: “I know your works: you are neither hot nor cold...”  There is nowhere in the Old Testament or New Testament where faith is not evidenced by works.  The evidence that the Christian has gone from spiritual death to spiritual life in Jesus is that you who were once dead are now alive! James put it this way: “For as the body apart from the  spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead” (2:26). In Paul’s epistle to the  Ephesians, we read these words: “for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in  the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and  right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord” (Eph. 5:8-10).   When a person is alive, there is evidence of life. There is movement. There is hunger. There is a  heartbeat and brain activity. Life produces signs of life. That is what Paul meant when he wrote,  “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold,  the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17). To be born again is not merely to adopt new language—it is to  possess new life.  Jesus commends the church in Thyatira because their claim to belong to Him was evident. “I  know your works, your love and faith and service and patient endurance…” (v. 19). Their  Christianity was not theoretical—it was observable. Unlike the Ephesian church, which had  abandoned its first love, the believers in Thyatira were marked by love—agapē. This was not  sentimental affection; it was covenantal, self-giving love.  It is the kind of love described in 1 Corinthians 13: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy  or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all  things, hopes all things, endures all things” (vv. 4–7). Their love for God shaped their faith,  which expressed itself in service. That service required patient endurance. Even more striking,  Jesus says their latter works exceeded the first. This church was growing.  In many ways, Thyatira appears strong. Where Ephesus had abandoned its first love, Thyatira  possessed it. Where Pergamum struggled with false teaching, Thyatira held fast to the faith. Like  Smyrna, they patiently endured suffering. Yet this letter reminds us that Christian virtues must  remain rightly ordered. Love must be joined to truth. Faith must be guarded by discernment.  Love leads to service, and faith produces endurance—but if love is not anchored in truth, it can  become the very doorway for compromise.1 For Thyatira, compromise came in the form of  tolerating a false teacher within their own congregation.   The Bad that the Church was Ignoring in Thyatira (vv. 20-23)  Before rebuking this church, Jesus affirmed what was good. He did not overlook their love, faith,  service, and endurance. But affirmation does not cancel accountability. There was something  dangerous in their fellowship—something they were tolerating—and it had become serious  enough for Christ to address directly.  1 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani,  Reformed Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 122. Thyatira was a market city composed largely of blue-collar workers and dominated by trade  guilds. Each guild honored its own patron deity—Apollo, Artemis, Dionysus, and others. Apollo  was associated with prophecy, healing, protection, and civic identity. Artemis with fertility and  prosperity. Dionysus with revelry and sexual immorality. Religion and business were  inseparable. Syncretism was the norm. Guild feasts involved food sacrificed to idols and  immoral practices. Refusing participation could mean losing income and stability. Faithfulness to  Christ could cost you your livelihood. It was not impossible to remain faithful—Lydia proves  that (Acts 16:14–15)—but it was not easy.  In that environment arose a woman Jesus calls “Jezebel.” She claimed prophetic authority and  was leading some in the congregation into sexual immorality and idolatry. The name is  deliberate. The original Jezebel, the wife of Ahab (1 Ki. 16; 21), promoted Baal worship, incited  rebellion against the Lord, and led Israel into detestable practices. Scripture says there was none  like Ahab, “whom Jezebel his wife incited” (1 Ki. 21:25–26). Her life ended in humiliating  judgment (2 Ki. 9). That name carries the weight of corruption and divine reckoning.  And now Jesus says to this church, “You tolerate that woman Jezebel” (v. 20). The easy thing  to do is to avoid conflict by ignoring sin. But ignoring sin never solves the problem—it only  allows it to spread. Christ gave her time to repent, but she refused (v. 21). The church had a  responsibility to confront her influence, yet they tolerated it and endangered the flock.  So Jesus announces judgment: “Behold, I will throw her onto a sickbed… and

Cities are known for their slogans. New York is called “The City That Never Sleeps.” Paris is  “The City of Light.” Philadelphia is “The City of Brotherly Love.” Chicago is “The Windy  City.” Every city has a name it embraces—something that captures its identity and the image it  wants the world to believe about it.  But in Revelation 2, Jesus gives Pergamum a name no city would ever choose for itself. He calls  it “where Satan’s throne is” (Rev. 2:13). Imagine that as your city’s reputation. Not “The Pride  of Asia.” Not “The Seat of Learning.” Not “The Crown of Culture.” But “The Place Where Satan  Dwells.”  Pergamum was the capital of Roman Asia, a center of political authority, pagan worship, and  emperor devotion. Towering above the city stood a massive altar to Zeus, a visible reminder of  pagan power. The Roman governor there possessed the ius gladii—the “right of the sword”— authority to execute. Power, religion, and politics converged in Pergamum in a way that made  allegiance to Jesus costly.  So when Christ introduces Himself as the One who has the sharp two-edged sword, He makes a  bold claim: ultimate authority does not belong to Rome. The sword does not finally rest in  Caesar’s hand. It rests in His. Pergamum teaches us that the church’s greatest danger is not  merely persecution from outside, but compromise from within—and that even where Satan’s  throne seems near, Christ still reigns.  Dangers from the Outside (v. 13)  The Christians in Pergamum faced very real dangers. To the church in Smyrna, severe  persecution was coming; to the church in Pergamum, it had already arrived in the martyrdom of  Antipas. Unlike many cities in the empire, Pergamum offered few places to hide from Rome, as  it was the headquarters of Roman government in Asia. Michael Wilcock observed, “If Ephesus  was the New York of Asia, Pergamum was its Washington, for there the Roman imperial power  had its seat of government.” Devotion to emperor worship was not optional civic ritual — it was  public loyalty to Rome — and for Christians, refusal came at a cost.  But Pergamum’s pressure did not come from Rome alone. The city was saturated with devotion  to Zeus, Athena, Dionysos, and Asklepios — all of whom had prominent temples. The massive  altar to Zeus, hailed as the god of gods, rose like a throne above the acropolis, proclaiming that  ultimate power and salvation belonged to him. Asklepios, the famed healing god, was  symbolized by a serpent-entwined staff still used in medical imagery today; his worshipers  sought restoration and life from him. Athena embodied wisdom and civic strength, reinforcing  Pergamum’s intellectual pride. Dionysos promised joy through wine, feasting, and sensual  excess, blurring the line between celebration and corruption. And over all of it stood the  emperor, honored as lord and savior, demanding allegiance that directly rivaled the confession  that Jesus alone is Lord. Robert Mounce, in his commentary on Revelation, wrote: “...as the  traveler approached Pergamum by the ancient road from the south, the actual shape of the city hill would appear as a giant throne towering above the plain.” This is probably why Jesus refers  to the city as the place, “where Satan’s throne is.”  But against Pergamum’s skyline of rival saviors stands the living Christ. Zeus claimed ultimate  power, but Jesus is the One to whom all authority in heaven and on earth belongs. Asklepios  promised healing through a serpent’s symbol, but Jesus crushed the serpent’s head and, as the  risen Lord, conquered death, giving eternal life to all who believe. Athena embodied worldly  wisdom and pride, but Christ is the wisdom of God made flesh, in whom are hidden all the  treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Dionysos offered joy through indulgence, but Jesus gives  the true bread from heaven that satisfies forever. Caesar demanded worship as lord and savior,  but only Jesus shed His blood to redeem sinners and now reigns as the King of kings. Pergamum  was filled with promises of power, healing, wisdom, pleasure, and security — but only the  gospel delivers what these gods could only counterfeit.   