Meadowbrooke Church

Behold the Scroll

In 2016, I was gifted a second-generation Apple Watch. Since then, I’ve worn a smartwatch almost exclusively—until recently. I still wear my Apple Watch, but I now also wear a mechanical watch—one that needs neither a battery nor a charging cable. It runs on a finely engineered system of gears, springs, and a self-winding rotor that winds as I move my wrist. When I wear it, I’m wearing a timepiece with hundreds of tiny components working in harmony—visible through the caseback, moving like a heartbeat.
There is an older and grander clock in our world—the Strasbourg Cathedral Astronomical Clock, located inside the Cathédrale Notre-Dame in France. The clock you see today is more than 180 years old, yet it stands in a long tradition of timekeeping at that very location stretching back centuries. It does far more than tell time; it tracks the calendar, calculates leap years and the date of Easter, and reflects the movements of the heavens. Though it may appear complex—almost chaotic—every gear turns exactly when it is supposed to. Nothing is random. Everything functions according to a precise, intentional design.
If this is true of a man-made clock, how much more is it true of history itself? Scripture shows that history is not random but ordered—designed and directed by the One who sits on the throne. This is what we saw in Revelation 4. John was given a glimpse of heaven’s throne room, and what he saw was not chaos but the Lord who orders all of creation according to His will. What John saw was a God sovereign over all things, faithful to His promises, and worthy of all worship. What John experienced was a creation that is oriented toward the Lord God Almighty (Rev. 4:8).
But as the vision continues into Revelation 5, something shifts. The throne remains, and the One seated upon it has not changed. Yet now our attention turns to the scroll that is in His right hand—and to a tension that brings all of heaven to a standstill.
Before we consider the scroll, we must understand why it is in His right hand.
 
The One Who Holds the Scroll (v. 1a)
If creation is ordered by a sovereign God, history cannot be random or out of control. The fact that the scroll is in the right hand of the Lord God Almighty is not incidental—it is significant. In the song of Moses (Exod. 15), we are given a glimpse into what the right hand of God represents: “Your right hand, O LORD, is majestic in power; Your right hand, O LORD, shatters the enemy” (v. 6; NASB).
The right hand is the hand of strength, authority, and power. It is the hand by which God acts. What is held in the right hand of God is not uncertain or fragile—it is secure. He holds it because He is sovereign, all-powerful, and unstoppable.
This is why we know that all that exists, does so as a creation ordered, directed, and sustained by the sovereign hand of the God who has been, who is, and who will be on the throne. This is the God of whom the prophet Isaiah writes: 
“...remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose,’ calling a bird of prey from the east, the man of my counsel from a far country. I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass; I have purposed, and I will do it.” (Isa. 46:9-11)
When the apostle Paul addressed the philosophers in Athens, he spoke of this same God:“The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth… gives to all mankind life and breath and everything… having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place… for ‘In him we live and move and have our being’” (Acts 17:24–28).
All of history is moving in one direction. There are no do-overs, no rewinds, and no pause buttons for the trajectory of history or where it is headed. History is a current you cannot stop, and its force carries everything forward. In that stream, our lives are a flash—a moment that is here and then gone (Jas. 4:13-17).
And yet, if we are honest, most of our lives are lived with little consideration for this God—the One who created all things and who is sovereign over it all. He is not bound by time, because He created it. He has determined the appointed times and boundaries not only of mankind, but of all creation. He has no needs, and yet He is the One who “gives to all mankind life and breath and everything” (Acts 17:25). This is the One who sits upon the throne.
A verse from the Bible appeared on one of my social media feeds, and I want to share it with you: “Turn my eyes away from worthless things; revive me with Your word” (Ps. 119:37).
The Hebrew word for “worthless” (שָׁוְא, šāwe’) refers to what is empty, vain, futile, and ultimately inconsequential. If there is no God, and if the Bible is not true, then the “worthless” things are all that we have. If the Bible is true—and the God revealed in its pages is real—then the words of C. T. Studd are not just poetic; they are a call to action:
Only one life, yes only one,Soon will its fleeting hours be done;Then, in “that day” my Lord to meet,And stand before His judgment seat;
Only one life, ’twill soon be past,Only what’s done for Christ will last.
 
Only one life, the still small voice,Gently pleads for a better choice;Bidding me selfish aims to leave,And to God’s holy will to cleave;
Only one life, ’twill soon be past,Only what’s done for Christ will last.
 
The Significance of the Scroll (v. 1b)
So what is the scroll? Theologians and scholars have offered different ideas and suggestions based on what they have read in the book of Daniel and elsewhere. The key to understanding the scroll is to pay attention to what happens when each of its seals is broken. We must pay careful attention to what happens when its seals are broken. As each seal is broken, the process of judgment, redemption, and restoration begins. This is not simply information to be shared; it is a purposeful plan set into action. 
The most direct Old Testament parallel is found in Ezekiel 2:9–10, listen to what the prophet Ezekiel said about a scroll he saw: “And when I looked, behold, a hand was stretched out to me, and behold, a scroll of a book was in it. And he spread it before me. And it had writing on the front and on the back, and there were written on it words of lamentation and mourning and woe.”  What the prophet saw was a scroll written on both sides, filled with words of lamentation, mourning, and woe. You will see this when we get to Revelation 6, but for now what you need to know is that as the seals on the scroll are broken, sorrow, judgment, and woe are released throughout the earth. 
So, let me tell you what the scroll represents. It represents God’s righteous judgments, but it is more than that. The presence of all seven seals symbolizes perfect fullness and absolute inviolability. What does that mean? It means no one will be able to crack the code to hack the scroll, because it is secure.  
But that is not all. Within the scroll are the seven trumpets and the seven bowls of the wrath of God—through which the full and just judgment of God is poured out on all who are not covered by the blood of the Lamb. Yet the scroll is not only about judgment. Within it is the vindication of suffering saints, the removal of the curse of sin, the death of death itself, the new heaven and the new earth, and the physical presence of the Kingdom of God dwelling with His people.
Within this scroll is the fulfillment of what the prophet Isaiah promised: “So the redeemed of the LORD will return and enter Zion with singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee” (Isa. 51:11; BSB). And within it is the day when God Himself will rejoice over His people, as Zephaniah declares: “The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing” (Zeph. 3:17).
Listen: the scroll is not merely a record of events—it is the will and testament of God, revealing His sovereign plan to judge evil, redeem His people, and restore creation. The scroll contains the full scope of God’s redemptive plan and is held securely in the right hand of the One seated on the throne. He who holds the scroll in His right hand is the Father, who declares, “My purpose will stand, and all My good pleasure I will accomplish” (Isa. 46:10; BSB). The seven seals signify that His plan is complete, perfect, and unstoppable—but there will be no wiping away of tears, no fleeing of sorrow and sighing, nor the Father’s rejoicing and singing over the redeemed if it is not opened! 
 
Only One Can Open the Scroll (vv. 2-5)
After seeing the scroll in the right hand of the Father, John then sees a “mighty” (ischyros) angel who proclaims with a loud voice: “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?”
The word ischyros is used only three times in Revelation to describe an angel, meaning “strong” or “mighty.” Each time it appears, it marks a decisive moment in the unfolding of God’s purposes—whether announcing what is to come or signaling final judgment.
But in Revelation 5, the mighty angel does not act—he proclaims. With a voice that thunders throughout heaven, he asks the question on which everything depends: “Who is worthy?” This is not a question of strength or ability, but of worthiness.
The question is not arbitrary—it is necessary. If the scroll is the deed of creation and contains the Father’s plan and purpose to judge evil, redeem sinful humanity, and restore a cursed creation, it cannot be opened by just anyone. What is required is not merely strength but worthiness—One with the right to act on behalf of Adam’s fallen race. There must be One who can stand in the place of those who lost everything when Adam and Eve rebelled. What is needed is a true and better Adam—someone who fully embodies humanity and possesses everything necessary to redeem: power, wealth, wisdom, might, honor, glory, and blessing. This One must be both fully human and fully God.
All of redemption hinges on the opening of the scroll. The scroll cannot be opened by even the strongest and holiest of angels, it can only be opened by One who has the right to redeem—the one who can stand in the place of the guilty and restore what has been lost. And so the question resounds through all creation: Who is worthy?
In that moment, from John’s perspective, we are told that “no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it” (v. 3). So John “weeps loudly,” or, as the Berean Standard Bible translates John’s response, “I began to weep bitterly...” John responds this way because he understands the theological implications: if the scroll remains sealed, God’s promises are not fulfilled, the serpent is not crushed, the nations are not blessed, death is not defeated, and the kingdom does not come. The only inheritance left is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
It is in this moment that history itself comes to a standstill. All of creation holds its breath. John is overcome with great sorrow as his tears embody the anguish of hope delayed—until the voice of one of the twenty-four elders breaks through the silence of heaven: “Weep no more; behold the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals” (v. 5)
Who is this Lion? He is the One promised long ago: He is the Lion from the tribe of Judah who would come to rule as King (Gen. 49:9–10). He is the Root of Jesse foretold by Isaiah (Isa. 11:1, 10), the righteous Branch promised through David (Jer. 23:5–6), and the King whose reign will never end (2 Sam. 7:12–13; Luke 1:32–33). He is the First and the Last (Isa. 44:6; Rev. 1:17), the Origin of creation (John 1:3; Col. 1:16), and He is the Alpha and the Omega (Rev. 22:13). The prophet Jeremiah calls Him “Yahweh our Righteousness” (Jer. 23:6). Every covenant, every promise, and every hope finds its fulfillment in Him. He has overcome (Rev. 5:5).
So consider who it is who sits on the throne—and consider the One who has conquered sin and death to open the scroll. If this is who He is, then the Psalmist’s prayer must become your prayer: “Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in Your ways” (Ps. 119:37).
Why fix your eyes on what is worthless—your legacy, your wealth, your reputation—when there is One worthy to receive all power, wealth, wisdom, might, honor, glory, and blessing?
Do not settle for what cannot last. Turn to the One who alone is worthy.
In the words of C.T. Studd’s closing verses from his poem: 
Oh let my love with fervor burn,
And from the world now let me turn;
Living for Thee, and Thee alone,
Bringing Thee pleasure on Thy throne;
Only one life, ’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last.
 
Only one life, yes only one,
Now let me say,”Thy will be done”;
And when at last I’ll hear the call,
I know I’ll say “twas worth it all”;
Only one life,’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last

He Who is Worthy

We live in a day when worship is often treated casually—but Scripture makes it clear that God does not take worship lightly. And yet, many of us rarely stop to consider what is actually taking place in heaven right now… what true worship really looks like before the throne of God.
Last week, we were given a glimpse into that throne room, where everything centers on the One who sits upon the throne—surrounded by splendor, power, and unshakable sovereignty. But as John’s vision continues, our attention now shifts from the throne itself to the worship that surrounds it.
After the Lord delivered Israel from the clutches of Pharaoh by parting the Red Sea, Moses and the people sang a song of praise. At the center of that song is this question: “Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exod. 15:11). It is here that we are reminded why we exist—not for ourselves, but for God, whose holiness sets Him apart from all else.
Scripture repeatedly shows us what happens when that holiness is not regarded. Nadab and Abihu approached God in worship on their own terms—and they were consumed (Lev. 10:1–2). Uzzah reached out his hand to steady the ark—and he was struck down (2 Sam. 6:6–7). These are not isolated incidents. They are warnings. Worship that disregards the holiness of God is not merely deficient—it is dangerous. For as the Lord has said, “You shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44; cf. 1 Pet. 1:16).
And it is precisely this holiness—the holiness that cannot be ignored, redefined, or approached on our terms—that fills the throne room of heaven in Revelation 4, where unceasing worship rises before the One who is “holy, holy, holy.” The worship we see in Revelation 4 is not casual, and it is not optional—it is the only right response to who God is. So if Revelation 4 shows us what true worship looks like in heaven, then the question we must ask is this: Why is God so worthy of that kind of worship?
 
