Meadowbrooke Church

The Church in Pergamum

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-indulgence, we risk falling into the same  compromise Jesus warns against. 
Why does Jesus name both Balaam and the Nicolaitans in His rebuke? Because Balaam enticed  God’s people into sin, and the Nicolaitans justified their continued presence in it. Those who  held to these teachings were not outside the church but within it, and the ideas they embraced  posed an immediate and dangerous threat to its spiritual health. 
The Danger of a Greater Sword (vv. 12, 16-17)  
Jesus takes the purity of His Bride seriously. The dangers from the outside were real, but all  Rome was able to do with its sword was to kill and no more. The dangers within were more  significant because they threatened the witness, testimony, and mission of the church.  
Listen, with the martyrdom of Antipas, his witness and testimony continued. His willingness to  die for his faith and to stand in the security of Christ, even in the face of death, continued to  speak even beyond Antipas’ death. What the early Christian apologist Tertullian wrote in 197  AD is true: “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”  
Persecution may wound the body, but it often strengthens the church. Compromise, however,  weakens and destroys the church from within.  
If Satan can infiltrate the church through subtle, subversive teaching — persuading believers to  tolerate what God forbids and to justify what Christ condemns — then the church’s witness is  not martyred; it is muted. Its testimony is not silenced by force; it is weakened by concession.  What Rome could not accomplish with a sword from without, false teaching seeks to achieve from within.
Jesus is madly in love with His Bride and will protect Her when She is threatened. He is also a  jealous Groom and will not tolerate any force or teaching that seeks to win Her affections. This is  why Jesus “hates the works of the Nicolaitans” (2:5)! The Nicolaitans offered a perverted version  of the Grace that Jesus secured at the cross, teaching that the freedom they had in Christ freed  them from obedience to Jesus regarding personal holiness and sexual sin. Jesus calls the  Christians in this church to repent by both calling out the false teaching and standing against it.  
Jesus warns this church that if they do not repent, He will come to “war against them” with the  sword of His mouth. That is sobering language, but it is not unloving. It is not loving to overlook  sin in your own life, nor is it loving to tolerate sin in the life of Christ’s church. This is why the  Bible states in James 5:19–20, “My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth  and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his  wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” 
Indifference to sin is not grace — it is neglect. A Savior who refuses to confront what destroys  His Bride would not be loving. The sword of Christ is not the weapon of a tyrant but the  discipline of a faithful Bridegroom committed to the purity of His people. 
Take a close look at Jesus’ words in verse 16: “Therefore repent. If not, I will come to you  soon and war against them with the sword of my mouth.” That is not a casual warning; it is a  decisive command. If they refused to turn from their sin and false teaching, it would not merely  expose weakness — it would reveal they never truly belonged to Him or experienced the saving  grace that brings new life. Saving grace does not leave a person at peace with sin; it creates an  urgency to cling to Christ. Where Christ truly reigns, repentance follows. 
Now notice verse 17. The sword is not the only thing Jesus offers. He promises that the one who  has truly received Him as Savior — evidenced by firmly holding fast to His name — will be  sustained and kept by Him. The true Christian is promised three things: hidden manna, a white  stone, and a new name. 
The manna is for those who hunger and thirst for righteousness (Matt. 5:6). In a city filled with  public feasts honoring false gods, Jesus promises hidden nourishment — provision the world  cannot see and idols cannot give. The white stone likely referred in the Roman world to a token  of admission, acquittal, or honor. But the stone Jesus gives is not temporary; it signifies divine  acceptance and permanent residence in His kingdom, where there is now no condemnation for  those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1). 
And on that stone is a new name — a name given by Christ Himself — belonging to the one who  receives it. That new name speaks to your identity in Christ, an identity no sword, no demon, not  even Satan himself can take from you. On that stone is the evidence of your redemption. Its  meaning echoes the words of our Redeemer: “You must dwell as mine for many days. You  shall not play the whore, or belong to another man; so will I also be to you” (Hos. 3:3).
Persecution may wound the church, but compromise will hollow it out. Rome’s sword can  threaten the body, but Christ’s Word searches the heart. So hold fast to His name. Repent  without delay. Refuse to justify what He condemns and to flirt with what He died to free you  from. Live as those who belong to Him alone — nourished by hidden manna, accepted by His  verdict, and secure in the name He has written over your life.