Jesus commends these believers despite the immense pressure around them: “Yet you hold fast  my name, and you did not deny my faith…” They lived in a city crowded with rival saviors,  yet they clung to Christ. Though we are not told the exact circumstances of Antipas’ death, it is  not hard to imagine how it unfolded. He likely died by the blade of a Roman sword for refusing   to bend his knee to the gods of Rome or to confess Caesar as lord. He would bow to only one  name — the name above every name — Jesus Christ. And it is this man, Antipas — executed by  Rome, forgotten by the empire — whom Jesus calls “my faithful witness.”  We know from Roman records that this was the very test Christians faced. About twenty years  after Revelation was written, the governor Pliny the Younger explained that accused Christians  could avoid execution by invoking the Roman gods, offering incense to Caesar, and cursing the   name of Christ. Those who refused were executed. He even admitted that genuine Christians  could not be compelled to curse Christ.  When Jesus praises these Christians — “Yet you hold fast my name, and you did not deny my  faith” — His words are not cheap; they are costly. To hold fast His name meant refusing to  renounce it when your life was on the line. Rome took Antipas’ life, but Jesus rendered the  greater verdict — the very title He bears Himself: “my faithful witness” (see Rev. 1:5). The kind of faithfulness Antipas demonstrated in the face of death is the same faithfulness we are  all called to — whether suffering comes in the form of persecution or in circumstances beyond  our control, such as illness, discouragement, or a life that did not unfold as we had hoped.  Faithfulness is not measured by the kind of suffering we face, but by the Christ to whom we  cling.  And we cling to Him by looking to Jesus, “the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the  joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the  right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12:2).  Dangers from the Inside (vv. 14-15)   While the dangers from the outside were real, the greater threat was emerging from within. The  Christians in Pergamum had stood firm against persecution, but they were less vigilant in  confronting compromise within the church. Some adhered to the teaching of Balaam, and others  to the teachings of the Nicolaitans. Though these errors shared similarities, they must be  considered individually.  To grasp the true danger here, we need to recall Balaam’s actions. In Numbers 22–25, Balak,  king of Moab, enlisted Balaam to curse Israel, but God turned every attempted curse into a  blessing. When outright opposition failed, Balaam changed tactics. As Numbers 31:16 reveals,  he counseled Moab to entice the Israelites — drawing them into idolatry and sexual immorality  through seductive feasts and relationships with pagan women. What Balaam could not  accomplish through direct attack, he achieved through compromise. Israel was not destroyed by  an enemy from without but by corruption from within. Here is what Balaam was guilty of: He lingered where God had already told him not to go. He pursued recognition and reward at the expense of God’s honor and the holiness of His  people. He walked as close to temptation as he could without openly defying God. 4. His obedience was reluctant because his heart was drawn to what God forbade.  Balaam’s problem was not ignorance but desire. He lingered where God had already told him not  to go. He pursued recognition and reward at the expense of God’s glory and the holiness of His  people. He walked as close to temptation as he could without openly defying God. And though  he spoke God’s words, his obedience was reluctant because his heart was drawn to what God had  forbidden.  This is why Jesus references Balaam. The problem in Pergamum wasn’t an outright rejection of  Christ but a willingness to tolerate compromise. Some believed they could remain committed to  Jesus while engaging in behaviors God had already forbidden. Compromise rarely starts with  denial—it begins when we linger where God has said “no,” chase comfort or recognition over  holiness, and edge as close as possible to temptation without openly defying Him. We shouldn’t  think we’re exempt; this same risk exists in every congregation—even Meadowbrooke. Whenever we treat God’s commands as optional or hover near what He prohibits, we’re at risk  of the compromise Jesus warns us against.  The second thing Jesus has against the church in Pergamum is that some adhered to the teaching  of the Nicolaitans. As we learned from the letter to the church in Ephesus, Jesus says He hated  their works (2:6). What about their teaching provoked such strong language? They promoted a  compromise similar to Balaam’s — the idea that one could claim to belong to God’s people  while participating in the very sins God had clearly forbidden. The Nicolaitans appear to have  encouraged Christians to join in idolatrous feasts and sexual immorality, likely arguing that  God’s grace covered such behavior. In their view, holiness became flexible and obedience  negotiable.  Listen, the spirit of the Nicolaitans is alive wherever Christians rationalize that blending in with  culture poses no danger, that hidden sin is under control, or that God’s grace permits what He  has clearly condemned. If we downplay sin, treat God’s commands as negotiable, or blur the  boundaries between wholehearted faithfulness and self-indulge

Smyrna wore its grandeur like a crown. Proudly calling itself the “Pride of Asia,” it was fiercely  loyal to Rome and a leading center of emperor worship. To live in Smyrna was to participate in  public allegiance to Caesar—offering incense and declaring, “Caesar is Lord.” For most citizens,  this was routine patriotism. For Christians, it was impossible. Worship belonged to Jesus alone.  Refusing meant suspicion, social exclusion, economic hardship, and sometimes imprisonment or  death. In such a city, neutrality was not an option. Faithfulness to Christ came at a cost. Into that  setting, Jesus speaks.  He does not deny their suffering. He does not promise immediate relief. Instead, He reveals  Himself. Before He commands anything, He reminds them of who He is. Their present affliction  must be understood in light of His sovereign authority and His victory over death. What appears  as weakness in Smyrna will be measured very differently in heaven.  Now, remember what I said last week: I am convinced the seven Jewish feasts provide a  theological framework for understanding Revelation’s structure. In Revelation 1, we hear the  echo of Passover — Jesus revealed as the One who died and is alive forevermore (1:17–18), our  true Passover Lamb whose blood has redeemed His people. In Revelation 2–3, the echo shifts to  the Feast of Unleavened Bread. For seven days, leaven was removed from the home,  symbolizing the call to holiness among a redeemed people. As Paul writes, “A little leaven  leavens the whole lump” (Gal. 5:9). Christ calls His churches to remove what corrupts.  But what happens when there is no rebuke? What happens when suffering itself becomes the  refining fire? That is where we now turn our attention.  There Is None Greater Than Jesus (v. 8)  The greeting this church receives is meant to steady trembling hearts: “And to the angel of the  church in Smyrna write: ‘The words of the first and the last, who died and came to  life.’” Do you remember when Jesus came to the disciples walking on the Sea of Galilee around  three in the morning (Matt. 14:22–33)? They were fighting wind and waves and were terrified  when they saw Him. Jesus said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matt. 14:27). Peter  asked that if it was Jesus, He call him to come. Jesus did call Peter, and he stepped out of the  boat and walked on water as long as his eyes were fixed on Christ, but when he looked at the  wind and the waves, he began to sink. So long as Peter’s eyes were on Jesus, he was stable; when  he focused on the storm, he sank. The opening greeting to Smyrna functions like a lighthouse.  Before Jesus speaks about imprisonment and death, He reminds them who is speaking: He is the  first and the last, He died and is alive, and He has spoken (Rev. 2:8).  Jesus is “the first and the last” because He is infinitely sovereign. To be infinite is to be without  end; to be infinitely sovereign is to reign without borders. There are no limits to His authority.  This title did not originate here. We heard it earlier in Revelation, and the book closes with it: “I  am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end” (Rev.  22:13). Isaiah declared the same truth: “I, the LORD, the first, and with the last; I am He,” (Isa. 41:4) and again, “I am the first and I am the last; besides me there is no god” (Isa. 44:6;  48:12). Jesus bears the name of Yahweh because Jesus is God. There is only one sovereign over  creation — and it is certainly not Caesar.  