We Worship the LORD Because There is No One Like Him (v. 6a)
Revelation 4 shows us that the experience of God’s presence is not rooted in what we feel, nor is it produced by the latest worship song—it is grounded in the truth of who God has revealed Himself to be in His Word.
Do you remember what I said about the sea of glass before the throne of God? The sea represents chaos and opposition to God’s purposes, and it is from the sea that the beast comes. Yet here, before the throne, the sea is stilled, reminding us that what threatens creation elsewhere is powerless in His presence.  In the presence of the One on the throne is where the redeemed find shalom (peace). 
What John sees in Revelation 4 is not only a display of power—it is a revelation of who God is. He is the Lord Almighty who rules over all things. He is a covenant-keeping God who keeps His promises. And He is a worship-worthy God before whom all of heaven bows down. And what is heaven’s response? “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power…” He is worthy—not because of what He gives, but because of who He is. 
There is only one other place in Revelation where the sea of glass is referenced, and it appears in Revelation 15—the fourth of the seven heavenly throne-room scenes in John’s apocalypse. There, John describes the same sea of glass, but with an added detail: “And I saw what appeared to be a sea of glass mingled with fire—and also those who had conquered the beast and its image and the number of its name, standing beside the sea of glass with harps of God in their hands” (v. 2).
At the Red Sea, God’s presence stood between His people and their enemies—bringing light to one and judgment to the other (Exod. 14:19–20). In Revelation, that same reality is intensified as the sea itself is mingled with fire (Rev. 15:2)—symbolically pointing us back to Exodus 14, where God prevented Egypt from pursuing Israel (Exod. 14:24–25). After allowing Pharaoh and his army to begin crossing the parted sea, He then consumed the enemies of God by bringing the waters of the Red Sea upon them (Exod. 14:26–28).
This connection is not incidental. The redeemed stand beside the sea with harps in their hands and sing what John calls “the song of Moses… and the song of the Lamb” (v. 3). Just as Israel stood on the far side of the Red Sea and sang of their deliverance, so now the people of God stand victorious and sing once more—only this time, their deliverance is final.
And just as the plagues of Egypt preceded Israel’s redemption, so here the song is sung on the threshold of judgment, just before the seven bowls of wrath are poured out—judgments that unmistakably echo the plagues that fell upon Egypt. For now, let’s focus on a single verse from the song Israel sang after crossing the Red Sea: “Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exod. 15:11).
In Revelation 15:3–4, a similar song is taken up and directed to the Lamb: “Great and amazing are your deeds, O Lord God the Almighty! Just and true are your ways, O King of the nations! Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship you, for your righteous acts have been revealed.” What began as a song of deliverance at the Red Sea becomes, in Revelation, a song of final redemption before the throne—and at the center of both songs is the same unchanging truth: there is no one like Him.
 
We Worship the LORD Because He is the Creator of All (vv. 6b-7)
We are now introduced to four living creatures whose praise echoes that of the seraphim in Isaiah 6, who declare of the One on the throne: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory” (Isa. 6:3). Like the seraphim, these creatures have six wings, but unlike them, they are described as being full of eyes in front and behind. These eyes symbolize unceasing awareness—nothing escapes their sight as they live in continual service before their Creator. At the same time, each creature is distinct, representing a different realm of creation and reflecting the goodness of the One who made all things.
There are four creatures because they represent the fullness of creation, yet each highlights a distinct category of created life. The creature like a lion represents the wild animals—strength, majesty, and power. The creature like an ox represents domesticated animals—service, endurance, and strength under authority. The creature with the face of a man represents humanity—intelligence, reason, and the image of God. The creature like an eagle in flight represents the birds of the air—swiftness and dominion in the skies. Together, these four living creatures represent the strongest, wisest, most powerful, and most majestic forms of created life—and all of them are oriented toward the worship of their Creator.
Some scholars have also noted a possible connection between these four living creatures and the way Israel was arranged in the wilderness. In Numbers 2, the twelve tribes were divided into four groups and positioned around the tabernacle, with the presence of God at the center. Later Jewish tradition suggests that each group bore a distinct image—such as a lion, an ox, a man, and an eagle—images that closely resemble the creatures described here. If this connection is valid, it adds another layer of meaning: the living creatures would not only represent the fullness of creation, but also reflect the people of God gathered in ordered worship around His presence. In that sense, they may point to humanity as it was always meant to be—a community centered on God and devoted entirely to His glory.
Whether these creatures are the cherubim described elsewhere in Scripture or a distinct class of heavenly beings, the point remains clear: they represent all of created life, and they perform the very function that all of creation was designed to fulfill—which is worship. And like the seraphim, they never cease to say: “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” (v. 8).
 
We Worship the LORD Because He is Perfectly Holy (v. 8)
The declaration of the four living creatures is not that He is love—though He most certainly is. Nor do they declare that He is just, though everything around the throne testifies to His perfect justice. They do not highlight any of His other attributes. Instead, they declare the one attribute that lies at the very core of all that He is—His holiness. And they declare it to the highest degree. He is not merely “holy,” nor even “holy, holy.” No—our God is: “Holy, holy, holy!” This is the only attribute of God raised to the third degree in all of Scripture. 
But what does it mean that God is holy? To be holy is to be set apart and separate from all that is sinful, impure, or morally imperfect. As it relates to God, there is nothing like Him in all of creation, and there is nothing in Him that is flawed, corrupt, or deficient.  God’s holiness is the beauty of all that He is. Stephen Charnock rightly said, “Holiness is the beauty of all God’s attributes.”  Brothers and sisters, it is God’s holiness that makes Him glorious—it is what makes His justice just, His mercy merciful, and His power pure.
This is why the worship of God is both serious and dangerous. As Michael Horton argues in his book In the Face of God, the danger is not in drawing near to God—the danger is in doing so on our own terms. Nadab and Abihu approached God on their own terms—and they were consumed (Lev. 10:1–3). Uzzah reached out his hand to steady the Ark, assuming his hand was cleaner than the dirt—and he was struck down (2 Sam. 6:6–7). Ananias and Sapphira were more concerned with their image than God’s glory—and they too fell dead (Acts 5:1–11). Why? Because the holiness of God cannot be approached casually, on our own terms, or treated as common.
And, just in case you are tempted to think that these examples are extreme and ought not be taken too seriously, consider the way Jesus taught us to pray: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Jesus did not say to recite this prayer (though that is okay), but to pray “like this.” We are to begin with something like: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed by your name.” That first petition is not one request among many—it is the foundation of them all, just as holiness is for the character of the Lord God Almighty! Every other request modeled for us in our Lord’s prayer flows from it and serves it: 
Your kingdom come… for the hallowing of your name. 
Your will be done… for the hallowing of your name. 
Give us this day our daily bread… for the hallowing of your name. 
Forgive us as we forgive others… for the hallowing of your name. 
Lead us not into temptation… for the hallowing of your name.
Deliver us from evil... for the hallowing of your name. 
Do you see it? We exist for the renown of God’s holy name in every area and part of our lives because He is holy, holy, holy! This is exactly what we see in Revelation 4. Heaven is not centered on man but on God. He is the Creator, and we are the creature. He reigns from heaven, and we are on earth. He is eternally sufficient, and we are utterly dependent upon Him. All that we do—how we live, how we pray, how we worship—is to be shaped and motivated by one great purpose: that God’s name would be hallowed! As His Word reminds us, “For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen” (Rom. 11:36).
Only when God becomes the center of your universe will you begin to see your life rightly. And only then will you experience the kind of joy and satisfaction you were created for. At the center of that reality is the question sung in victorious celebration by Moses and the rest of Israel: “Who is like you O Lord... majestic in holiness?” (Exod. 15:11)
 
We Worship the LORD Because He Alone is Worthy (vv. 9-11)
Notice the response of the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders. They fall down before Him who is seated on the throne. Their posture shows us the proper response to God’s holiness—not pride, but surrender. The twenty-four elders lay down their crowns because they recognize that whatever authority, honor, or reward they possess ultimately belongs to the One on the throne.
In response to the declaration that our unchanging God is “Holy, holy, holy…,” the elders proclaim: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Everything that exists does so because God wills it. That means your life is not random, nor did it come by chance. You were created by Him and for Him—and the only right response is to lay down whatever you are holding onto and give Him the glory He deserves.
Listen—if you approach God on your terms, you will never experience Him as you were created to. Your way of worship will always lead you to your idols and away from the living God. But when you see Him for who He truly is—holy, holy, holy—you will do what heaven does: you will bow, you will surrender, and you will worship.
Heaven is not confused about who it is that sits on the throne. Heaven is not distracted by lesser glories. Heaven is not divided by that which does not last. All of heaven is fixed on one reality that outweighs everything else infinitely more: God is holy, and He is worthy of it all! 
One day, you will join this scene that we are given in Revelation 4. One day, you will stand before the One who sits on the throne. The only question is this: Will you bow before Him now in worship, or will you bow before Him then in judgment? 
If you really want to experience God, if you really want to live your life for that which will last and which matters, then be determined in your heart to do this: Turn from lesser things by giving God what heaven already declares—glory, honor, and all that you are. Why? Because there is no one like Him. Because He is the Creator. Because He is holy. And because He alone is worthy.

The One on the Throne

Revelation 4 is one of those chapters in the Bible that should leave us breathless by its sheer majesty and beauty. There are moments in this world that cause us to step back and marvel—yet even those are only a faint glimpse of something far greater: “O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens” (Ps. 8:1).
Scripture gives us glimpses that prepare us for what John sees here. Moses stood before a burning bush and was told, “Take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground,” and when God revealed Himself, Moses hid his face (Exod. 3:1–6). Isaiah saw the Lord “high and lifted up,” heard the seraphim cry, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts,” and responded, “Woe is me! … for my eyes have seen the King,” yet even there mercy followed: “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for” (Isa. 6:1–8).
But there is another scene that parallels Revelation 4 in a particularly striking way—Exodus 19. And what we are about to read is nothing less than a glimpse of what it looks like when the living God descends in power and glory:
On the morning of the third day there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet blast, so that all the people in the camp trembled. Then Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet God, and they took their stand at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the Lord had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly. And as the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him in thunder. The Lord came down on Mount Sinai, to the top of the mountain. And the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain, and Moses went up. 
At Sinai, the people stood at a distance and trembled—but in Revelation 4, a door stands open in heaven, and John is invited to come up and see. And what is staggering is this: the same God who descended in fire at Sinai now reveals Himself from the throne of heaven.
Before we begin, since Revelation 4–5 is the first of seven heavenly throne-room scenes, you need to understand why it is here. These scenes are not given to satisfy our curiosity, but to fuel our worship. They shape our perspective and reorient our lives. They serve as a lens through which we are to see all of human history. In other words, before John is shown what is happening on earth, he is first shown what is true in heaven.
 