To The Church in Smyrna

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 matter of the heart,  by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God.” (Rom. 2:29). 
Throughout Revelation, you will discover that there are only two types of people: those who  belong to God and bear His seal, and those who do not and bear another seal. Those who belong  to God have received another type of circumcision, known as the circumcision of the heart, and  are redeemed by the blood of the true Lamb and sealed by the Holy Spirit.  
There Is No Loss Greater Than the Life Jesus Guarantees (v. 10) 
There are only two places in Revelation where Jesus explicitly commands His people not to fear.  The first is in Revelation 1:17: “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I  died, and behold I am alive forevermore…” (Rev. 1:17). The second is in Revelation  2:10: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer.” (Rev. 2:10). Do not miss what Jesus is  communicating to these suffering Christians. First, their suffering would come from Satan.  Second, it would be permitted and governed by Jesus. Third, it would ultimately serve their  greater good. 
The Christians in Smyrna had already suffered for their faith in Christ, having counted the cost of  discipleship. Jesus warned that following Him could mean losing even family and personal  comfort (Luke 14:26–27). They accepted these sacrifices, but greater trials were coming—the  gospel would soon exact a physical cost. Their suffering stemmed from their genuine faith, as  Jesus foretold: “The devil is about to throw some of you into prison, that you may be tested”  (Rev. 2:10). Although Satan was the agent of their hardship, God remained sovereign. Jesus  assured them not to fear, for they were already rich in His love and protection. He promised, “I  give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my  hand” (John 10:27–29). 
The devil may use human instruments to harm, slander, imprison, and even kill them. But he  cannot steal what belongs to God. He may be permitted to wound them in this life, but he cannot  touch their inheritance. Jesus warned His followers long ago, “You will be delivered up even by  parents and brothers and relatives and friends, and some of you they will put to death. You  will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But not a hair of your head will perish.” (Luke  21:16–18). 
What can the devil really do to the Christian? He can stir up opposition. He can incite slander. He  can use willing instruments to wound, imprison, and even kill the body. But he can only touch 
what is temporal, and even that only by permission. He cannot lay a finger on what belongs to  God without divine approval, and he has no authority over the promises of God. He cannot  revoke your adoption. He cannot cancel your inheritance. He cannot separate you from Christ.  He may rage, but he does not rule. Satan is on a leash. The duration is set. 
How do I know this? Because of how Jesus describes the “tribulation.” It will test them, and it is  limited to no more than ten days. In Scripture, ten often signifies fullness and authority under  God’s rule — seen in the Ten Commandments, the ten plagues, and even in Jesus’ parables. In  Revelation, however, ten represents the full yet limited extent of earthly power permitted by  God. So when Jesus says they will suffer for “ten days,” (Rev. 2:10) He is not minimizing their  pain; He is assuring them that their suffering will be real but measured, complete but controlled,  and bounded by His sovereign authority. 
The ten days are not merely about the specific suffering Satan was permitted to inflict on  Smyrna. They teach us about all suffering under the sovereign hand of God. Your disease — ten  days and no more. Your difficult marriage — ten days and no more. The wayward child — ten  days and no more. Your shattered hopes and broken dreams — ten days and no more. Your tears,  your laments, your groaning — ten days and no more. Not ten literal days, but ten appointed  days. Measured days. Numbered days. Days that cannot extend beyond what your Father has  ordained. There is purpose in your pain. There is design in your distress. There is a boundary  your suffering cannot cross. Its purpose is to deepen and refine your faith, drawing you into  greater intimacy with Christ and shaping you into the holiness to which you have been called. 
At the end of it all stands an inheritance—the crown of life. This is the same crown James speaks  of: “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he  will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him” (Jas. 1:12).  Steadfast endurance under trial is not the cause of salvation but the evidence of new birth. For  the true Christian, there is no greater treasure than Jesus Himself.

To the Church in Ephesus

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 toward all the saints, I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my  prayers...” (Eph. 1:15-16) 
2nd Clue: “Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible.”  (Eph. 6:24) 
I believe that the love the Ephesian church lost had to do with the love they had for Jesus and for  one another. The New Living Translation captures this in their translation of Revelation 2:4,  “But I have this complaint against you. You don’t love me or each other as you did at  first!”  
When a group of religious leaders asked Jesus to identify the most important commandment, His  response was clear: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. This is the  greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself”  (Matthew 22:37–39). Genuine love for God leads to love for others—you cannot claim to love  
God while refusing to love those who bear His image. As our love for God grows, it overflows  into love for those around us, especially our brothers and sisters in Christ. If you find this hard to  accept, consider the words of the apostle John: “If someone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his  brother, that person is a liar; for anyone who does not love his brother whom he has seen  cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:20).  
I believe the Ephesian church, first known for their faith in Jesus and their incorruptible love for  Him, became the catalyst that fostered in them a love for one another, which they were known  for in the early days of the church’s existence. Their love infused their faith in Jesus, and their  love for all the saints was the cocktail God used to push back evil and transform lives! 
What Revelation 2:1-4 teaches us is that Jesus wants our obedience, but He also wants our  hearts! In fact, if Jesus has your heart, He will have your obedience. 
Conclusion 
I believe the Ephesian church is listed first among the seven churches because of the danger we  face when what we believe and what we do are no longer tethered to a living love for Jesus and  His people. 
Listen carefully. Rather than criticizing the Ephesian church for its zeal for the truth of God’s  Word, Jesus praised them for it. Orthodoxy is essential to the spiritual health of both Christians  and the church as a whole. When believers abandon orthodoxy, spirituality does not become  freer or deeper—it becomes hollow and lifeless. So do their churches. But love keeps orthodoxy  from hardening into something Jesus also hated. When truth is severed from love, orthodoxy  collapses into legalism. And legalism is not holiness; it is a corruption of orthopraxy—right  living. 
Christian, we are called to be holy as our heavenly Father is holy. Scripture commands us: “As  obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he  who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, ‘You shall be  holy, for I am holy’” (1 Pet. 1:14–16). But the way we pursue holiness is not through cold  precision or moral superiority. It is through the kind of love the Ephesian church once had—and  then lost. This is the first of seven ways Christ calls His people to cleanse His house of leaven. 
What is that love? Scripture defines it plainly: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or  boast; it is not arrogant or rude… it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the  truth… Love never ends” (1 Cor. 13:4–8). This is the love Jesus spoke of that must be true of  His followers: “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for  one another” (John 13:35). 
We live in a nation deeply fractured—so fractured that many believe we are in a cold civil war.  Civil conversation between the left and the right is nearly impossible. But it must not be that way  in the church Jesus redeemed from the world. Our love for Christ must overflow into genuine  love for one another—strong enough to allow disagreement without division, conviction without  contempt, and truth without hatred. 
Let me take this one step further. If you love the Jesus who died to ransom people from every  tribe, language, people, and nation, then you must be liberated from the partisan blindness that  grips both the left and the right. Christian, you belong to another kingdom. Your allegiance is not  to a political ideology but to King Jesus. Please hear me: the world will not see, hear, or receive  the gospel from the left or the right—but only from Jesus Christ Himself. By God’s design, His  gospel is not entrusted to government but to His church. The mess in the White House, our nation, and the world is evidence that what people need is the One who makes the Gospel the  Gospel—namely, Jesus!  
If you cannot see that—if you cannot believe that while still calling yourself a Christian—then  you are in danger of the very thing that threatened the church in Ephesus. You have lost your  first love. 
So I leave you with the same words Jesus spoke to them: “He who has an ear, let him hear  what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree  of life, which is in the paradise of God.”