Jesus is the One who died and is alive again because He is the only qualified Redeemer. He  understands suffering because He suffered. The apostle Peter wrote, “For Christ also suffered  once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to  death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit” (1 Pet. 3:18). Why would Jesus remind the  suffering church in Smyrna of His own suffering? Was it to prove He suffered more than they  did? Was it to silence their pain by comparison? No. He reminded them of His death and  resurrection to assure them that their suffering did not mean abandonment. If the Father did not  spare His own Son, then their present affliction could not mean divine neglect. As Paul wrote to  the Romans, “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against  us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with  him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:31-32).  If Jesus was slaughtered for their redemption, then their suffering cannot mean that He has  forsaken them, forgotten them, or been negligent in His care. Jesus experienced death and bore  the full measure of the Father’s wrath on the cross. He knew slander, rejection, and violence. He  entered fully into the hostility of this world and identified with His persecuted people. Jesus died,  but He did not remain in the grave. He conquered death when He rose on the third day. He  crushed the serpent’s head, defanged death, and secured the victory. Because He lives, those who  belong to Him will never be abandoned by Him. As the apostle Paul wrote, “Who shall separate  us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or  nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors  through Him who loved us.” (Rom. 8:35, 37).  The Jesus who is God and who redeemed these dear, suffering saints is the very One who now  speaks to reassure them. He is no idol or myth. He is not limited like Rome’s Caesar. He alone is  the first and the last, who died and came to life. It is He who speaks to His church because He  has not abandoned them. It is He who walks among His churches.  When suffering comes, you need to focus your attention on the One who is infinitely greater than  all your suffering, pain, and discouragement.  There Is No Security Greater Than What Jesus Brings (v. 9)  The One who walks among His lampstands knows all that His church is going through.  Regarding the church in Smyrna, Jesus knew exactly what they were experiencing. Listen to His  words: “I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich) and the slander of  those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.” When we  consider the letter as a whole, it becomes clear that their tribulation touched every aspect of life.  In every sphere—physical, material, and social—they faced profound hardship. Yet Christ’s  acknowledgment assures them that none of their pain escapes His sovereign notice.  Jesus knew (oida)1their tribulation (thlipsis)2, the crushing pressure bearing down on them from  the world around them. Their affliction likely touched both wealth and health. Because of their  witness as followers of Christ, they most likely lost jobs, inheritance, homes, and social standing.  Before meeting Jesus, they had the security of family networks and communal identity. But their  redemption came at a cost. Allegiance to Christ resulted in economic and social poverty. Yet  while they were poor in the eyes of the world, Jesus declares that they were rich. How can that  be? How can you be materially destitute and yet spiritually wealthy before God?  To the Corinthians, Paul provides the answer: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus  Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his  poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9). Their riches were not measured in coin or property  but in union with Christ. Because they belonged to Jesus, they belonged to a Kingdom that  would outlast Rome and outshine its treasures. This is what motivated Moses to forsake  Egypt: “By faith Moses… refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing  rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.  He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was  looking to the reward.” (Heb. 11:24–26). Moses saw something better. He looked beyond  present loss to an eternal inheritance.  And that inheritance belongs to every believer. Paul writes, “In him we have obtained an  inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things  according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be  to the praise of his glory.” (Eph. 1:11–12). What was true for the Christians in Ephesus was  equally true for those suffering in Smyrna. Their inheritance did not come through ethnicity,  Abrahamic lineage, or possession of the Law. It came exclusively through Jesus Christ. Nothing  in this world can strip away what God Himself has secured. Their assurance rested here: “In  Him you also… were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our  inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glory.” (Eph. 1:13–14).  1 Oida (οἶδα): Know; understand; recognize; come to know; experience; aware.   2 Thlipsis (θλῖψις): Affliction; distress; oppression; trouble; tribulation. The Jews responsible for their slander and exclusion prided themselves on their ethnic  connection to the promises given to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They assumed that belonging to  one of the twelve tribes meant automatic belonging to God. But they misunderstood the promise.  The covenant with Abraham was never about a single nation existing for itself; it was about  blessing the nations through One who would fulfill Israel’s calling—the true and better Israel,  Jesus Christ. Salvation has always been about one redeemed people made up of Jew and Gentile  alike. As Paul wrote, “But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matt

I believe the book of Revelation is intentionally shaped by the rhythm of the seven Jewish feasts,  with deep echoes of the Exodus and Israel’s wilderness journey woven throughout its visions.  We have already seen how this works in chapter 1, where the imagery echoes Passover. Passover  marked Israel’s deliverance from slavery through the blood of a substitute—and in Revelation  1:12–16, that substitute is revealed in all His risen glory. Jesus stands among His churches as the  victorious Lamb who was slain and now lives forever.  Because of His sacrifice, the Christian belongs to God. If you have been redeemed by Almighty  God through His Son, what is there to fear? Jesus Himself answers that question: “Fear not, I  am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and  I have the keys of Death and Hades” (Rev. 1:17–18). Our confidence is not rooted in our  circumstances, but in the One who has conquered death itself.  As we move into Revelation 2–3 and read the seven letters to the churches, the dominant echo is  the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which immediately followed Passover. This feast called God’s  redeemed people to live holy lives, set apart for Him (Lev. 11:44–45; 1 Pet. 1:16–17). Israel  removed all leaven from their homes as a visible reminder that they belonged to the Lord and  were no longer to live under the old patterns of corruption. That same call still comes to us  today: “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your  body” (1 Cor. 6:19–20).  Each of the seven churches faced real and pressing challenges in their own day—and what they  struggled with are many of the same things we struggle with today, just dressed differently.  While we will look at each church individually, here is a brief snapshot of what we will  encounter:  The church in Ephesus had lost its first love.  The church in Smyrna was about to suffer “tribulation” for ten days.  The church in Pergamum struggled with faithfulness to sound doctrine. • The church in Thyatira tolerated a false teacher within the congregation. • The church in Sardis was spiritually lethargic and nearly dead.  The church in Philadelphia faithfully clung to the word of God.  The church in Laodicea was lukewarm and missionally useless. In every one of these churches, there was the danger of leaven—sin quietly working its way  through the house. And the call of Christ was to remove it: through renewed love for Jesus and  for one another, faithful endurance in suffering, a commitment to truth, intolerance for evil,  vigilance against spiritual apathy, unflinching obedience to Christ, and a wholehearted devotion  to the mission of God.  