Yahweh is a Sovereign God (vv. 1-2)
John looks—and behold… an open door! He is invited into the throne room of God, much like the prophet Isaiah, who was given a vision of the same sights and sounds. The apostle Paul experienced something similar in 2 Corinthians 12:2–4, when he was taken up to what he called the “third heaven” and said that what he heard “were too sacred for words, things that man is not permitted to tell.” What John is invited to see is the very place where God’s presence dwells—what we know as heaven. We are not told whether this was an in-body or out-of-body experience, but what he saw was real.
Scripture tells us that God is “immortal, invisible, the only God” (1 Tim. 1:17), who “dwells in unapproachable light” (1 Tim. 6:16). Yet John tells us what he saw: “a throne stood in heaven, with one seated on the throne” (vv. 2–3). This is the first and most important thing John wants us to see: God is on the throne. And remember where John is. He is on Patmos—exiled by the most powerful empire in the world. His friends are gone. Some have died violently. He is old, worn down, and alone. And what does he see? God is on the throne.
What was it that Isaiah saw that we can assume John experienced? Isaiah said, “I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of His robe filled the temple.  Above Him stood the seraphim” (Isa. 6:1-2a).  What the old and exiled apostle experienced when He witnessed the throne-room of God was that God is living, the One described in Isaiah 40 who “is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He, who does not faint or grow weary; whose understanding is unsearchable” (v. 28). 
The throne that stood in heaven is the one Isaiah described as “high and lifted up.” This means He is great in power and might—in other words, He is omnipotent! In Revelation 4:8, the One on the throne is declared to be “the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.” He does not have an off day, nor does He grow weary or become frustrated, because He is totally and completely sovereign. There is no “whoops” and there is no “my bad” in the vocabulary of God Almighty. 
The One on the throne is Yahweh, and He is a sovereign God who can be trusted.
 
Yahweh is a Covenant-Keeping God (v. 3)
What John describes next reveals what Yahweh is like. Notice what he says: “And he who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald” (v. 3). The colors of jasper and carnelian are associated with the stones affixed to the high priest’s breast piece, where each stone represented one of the twelve tribes of Israel, with their names inscribed upon them. Carnelian was the first stone, representing Reuben, and jasper was the last, representing Benjamin.
What John saw was not merely a display of color—it was a theological statement radiating from the One on the throne: God is a covenant-keeping God. He is faithful to His people even when His people are unfaithful. He keeps all of His promises.
But that is not all. Around the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald. This takes us back to Genesis 9, where the rainbow was given as a sign that God would not destroy the earth with a flood again and that He is the God of mercy who saves those He loves. It also echoes who God is: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness… but who will by no means clear the guilty…” (Exod. 34:6–7). In other words, mercy surrounds the throne of God—but not at the expense of His justice.
From the throne come “flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder…” (v. 5). This is not theatrics—it is the language of Sinai: “Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the LORD had descended on it in fire… and the whole mountain trembled greatly… and God answered him in thunder” (Exod. 19:18–19).
What John sees is not something new, but the same God who descended in fire at Sinai, whose voice shook the mountain, and before whom the people trembled. But now He is not confined to a mountain—He is seated on a throne. This is the same presence that caused Isaiah to cry out: “Woe is me! … for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts” (Isa. 6:5).
Oh, this is no theatrics at all! This is the presence of Yahweh—the God of Noah, who spared a family and flooded the earth; the God of Abraham, who set His love on a man who did not seek Him; and the God of Moses, who called an inadequate man to lead Israel out of slavery. He is the God who shows mercy—and the God who executes judgment.
The One on the throne is holy, holy, holy! He is not safe and not to be managed. And yet—He is the One who calls sinners to Himself and brings them into covenant, so that they may know Him as Father and be known by Him as His children, rather than remaining under His just wrath.
Even the emerald rainbow serves as a reminder of the unrelenting mercy, grace, and love of a holy God. Although Scripture does not explicitly connect it to Judah, the color of royalty surrounding the throne fittingly anticipates the Lion of the tribe of Judah—who is also the Lamb. 
Oh, dear weary Christian, Yahweh is a Covenant-Keeping God! Though you may feel He is far off or has forgotten you, He will not fail you. He is with you in your Patmos, and He has not forgotten His promises to you. 
 
Yahweh is a Worship-Worthy God 
What is heaven’s response to the One seated on the throne—the One who spoke creation into existence? Worship.
Isaiah helps us see this in his description of the seraphim. While John and Isaiah both describe these creatures as having six wings, Isaiah tells us what they do with them. As they surround the throne, they cry out: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isa. 6:3). With two wings they cover their faces, with two they cover their feet, and with two they fly. These sinless creatures, who would strike fear into the hearts of men, do not presume to look upon the Holy One, nor do they consider themselves worthy even to leave their feet uncovered in His presence.
John adds another detail: the twenty-four elders, clothed in white garments and wearing golden crowns on their heads. Throughout Revelation, their posture is unmistakable: they “fall down before Him who is seated on the throne and worship Him who lives forever and ever.” Prostrate before the Lord God Almighty, they cast their crowns before Him and declare: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (vv. 10-11). 
Theologians differ on the identity of these elders. Some see them as angelic beings, others as glorified saints, and still others as a symbolic representation of the fullness of God’s redeemed people. I am convinced of the latter. The number twenty-four reflects the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles—together representing the complete people of God. As Paul writes in Ephesians,
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Eph. 2:19-20).
Yet whatever view one adopts of who the 24 elders are or represent, their posture is unmistakable. They fall before the throne in worship of the One who alone is worthy! What we learn from John’s apocalypse is that heaven is ordered around worship. Authority flows from God alone, and the fitting response of all creation is that He who is on the throne is worthy of it all!
In a world filled with competing powers, loud voices demanding our allegiance, and constant anxiety about the future, Revelation strips away the illusion and reveals the truth: there is only One who reigns above it all, and it is He and He alone who is truly great! There is only One worthy of worship—and our allegiance belongs to Him. Before the rest of history unfolds, heaven proclaims that He alone is seated on the throne. 
Yahweh is a Worship-Worthy God. You were made to know Him and to be known by Him. Your purpose is found in the image you bear, and that image is His image. He deserves your whole life.
 
Yahweh is a Reorienting God (v. 6a)
In Revelation, the sea represents chaos and opposition to God’s purposes, and later it gives rise to the beast (Rev. 13:1–10). Yet here, before the throne, the sea is stilled. What threatens creation elsewhere is powerless in God’s presence. The Creator who hovered over the waters in the beginning and parted the Red Sea to redeem His people now reigns over all disorder. Chaos exists—but it does not rule. It can only go so far and no further, because the One seated on the throne is worthy to receive glory and honor and power.
Now do you see why John needed to first see Yahweh on His throne before he was shown anything else? Do you see how this must have caused the old and lonely apostle’s heart to soar? What is the empire before the One of whom the Scriptures testify: “Lift up your eyes on high: Who created all these? He leads forth the starry host by number; He calls each one by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing” (Isa. 40:26; BSB) 
We will return to the rest of this chapter next week, but permit me to leave you with this: whatever chaos is disrupting the shalom that only God can give has no power to sweep you away when the Almighty knows you by name. And He knows you because of the Lion of Judah, who redeemed you by laying down His life as the Lamb of God for sins you are guilty of.
That rainbow around the throne appears as emerald because the Lion of Judah became the Lamb of God. He took upon Himself the flood of God’s holy wrath so you might experience only God’s great love.
I cannot help but think that when John saw the throne room, he remembered what he had written to the churches long ago: “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” (1 John 3:1a).
Listen—Yahweh is a Reorienting God. Those waves in your life are only permitted to go so far and no further. How do I know this? I know because of the promise of the Lion of Judah, who calls me His own: “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. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one” (John 10:27-30). 
And if no one can snatch you from His hand… then the waves that threaten to overwhelm you have no power to pull you from the One who will never let you go.

The Triumphant Christ

The problem with man-made religion is that it creates a system where you must go up to God.
Let me give you some examples:
Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) said, “By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one purified. Purity and impurity depend on oneself; no one can purify another.
Confucius taught that personal excellence is achieved through discipline, desire, and effort.
Karl Marx said that religion is “the sigh of the oppressed creature… the heart of a heartless world… the soul of soulless conditions… the opium of the people,” and that real change comes when we change the world ourselves.
And Benjamin Franklin famously wrote, “God helps those who help themselves.”
What’s my main point? It’s that we humans have been trying to fix ourselves for thousands of years—and we keep ending up at the same dead-end street. Whether it’s religion telling us to reach up to God, or philosophy telling us to fix the world ourselves, the message remains the same: “It’s on us.” 
Christianity tells a very different story, because the message of the Bible is not that we need to reach up to God, but that He came down to us by sending His only Son, and in Philippians 2:5–11 we see just how far He was willing to come down.
 
Jesus Became Like Us (vv. 5-7)
Humanity was created in God’s image to worship Him and reflect His glory in the world. As Genesis tells us, “God created man in his own image… male and female he created them” (Gen. 1:27). Humanity was not just another part of creation but a unique reflection of the Creator, called to live under His rule and blessing.
At the center of the garden stood the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, from which God forbade them to eat, warning, “in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Gen. 2:17). Yet everything changed when the serpent questioned God’s word: “Did God actually say…?” (Gen. 3:1). The core of the temptation was a challenge to God’s goodness. Eve saw, took, and ate—and Adam followed (v. 6).
Their rebellion shattered their innocence: “the eyes of both were opened… and they sewed fig leaves together” (v. 7). Instead of life, they chose death. Believing the serpent’s lie, they doubted God’s goodness and received not blessing but the curse He had warned about.
Since then, humanity has been trying to fix what was broken. We attempt to deal with sin, guilt, and brokenness through our own efforts, but we always fail. No amount of effort can undo what sin has done. We cannot cleanse our hearts, nor can we reach God by our own might.
This is why Jesus became a man. He did not come because we were succeeding but because we were incapable of meeting God’s holy standard. God came to us when His Son entered our sin-cursed world, because there was no way we could climb out of it. Jesus became like us because it was impossible for us to become like Him. As Paul writes in Philippians 2:5–7, “though he was in the form of God, a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.”
Jesus did not begin in Bethlehem. He has always existed as God. Though He possessed all divine rights, He did not cling to them but took on humanity. The One who created all things entered His creation, descending into our curse, yet without sin. And His works—giving sight to the blind and life to the dead—testify that He is, and always has been, God.
Why did Jesus become like us? This is why He came: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). He came to fulfill a promise spoken by the prophet Isaiah hundreds of years before His birth: “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18). 
 