The First and the Last

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, whether thrones  or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for  him” (Col. 1:16). His word—every word—carries divine weight. 
Why does this matter in light of what John and the churches suffered? Why does this matter for  your brothers and sisters in North Korea or Nigeria? Why does this matter for us today? It  matters because in the right hand of the Divine Son—who is infinitely wise, who sees His bride  perfectly and completely, and who stands with omnipotent strength—the seven angels of the  seven churches are held. Whether these refer to messengers who shepherd the churches or to  angels with a particular charge, the point is unmistakable: His servants belong to Him. They are  His, and they serve under His protection. 
We are told that Jesus not only holds the seven stars and stands among His churches, but that  from His mouth comes a sharp, two-edged sword (see Heb. 4:12). There are no dull edges on this  sword, because it is the Word of God—living and powerful, with the authority to judge, cut, cure,  wound, and heal. And if that were not enough, His face shines like the sun in full strength. What  John sees is Jesus in His glory—holy, majestic, and awesome, worthy of all our worship. This  Jesus is not the one often presented as safe, domesticated, or passive. This is the glorified Lord,  whose word creates, sustains, and brings all things to account. Richard Phillips wrote of these  verses: “This vision does not show us what Jesus looks like but rather what Jesus is like, symbolically depicting his person and work. Biblically trained Christians organize the work of  Christ in his three offices of Prophet, Priest, and King.”2 
With Jesus, there is No Need to Fear in Life or in Death (vv. 17-20) 
It is no wonder, then, that when John sees this Jesus, he falls at His feet as though dead (v. 17).  The beloved disciple, who once leaned against Jesus’ chest during His earthly ministry, is now an  old man—weathered, worn, and wiser. Confronted with the risen and exalted Christ, John  collapses in reverent awe. Yet it is this Jesus, standing in the midst of His church, who places the  same right hand that holds His servants upon John. 
John’s response is both right and appropriate. It echoes Isaiah’s encounter with the Holy One, in  which he saw the Lord seated on the throne and heard the seraphim cry, “Holy, holy, holy” (Isa.  6:3). Isaiah responded in terror, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips…  for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isa. 6:5). John’s response also mirrors  Habakkuk’s reaction before a holy God: “I hear, and my body trembles; my lips quiver at the  
sound; rottenness enters into my bones; my legs tremble beneath me. Yet I will quietly wait  for the day of trouble” (Hab. 3:16). Throughout Scripture, when sinful people encounter God’s  holiness, fear is the natural response. 
But notice Jesus’ response to John’s terror: “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” (vv. 17–18). Fear not. Why? Because unlike Caesar, the Roman Empire, or any power  that seeks to silence Christ’s church, John—and all who belong to the true church—belong to  Jesus. He is the One who died to save John from his sins, the One who rose again to secure his  salvation and resurrection, and the One who now holds the keys of Death and Hades. 
This is why Jesus can promise all who belong to Him: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know  them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one  will snatch them out of my hand… I and the Father are one” (John 10:27–30). With Jesus,  there is no need to fear—not in life, and not in death. 
Conclusion 
Let me leave you with three points of application in light of all that we have seen in these verses:  
First: Don’t be surprised by suffering—faithful Christians have always faced tribulation. If tribulation is the normal setting of the Christian life, then suffering is not a sign that something  has gone wrong; it is often a sign that something has gone right. John does not present himself as  an exception but as a partner in tribulation, reminding us that faithfulness to Jesus does not  remove us from affliction but places us squarely within it. So when hardship comes—pressure to compromise, opposition at work, isolation for following Christ, or quiet endurance no one else  sees—we are not abandoned; we are walking the same path marked out by the apostles, the early  church, and believers around the world today. 
Second: Find your security in Christ, not in your circumstances. 
Revelation does not calm our fears by minimizing danger but by revealing Christ. John is not  comforted by explanations or timelines but by the presence and power of Jesus—the eternal Son,  our great High Priest, the all-seeing Judge, the omnipotent King, and the living Lord who has  conquered death itself. Fear loosens its grip not when life becomes safe but when Jesus becomes  central, because the size of our fear is always tied to how clearly we see Christ. 
Third: Do not fear death—the One who died and rose again holds the keys of life and  death. 
Because this Jesus holds the keys of Death and Hades, nothing—not persecution, loss, or even  death—has the final word over those who belong to Him. The same hand that holds the stars  touches His servants, and the same voice that thunders like many waters speaks reassurance to  fearful saints. So we need not fear what tomorrow brings or what awaits us at the end. With  Jesus, there is no need to fear—not in life, nor in death.
1 Revelation consistently presents tribulation not as a distant, isolated future event, but as the lived experience  of faithful believers—expressed through imprisonment, martyrdom, deception, and violent opposition—beginning in  the first century and continuing until the final vindication of God’s people (Rev. 1:9; 2:9–10; 6:9–11; 12:17; 13:7;  17:6; 20:4).
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), 64.