About forty years before Revelation was written, Paul wrote about God’s expectation for His  church: “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ  loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:1-2).  Revelation 1 is about the One who makes our salvation possible. Revelation 2-3 addresses the  kind of people He calls us to be. So, when we come to Revelation 4, we encounter the One on  the throne who is holy, holy, holy!   The City of Ephesus  When the gospel came to Ephesus, it was a wealthy and influential trading city, best known for  the Temple of Artemis (also called Diana), one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The  city’s economy, culture, and moral life centered on the worship of this goddess. Artemis worship  was deeply sexualized and demonic, marked by ritual immorality and idolatry (1 Cor. 10:20).  Ephesus was a place where spiritual darkness was not hidden—it was celebrated,  institutionalized, and profitable.  Into this city, the gospel came with unmistakable power, as it always does in God’s timing and in  His way. What we read in the epistle to the Romans was experienced in Ephesus: “For I am not  ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes...”  (Rom. 1:16). When the apostle Paul preached Christ in Ephesus, lives were transformed, and the  worship of Artemis was directly challenged. So disruptive was the gospel that those who profited  from idolatry feared economic collapse, admitting that Paul had persuaded many that “gods  made with hands are not gods at all” (Acts 19:26). Paul spent over two years there, and in this  spiritually hostile environment, God birthed a faithful church—the same church later addressed  by Christ Himself in Revelation 2. What makes Jesus’ words to Ephesus so sobering is not the  city’s darkness but the fact that a church born in such devotion, perseverance, and truth would  later be warned: “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (2:4).  So what happened? To answer that question, we need to first recognize the many things Jesus  praises the church for.   What the Ephesian Church Was Doing Right  The Ephesian church was commended for many things by Jesus such as their toil, patient  endurance, and intolerance for evil. Heraclitus, a native of Ephesus and philosopher, spoke with  open contempt of his city’s moral corruption—so severe that later writers summarized his view by saying no one could live in Ephesus without weeping.1 The fact that the church was able to  endure for forty years in a city known for its sexual promiscuity and demonized idolatrous  worship, while holding on to biblical orthodoxy, is staggering!   Because of their orthodoxy and fidelity to the Word of God, the church was intolerant of evil,  refused to ignore false teachers, and shared Jesus’s hatred of the Nicolaitans. Forty years earlier,  Paul warned the elders of the Ephesian church: “I know that after my departure fierce wolves  will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise  men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them. Therefore be alert,  remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with  tears” (Acts. 20:29-31). This is what the church did well, and Jesus praised them for it.   Now, notice what Jesus does not say to the church in Ephesus. He does not say they were being  too orthodox. He does not say they were too truthful, or that their intolerance of evil, false  teachers, and the works of the Nicolaitans was too extreme. Jesus does not tell the church to dial  it back but instead celebrates these as examples of what they were doing well. What the church  did well was refusing to yield to the pressures from their city to conform.   Before we look at what the church got wrong, we need to address who the Nicolaitans were and  why Jesus hated their teaching. From what we know, the Nicolaitans were a heretical “Christian”  sect associated with the teaching of Balaam (Rev. 2:14-15). They taught that the grace of God  permitted freedom to engage in the kinds of things their pagan neighbors enjoyed, such as sexual  immorality and full participation in pagan temple feasts. Why? Because grace covered it all.   We will come back to Balaam when we look at the church in Pergamum, but for now what you  need to know is that Balaam is known for his false teaching that served to seduce the men of  Israel to engage in sexual immorality with the daughters of Moab that also resulted in the  worship of their gods in place of obedience and worship of Yahweh (see Num. 25). The  Nicolaitans did not deny Jesus, they just reinterpreted what obedience to Jesus really meant, in  that you could both be loyal to Jesus and actively pursue and participate in the kinds of things the  Word of God commands the people of God to flee from. The Ephesian church was rightfully  commended for their hatred and intolerance of the works of the Nicolaitans because Jesus shares  their hatred for the same reasons.   Listen carefully. Jesus does not merely disagree with teachings of the Nicolaitans— He hates them. He hates any belief that suggests a person can remain loyal to Him while  willfully embracing the very sins He died to free us from. The cross was not a license to make  peace with sin; it was God’s declaration of war against it. To claim Christ while pursuing what  nailed Him to the tree is not freedom—it is self-deception. Christ did not die to make sin safe,  but to make His people holy.  1 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani, Reformed  Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 91. What the Ephesian Church Got Wrong  So what was it that the church in Ephesus lost? Well, we know it wasn’t the church’s orthodoxy.  It was the love they had at first. What love did they have at first? I believe the love the church  lost was a combination of their love for Jesus and others. I believe this because of what the  apostle Paul wrote in his epistle to the Ephesians and what Jesus said the church needed to do to  regain the love they had lost. First, let’s look at Jesus’ criticism in verses 4-5, “But I have this  against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from  where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you  and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.”  The way back to regain what they had lost was to first remember where they had fallen or had  lost sight of their love, then to repent by doing the works they had done at first. What were the  works they had done at first? We are given a few clues in Ephesians about the church from what  Paul says at the beginning and the end of his epistle to the Ephesians.  1st Clue: “For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your  love

Permit me to share a story from my own experience that helps explain why it took me so long to  preach a sermon series on the book of Revelation. When I was twenty-eight, I had been ordained  as a minister of the gospel only a short time earlier and was serving as an interim pastor at  Calvary Baptist Church, a congregation of roughly three hundred people. The church was  struggling. Years of poor leadership decisions and the dismissal of one of its senior pastors had  left it in a fragile state. I was young, inexperienced, and keenly aware that I had far more to learn  than to offer.  When Calvary eventually called its next senior pastor—whom I will refer to as “Bob”—he  inherited both me and another assistant pastor. Less than a year into his tenure, Bob called me  into his office to discuss my future. He asked what I hoped for in ministry, and I told him I  planned to finish seminary and learn as much as I could from him, given his decades of pastoral  experience. Then, without warning, he asked me what I believed about the rapture. Caught off  guard, I answered honestly: I believed Christ would return for His people, but I was not yet  certain whether that would be before, during, or after the tribulation. Bob paused, looked at me,  and said simply, “Well, that’s a problem.”  It was a problem because Calvary’s doctrinal statement treated a pre-tribulation rapture not as a  point of discussion, but as a nonnegotiable. One passage often cited in support of that view is 1  Thessalonians 5:9—“For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through  our Lord Jesus Christ.” Yet the “wrath” Paul describes there is not the suffering believers  endure in this world, but the final judgment reserved for the condemned. That conversation  marked me deeply. It revealed how quickly the book of Revelation—and the questions  surrounding it—can become a test of loyalty rather than a call to faithfulness. And it helps  explain why I approached Revelation for so many years with caution, hesitation, and no small  measure of pastoral concern.  