Jesus Died for Us (v. 8)
Now, I know we are celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ today, but His resurrection makes no sense apart from His crucifixion. Before our sins could be made white as snow, they had to be placed upon Him—every sin, every failure, every stain. All of it. From His first cry in the manger to His prayerful plea in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus lived under the shadow of the cross.
And He never ran from that shadow—He moved toward it. Before He carried the cross to Golgotha, He had already embraced it. Do not think for a second that Jesus was a victim. He told His disciples, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem… [the Son of Man] will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon” (Luke 18:31–32). He said this while walking toward the very suffering He described. Jesus was no victim.
Why did He do it? Was there another way? Yes—there was another way: that we would bear the full weight of God’s just wrath. God’s justice would still be satisfied, but we would be the ones to pay the price. Instead, “He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8).
God’s wrath is not arbitrary—it flows from His holy and perfect character. He must uphold justice because He is just (Isa. 42:8; Rom. 1:18–20). And humanity, in its rebellion, has rejected Him (Rom. 1:21–23). The problem is not that God is unjust, but that man is deeply sinful—so much so that when given the opportunity, humanity did not merely reject God, but crucified Him (Acts 2:22–23).
We see this clearly in the final hours of Jesus’ life. Though innocent, He was arrested, mocked, beaten, and handed over to Pontius Pilate. When given the choice between Jesus and Barabbas, the crowd chose a murderer over the Author of life and demanded that Jesus be crucified.
Pilate, thinking he held authority, said to Him, “Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?” But Jesus answered, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above” (John 19:10–11). Even in that moment, the cross was not forced upon Jesus—it was embraced by Him.
Pilate then had Jesus scourged and handed Him over to be crucified (Matt. 27:24–26). Before the cross came the scourging—a brutal beating designed to tear flesh from bone. And after the scourging, before the cross, came the mockery.
This is where we see what could be called foreshadowing—when an event points ahead to what is to come. Between the scourging and the crucifixion, the soldiers unknowingly acted out a scene that pointed beyond the cross:
Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole battalion before him. And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” And they spit on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him and led him away to crucify him. 
In Philippians 2:9–11, we are told that after Jesus endured the cross for sinners, the humbling was over, and what had always rightfully belonged to Him was fully revealed—He is both Savior and Lord: “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that 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.”
Before Jesus was crucified for our sins, buried in a borrowed tomb, and raised on the third day, the devil did his worst through the soldiers who mocked Him. Jesus was stripped, flogged, and handed over to a battalion—possibly hundreds of soldiers—who gathered to ridicule Him. They clothed Him in a scarlet robe, twisted a crown of thorns onto His head, and placed a reed in His hand. They knelt before Him in mock worship, crying out, “Hail, King of the Jews!” Then they spat on Him, beat Him with the reed, struck Him on the head, stripped Him again, and led Him away to be crucified.
Do you see the foreshadowing? Even in their mockery, they were revealing why He was born, what He came to do, and what He would accomplish on the cross.
 
Jesus Redeemed Us (vv. 9-11)
What the soldiers meant for evil, God displayed the good He was accomplishing through His Son. When they flogged, mocked, and crucified Jesus, they did not realize that centuries earlier God had spoken through the prophet Isaiah: “But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5).
After scourging our Savior, they placed a scarlet robe on Him to mock Him—but they did not know that God had already declared: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow… though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18).
The soldiers twisted a crown of thorns as a form of mockery, reflecting their perverted sense of justice, yet without realizing they were placing upon Him the very representation of the curse of sin. From the beginning, after sin entered the world, God said, “thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you” (Gen. 3:18). They mocked the Lord of glory without knowing that He was born to redeem sinners and reverse the curse. What they meant for ridicule was, in reality, a declaration: the curse that was ours was being placed upon Him. As Isaiah also declared, “All we like sheep have gone astray… and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:6).
The soldiers placed a reed in Jesus’ right hand and knelt before Him, mocking Him with the words, “Hail, King of the Jews!” (Matt. 27:29). The reed—a thin and fragile cane—was intended as a counterfeit scepter, a symbol of mock authority. By placing it in His right hand, they sought to ridicule His claim to power, since the right hand represents strength and sovereignty. Yet their actions were not only cruel—they were deeply ironic. In their attempt to humiliate Him, they were unknowingly pointing to the very authority and kingship that truly belonged to Christ. Everything about this moment was staged to mock Him:
Scarlet robe → a fake royal garment
Crown of thorns → a twisted parody of a crown
Reed in His right hand → a counterfeit scepter
Kneeling before Him → sarcastic “worship”
Oh, that they would have known that the One they mocked was the very One Isaiah prophesied about centuries earlier: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son… Immanuel” (Isa. 7:14). Oh, that they would have known that the One before whom they bowed in mocking worship is the very One of whom God declared: “To me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear allegiance” (Isa. 45:22–23).
Oh, that they would have known that the reed they used to strike His wounded head—already pierced with thorns—was itself becoming bruised. With every blow it bent, splintered, and weakened, ready to snap. And oh, that they would have understood: the very reed in their hands testified to what was spoken centuries before, “a bruised reed he will not break” (Isa. 42:3).
Do you see the foreshadowing? What the soldiers meant for evil, God ordained for good—even for sinners like us. They bruised the reed and beat King Jesus, but in doing so, our Savior bore the judgment we deserved, so that He might heal and restore those who are broken.
Oh, that the soldiers could have seen then that the King they struck does not break the bruised—He was broken so that the bruised might be made whole. This was no accident. This was no tragedy. This was the plan of God, spoken beforehand through His prophet. Jesus was not a victim—He was the fulfillment.
 
Conclusion
Jesus was then forced to carry our cross to Golgotha, where He died the death we deserved for our sins: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). After He died, they took Him down from the cross and placed Him in a borrowed tomb. But on the third day… He rose from the grave.
Fifty days later, Peter stood before a crowd and declared the hope of the nations: 
Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs that God did through him in your midst, as you yourselves know— this Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it. (Acts 2:22-24).
This is why Paul could write: “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow… and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Phil. 2:9–11). The One they mocked is the One God exalted. The One they struck is the One before whom every knee will bow. The question is not if every knee will bow—but when.
The resurrection is God’s declaration that the One they crucified is the risen King—alive, exalted, and now reigning, worthy of every knee that will bow and every tongue that will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

The One Who Conquers

I want to read you some quotes from some theologians and authors that you could have found or may even still be able to find in your local Christian books store: 
Bob Wilkin: “One can be a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ and yet not be a disciple.” 
 
Jesus: “You have abandoned the love you had at first.” (Rev. 2:4)
 
Joel Osteen: “God wants to increase you financially, by giving you promotions, fresh ideas, and creativity.”
 
Jesus: “Be faithful onto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” (2:10)
 
Robert Schuller: “Sin is any act or thought that robs myself or another human being of his or her self-esteem.”
 
Jesus: “You have some there who hold the teaching of Balaam...” (2:14)
 
Joseph Dillow: “A Christian can be carnal, even persistently so, and still be saved.”
 
Jesus: “You tolerate that woman Jezebel...” (2:20)
 
Joseph Prince: “The bottom line is that the Holy Spirit never convicts you of your sins. He NEVER comes to point out your faults.”
 
Jesus: “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” (3:1)
 
Kenneth Copeland: “God’s will is for you to prosper in every way—spiritually, physically, and financially.”
 
Jesus: “You have but little power, and yet you have kept my word.” (3:8)
 
Norman Vincent Peale: “Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.”
 
Jesus: “You say, ‘I am rich... I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.”
 
With each of the seven letters, Jesus repeats the same four words: “The one who conquers...” And then he follows up those words with some promises:
“The one who conquers… I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God” (Rev. 2:7).
“The one who conquers… I will give you the crown of life, and you will not be hurt by the second death” (Rev. 2:10–11).
“The one who conquers… I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone” (Rev. 2:17).
“The one who conquers… “I will give authority over the nations, and I will give him the morning star” (Rev. 2:26–28).
“The one who conquers… will be clothed in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels” (Rev. 3:5).
“The one who conquers… I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God, and I will write on him the name of my God and my own new name” (Rev. 3:12).
“The one who conquers… I will grant him to sit with me on my throne” (Rev. 3:21).
 
As you may know, the title of this sermon series captures the central theme of the book of Revelation—a theme that can be summarized in a single word: Triumphant. But what does it mean to be triumphant? Jesus answers that question with four simple words: “the one who conquers.” So, the two questions before us this morning are: 1) What does it mean to “conquer”? and 2) What is promised to those who conquer?
 
What does it Mean to Conquer?
Let me begin by explaining what our Lord does not mean by these four words. Conquering does not mean that saying a prayer or repeating what is often called “the sinner’s prayer” guarantees salvation. It does not mean that God will prosper you financially or physically. It does not mean that your self-esteem will remain untouched. It does not mean that becoming a “Christian” allows you to live with unrepentant sin without fear. It does not mean that you can be wrong about Jesus without consequence. It does not mean that you will be free from suffering in this life. And it certainly does not mean that you can rely on your own strength.
 
So, what then does it mean to conquer?
 
If our time in Revelation has not made this clear enough, let me point you to a verse that stands at the very center of John’s apocalyptic masterpiece—a verse that captures the theme of the entire book: “And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11, ESV). The Berean Standard Bible puts it this way: “They have conquered by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony. And they did not love their lives so as to shy away from death.”
 
Who did they conquer? They conquered the great dragon—Satan himself—who is called the deceiver and the father of lies. The apostle Paul speaks of this same reality in Romans 16:20: “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.”
 
But how is this possible?
 
It is possible, first and foremost, because of what Jesus accomplished through the incarnation. The eternal Son of God—fully God from all eternity—became fully man, being born of a virgin. He entered our world for this purpose: to accomplish redemption, to secure the forgiveness of sins, and to bring about the final defeat of sin, Satan, and death. However, the way Jesus secured the victory was not the way His disciples—or anyone else—envisioned it.
 
When Jesus entered Jerusalem for the final week before His crucifixion, He did so riding on a colt while the crowds spread their cloaks and palm branches on the road ahead of Him. They shouted: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!” (see Mark 11:1-10). The crowds rightly believed they were welcoming the promised King, but by the end of the week, some of their voices would fall silent while others would cry out, “Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:12-13). 
 
Why? Because they misunderstood why Jesus came. They misunderstood what it meant for Him to conquer.
 
The crowds believed their greatest need was for the promised King to overthrow Rome. In their minds, there was no greater tyrant than the Roman Empire. But what they failed to see was that a far greater tyrant ruled over them—their own sin. Their greatest need was not political deliverance, but reconciliation to a holy God, because their sin demanded His righteous wrath.
 
They had celebrated the Passover year after year, but they missed what it pointed to. That feast was never an end in itself—it was a signpost. It pointed beyond itself to a true and better Lamb—the Lamb of God—who would take away the sin of the world. Jesus was clear about how He would conquer, but because the crowds could not see past Rome, a suffering Messiah was not on their radar. Even His disciples struggled to understand that the Lamb of God had to suffer and die by way of the cross before there would ever be the Crown.  Isaiah 53 prophesied long ago:
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.... Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. 
 
Jesus spoke plainly that this is what He came to do. On the way to Jerusalem shortly before Palm Sunday, He could not have been clearer: “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles. And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him. And after three days he will rise” (Mark 10:33-34). 
 
Jesus conquered by living the sinless life we could never live and by dying the death under the wrath of God that we all deserved. He did not conquer by taking the lives of His enemies, but by giving His life to reconcile sinners to God. The Lion of the tribe of Judah has conquered—but He conquered as the Lamb who was slain (see Rev. 5:5–6). This is why all of heaven rejoices: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev. 5:12).
 
So how do we conquer? The answer is found in the very verse we just read: “And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11).  Do not miss what this verse is saying! It does not describe a different kind of victory than the one Jesus secured, but shows that we conquer by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony. 
 
First, we conquer “by the blood of the Lamb.” Our victory is not based on our strength or effort, but entirely on what Jesus has already accomplished. The victory was won at the cross—not by us, but for us. Just as we are saved by Christ alone, we conquer by trusting that what He did was enough and that His righteousness is all we need.
 
Second, we conquer “by the word of our testimony.” In the book of Revelation, our testimony includes not only what we say but also the way we live in light of what we believe about Jesus. To confess Jesus as both Lord and Savior means living our lives based on that conviction, regardless of the cost. The word of our testimony is standing firm—refusing to compromise, refusing to bow before idols, and refusing to remain silent when the world demands our allegiance over Jesus. 
 