Behold Our Great God

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 all, dear brothers and sisters. Scripture tells us that truth is established by two or more faithful witness. Again and again, God confirms His testimony through two witnesses. And in Revelation 1:5–6, John gives us exactly that. Christ bears witness to His love for us in two unmistakable ways: He has freed us from our sins by His blood, and He has made us a kingdom—priests to His God and Father. These two witnesses proclaim one glorious truth—not merely what Christ has done, but who we are to Him. They testify to this above all else: He loves us. He loves us.
 
The love of Christ is never passive. The One who loves us frees us, and the One who frees us forms us into something new. Revelation does not simply assure us that we are loved—it tells us who we now are because we are loved. And that is where John now turns our attention.
 
Behold the Coming King (vv. 7-8)
Where is the love of Christ leading us? What was it in these words that was meant to encourage John and the seven churches? Jesus—the faithful witness who lived the life we could never live, the firstborn from the dead who died the death we deserved, and the ruler of the kings of the earth who has made us a kingdom of priests—is coming back for us.
 
How is He coming back? He is coming to be seen, and He is coming in glory. Long before John ever saw this vision, the prophet Daniel was given a glimpse of that day when he wrote, “I saw in the night visions, and behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man… And to him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away” (Dan. 7:13–14).
 
When Jesus returns, every eye will see Him—including those who pierced Him. Jesus Himself described what John records in Revelation 1:7 when He said, “Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory” (Matt. 24:30). At His appearing, the tribes of the earth will mourn—those who rejected Him, mocked Him, and sought to silence Him by silencing His church. But not all tears will be tears of grief or fear. For those who belong to Christ, for those who have longed for His appearing, our tears will be tears of joy, relief, and celebration.
 
Throughout the book of Revelation, Jesus promises His coming again and again—no fewer than seven times (2:25; 3:11; 16:15; 22:7, 12, 20). This is the first of those promises, but it will not be the last. So what confidence do we have that this will happen? What guarantee do we have that Jesus is truly coming back? Our assurance rests not only in the empty tomb He walked out of, nor only in His promise as the faithful and true witness, but in God Himself—the One who declares, “I am the Alpha and the Omega.” He is the great I AM. He is the Lord Almighty—the One who is and who was and who is to come. Because He does not change, His promises do not fail, and it is this unchanging God who has guaranteed that these promises belong to His redeemed sons and daughters.
 
Conclusion
Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, devote yourselves wholeheartedly to the risen and reigning Christ, rather than to the temporary powers and fleeting trends of this world. Anchor your plans, your hopes, and your very lives in Him alone. Let your hearts rest in the deep assurance of His unfailing love—the love that has freed you from your sins by His precious blood and has made you a kingdom of priests to His God and Father. As you await the glorious appearing of the King who will come with power for all to see, endure the pressures that seek to silence your testimony, resist the subtle temptations to compromise, and hold fast to the blessing promised to those who read, hear, and keep the words of this prophecy. Do all this with unshakable confidence and living hope, for the One who calls you is faithful, and He will surely fulfill all that He has promised.
 
So here is what I want to leave you with. If you would remember what it means to read, hear, and keep the words of the book of Revelation, remember this one word: HEAR.
H — Hold fast to the blessing promised to those who read, hear, and keep the words of this prophecy.
E — Endure the pressures that seek to silence your testimony.
A — Anchor your plans, your dreams, and your hopes in the incomparable Christ.
R — Resist the subtle temptations to compromise, trusting that God will fulfill all His promises.

An Obscured Blessing

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 of God (Rev. 4:6-8).  Have you ever thought about the way they are described? The first living creature had the appearance like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third was like a man, and the fourth was like an eagle in flight. Taken together, the point is that the entire created order is made to worship the One who is on the throne. God rules over creation!
 
So when you read in Revelation about the four horsemen of the apocalypse, the four corners of the earth, the four winds, know that what is being referred to is the whole created world.  One of my favorite places the number 4 is used is in Revelation 5:9-10 regarding the song that the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders sing: “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.” Jesus ransomed a people for God 1) from every tribe, 2) from every language, 3) from every people, and 4) from every nation.
 
The Numbers Twelve and Twenty-Four
The number twelve represents the people of God. In the Old Testament, it refers to the twelve tribes of Israel, and in the New Testament, to the twelve apostles. Scripture consistently uses twelve to communicate that God’s people are known, formed, and established by His saving work. As Paul reminds us in Ephesians 2, God’s people are being built together on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus Himself as the cornerstone (Eph. 2:19–22).
 
In Revelation, the numbers twelve and twenty-four function together to identify the people of God as a unified whole. Twelve signals God’s covenant people, and twenty-four brings that picture to completion. In Revelation 4 and 5, John sees twenty-four elders seated around the throne—twelve representing God’s people under the old covenant and twelve under the new—together, at rest, and worshiping.
 
The emphasis here is not on calculation, but on reassurance. Revelation is not telling us how many belong to God; it is assuring us that all who belong to Him are gathered, secure, and present with Him—not one is missing.
 
The Number 1000
A final number worth mentioning is one thousand. Like the other numbers we’ve seen, Revelation does not use one thousand to satisfy curiosity or to function as a precise chronological measurement. Throughout Scripture, the number one thousand often communicates the all-encompassing scope of God’s work and promises.
 
We see this clearly in the Old Testament. Psalm 50:10 says, “For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills.” The point is not that God owns exactly one thousand hills and no more. The psalmist is using the number to say that everything belongs to God. One thousand functions as a way of expressing abundance and totality, not limitation.
 