Suffering (Tribulation) is a Part of the Christian Life (v. 9)  What troubled me about Pastor Bob and the doctrinal statement Calvary Baptist Church has since  removed is that this view is difficult to reconcile with Jesus’ own teaching on what Christians  should expect as His followers. Jesus said plainly, “You will be hated by all for my name’s  sake” (Matt. 10:22). And again, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I  have overcome the world” (John 16:33).   The apostles echoed the same expectation. Paul warned new believers, “Through many  tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” just after he was stoned and left for dead  outside of the city of Lystra (Acts 14:22). Peter likewise urged Christians not to be shocked by  suffering, but to see it as participation in Christ’s own path: “Do not be surprised at the fiery  trial when it comes upon you to test you… rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s  sufferings” (1 Pet. 4:12–13).  The word tribulation simply means affliction. In Revelation, tribulation is never portrayed as  some vague or theoretical idea, but as a real and immediate experience for faithful believers.1It  is the context of John’s exile, the churches’ suffering, and the cry of the martyrs. Tribulation is  the setting in which the church endures, bears witness, and waits for Christ’s victory.  Let me press this one step further. In Matthew 24, Jesus warned His disciples, “And you will  hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place,  but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,  and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are but the beginning   of the birth pains” (vv. 6–8). Then He said,  “They will deliver you up to tribulation and put you to death, and you will be hated  by all nations for my name’s sake. And then many will fall away and betray one  another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many  astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.  But the one who endures to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom  will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and  then the end will come” (vv. 9–14).  Jesus then went on to prophesy about events we know with certainty occurred in AD 70: “So  when you see the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel, standing in  the holy place (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the  mountains… For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the  beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be” (vv. 15–21).  History records that everything Jesus warned would happen did, in fact, occur. Roman soldiers  under Titus breached Jerusalem, entered the temple, slaughtered priests while sacrifices were  being offered, piled bodies in the sanctuary, erected pagan images, and offered sacrifices to  Roman gods, including sacrifices to the emperor himself. The temple was dismantled stone by  stone, fulfilling Jesus’ words: “Truly, I say to you, there will not be left here one stone upon  another that will not be thrown down” (Matt. 24:2).  John lived through those events. More than twenty years later, he wrote to seven churches not as  a distant observer but as a participant: “I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation  and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called  Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.” The question to consider  until we reach Revelation 6 is: What tribulation is John participating in? The persecution of  Christians didn’t end in AD 70. What began as local opposition has become global. Some regions  where the gospel once flourished—such as North Korea and Nigeria—are now among the most  dangerous for Christians. A challenging reality of the Christian life is that faithfulness to Jesus  often leads to suffering. John introduces himself not as an exception, but as a fellow participant  in this tribulation.  Whatever view of the tribulation you currently hold, know that John and the first-century church  were convinced they were living in it—not as a fixed or future timetable, but as a present season  of suffering that began with Christ’s ascension and will end only with His return.  Jesus Will Not Abandon the Christian in Life (vv. 9-16)  When John received his visions, it was on the Lord’s Day. Before anything was revealed about  God’s plan for the world, it was a day set apart for worship. Many believe this is the earliest  technical use of the Lord’s Day to refer to Sunday—the day of Christ’s resurrection and the dawn  of the new creation. What is most significant is that John hears from the Lord while  worshiping the Lord.  While in a state of worship, John hears a loud voice behind him like a trumpet. This recalls Sinai,  where we are told, “there were thunders and lightnings… and a very loud trumpet blast, so  that all the people in the camp trembled” (Exod. 19:16). The trumpet-like voice commands  John: “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches” (v. 11). When John  turns, he does not see a trumpet, but seven golden lampstands, and “in the midst of the  lampstands one like a son of man” (v. 12).  Do not miss the significance: the lampstands represent the churches (v. 20), and Jesus stands in  their midst. The Greek word mesos means among and in the middle. In other words, in the  midst of tribulation and suffering, Jesus has not abandoned His people. This is the  fulfillment of His promise: “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt.  28:20).  The long golden sash Jesus wears is that of a priest (cf. Exod. 28:4; 29:5). His golden sash is not  a fashion statement but a firm reminder that He is our great High Priest, who intercedes on our  behalf as the One who advocates for all those He has redeemed through the shedding of His  blood once and for all. As Hebrews 7 tells us, “He holds his priesthood permanently, because  he continues forever. Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near  to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (vv. 24–25).   The hairs on Jesus’ head are white like the whitest wool, as Daniel describes the Ancient of  Days: “His clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne  was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire” (Dan. 7:9). Here Jesus is identified with eternal  wisdom and divine purity—equal with the Father, yet uniquely the Son. He is the Everlasting  One, and His wisdom is infinite.  Jesus’ eyes are like a flame of fire. This does not mean He has literal beams shooting from His  eyes any more than the sharp two-edged sword from His mouth is a literal sword (v. 16). His  eyes blaze like fire, revealing that nothing escapes His sight—no motive hidden, no deed  overlooked, and no wound His people suffer that will go unnoticed. His knowledge knows no  bounds.  Our Savior’s feet are like burnished bronze. There is no tiptoeing with Him. Our great High  Priest and awesome King embodies unshakable strength as the One who will judge the nations  with perfect justice and holy resolve. He is omnipotent—solid, sure, and infinitely strong.  The voice of our Savior matches His divine wisdom, all-encompassing knowledge, and  unequalled strength as Yahweh. When He speaks, He does so with pervasive power: “For by  him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible,

In a world that exalts earthly power and demands allegiance, the book of Revelation pulls back the curtain and shows us the true throne of heaven. It calls God’s people to place their hope and loyalty not in the rulers of this age, but in Jesus Christ—the One who governs history and alone deserves our allegiance.   To grasp Revelation rightly, we must consider the circumstances in which it was given. Most scholars agree that the book was written near the end of the first century, likely between AD 90 and 95, during the reign of the Roman emperor Domitian. John tells us that he received this revelation while exiled on the island of Patmos “on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Rev. 1:9). His exile was not a voluntary retreat, but punishment for unwavering faithfulness to Christ.   John had lived a long and costly life of discipleship. He had outlived the other apostles, witnessed the rise and fall of emperors, and seen friends and fellow believers martyred for their allegiance to Jesus. He had watched the brutality of Rome unleashed—most notably in the devastation of Jerusalem—and he had seen firsthand what happens when earthly powers claim absolute authority.   Long before Rome’s pressure intensified, many Jewish believers in Jesus had already been pushed out of their own communities—excluded from synagogues, cut off from family life, and treated as apostates rather than brothers. Faithfulness to Christ often meant losing one’s religious home before ever confronting the power of the empire.   