Third, we conquer by “not loving our lives so as to shy away from death (BSB).” To conquer is not to avoid suffering, but to remain faithful through it. To conquer is to value Christ above comfort, above safety, and even above life itself. The world says, “Preserve your life at all costs.” But Jesus says, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 16:25). 
 
I believe that when we consider these three things and apply them to our lives, we will regain the love we have abandoned, face suffering while holding onto hope, strengthen our resistance to compromise, see the emptiness of sexual sin, and care less about what others think of us. We will be less impressed by the powers of this world, and we will find ourselves more drawn to abide in Jesus as the source of our satisfaction and joy.
 
And this is where everything begins to come into focus. Because if this is what it means to conquer—if conquering means trusting in the blood of the Lamb, holding fast to our testimony, and remaining faithful even unto death—then we must ask: what is promised to those who conquer?
 
What is Promised to Those Who Conquer?
Before we examine what is promised to those who conquer, let me show you something you might not have noticed before. Often, Revelation 2–3 is treated separately from the rest of the book, but remember what I shared with you at the start of this series about how I believe Revelation is structured. Do you remember the chart I showed you in my first sermon? If you’ve forgotten, let me show it to you again.
 
 
There are seven vantage points through which John’s apocalypse is structured, each looking forward to the promise of a resurrected and renewed heaven and earth. Each of these vantage points—whether it is the churches, the seals, the trumpets, or the bowls—is not telling a different story, but the same story from different angles. They all move toward the same goal: Revelation 21 and 22—the new heaven and the new earth. 
 
Every cycle in Revelation is pulling us toward the same promise: that God will bring His people all the way home. This is where it all comes together, because the promises Jesus gives to those who conquer in Revelation 2 and 3 are the very realities we see fulfilled at the end of the book.
 
In closing, let me show you what it is that we are promised and how Revelation 2–3 points us to the inheritance that is ours in Jesus.
 
To the one who conquers, He promises access to the tree of life (Rev. 2:7)—a promise fulfilled when we see that tree again in the new creation (Rev. 22:2). To the one who conquers, He promises that they will not be hurt by the second death (Rev. 2:11)—a reality confirmed when death itself is finally destroyed (Rev. 20:14; 21:8).
 
He also promises hidden manna (Rev. 2:17)—true and lasting satisfaction in God's presence; authority to reign with Him (Rev. 2:26–28)—a promise fulfilled when the saints reign forever and ever (Rev. 22:5); and white garments (Rev. 3:5)—symbolizing purity, victory, and belonging, again seen in the glory of the redeemed (Rev. 22:14).
 
And more still: to the one who conquers, He promises that they will be a pillar in the temple of God (Rev. 3:12)—a permanent place in His presence, where they will never go out again; and that they will sit with Him on His throne (Rev. 3:21)—sharing in His rule, in His kingdom, forever.
 
Do you see how every promise made to those who conquer is fully fulfilled at the end of Revelation? This fulfillment is not due to our strength, but because the Lamb has conquered on our behalf. Those who follow the Lamb may be stripped of everything this world offers—status, possessions, even life itself—but in Christ, they gain everything. Their inheritance is nothing less than the fullness of God’s kingdom, eternal life, and everlasting joy. What is lost here pales in comparison to the glory that awaits; in Christ, they become heirs of all things.

To the Church in Laodicea

In the ancient world, few cities were as impressive as Laodicea. It was a place of wealth,  influence, and self-made success. Known for its thriving textile industry, its production of  luxurious black wool, and its advanced medical practices, Laodicea stood as a symbol of  prosperity. When disaster struck with a devastating earthquake, the city famously refused outside  help and rebuilt on its own. Independence was not just a necessity—it was a point of pride. By  all outward measures, Laodicea lacked nothing. 
Yet, there was a quiet irony rooted in the city’s life. Despite all its wealth and innovation,  Laodicea had no reliable water source. Its survival depended on water piped in from neighboring  cities—water that arrived neither refreshingly cold nor therapeutically hot, but lukewarm. Day  after day, residents lived with this subtle yet constant reminder: it is possible to be strong in  many ways and still lack what truly matters. 
That tension isn’t limited to ancient cities. It’s a danger that affects every generation—and every  church. It’s possible to have resources, reputation, and even religious activity, and still be  missing something essential. It’s possible to feel secure while being spiritually vulnerable, to  seem full while being empty, to assume all is well when something deeply wrong is present. And  into that kind of situation, Jesus speaks—not to condemn from a distance, but to confront, to  awaken, and ultimately to restore. 
Apathy Sickens the Soul (vv. 14-16) 
Jesus knows! To each of the seven churches, Jesus declares: “I know your works.” He knows  their poverty, their tribulation, their faithfulness, and their failures—because He loves His bride,  the church. And to the church in Laodicea, He says: “I know your works: you are neither cold  nor hot” (v. 15). This is not an opinion, not a hypothesis, and not slander. What Jesus knows, He  sees—and what He sees is reality. How do we know? Because of who Jesus is. He is the Amen,  the faithful and true witness, and the beginning of God’s creation. 
Jesus is the Amen—the “Yes” to all of God’s promises. He does not merely affirm what is true;  He is the fulfillment of it. As Paul writes, “For all the promises of God find their Yes in  him…” (2 Cor. 1:20). As Sam Storms puts it, “Jesus doesn’t just say, ‘Amen’; he is ‘the  Amen’… the validation of all that God has promised.”1 He is the faithful and true witness. You can trust Him. What He says is not only honest—it is truth. He never misreads, never  exaggerates, and never speaks in error. What He sees is reality (Rev. 1:5). And in contrast to the  Laodicean church—who prove to be unreliable, unfaithful, and ineffective—Jesus remains  utterly dependable, completely faithful, and the true witness. His words are not unkind, but  lovingly and truthfully direct. Because He is faithful and true, He neither misspeaks nor  misleads—He tells the truth that must be heard. 
1 Sam Storms, To the One Who Conquers (Wheaton, IL: Crossway; 2008), 196.
Finally, Jesus is the beginning of God’s creation—not that He has an origin, but that He is the  source of all creation and the beginning of the new. “All things were made through  him…” (John 1:3), and through Him God is making all things new: “If anyone is in Christ, he  is a new creation…” (2 Cor. 5:17); “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5). And it  is this Jesus—the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation—who  now says: “I know your works…” What works? Jesus answers: “you are neither cold nor  hot… you are lukewarm” (v. 15). 
Laodicea was heavily dependent on external water supplies. On one side of the city was  Colossae, known for its cool, refreshing drinking water. On the other side was Hierapolis, known  for its hot springs, believed to bring healing through their minerals. Colossae’s water refreshed;  Hierapolis’ water healed. By contrast, water was brought into Laodicea—likely from nearby  thermal sources—and by the time it arrived, it was no longer hot and not truly cold, but  lukewarm, mineral-laden, and often unpleasant to drink. It lacked the refreshing quality of cold  water and the therapeutic value of hot water—it was useful for neither. And this is the word  Jesus uses to describe His church. In fact, He goes even further: “So, because you are  lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (v. 16). The Greek  word for “spit” literally means “vomit.” Listen to the way the BSB translates this verse: “So  because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to vomit you out of My  mouth!” 
Many have interpreted Jesus’ desire for the Laodicean church to be either cold or hot—cold  meaning spiritually dead and hot meaning spiritually alive—as a sign of His anger over their  indifference. However, a better understanding considers the local context of Laodicea. Jesus is  calling this church to be like the cold water that refreshes or the hot water that heals, instead of  being ineffective by offering neither. The church had lost sight of her purpose in the city, and as  a result, her actions were revolting to her Groom—she had become so spiritually ill that she was  practically useless. They offered neither healing to those who were spiritually sick nor  refreshment to those who were spiritually thirsty. They were missionally useless. With that in  mind, let’s examine what Jesus says to this church. 
Self-Sufficiency Bankrupts Life (vv. 17-18) 
This sickness born from their apathy was symptomatic of a deeper problem: self-sufficiency.  Those within the church in Laodicea had come to believe they were doing just fine on their own.  It is true that missional apathy leads to spiritual blindness, but it is also true that the more self-sufficient we believe we are, the less effective we become. The more we depend on ourselves,  the less we depend on Christ—and the less we depend on Christ, the more spiritually lifeless we  become. Jesus said of the Christian,  
I am the true vine, and My Father is the keeper of the vineyard. He cuts off every  branch in Me that bears no fruit, and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes  to make it even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have  spoken to you. Remain in Me, and I will remain in you. Just as no branch can bear  fruit by itself unless it remains in the vine, neither can you bear fruit unless you  remain in Me. (John 15:1-4; BSB) 
Life and fruit-bearing come only as we remain connected to the true vine, who is Jesus. The life giving sap of the vine is not something we can produce on our own—we need the vine. The lie of  self-sufficiency is that we can bear fruit apart from Him. But the reality is this: the less we  depend on the vine, the more lifeless we become. This is exactly what happened to the church in  Laodicea. 
The true testimony of Jesus concerning His church in Laodicea was something their apathy and  self-sufficiency had blinded them from seeing. Here is what Jesus said: “For you say, ‘I am  rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable,  poor, blind, and naked” (v. 17). In other words, they had taken their eyes off the all-sufficient  Christ and, in doing so, developed a deeply distorted view of themselves. In claiming to be  “rich,” they could not see their need; in saying they had “prospered,” they could not see their sin;  and in believing they needed nothing, they revealed the depth of their pride. This is what made  their condition so repulsive—it made Jesus want to vomit. 
Now consider their claims in light of the first three beatitudes from Jesus’ Sermon on the  Mount: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… Blessed are  those who mourn, for they shall be comforted… Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit  the earth.” Those who find life in Jesus, begin by recognizing their spiritual poverty, yet the  church in Laodicea claimed to be rich. Those who belong to Christ mourn over their sin, yet the  Laodiceans believed themselves to be prospering. Those who walk with Jesus lay aside their  pride and depend on Him, yet this church believed they needed nothing. 
Because they had taken their eyes off Jesus, they had become something very different from  what they believed themselves to be. They thought they were self-sufficient. The irony is  striking: while they believed they had prospered in three ways, Jesus reveals six realities that  define their true condition. 
They were ignorant: They did not realize how far they had fallen. 
They were wretched: They were spiritually dried up and miserable. 
They were pitiable: Their condition was shameful—their witness empty and ineffective. 4. They were poor: Though materially prosperous, their compromises left them with  nothing of eternal value—nothing to show for what Christ purchased on their behalf.
They were blind: Though their city was famous for its eye salve, the church could not  see, because it had taken its eyes off Jesus.
They were naked: Though clothed in the city’s finest garments, before Christ they stood  exposed and ashamed. 
It is striking that Jesus lists six deficiencies. In Scripture, seven often symbolizes completeness,  while six falls short of that fullness. Whether intentional or not, the message is clear: this church  was deeply incomplete. They believed they had everything—but in reality, they were lacking in  every way. They thought they were thriving, but in truth, they were spiritually bankrupt, having  believed the lie that they could live the Christian life apart from absolute dependence on Jesus. 
So what solution does Jesus offer? His answer is both confronting and gracious: “I counsel you  to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that  you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to  anoint your eyes, so that you may see.” In other words, come to Him. What they thought they  possessed, they lacked—and what they truly needed, only Jesus could give. Their wealth could  not make them rich, their garments could not cover their shame, and their medicine could not  cure their blindness. Jesus is calling this church, and He is calling us back to the good news of  Isaiah 55:1-3. 
Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come,  buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do  you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which  does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight  yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may  live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for  David.  
Jesus said the same thing condensed into one sentence: “Blessed are those who hunger and  thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” (Matt. 5:6).  
Here is the hope: Jesus does not expose our spiritual condition to humiliate us, but to bring us  back and restore us. The same voice that confronts with a sharp rebuke is the voice that gently  invites us to return. He does not abandon His church—He extends a gracious call to come back  to Him.  
Abiding in Jesus Satisfies the Heart (vv. 19-22) 
For me, these verses are among the most beautiful and comforting in all of Scripture when it  comes to Jesus’ persistent love for His church. The words, “Those whom I love, I reprove and  discipline…” (Rev. 3:19), remind us that as long as we are alive and attentive, there is still  time—Christ’s rebuke is not rejection, but His redeeming love. This is why our Lord adds: “so  be zealous and repent.”
This truth is echoed in Proverbs 3:11–12: “My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline or be  weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom  he delights,” and again in 1 Corinthians 11:32: “But when we are judged by the Lord, we are  disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.” Taken together, these  passages reveal that the Lord’s discipline is not meant to destroy but to restore. It is the gracious  work of a loving Father who refuses to let His people drift toward condemnation. 
But what I find so fascinating about this letter is what Jesus says next: “Behold, I stand at the  door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat  with him, and he with me” (vv. 20–21). Even after His strong and just rebuke, Jesus does not  stand at a distance waiting for us to come to Him—He comes to us. 
This verse has been used in countless evangelistic appeals, but here Jesus is not speaking to  unbelievers—He is speaking to His church. His knocking is a call to repent, a call to renewed  fellowship, a call to abide in Him. 
There’s an interesting parallel to this verse in Song of Solomon 5. The beloved comes, he  knocks—but she delays. And by the time she rises to open the door, he is gone. All that remains  is the fragrance of myrrh on the handle—a reminder that he had been there. 
I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my  sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair  with the dampness of the night.” I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I  have washed my feet— must I soil them again? My beloved put his hand to the  latch; my heart pounded for him. I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands  dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt. I  opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his  departure. I sought him, but did not find him. I called, but he did not answer. (Song  5:2-6) 
Now, I don’t know how healthy your relationship with Jesus is. I don’t know if it resembles some  of the marriages in this congregation—where there is barely a pulse of love or romance. But I do  believe that over the past six weeks, you have felt the Spirit’s prodding concerning some of the  “leaven” He is calling you to remove. 
Maybe you have abandoned the love you had at first, like the church in Ephesus. Or perhaps you  have embraced teaching that has actually harmed your relationship with Jesus—because what  you believe to be true is not, like the church in Pergamum. Maybe there’s a Jezebel in your life  you’ve been listening to—or even obeying—like the church in Thyatira. Or perhaps you are  Jezebel… and have refused to repent, placing yourself in danger. Or maybe you’ve become so  lethargic in your walk with Jesus that you appear more dead than alive, like the church in Sardis. Or maybe you’re in a good place. Maybe you love Jesus deeply and sincerely. But maybe you  are weary of suffering and need encouragement, like the church in Smyrna. Maybe you have kept Jesus’ word and not denied His name—but you’re anxious about what lies ahead, like the church  in Philadelphia. 
Or maybe… you are neither cold nor hot. 
Maybe you have become: 
Ignorant—drifting further than you realize. 
Wretched—spiritually dry and miserable. 
Pitiable—your witness empty and ineffective. 
Poor—having nothing to show for what Christ purchased on your behalf.
Blind—because you have taken your eyes off Jesus. 
Naked—standing before Him exposed and ashamed. 
But I have good news for you, Christian: Jesus is not done with you. He is not distant from you.  He is not waiting for you to clean yourself up. 
He is standing at the door—and He is knocking. 
Listen again to what He says: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my  voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” Do not  make the same mistake the bride made in Song of Solomon 5—do not linger. Go to Him. Jesus  wants be in fellowship with you; He wants to tabernacle with you.  
Listen to the Holy Spirit: the door may still be closed—but He is still there. And that means…  there is still time. Do not delay. Repent.