That same use of the number helps us understand Revelation’s reference to 144,000. This number is not meant to be decoded, but understood. Twelve tribes multiplied by twelve apostles, multiplied by one thousand, forms a picture of the complete people of God, fully known, fully gathered, and fully secure. The emphasis is not on how many are counted, but on the assurance that no one is missing.
 
In the same way, when Revelation later speaks of a period described as “a thousand years,” the focus is not on constructing a timeline, but on affirming that God’s purposes are full, complete, and lacking nothing. In Revelation, one thousand does not tell us how long God reigns—it tells us how completely He reigns.
 
Conclusion
Now, back to the number seven. One of the most startling discoveries I made—one that truly floored me—came as I traced the biblical parallels shaping the book of Revelation. As I worked through both the Old and New Testaments, I began to see a repeated pattern suggesting that Revelation is intentionally structured in a particular way.
 
As I sketched out what I was seeing, that structure took shape as a heptagon, reflecting seven distinct yet interconnected perspectives. At the same time, I noticed that Revelation consistently moves toward a single, overarching theme: a new Eden, infinitely better than the first—where redemption reaches its climax in the new heaven and new earth. I also became convinced that the seven Jewish feasts help govern the movement of the book. As you can see in the diagram, Revelation is designed to be read from seven different vantage points, much like the four Gospels present Jesus from four complementary perspectives.
 
What this prepares us to see is that Revelation is not laid out like a straight timeline moving neatly from beginning to end. Instead, John repeatedly returns to the same redemptive realities—sometimes from the perspective of the church, sometimes from heaven, sometimes through judgment, and sometimes through worship—each time helping us see more clearly what is already true.
 
You may have noticed the small slinky on your seat this morning. I put those there intentionally. A slinky doesn’t move forward in a straight line—it advances by looping back over itself. And in many ways, that’s how Revelation works. The book moves forward by returning again and again to the same redemptive realities, each time from a different vantage point.
 
That’s what I mean when I talk about the recapitulatory nature of Revelation—and that’s what this seven-fold vantage point diagram is designed to help us see. Rather than presenting a single, forward-moving sequence of events, Revelation shows us the same story from seven different angles, each one reinforcing the same central truth: God reigns, the Lamb has conquered, and His people are secure.
 
This diagram isn’t meant to flatten Revelation or oversimplify it. It’s meant to help us see how its visions relate to one another—how seals, trumpets, bowls, and worship scenes are not competing timelines, but recurring perspectives on the same unfolding reality.
 
Revelation isn’t a puzzle to be solved, but a picture book meant to be seen. When we view it from heaven’s perspective, it becomes a source of assurance rather than confusion. Its purpose is not to challenge us with riddles, but to steady our faith, strengthen our hearts, and draw us into worship of the Lamb.
 
 
[1] G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (London: John Lane, 1908), 21.
[2] On the seven beatitudes of Revelation, see 1:3; 14:13; 16:15; 19:9; 20:6; 22:7, 14
[3] Craig R. Koester, Revelation and the End of All Things, Second Edition (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2018), 54.

The Cursed Son

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 Jesus hung was shaped by Roman hands, but in God's eyes, it was a tree. And according to the Scriptures Paul cites, anyone nailed to a tree is branded as cursed, set apart for divine judgment. But here is the shocking, undeniable truth—Jesus was wholly innocent. He was blameless, completely undeserving of any punishment or condemnation. And yet He was treated as the cursed one. Jesus did not become sinful—He became the embodiment of the curse itself, willingly standing in the place of those doomed by sin. The full weight of God's wrath, the judgment that should have crushed us, was hurled upon the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world! 
 
And because Christ took the curse upon Himself, the day He hung on the cross became the moment when God gave undeniable, visible signs that Jesus alone was truly qualified to bear our sin. By fully enduring the wrath of God the Father, Christ the Son broke the power of the curse over sinful humanity. As He hung on the cross, He wore a crown of thorns; when He took His final breath and declared, “It is finished,” the ground shook; and at that very moment, the curtain in the temple was torn in two.
 
The Crown of Thorns
Why does Scripture bother to tell us about the crown of thorns? Because thorns were the visible sign of the curse pronounced in Eden: “Cursed is the ground because of you… thorns and thistles it shall bring forth” (Gen. 3:17–18). At the cross, Jesus—the Redeemer of a cursed people and a cursed creation—was nailed to a tree wearing a crown made from the very symbol of that curse. The One who knew no sin bore upon His head what sin had produced. The curse that began in Eden was placed upon Christ.
 
The Quaking Ground
When Jesus cried out, “It is finished,” and breathed His last, Matthew tells us that “the earth shook, and the rocks were split” (Matt. 27:51). Why did the ground quake? Because the ground once cursed in Eden was being redeemed. Creation itself responded as its Redeemer purchased it with His blood. The curse that brought death into the world no longer held uncontested power.
 
The Torn Curtain
When Adam and Eve sinned, they were driven from the presence of God. That separation stood visibly in the curtain of the temple, a reminder that sinful people could not freely dwell with a holy God. But when Jesus died, the curtain was torn in two from top to bottom. The meaning is unmistakable: because Jesus bore the curse, the barrier has been removed. Through His death, we are no longer exiles—we are invited back into the presence of the God we were created to know.
 
Paul tells us why Christ bore the curse: “So that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles.” The blessing promised in Genesis—that through Abraham’s seed all nations would be blessed—comes only through the curse-bearing work of Christ. What began in a garden, moved through a family, a nation, and a kingdom, now reaches the nations through the cross.
 