By the time John was exiled, the pressure on the church had intensified. Under Domitian, emperor worship became a test of loyalty, especially in Asia Minor. For most citizens, participation was routine. For Christians, it was a crisis. To confess “Jesus is Lord” was to deny Caesar that title, and refusal could lead to social exclusion, economic loss, exile, or worse. This was not a moment of widespread slaughter, but of steady compromise. Christians were not being asked, “Will you die for Christ today?” They were being asked, “Will you bend—just a little?”   It is into this world that Revelation was given. The very word revelation means unveiling. God is not hiding His purposes; He is revealing them. This book was written to a pressured church to show who truly reigns, how history is moving, and why faithfulness to Jesus is always worth the cost. And that is where Revelation begins.   Behold the Blessing (vv. 1-3) When it comes to Revelation, the book is not Revelations. It is not a series of secret disclosures reserved for the most skilled students of prophetic Scripture. It is not a collection of clues designed to help us identify the next antichrist—especially since we are told that many antichrists have already come. It is also not a puzzle to figure out the timing of Christ’s return, for Jesus even said, “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only” (Matt. 24:36). Revelation is a revelation—but more precisely, it is the Revelation of Jesus Christ. That is how the book begins, and that is what the book is about.   So what does Revelation reveal about Jesus? Everything.   From beginning to end, Revelation presents Jesus in the fullness of His person and work. He is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth (1:5). He is the First and the Last, the Living One (1:17–18), the Holy One, the True One (3:7), and the originator of God’s creation (3:14). He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah and the Root of David (5:5), yet also the Lamb who was slain and the Worthy One (5:6, 9, 12). He is the Son of Man (14:14), the Word of God (19:13), and the King of kings and Lord of lords (19:16). He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End (22:13), the Root and the Descendant of David, and the Bright Morning Star (22:16).   For this reason, the book of Revelation may rightly be called the most Christ-centered book in the Bible. How can I say that? Because, as Paul tells us, all the promises of God find their “Yes” in Jesus Christ—and Revelation is the book that shows us, again and again, how Jesus is God’s “Yes” to every promise He has ever made.   This is the primary reason why we are assured a blessing for all who read, hear, and keep what is written in Revelation. You do know, don’t you, that you can read something and not hear it right?  You can read a verse in the Bible and not really hear it, just as easily as someone can tell you something and it goes in one ear and then out the other with little to no effect.     I believe part of that blessing is reflected in what The Center for Bible Engagement discovered through a large-scale study on Bible engagement involving more than 600,000 participants. The results surprised many people—including those who conducted the research. The study found that individuals who engaged with Scripture at least four times a week experienced: a 30% drop in loneliness a 32% drop in anger a 40% drop in bitterness in marriage and relationships a 57% drop in alcoholism a 60% drop in sexual sins, including pornography addiction a 62% drop in those who felt distant from God   So what does it mean to “keep” the book of Revelation? It means more than reading it or debating it—it means treasuring its words and following the Christ it reveals in obedient faith. The very first sentence of the book gives us this clue: “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave Him to show to His servants…” The word translated servants is the Greek word doulos, a term that speaks of belonging, allegiance, and obligation. A true Christian, then, is not someone who merely speaks well of Jesus, but someone who gladly submits to Him—yielding not just words, but life itself—in faithful service to the One who is revealed as Lord.   And this is why we are called to read, hear, and keep the words of Revelation—not only because of the blessing it promises, but because “the time is near.” What time is near? Not simply the final return of Christ, though that hope is never absent. Rather, John is pointing to the nearness of pressure, opposition, and persecution that come when allegiance to Jesus collides with the demands of the world. Revelation prepares God’s people to remain faithful when conformity is rewarded and faithfulness is costly.   Behold Our Triune God (vv. 4-6) So why should we press on in light of what is coming? Why read, hear, and keep the words of this book? Because of who God is. Our God is the LORD Almighty—Yahweh—and there is no one like Him. He is the One who greets His people and extends grace and peace to those who belong to Him.   John’s greeting is not casual; it is deeply theological and addressed to the seven churches. These were seven real, historical congregations located in strategic cities of Asia Minor. Yet because the number seven signifies fullness and completeness, they also represent the church as a whole—God’s people in every generation and in every place. In that sense, the seven churches represent us.   And it is to this church—then and now—that grace and peace are given. They come first from the eternal, self-existent God, the One Isaiah proclaimed when he said, “Thus says the LORD, the King of Israel and his Redeemer, the LORD of hosts: ‘I am the first and I am the last; besides me there is no god’” (Isa. 44:6). This is the God who stands at the beginning and the end of history—the God who is never threatened, never surprised, and never displaced.   This God is also all-sufficient and unchanging. James calls Him “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (Jas. 1:17). In a world where rulers rise and fall and circumstances shift, God remains the same. That is why His grace does not fade and His peace does not fail. In Revelation 1:4, He is described as the One “who is and who was and who is to come.” This is God the Father—the great I AM—who once set His people free by crushing Pharaoh and now meets His suffering church with grace and peace. This grace and peace also come from the sevenfold Spirit—the Holy Spirit. The language of “seven spirits” speaks not of multiple beings, but of the fullness and perfection of the one Spirit who proceeds from God’s throne. It is the Holy Spirit who applies God’s grace to our hearts, sustains us in suffering, and empowers faithful witness.   And finally, this grace and peace come from Jesus Christ, the Son. John describes Him as the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. Jesus is the faithful witness because He perfectly revealed God and bore faithful testimony to the truth—even unto death. As the firstborn from the dead, He conquered death on our behalf, guaranteeing resurrection life for all who belong to Him. As Paul declares, “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Cor. 15:20), and again, “He is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything He might be preeminent” (Col. 1:18).   Our risen Lord is not waiting to rule—He already reigns. He is not described as one who will be the ruler of the kings of the earth, but as the One who is the ruler of the kings of the earth. Having lived the life we could not live, died the death we deserved, and risen in victory, Jesus is now exalted at the right hand of the Father. As Scripture declares, “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:9–11).   But that’s not