To the Church in Philadelphia

There is a passage in the Bible that has challenged my pride while also encouraging me when I  feel completely inadequate. By the world’s standards of intelligence or success, I probably  shouldn’t be serving as a pastor, teaching, or writing. Growing up, my parents were told that I  probably wouldn’t go to college because I wasn’t considered smart enough. I spent much of  junior high and high school in learning-disabled classes, and until my senior year I barely passed  most of my courses. Yet after I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ, I began to understand  something that changed everything: what ultimately matters is not what the world thinks we are  capable of doing, but what God says through His Word. 
During my junior year of high school, I read something in 1 Corinthians 1 that has stayed with  me ever since: “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who  are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Cor. 1:18). Then, a few verses later Paul says  something that has continued to humble and encourage me ever since: 
“Consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly  standards… But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise. God  chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong… so that no human being  might boast in the presence of God” (1 Cor. 1:26–29)  
Those words changed the way I saw my life. I began to realize that what ultimately matters is not  what the world thinks we are capable of doing, but what God chooses to do through us. 
Not long after reading those words, I attended a Billy Graham crusade in Philadelphia in 1992,  where I sensed God’s call to ministry. By God’s grace, I was eventually able to attend what is  now Cairn University. It took me seven years to finish a four-year degree, but I later went to  seminary and entered ministry. 
So what is my point? I am who I am today because I have a Savior who opens doors no one can  shut and shuts doors no one can open. That is exactly what Jesus tells the church in Philadelphia.  He can use the weak. He can use the foolish. He can use people the world has written off. All He  asks is that we keep His word and do not deny His name. 
The city of Philadelphia was founded sometime between 197 and 138 B.C., most likely by King  Eumenes II of Pergamum or his brother Attalus II. Its name means “brotherly love,” a title  connected to the loyalty Attalus showed toward his brother, earning him the nickname Philadelphus—“the brother-lover.” Philadelphia itself was not a large city—perhaps  ten to fifteen thousand people—but it sat at an important crossroads leading into Phrygia, giving  it influence beyond its size.  
The city was filled with temples and altars to many gods, and the fertile volcanic soil  surrounding it made vineyards central to its economy and to the worship of Dionysus. Another  defining feature of Philadelphia was instability. The city sat in an earthquake-prone region, and  tremors were frequent. Ancient writers describe how people often fled outside the city walls  when the ground began to shake, unsure whether their homes would still be standing when the  tremors stopped. It is to this small, pressured, and often unstable church that Jesus now speaks. 
Trust Jesus Because He Is the Righteous Branch of David (v. 7) 
Each of the seven letters begins with a statement about who Jesus is that connects to the vision of  Christ in Revelation 1. Here in this letter John does the same thing—but he also reminds us why  Jesus has the authority to say what He says. In case you have forgotten, let me remind you who  Jesus is: 
He is the Alpha and the Omega (1:8, 17). 
He is the faithful witness (1:5). 
He is the firstborn of the dead (1:5). 
He is the ruler of the kings of the earth (1:5). 
He is the one who loves us and freed us from our sins by His blood (1:5). 6. He is the one who made us a kingdom, priests to His God and Father (1:6). 7. He is the one who is coming with the clouds (1:7). 
He is the one who is, who was, and who is to come—the Almighty (1:8). 
John then describes the glorified Christ standing among His churches: 
He is the Almighty (1:8). 
He is the Son of Man and the Son of God (1:13). 
He is our great and perfect High Priest (1:13). 
His hair is white like wool because He is all-wise and all-knowing (1:14).  13. His eyes are a flame of fire because He is all-seeing (1:14). 
He feet are burnished bronze because He is omnipotent (1:15). 
His voice is like the roar of waters because He is the agent of creation (1:15). 16. He holds the seven stars in His right hand because He is the head of the Church (1:16). 
And then Jesus Himself speaks: 
He is the First and the Last (1:17). 
He is the Living One (1:18). 
He died and is alive forevermore (1:18). 
He holds the keys of Death and Hades (1:18).
He embodies all of these characteristics because He is the One spoken of in Jeremiah 23:5–6: “Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will raise up for David a  righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute  justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved, and Israel will  dwell securely. And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The LORD is our  righteousness.’” 
If that is not clear enough, let me say it plainly: Jesus is Yahweh. And because He is fully God  while also fully man, He is our righteousness. 
Because He is God, Jesus is both the Holy One and the True One. To call Jesus the Holy One is  to declare His deity. Isaiah writes, “To whom then will you compare me, that I should be like  him? says the Holy One… Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these?” (Isa.  40:25–26). The title reminds us that Jesus possesses the same holiness and divine authority as the  God of Israel. 
Jesus is also called the True One, meaning He shares the same nature and essence as the Father.  In Revelation 6:10 the martyrs cry out to God as “holy and true,” the same description given  here to Christ. These titles remind us that Jesus is not merely a teacher or prophet—He is God. 
Because Jesus is the Holy One and the True One, He holds the key of David. That means He  alone has authority over the kingdom of heaven. He alone determines who enters and who does  not. The key does not belong to Muhammad, Buddha, or the founder of any other religion—it  belongs to Jesus Christ. That is why Jesus said, “I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will  be saved” (John 10:9). As Paul declares, “There is one God, and one mediator between God  and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Tim. 2:5). Because He holds the key of David, He opens  what no one can shut, and shuts what no one can open. 
Trust Jesus Because He Is Sovereign Over Every Door (v. 8) 
It should not surprise us that Jesus knows the works of this church. What might surprise some  people—especially in a culture where bigger is assumed to be better—is that the church in  Philadelphia had “little power.” Yet despite their size and influence, Jesus says to  them, “Behold, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut.” 
Now pause for a moment and consider what Jesus says about this church. The believers in  Philadelphia did not have a large budget. They had no stage lights, no impressive programs. All  they had was Jesus and His Word. But is that not the story of the entire Bible? There was nothing  impressive about Noah when God called him to build the ark. There was nothing outwardly  remarkable about Abraham when God chose him to become the father of a great nation. There  was nothing intimidating about David when he stood before Goliath with a sling and a few  smooth stones. When the prophet Samuel went to Jesse’s house to anoint the next king of Israel, God reminded him of something we often forget: “For the LORD sees not as man sees: man  looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7). 
One of the great missionary stories of church history is that of Henry Martyn. Martyn was a  brilliant scholar at St. John’s College, Cambridge, graduating at the top of his class in  mathematics and positioned for a prestigious academic career. Yet he was physically frail and  had an unusual appearance. Despite this, he fell deeply in love with a woman named Lydia  Grenfell, who saw past his outward appearance. 
But Martyn soon became convinced that God was calling him to take the gospel to India—the  one place Lydia had said she would never go. Faced with the choice between the woman he  loved and the path God had placed before him, Martyn chose obedience. At twenty-four he left  England for India, where he translated the New Testament into Hindustani and Persian. The  hardships of that work took a toll on his health, and at thirty-one he died while traveling through Turkey. 
Yet in those few short years God used Martyn in remarkable ways. His life reminds us that when  Jesus opens a door, He can use a person however He chooses. The question is not whether the  path will be easy, but whether we will trust Him enough to walk through the door He opens. 
Henry Martyn once said, “The spirit of Christ is the spirit of missions. The nearer we get to Him,  the more intensely missionary we become.”1 
Trust Jesus Because He Loves His People (v. 9) 
In his commentary on Revelation, Daniel Akin said of this verse: “Our Lord has a general love  for all but a particular love for His children.”2 How true that is. These Christians, like those in  Smyrna, faced opposition not only from the pagan world but also from certain Jews who opposed  the church and the gospel. These individuals likely took pride in being truly Jewish because of  their biological connection to Abraham, believing that their heritage and religious affiliation  were enough to please God. Yet what they did not realize was that they were just as spiritually  dead as the Roman pagans who worshiped Caesar as lord. 
But there is coming a day when all will bow before Jesus—either in loving reverence or in bitter  subjugation. Revelation reminds us of this reality: “Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and  every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on  account of him” (Rev. 1:7). The apostle Paul says the same thing in Epistle to the  Philippians: “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). 
1 Daniel L. Akin, Exalting Jesus in Revelation, ed. Daniel L. Akin, David Platt, and Tony Merida, Christ Centered Exposition Commentary (Nashville, TN: Holman Reference, 2016), 92. 
2Ibid, 94.
On that day it will become painfully clear to those who rejected Christ and opposed His people  who it is that is truly loved by the One who matters. All of heaven will rejoice in the truth  of First Epistle of John 3:1: “Behold what manner of love the Father has given to us, that we  should be called children of God. And that is what we are!” (BSB).  
The world may misunderstand the church today, but one day it will be undeniable: those who  have been redeemed by Christ are the people He loves. 
Trust Jesus Because He Will Protect You (v. 10) 
Of all the verses in this passage, the second half of verse 10 has generated much debate. The first  half, however, is clear: “Because you have kept my word about patient endurance…” Jesus  had already taught that suffering and persecution would mark the Christian life. He said, “You  will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be  saved” (Mark 13:13). He also said, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I  have overcome the world” (John 16:33). That is why the author of Hebrews urges believers  to “fix our eyes on Jesus… who for the joy set before Him endured the cross” (Heb. 12:2). 
The Christians in Philadelphia were known for this perseverance. They held firmly to Christ’s  word and refused to deny His name. But what has generated discussion is Jesus’ promise: “I will  keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell  on the earth.” 
The “hour of trial” refers to a period of time when God will judge those who dwell on the earth.  The phrase translated “that is coming” reflects a Greek expression meaning “about to  come” or “destined to come,” emphasizing that the coming hour of trial is certain and  approaching. I will address the nature and timing of that tribulation when we reach Revelation 6  later in this series. Some believe this promise means believers will be removed (or raptured) from the world beforehand. While I respect that view, I believe Revelation points to something  different: that Christians will remain in the world during that time but will be protected by God. Besides, if the “hour of trial” was an event in the distant future, why would Jesus promise only  one of the seven churches that existed in the first century in Asia that they would be exclusively  protected from such an event?  
Revelation shows believers being sealed and protected during the tribulation (Rev. 7), measured  and accounted for by God (Rev. 11), and nourished and protected even during intense  persecution (Rev. 12). Most importantly, this fits Jesus’ own prayer before the cross: “I do not  ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one” (John  17:15). 
In other words, Jesus does not promise that His people will avoid every trial. What He promises  is something better: His protection and His presence in the midst of it.
Trust Jesus Because He Will Keep You (vv. 11–12) 
Jesus encourages these believers with the promise that He is coming soon. The point is that they  are to live each day with the expectation that Christ could return at any time. Jesus is not distant  from His church. He knows their works (v. 8), and at the very beginning of the book of  Revelation He is pictured walking among the lampstands, present with His people (1:12–13).  Therefore they are to hold fast to what they already have—namely Jesus Himself. 
The command to “hold fast” reminds us that the Christian life is one of perseverance. Jesus  warns them to remain faithful so that no one will seize their crown. The call is not to escape  hardship, nor is it a threat that a believer will lose his salvation, but to cling to Christ and His  Word until the day He returns so that you do not lose your reward in heaven for faithful  obedience on earth. 
Verse 12 holds a remarkable promise. Notice what Jesus says He will do. He promises: “I will  make him a pillar in the temple of my God…” and “I will write on him the name of my  God…” and “the name of the city of my God…” But that is not all—Jesus says He will  write His own name upon those who belong to Him. 
The emphasis is not on what believers accomplish, but on what Jesus promises to do for those  who overcome. He promises permanence—“Never shall he go out of it.” In a city like  Philadelphia, where earthquakes often forced people to flee their homes, Jesus promises  something unshakable. Those who belong to Him will stand forever in His presence, marked  with the name of “my God.” 
The message to the church in Philadelphia is simple: Trust Jesus. 
Trust Him because He is the Holy and True One. Trust Him because He opens doors no one can  shut. Trust Him because He loves His people, protects them in trials, and promises to keep them  forever. 
So what is the point? It is simple: Jesus loves you too much to let you go.