Conclusion
The curse is real, but it is no longer final. Forgiveness is secured. Righteousness is given. The Spirit is poured out. New life has begun—and yet, the story is not finished. The cross does not merely explain the past; it guarantees the future. Because Jesus bore the curse, the curse itself is living on borrowed time. Because Jesus rose from the dead, death has been defeated. And because God has always kept His promises, Scripture assures us that what Christ accomplished at the cross will one day be completed in full.
 
The Bible ends where it began—not with exile, but with restoration; not with thorns, but with a tree of life standing once again; not with humanity driven from God’s presence, but with God dwelling forever among His redeemed people. And the promise is clear: “No longer will there be any curse.” 
And he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illuminate them; and they will reign forever and ever.
 
As we turn next to the book of Revelation, we are not beginning a new story. We are finally ready to see how the story we have been tracing from the beginning comes to its appointed end.
 
      [1] Owen Strachan, The Warrior Savior (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing; 2024), 1.
      [2] Ibid., 3.

The Rejected Promised One

From the opening chapters of Scripture, the narrative of humanity is marked by the presence of a tree. At the heart of Eden stood two trees: the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The tree of life offered the promise of ongoing life, while the other was strictly off limits, carrying the warning that eating its fruit would bring death. When the first humans chose to take what God had forbidden, they inherited not blessing but a curse—banishment from paradise and the inheritance of death. Since that fateful day in Eden, we have lived beneath the shadow of that curse outside of Eden, our lives marked by its consequences.
 
Throughout this series, The Tree, we have traced God’s answer to the problem introduced in Eden. We have seen a promised Seed spoken of in the garden (Gen. 3:15), a promise preserved through judgment in the days of Noah (Gen. 6–9), narrowed through Abraham’s only son (Gen. 22), carried forward through broken families and deeply flawed people, guarded through exile and deliverance, and entrusted to kings who both reflected God’s purposes and failed to live up to them. Again and again, the message has been unmistakable: God’s promise advances not because His people are faithful, but because He is.
 
And then, in the fullness of time, the promise took on flesh (Gal. 4:4-7). The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). God did not merely speak again—He stepped into the story Himself (Heb. 1:1-2). Yet Luke 4 marks a decisive moment. Jesus is no longer simply the child of promise or the quiet presence of Immanuel. In Luke 4, Jesus stands up, opens the Scriptures, and for the first time publicly declares who He is and why He has come.
 
It is no mystery that we humans are a mess. Scripture does not flatter us, and history confirms the diagnosis. We are fallen creatures living under the curse of sin. We are born spiritually dead (Eph. 2:1), enslaved to desires we cannot master (Rom. 6:16), inclined to distort what God has called good (Rom. 1:21–25), and we live beneath the shadow of death—both physical and spiritual (Rom. 5:12). Though humanity still bears the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27), that image is no longer reflected as it once was. Our thinking is darkened, our lives disordered, and our relationships fractured. We were made for communion with God, yet we live far from Him.
 
This brokenness did not occur in a vacuum. Scripture is equally clear that there is an enemy in the story—real, personal, and malicious. Satan is the great antagonist of redemptive history, a murderer from the beginning who traffics in lies and delights in death. Jesus said of him, “He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him… for he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). Yet even in judgment, God spoke hope. To the serpent and the woman He declared that a descendant would come—One who would be wounded, yet in being wounded would crush the serpent’s head (Gen. 3:15). Death would strike, but it would not have the final word.
 
From that moment forward, the Scriptures move with expectation. God promised His people a Deliverer—someone greater than Moses (Deut. 18:15; Heb. 3:1–6), someone greater than David who would reign with justice and peace forever (2 Sam. 7:12–16; Ezek. 37:24–28), someone who would not merely rule but redeem. Through the prophets, God revealed that peace would come through suffering, that the One who would heal the world would first bear the curse Himself. Isaiah saw it clearly: “But He was pierced for our offenses, He was crushed for our wrongdoings… and by His wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5).
 
This is why the announcement of Jesus’ birth was not sentimental but staggering. When angels appeared to shepherds living in darkness, they did not proclaim a teacher or a moral example, but a Savior: “For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). As the apostle Paul later wrote, “For all the promises of God are “Yes” in Christ” (2 Cor. 1:20; BSB). Jesus is not one promise among many—He is the fulfillment of them all.
 
It is against this backdrop that Luke 4 unfolds. Jesus returns to His hometown of Nazareth, enters the synagogue, and is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He reads words every faithful Jew knew well: 
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He anointed Me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim release to captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord” (Luke 4:18–19; Isa. 61:1–2).
 
After reading, Jesus sat down and declared, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21).  We are then told that the immediate response of those in the synagogue that day was that of admiration: “And all the people were speaking well of Him, and admiring the gracious words which were coming from His lips; and yet they were saying, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” (v. 22).  Now listen (or read) what Jesus said next:
And He said to them, “No doubt you will quote this proverb to Me: ‘Physician, heal yourself! All the miracles that we heard were done in Capernaum, do here in your hometown as well.’” But He said, “Truly I say to you, no prophet is welcome in his hometown. But I say to you in truth, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the sky was shut up for three years and six months, when a severe famine came over all the land; and yet Elijah was sent to none of them, but only to Zarephath, in the land of Sidon, to a woman who was a widow. And there were many with leprosy in Israel in the time of Elisha the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” (vv. 23-27)
 
Jesus mentioned two different people who had no biological connection to Abraham nor were they Jewish.  A prophet called to speak on behalf of God by the name of Elijah went to Zarephath under the direction of Yahweh, to a town full of Gentiles during a time that a famine also affected Israel, and yet Elijah went to a Gentile widow who God miraculously fed and protected during that famine (see 1 Kings 17:8–24). Listen, the point Jesus was making is this: The widow of Zarephath was a Gentile outsider—poor, desperate, and forgotten—yet she received the mercy Israel assumed belonged to them alone.
 