Keith Miller Meadowbrooke Church January 18, 2026   An Obscured Blessing Revelation 1:1-3   Introduction I remember the first time I sat down to read the book of Revelation. It was the summer of 1992—a pleasant Pennsylvania evening—sitting on the back patio of the small house where I spent my teenage years. That night, I read all twenty-two chapters in one sitting. Early on, I underlined a verse that encouraged me: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy…” (Rev. 1:3). Those words felt like a promise—that something good awaited anyone willing to step into this book.   But as I kept reading, I grew more and more confused—especially when I reached chapter 6. The imagery became overwhelming, the questions multiplied, and when I finished, I had only highlighted a handful of verses. That night marked both my introduction to Revelation and the limits of my confidence in it—a confidence that, for many years, did not grow much beyond that patio chair.   Part of the reason I read Revelation in the first place had to do with a movie I watched with my friends called A Thief in the Night, which focused on what theologians call the rapture—the belief that believers will be caught up to meet Christ in connection with a future tribulation. Passages like 1 Corinthians 15 and 1 Thessalonians 4 are often cited in support of this view. For the sake of time, we read just the words from 1 Thessalonians: “The Lord himself will descend from heaven… and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words” (v. 16).   Because the word rapture does not appear in the Bible, many people encounter it through popular books and films, such as the Left Behind series. Those works helped popularize one particular way of reading prophetic texts—known as dispensationalism—which has had a significant influence on American evangelical churches. Dispensationalism is one of several interpretive approaches Christians have used to read Revelation, and it developed in the nineteenth century before spreading widely through conferences, study Bibles, and evangelical institutions.   My own thinking as a new Christian was deeply shaped by this framework. I share that not to critique my past, but to be honest about the lenses I brought with me as I opened this book—and the lenses many of us bring with us still.   It’s also important to know that dispensationalism is not the only way Christians have read Revelation. Throughout church history, believers have approached this book in several major ways: Preterist, Historicist, and Idealist readings. Faithful Christians have held each of these views while confessing the same gospel and worshiping the same Lord. That diversity of interpretation is not new. In fact, G. K. Chesterton once observed, “Though St. John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators.” [1]   How to Read Revelation Today When I began my Revelation and Its Parallels project, I heard a simple statement—one I’ve never been able to trace to a single source—that has guided everything since: “Revelation cannot mean for us what it did not first mean for John and the first-century church.” That sentence has served as a compass for my book, my preparation for this sermon, and every message in this series.   I believe this principle is confirmed by Revelation 1:3, where we are given one of the clearest clues for how this book is meant to be read: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near.” This is the first of seven blessings in Revelation,[2] and it was originally spoken to seven real churches that existed in history. That blessing was not abstract or theoretical—it was given to ordinary believers gathered in local congregations.   To read Revelation rightly, we must first recognize that it is a letter written to seven churches. At the same time, it is also apocalyptic—from the Greek apokalypsis, meaning “unveiling.” Apocalyptic literature communicates truth through visions and symbolic language, revealing heavenly realities that are normally hidden from everyday sight. It invites us to question the assumption that appearances always reflect reality. What seems powerful and permanent by earthly standards may already be exposed as temporary when seen from heaven’s perspective.   What does that mean for us today? Revelation was written to first-century churches, but it was written for the church in every generation. It speaks across time, culture, and ethnic boundaries precisely because it first spoke clearly and meaningfully to the first-century church. And one of the clearest ways John teaches us to read this book is through the careful and consistent use of numbers—especially the number seven. Let me show you what I mean.   Reading Revelation Through Its Use of Numbers There are a series of numbers that you must be aware of that are used throughout the Bible.  When you are trying to figure out what those numbers mean, you MUST understand how those numbers are used throughout the Bible.  So, the important numbers you need to be aware are 3, 4, 7, 10, 12, 24, 3½ (also 42 months, and 1260 days), and 1000.  I have a whole chapter in the beginning of my book on the use of numbers in the book of Revelation, but for now let me highlight why this is important without getting into the weeds.   The Number Seven The most predominant number used throughout the book of Revelation is the number seven. Many people associate seven with judgment—but Revelation begins with seven churches, not seven disasters (Rev. 1–3). Before Christ judges the world, He walks among His churches, knows them by name, commends their faithfulness, and calls them to endurance. Throughout Revelation, the number seven consistently communicates divine completeness—the fullness of God’s purposeful and perfect work.   There are not only seven churches, but also the seven Spirits of God. The seven Spirits are before God’s throne (Rev. 1:4) and are sent out into all the earth (Rev. 5:6). John is drawing on the imagery of Zechariah 4, where the emphasis is not on multiple spirits, but on the fullness of God’s Spirit at work. John is not describing seven distinct spirits, but the complete, sevenfold Spirit of the Lord. Each time we encounter this phrase, we should hear the echo of Zechariah 4:6: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of hosts.”   In Revelation 5, John is told, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah… has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals” (v. 5). Then something that happens often in Revelation occurs: John hears one thing, but when he turns to see, he sees something unexpected. In verse 6 he sees “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes.” Jesus is the Lamb. The seven horns do not describe physical features, but complete authority, since horns symbolize power. The seven eyes represent perfect knowledge—the Lamb fully knows His people and their suffering.   Throughout Revelation there is a scroll with seven seals, followed by seven trumpets and seven bowls of wrath. But here is what often surprises people: there are also seven blessings, sometimes called the seven beatitudes of Revelation. So let me ask this question: if the number seven is used everywhere else in the book to communicate a real and meaningful theological truth, why would we assume it functions differently when applied to a period of suffering often called the tribulation?   The number seven is even applied to evil powers—not to suggest their equality with God, but to show how evil attempts to mimic the completeness that belongs to God alone. Even then, its power is borrowed and its end is certain. We will return to the number seven again at the end of the sermon.   The Number Three The number three is also an important number in Revelation. It does not appear as obviously or as frequently as the number seven, but it is woven throughout the book in meaningful ways. We see it immediately in Revelation 1:4, where John writes: “Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven Spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth.”   In the Greek, John begins very simply and deliberately: “from the One who is, and who was, and who is coming.”[3] This threefold description refers to the Father and emphasizes His faithful presence across all of time—past, present, and future. Before Revelation introduces conflict, judgment, or suffering, it grounds the church in the identity of the eternal God.   Here’s the encouragement: before Revelation tells us what will happen, it tells us who God is. The book does not begin with fear, but with divine testimony—a settled assurance that the God who was faithful in the past is present now and will remain faithful in what is yet to come.   Before Revelation confronts the church with suffering, it anchors the church in the faithful, triune God who speaks with one unified voice.   The Number Four After Revelation reveals the nature of God, it shifts focus to encompass all of creation and its relationship to Him. In the Bible, the number four frequently symbolizes the entirety of the created world—representing the total extent of God’s handiwork. By utilizing this number, Revelation emphasizes that John’s vision is not limited to a specific location or group, but instead embraces the whole of creation.  We see this in Revelation 4 with the four living creatures who surround the throne o