The Church in Sardis

The city of Sardis once symbolized wealth, power, and security. During the reign of King  Croesus in the sixth century B.C., it gained fame for its riches, much of which came from the  gold deposits of the Pactolus River flowing through the city. Situated strategically at the western  end of the Royal Road, Sardis prospered as a central hub of commerce and influence. Yet the  city also harbored a hidden vulnerability. Despite its seemingly invulnerable position atop a steep  acropolis, Sardis fell more than once because its guards failed to remain watchful. In 546 B.C.,  the Persian king Cyrus captured the city when his troops discovered an unguarded path up the  cliffs while the city slept. Centuries later the same thing happened again under Antiochus III.  Each time Sardis fell not because its defenses were weak, but because its people had grown  complacent. The city’s greatest weakness was its false sense of security. 
By the first century, Sardis was largely living on memories of its former greatness. Its wealth and  influence had faded, and the surrounding hills were dotted with large burial mounds—so  numerous that the area was sometimes called “the city of a thousand hills,” a landscape  dominated by tombs. Against this backdrop, Jesus speaks to the church in Sardis with sobering  words: “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” (Rev. 3:1). 
The church appeared lively on the outside—active, recognized, and respected—but Christ, who  knows the heart, revealed a deeper reality. Like the city itself, the church in Sardis had become a  community living on its past reputation rather than its present spiritual reality. And the sobering  truth about these letters in Revelation is that they were never meant for Sardis alone. At the end  
of each letter Jesus says, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the  churches.” In other words, the question this passage forces us to ask is not simply, What was  wrong with Sardis? The real question is this: Could a church look alive on the outside while  slowly dying on the inside? 
The Living Dead 
Jesus introduces Himself to this church as the One who holds the seven spirits of God and the  seven stars. The seven spirits symbolize the fullness of the Holy Spirit—the Spirit sent by the  Father and the Son to dwell with God’s people, guiding and empowering believers to fulfill His  purposes (John 16:7–15; Acts 1:8). The seven stars are either angels or the pastors of the  churches; for the sake of argument, we will assume they are angels assigned to serve the  churches.
What is the purpose of this introduction? The sevenfold Spirit and the seven stars serve as  witnesses to the true spiritual state of the church in Sardis. Nothing about their condition is  hidden from Christ. The Spirit who gives life sees them, the heavenly witnesses observe them,  and the One who holds them all in His hand now delivers His verdict: “I know your works. You  have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead” (Rev. 3:1). 
Like the city of Sardis, this church took pride in past successes and missional engagement from a  time when it was truly alive. By the time Revelation was written, however, those achievements  had become little more than a reputation. Something had changed over the years; a breach had  opened, and a weakness the church failed to address was exposed. In their complacency, much  like the leaders of Sardis before them, those responsible for guarding the church grew careless  and failed to take the enemy’s threats seriously. This church believed itself to be alive when it  was not. 
As one theologian explains, the language used to describe this church’s condition “is a figurative  overstatement (hyperbole) intended to emphasize the church’s precarious spiritual state and the  imminent danger of its genuine death.”1 Thankfully, the One who walks among His churches is  the Living One who was once dead but is now alive forevermore (Rev. 1:18). The risen Christ  has the power to raise the dead. 
In his book Autopsy of a Deceased Church, Thom Rainer identifies several factors that often lead  to the death of a church. Among the symptoms he describes are the following:
The Great Commission became the Great Omission. 
The church has no clear sense of purpose. 
The church becomes obsessed with its facilities. 
Another common symptom of a dying church is that its past becomes its hero. Instead of  pressing forward in the mission Christ has given, the church begins living in yesterday’s  victories rather than engaging in today’s calling. When this happens, the church becomes lethargic. When churches take their eyes off Jesus and focus on the illusion of past strengths,  they become lethargic. When churches take their eyes off Jesus, they become vulnerable to the  attacks of the enemy who seeks to kill and destroy. 
This is not only true of churches, because when Christians lose focus on Jesus, they become  sluggish and more susceptible to the enemy’s attacks. Jesus warned us about these dangers: “The  thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10). Richard Phillips explains it this way: 
If we are not vigilant, we may find that an enemy has scaled our walls, opened our gates,  and brought us destruction. Not only are churches overthrown when pastors and elders do  not watch, but families are conquered when fathers and mothers are not diligently on  guard against sinful influences. Moreover, individuals are overthrown by careless neglect, having failed to watch for the devices of the enemy and be on guard against  temptations to sin.2
1 G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament  Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Carlisle, Cumbria: W.B. Eerdmans; Paternoster Press, 1999), 273.
The apostle Peter urges everyone who makes up Christ’s church: “Be sober-minded; be  watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to  devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). It is very possible that the reason some think they are alive, while there is  barely a spiritual pulse within them, is because they have given the enemy a foothold. Yet they  continue talking about past successes while Jesus sees through it all, and the Holy Spirit testifies  that they are spiritually asleep and in grave danger. 
The Call to Live 
Thankfully, if you are here and the Holy Spirit is confirming in your heart right now that you are  in a precarious spiritual state and in imminent and grave spiritual danger, there is hope! There  are five commands Jesus gives to those who are not yet dead but in a deep slumber. The leaven  that the church of Sardis is told to get rid of is spiritual apathy! In this moment, it is not yet too  late, but if you stay in your apathy, then you may be dead. Here the five commands in verses 2- 3, “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your  works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard.  Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know  at what hour I will come against you.” 
Command 1: “Wake up!” 
The first of the five commands Jesus gives is, “Wake up!” This command itself is evidence that  not everyone in Sardis was dead. Revival begins when people see and understand the dangers  that surround them. It begins when sleeping Christians awaken to the voice and majesty of Jesus  and no longer cling to the past or the comforts of the present, but instead long for and cling to the  Christ who is coming soon. 
So, wake up! Wake up to the One who “is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near  to God through Him” (Heb. 7:25). Wake up to the One who was “made sin who knew no sin”  on our behalf (2 Cor. 5:21). Wake up to the One who hung on the cross so that you might know and experience “the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ  Jesus” (Eph. 2:7). Wake up to the Lion and the Lamb “who loves us and has freed us from our  sins by His blood” (Rev. 1:5). Wake up to the First and the Last, the Living One (Rev. 1:18a).  Wake up to the One who died and is alive forevermore and who holds the keys of Death and  Hades (Rev. 1:18b). 
Wake up! And if you are awake, turn to those who are slumbering and shake them until they rise,  because today is the day to seal the breach and stand firm. 
2 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani,  Reformed Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 135.
Command 2: “Strengthen what remains!” 
After you wake up, strengthen what remains before it is gone. Lay aside mediocrity and be  content no longer with the illusion of apathetic safety. The house is on fire, the foundation is  unstable, and there is a breach that can no longer be ignored. Daniel Akin writes of this church:  “Their faith was not radical; it was almost invisible.... They were so weak in their confession of  Christ that they bothered no one. Like the unfinished temple of Cybele in their city, they too  were incomplete in what Christ saved them and called them to be.”3 
How do you strengthen what remains? You have God’s Word, don’t you? Turn to His Word.  Read it regularly. Sit under the preaching of His Word. God has spoken—so listen often. The  apostle Peter reminds believers what remains: “…you have been born again, not of perishable  seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God.” (1 Pet. 1:23). 
You serve a God who hears His people, so pray that He would revive you in the same way He  can make dead bones live (see Ezek. 37:4ff.) and keep praying. Pray again and pray some more.  He has also given you a community of His people called the church, so fellowship with them.  This is how you begin to strengthen what remains. 
Command 3: Remember what you received and heard! 
What did you receive, Christian? What is available to you who still face the looming wrath of a  holy God because you do not yet know the Lamb of God? What is the answer? Here it is: “For  Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us  to God…” (1 Pet. 3:18a). Wake up to that! Hold on to that! Remember it—and do not dare  forget it. 
Remember that salvation is a free gift from God. It cannot be earned by anything we do but is  received only through faith in Jesus Christ, who lived the life we could never live and died the  death we all deserved. Remember these three truths: 
Salvation is by grace alone. It is entirely a gift of God’s grace, not earned through  human effort, works, or merit. 
Salvation is through faith alone. If you are saved, you have been declared righteous by  Almighty God. You are justified by faith in Jesus Christ alone—not by works or rituals  you have performed, but by everything Jesus did on your behalf. 
Salvation is in Christ alone. Jesus is the only mediator between God and mankind; His  life and death are the sole basis for your salvation. 
3 Daniel L. Akin, Exalting Jesus in Revelation, ed. Daniel L. Akin, David Platt, and Tony Merida, Christ Centered Exposition Commentary (Nashville, TN: Holman Reference, 2016), 84.
Christian, remember what you received and heard, and do not dare forget it or be ashamed of it.  Why? Because “it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew  first and also to the Greek.” (Rom. 1:16) 
Command 4: Keep it. 
Keep what? Keep the truth of the gospel and don’t lose it! The gospel is Hebrews10:12-14, “But  when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right  hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his  feet. For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”  
If you are a Christian, the evidence that you are awake is that you cling to the Him and you do  that by following Him in obedience. Jesus told us how to keep the gospel:  “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes  to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a  man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when  a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it  had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who  built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it,  immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great.” (Luke 6:46-49) 
Command 5: Repent. 
Repent means to turn away from your sin. To repent is to change. Repentance is not just feeling  sorry for sin or talking about wanting to change; it is a decision accompanied by action. Jesus  warns that if you refuse to wake up, strengthen what remains, remember what you received, and  keep it, He “will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come against  you.” (Rev. 3:3) 
What does this mean? It is not referring to His second coming, but to the discipline and judgment  Christ will bring upon those who refuse to wake up. For a church that refuses to repent, He will  remove the lampstand. And for the “Christian” who refuses to wake up, He will come at a time  and hour that is not expected. 
Conclusion (vv. 4-6) 
There were some in Sardis who had not soiled their garments. Who were these Christians? They  were the ones who were awake; the ones who continued to grow in their relationship with Jesus;  the ones who not only remembered the gospel but kept it, and who were quick to repent and turn  from their sins. Here is what Jesus said about these men and women: “Yet you have still a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in  white, for they are worthy.” (Rev. 3:4).
These Christians walked in a manner worthy of their calling (Eph. 4:1). Jesus calls them  “worthy” not because they earned their salvation, but because the Holy Spirit enabled and  empowered them to live obediently for Him. 
They understood that all the power needed to live and walk as ambassadors of Jesus Christ in  Sardis came from the sevenfold Spirit of God who sealed and empowered them—the kind of  power the apostle Paul wrote about: “…the immeasurable greatness of His power toward us  who believe, according to the working of His great might that He worked in Christ when  He raised Him from the dead…” (Eph. 1:19–20a). 
These are the ones who conquer through the power of the Holy Spirit, whose garments are white  because of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and whose names the Father keeps as His sons and  daughters. These are the ones who have experienced what the apostle Paul wrote about: “Awake,  O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Eph. 5:14). 
Reformed and Dangerous posted a song not long ago on Revelation 3. There is a verse in the  song that would be good to make our prayer as we consider what happened to the church in  Sardis. 
I don’t want warm, I don’t want safe,  
I don’t want comfort dressed up as faith.  
If I burn, then let it be,  
Better fire than apathy.  
Light me up — don’t let me fade,  
There’s no half-alive or half-saved.4 
4 Faith that Burns, “Revelation 3,” YouTube video, accessed March 8,  
2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7QmMCjL_3c.