A second example Jesus gave was that of Naaman the Syrian who served as a commander of the enemies of Israel.  Jesus said, “And there were many with leprosy in Israel in the time of Elisha the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian” (v. 27).  
 
Listen to what we are told concerning Naaman in 2 Kings 5, “Now Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man in the view of his master, and eminent, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man was also a valiant warrior, but afflicted with leprosy” (v. 1).  And yet, God healed him! How was Naaman healed?  He was only healed after he humbled himself in obedience to the word of God delivered by Elisha the prophet (see 2 Kings 5:1-14). 
 
What was Jesus’ main point? He was showing that the promise of a Deliverer and redemption was never exclusive to Israel, but it was intended for all nations. When Jesus read from Isaiah and proclaimed, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21), He wasn’t simply interpreting the passage—He was revealing Himself as its fulfillment. In that moment, Jesus was announcing His mission, His authority, and the inclusive nature of His kingdom. He declared Himself as the promised Deliverer—the greater Adam, the greater Abraham, the true Israel—and made clear that through Him, blessing would extend to every nation, not just one people.
 
In Luke 4:25–27, Jesus reminds His hometown that God sent Elijah to a Gentile widow in Zarephath and healed Naaman the Syrian—an enemy commander—making clear that God’s mercy is received through Jesus by faith to all who will receive it, not where privilege assumes it.
 
There are four facets of Jesus’ ministry that is described in these verses:
 
Jesus Came as Good News to the Poor for All People
Jesus clarifies the kind of poverty He has in view when He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:3). This poverty is not merely economic. Scripture and experience alike tell us that not all who are materially poor long for God. The poor in spirit are those who recognize their spiritual bankruptcy before Him—those who know they have nothing to offer God but their need. Jesus is good news to such people precisely because it is only through Jesus that one can have God. Those who believe themselves rich in righteousness will feel no need for a Savior, but those who know they are empty will discover that Christ is everything.
 
Jesus Came to Set Captives Free Out from the Nations
Scripture declares, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Every human being is born enslaved to sin—any violation of God’s holy standard. Human experience confirms what Scripture teaches: “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). Apart from Christ, every one of us stands under judgment (Rev. 20:11–15). This is why Jesus came. As John the Baptist proclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). When Jesus read Isaiah 61 in the synagogue, His hearers assumed He was announcing political liberation and national restoration. What they did not understand was that their deepest captivity was not Roman oppression but spiritual bondage. Jesus came to proclaim liberty to captives whose chains were forged by sin.
 
Jesus Came to Give Sight to the Blind Who Make Up All Humanity
While Jesus healed physical blindness throughout His ministry, His greater work was opening spiritually blind eyes. This blindness is not learned—it is native to us. Scripture teaches, “The hearts of the sons of mankind are full of evil, and insanity is in their hearts while they live, and afterward they go to the dead” (Eccl. 9:3). Like a blind man standing in bright sunlight, the human heart may sense that something is there yet remain unable to see it. The apostle Paul explains this condition plainly: “But a natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14). Only Jesus can open blind hearts to see the truth and beauty of God.
 
Jesus Came to Bring Salvation and Redemption as Far as the Curse is Found
Isaiah 61 was understood as a promise of a new age—an age in which broken people and a broken creation would be restored, an age without tyranny, injustice, suffering, or death (Isa. 11:6–9; 65:17–25). When Jesus read that passage, He claimed to be the One who would inaugurate that renewal. His miracles—healing the sick, restoring the lame, opening blind eyes, and raising the dead—were not merely acts of compassion; they were signs pointing to a greater restoration still to come (Matt. 11:4–5). Jesus’ redemption is both spiritual and physical. Though believers continue to struggle with sin and weakness in this life, there is coming a day when resurrection will make us whole: “For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality” (1 Cor. 15:53), when “what is mortal will be swallowed up by life” (2 Cor. 5:4).
 
How far reaching is the salvation and redemption Jesus was born to bring?  Oh, let the anthem of Isaac Watts’ great hymn ring true in your heart:
No more let sins and sorrows grow
Nor thorns infest the ground
He comes to make
His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found
 
How far Christian?
As far as the curse is found!
Far as, far as the curse is found
 
Conclusion
This is the gospel Jesus declared in Nazareth. It is comprehensive, gracious, and costly. It confronts sin, heals blindness, breaks chains, and promises restoration. And yet Luke tells us that this announcement did not lead to repentance—it led to rejection (Luke 4:28–30). What Jesus proclaimed as good news, His hometown soon heard as an offense. They wanted a Messiah of their own making, not one who exposed their sin and need of a redeemer! They wanted deliverance on their terms, not salvation on God’s terms. And when Jesus made clear that God’s grace could not be claimed or secured by their religious deeds alone, admiration turned to rejection.
 
Luke 4 reminds us that the greatest danger is not rejecting Jesus outright but rejecting Him after we think we know Him. The Promised One stood before them, opened the Scriptures, and declared fulfillment—and they refused Him. And that leaves us with the same question this passage presses upon every hearer: “Will we receive Jesus as He truly is, or will we reject Him because He refuses to be the Savior we want Him to be?” He is still good news to the poor, freedom for the captive, sight for the blind, and restoration for the broken—but only for those willing to receive Him on His terms.
 