Introduction: The Story We Have Been Telling The entire Bible tells a single, unified story—a story that begins in Genesis and finds its fulfillment in Revelation. It opens with God creating the world and placing two trees in the garden: the tree of life, from which Adam and Eve were free to eat, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which God, in His loving wisdom, commanded them to avoid. Tragically, instead of trusting God’s goodness and choosing life, Adam and Eve reached for what was forbidden. In that moment, they embraced curse rather than blessing by taking from the tree God had graciously withheld for their good.   The pinnacle of creation came when God declared, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, according to Our likeness…” (Gen. 1:26). Unlike any other creature in Eden or on earth, Adam and Eve were uniquely formed to reflect God’s image. God then blessed them and commissioned them: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it…” (Gen. 1:28). Humanity was created to live under God’s rule and to extend His reign throughout the world.   I began this sermon series by reading a quote from Owen Strachan’s book The Warrior Savior: “It was a tree that damned us. It was a tree that redeemed us. And it will be a tree that heals us in the age to come—time beyond all time.”[1]   Today, we turn our attention to the tree that ultimately redeemed us—the tree upon which Another was cursed in our place. As Strachan observes, “Adam, the first man, was a priest and a king unto God. He lived and ruled under the divine regency of his Maker.”[2] Yet Adam failed. Through his disobedience, sin entered the world, and with it came death. As Paul explains, “Through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind… death reigned from Adam until Moses… Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come” (Rom. 5:12–14).   Humanity rebelled against God, the curse entered creation, and death became an ever-present reality. But the story does not end there. God promised that the curse would not have the final word. From the very beginning, Scripture reveals not a collection of disconnected stories, but one unfolding story—a story of how God moves toward a cursed people and a broken creation with redemption. This morning, we come to a passage where the apostle Paul explains—explicitly and unmistakably—what that story has always been about. Galatians 3:10–14 is not a detour from the story we have been tracing; it is Paul putting words to it. Here, the curse is named, the problem is clarified, and the solution is revealed with stunning clarity.   Paul tells us plainly, “All who rely on works of the law are under a curse” (3:10; BSB). That statement may sound severe. But it is the biblical diagnosis of the human condition. The origin of that curse is ancient. It reaches back to Eden, where God created humanity for life, fellowship, obedience, and worship. When Adam and Eve disobeyed God, sin entered the world, the curse followed, and spiritual and physical death became the inevitable outcome.   The curse did not merely affect humanity inwardly; it affected creation itself. The ground was cursed. Thorns and thistles appeared. Pain, toil, suffering, and death became woven into the fabric of life. From that moment forward, every human has been born under the weight of that curse—inclined toward sin, separated from God, and unable to restore what was lost.   Paul’s point in Galatians is not that the law created the curse, but that the law exposes it. God’s commandments reveal the depth of our problem. They show us that no amount of effort, obedience, or religious devotion can undo what was broken in the garden. As Scripture says, “Cursed is everyone who does not abide by all the things written in the book of the Law, to do them” (Gal. 3:10). And none of us has.   Our Need Is a Righteousness We Cannot Produce To be under the curse is not to suffer from bad luck, karma, or chance; it is to stand under God’s righteous judgment. Our greatest problem is not circumstance or ignorance—it is that God is holy, and we are not. The law demands perfect righteousness—and we are incapable of producing it. That is why Paul insists, “No one is justified before God by works of the law. The righteous live by faith” (Gal. 3:11).   Think about the people we have looked at throughout this series. Reflect on the gravity of their sins. Adam let Eve eat the forbidden fruit, even though he had been told that doing so would bring death and curse. But as the priest and king appointed by God in Eden, he didn’t protest or intervene—he stood by, silent and passive—and then joined her. For what? Because both of them bought into the lie of the dragon that they could be just like God. In that moment, they tore apart the sacred boundary between creature and Creator, unleashing the curse that would plague every generation to come.   Consider the violence of Cain and his descendants—how they perverted the sacred institution of marriage and showed no regard for the sanctity of life. Reflect on Noah and his family: even after the flood, even after God’s rainbow appeared in the sky, sin still found its way into their lives. After Noah became drunk, his son Ham committed such a shameful act related to his father’s nakedness that Scripture does not even specify what it was. Think also about the Tower of Babel, where people sought to build an empire not for God’s glory, but for their own. All these accounts serve as a mirror, revealing just how broken and corrupted by sin humanity truly is.   Consider Abraham, weighed down by his own failures as a husband and father. Picture Isaac—his love for Esau burning brighter than his love for Jacob—splintering their family and sowing seeds of rivalry that tore through generations. Consider Jacob’s twelve sons, born to two wives. Their family was marked by jealousy, betrayal, and constant conflict, with discord replacing the harmony that should have filled their home. See Judah—drawn toward idols, taking a Canaanite wife, wandering far from the ways of God, his heart tangled in spiritual darkness.   And then Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law—driven to the brink by desperation and grief. Her life battered by the wickedness of Judah’s sons, she cloaked herself in the garments of a prostitute, her face veiled, her dignity hanging by a thread. She knew Judah’s moral weakness. When he passed by, she sold herself for silver—pain disguised as survival—his own lust blinding him to her true identity. This is not a sanitized tale; it is the raw, exposed reality of sin’s grip—brokenness that bleeds through families, hearts shattered and lives twisted by deceit and desire.   Shall I continue? I must—because it’s essential for you to grasp the full gravity of the word “cursed.”   Look at David: the mighty king, the poet, the man after God’s own heart—yet swept away by desire, stealing Bathsheba and orchestrating the death of her husband to cover his shame. Blood stained his hands, guilt gnawed his soul, and tragedy ravaged his house. Yet out of this relationship—marked by betrayal and sorrow—God, in His mercy, brought forth a way for hope to emerge. Their surviving son, Solomon, would rise from the ashes of their brokenness. Through Solomon’s line would come Joseph, the husband of Mary and stepfather of Jesus; and from David’s son Nathan would descend Mary herself, the mother who would cradle the Savior. Out of scandal and sorrow, God wove together the lineage through which the true and better David would come—a King crowned not by conquest, but by grace.   What connects all of these individuals is twofold—listen carefully. First, none could escape the curse of sin, a problem rooted in the heart. Second, nearly all of them stand in the lineage of Jesus. The Law given to Moses revealed to them—and to us—that their struggle was one only God could solve: “For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abound to the many” (Rom. 5:15; BSB). As Paul explains, “Before faith came, we were held captive under the law… So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith” (Gal. 3:23–24).   This is where the story presses us toward hope. If the curse cannot be undone by our obedience, then liberation must come from outside of us. What we need is redemption; what we need is rescue. And that rescue must address the curse at its root. Our Only Hope Is That Christ Became Our Curse What is our hope? Our hope is that there is One who is able to save us from our sins by providing a righteousness that we could never produce on our own. Oh, my dear friends, this is exactly what we learn from Galatians 3:13–14. God has provided the righteousness we need—not through our obedience, but through Jesus Christ. Look at verse 13—you have to see this: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.’”   How is it that a person is cursed on a tree? The answer is found in Deuteronomy 21:22–23. Under the Law of Moses, if a man committed a crime punishable by death and was executed, his body could be displayed on a tree or wooden post. This was not merely a method of disposal; it was a public declaration. To be hung on a tree was to be marked as one who stood under God’s judgment. Scripture says plainly, “Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse” (Deut. 22:23; BSB). In other words, to be hung on a tree was to be identified as extraordinarily cursed.   Now, look directly at the cross—see it for what it is. The very wood upon which Je