The people rejected Jesus because He did not fit their mold of what the Messiah should be. He was not the Savior they wanted, even though He was exactly the Savior they needed. Jesus fulfilled God’s promises, but He refused to conform to human expectations. And Luke 4 presses the same question upon us today: will we receive Jesus as He truly is, or will we reject Him because He will not become the Messiah we want Him to be?

The Table

Jesus, God With Us

God’s Promise Was to Save Us, Not Simply Inspire Us
When the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, he announced news unlike anything the world had ever heard: “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:30–33). This was not merely the announcement of a child, but of a King—a King whose reign would never end. For the first time in history, God took on human flesh.
 
Immanuel became tired like us, hungry like us, exhausted like us; in every way Jesus became like us, yet without sin. He was born so that we would have One who could truly sympathize with our weaknesses, so that we might receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb. 4:14–16). The angel didn’t tell Mary she would give birth to a teacher or a moral example, but to a King and a Savior; One who would be call “Son of the Most High” and whose Kingdom would never end.  
 
What Gabriel told Mary tells us something important about ourselves—our greatest problem isn’t ignorance, weakness, or circumstance, but sin. Our greatest need is redemption.
 
We spend our lives trying to fix what’s broken, but Christmas declares that God came to do what we could not—to save lost sinners. This is why Jesus said: “For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10).
 
God Came to Us When We Could Not Come to Him
On the night Jesus was born, God did not summon kings, dignitaries, or celebrities; He invited shepherds. To the poorest of the poor, the angels declared, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” And then heaven itself erupted in praise: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” When the shepherds arrived at the manger, they beheld something staggering—the Word of God in human flesh.
 
John tells us that all things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. The power that created the universe lay wrapped in swaddling cloths; the One through whom the heavens were made was sleeping in a feeding trough. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men, and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
 
Some people walk into Christmas Eve feeling unworthy, unseen, or spiritually distant. The shepherds are proof that with God, it does not matter how far you are from Him, for He is the God who meets sinners where they are—to save them, to redeem them, and to bring them out of spiritual death into new life.
 
We have a God whose mercy, love, and grace are far greater than our worst sins and any distance we imagine exists between Him and us. As Scripture says, “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).
 
Jesus Entered Our Darkness to Deliver Us from It
The darkness Jesus entered was not merely the darkness of night, but the darkness that has covered the human heart since Eden. Ever since Adam and Eve were driven from the garden, humanity has lived outside—outside the place of God’s immediate presence, outside in the wilderness of thorns and sweat, pain and death. Though the Creator came into the world He made, John tells us the world did not recognize Him, and even His own people did not receive Him. What the world needed most stood in its midst, and it hardly noticed. Yet this is the wonder of Christmas: God came anyway. The promised Savior entered a world marked by sin and sorrow to bring light where only darkness reigned.
 
Christmas speaks to our guilt, our grief, and our weariness—and it does more than speak to them; it swallows them up by the light of the life of Jesus.
 
Some of you are carrying grief, regret, despair, and hopelessness into this room. The message and promise of Christmas is that unto us was born a Savior who steps into the darkness to conquer it.
 
Jesus Came for Those Who Know They are Far from God
The message to the shepherds was simple and clear: “And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11). 
 
Jesus was born to redeem sinners who were and are real people: real broken people, real guilty people, real overlooked people, and real people living in shame. The Bible shows us this even in Jesus’ family tree—God-usurpers like Adam, schemers like Abraham and Sarah, the guilty like Judah, the exploited like Tamar, prostitutes like Rahab, widows like Naomi, outsiders like Ruth, adulterers and murderers like David, and the grieving like Bathsheba.
 
When you look at Jesus’ family line, you don’t find a list of heroes—you find a gallery of grace. Broken marriages, moral failures, exploitation, grief, and loss. And God placed them there on purpose, to show us the kind of people Jesus came to save.
 
Jesus came for people like them, and He came for people like us. He came to break the chains of sin and death, to reverse the curse, and to make peace by the blood of His cross.
 
And that brings us to the most personal question of Christmas: what do we do with this Savior?
 
Christmas is an Invitation, Not Just an Announcement
John tells us that “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God...” (John 1:10-12).  Then, John wrote one of the most astonishing sentences ever penned: “The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us....” (v. 14). Literally, He made His home with us.
 
God chose to reverse the curse not by removing us from the world, but by entering it—by dwelling among us in the person of His Son. Why? So that we might finally come home.
 
I don’t know where you are tonight or what you’re carrying; I don’t know the pain you carry or the disappointments that weigh on your heart, but I do know this—Jesus came not to condemn you, but to make you whole.
 
This Christmas Eve, the invitation is simple: come to the Light, come to the Word made flesh, come home.  Jesus must be received by faith, not merely admired from a distance.
 
This Christmas Eve, the invitation is simple: come to the Light, come to the Savior, find your light and life in Him.
 
Conclusion
In just a moment, the lights in this room will be dimmed, and one small flame will be passed from candle to candle. And as that light spreads, I want you to remember this: the darkness was not overcome by noise or force, but by the Light of Christ. That is how God came to us—not with spectacle, but with a child; not with condemnation, but with grace.
 
Jesus entered our darkness to save us. This news is called the gospel of Jesus Christ. Here is how the apostle Paul described this News and promise of Christmas: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Rom. 1:16).
 
And tonight, as the light moves from one person to the next, may it remind you that no darkness is too deep, no past so bad, and no heart too far gone for the Light of the gospel of Jesus Christ to overcome. As John 1:5 promises: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”