The Church in Thyatira

What you see, hear, and say matters. 
I once heard a pastor say, “Your eyes and your ears are the gateways into your mind and heart.”  That is exactly right. What we allow in shapes what we believe, and what we believe shapes  what we say and do. This is one of the reasons God takes very seriously what people say in His  name. It is not only what you claim about Him, but how you represent Him before your family,  your friends, your neighbors, and your coworkers. Words spoken in God’s name carry eternal  weight. 
That is why Scripture warns us so clearly: 
“But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name that I have not  commanded him to speak… that same prophet shall die… when a prophet speaks in  the name of the LORD, if the word does not come to pass… that is a word that the  LORD has not spoken” (Deut. 18:20–22). 
Jesus added His own warning: 
“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are  ravenous wolves… You will recognize them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:15–17). 
And then there is this sobering word for anyone who teaches the Bible: 
“Not many of you should become teachers… for you know that we who teach will be  judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1). 
You had better be certain that God has spoken before you claim to speak for Him. To say, “God  told me,” when He did not tell you—to claim divine authority where there is none—is no small  matter. It is to speak falsely in His name. And that is exactly what was happening in Thyatira.  The woman Jesus calls “Jezebel” stands as a warning—not only to false teachers, but to any  church willing to tolerate them. 
  
The Idolatry of Thyatira (v. 18) 
Thyatira was not a political capital like Ephesus or Pergamum. It was a working-class trade city,  known for its guilds—wool workers, bronze craftsmen, bakers, potters, tanners, leather-cutters,  and especially merchants of purple dye derived from the murex mollusk, a dye that was  exceptionally expensive and rare. Economic and religious life were tightly intertwined. 
Belonging to a guild meant participating in pagan feasts and immoral practices. For a Christian,  refusing to participate could cost employment, reputation, and stability. In a city like that,  compromise did not look rebellious—it looked reasonable. It looked practical. 
Jesus reveals Himself as the Son of God, with eyes like a flame of fire and feet like burnished  bronze. The people of Thyatira knew fire. They were familiar with the heat of the kiln, where  clay was hardened, and with the intense flames required to refine and shape bronze. But the fire  in Christ’s eyes is not the fire of craftsmanship—it is the fire of perfect vision. His gaze burns  through every façade. He sees what is done in secret. He knows every hidden thought. He  searches the heart. 
And His feet of burnished bronze speak not of artistry but of authority. They embody unshakable  strength and sovereign power. Whatever beauty the guilds could forge with their skill, it pales  before the majesty and omnipotence of the Son of God who walks among His churches. His  authority cannot be molded. His judgment cannot be reshaped. He stands firm, and He sees all. 
He sees what a congregation may overlook. He discerns what lies beneath activity and affection.  He had given time to repent, but repentance had not come. What the church would not confront,  Christ Himself would. And yet, even here, there is mercy. To those who refused compromise, He  gives no heavy burden—only this: hold fast until I come. The promise is not comfort in this  world but participation in His reign and the gift of the Morning Star—Christ Himself. Thyatira  reminds us that love without truth becomes dangerous, and tolerance without repentance  becomes poison. Christ calls His church not merely to grow but to remain holy. 
We will consider what this church did right before we look at Jesus’ rebuke for what they did  wrong. 
The Good that the Church Was Doing in Thyatira  
This sermon marks the halfway point in this section in Revelation on the seven churches and it  would be good for us to pause to make sure we do not miss what it is that Jesus knows about  each of the churches: 
The church in Ephesus: “I know your works, your toil, and your patient endurance...” • The church in Smyrna: “I know your tribulation and poverty...” 
The church in Pergamum: “I know where you dwell.... Yet you hold fast my name...” • The church in Sardis: “I know your works. You have a reputation of being alive, but you  are dead.” 
The church in Philadelphia: “I know your works... and yet you have kept my word and  have not denied my name.” 
The church in Laodicea: “I know your works: you are neither hot nor cold...” 
There is nowhere in the Old Testament or New Testament where faith is not evidenced by works.  The evidence that the Christian has gone from spiritual death to spiritual life in Jesus is that you who were once dead are now alive! James put it this way: “For as the body apart from the  spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead” (2:26). In Paul’s epistle to the  Ephesians, we read these words: “for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in  the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and  right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord” (Eph. 5:8-10).  
When a person is alive, there is evidence of life. There is movement. There is hunger. There is a  heartbeat and brain activity. Life produces signs of life. That is what Paul meant when he wrote,  “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold,  the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17). To be born again is not merely to adopt new language—it is to  possess new life. 
Jesus commends the church in Thyatira because their claim to belong to Him was evident. “I  know your works, your love and faith and service and patient endurance…” (v. 19). Their  Christianity was not theoretical—it was observable. Unlike the Ephesian church, which had  abandoned its first love, the believers in Thyatira were marked by love—agapē. This was not  sentimental affection; it was covenantal, self-giving love. 
It is the kind of love described in 1 Corinthians 13: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy  or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all  things, hopes all things, endures all things” (vv. 4–7). Their love for God shaped their faith,  which expressed itself in service. That service required patient endurance. Even more striking,  Jesus says their latter works exceeded the first. This church was growing. 
In many ways, Thyatira appears strong. Where Ephesus had abandoned its first love, Thyatira  possessed it. Where Pergamum struggled with false teaching, Thyatira held fast to the faith. Like  Smyrna, they patiently endured suffering. Yet this letter reminds us that Christian virtues must  remain rightly ordered. Love must be joined to truth. Faith must be guarded by discernment.  Love leads to service, and faith produces endurance—but if love is not anchored in truth, it can  become the very doorway for compromise.1 For Thyatira, compromise came in the form of  tolerating a false teacher within their own congregation.  
The Bad that the Church was Ignoring in Thyatira (vv. 20-23) 
Before rebuking this church, Jesus affirmed what was good. He did not overlook their love, faith,  service, and endurance. But affirmation does not cancel accountability. There was something  dangerous in their fellowship—something they were tolerating—and it had become serious  enough for Christ to address directly. 
1 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani,  Reformed Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 122.
Thyatira was a market city composed largely of blue-collar workers and dominated by trade  guilds. Each guild honored its own patron deity—Apollo, Artemis, Dionysus, and others. Apollo  was associated with prophecy, healing, protection, and civic identity. Artemis with fertility and  prosperity. Dionysus with revelry and sexual immorality. Religion and business were  inseparable. Syncretism was the norm. Guild feasts involved food sacrificed to idols and  immoral practices. Refusing participation could mean losing income and stability. Faithfulness to  Christ could cost you your livelihood. It was not impossible to remain faithful—Lydia proves  that (Acts 16:14–15)—but it was not easy. 
In that environment arose a woman Jesus calls “Jezebel.” She claimed prophetic authority and  was leading some in the congregation into sexual immorality and idolatry. The name is  deliberate. The original Jezebel, the wife of Ahab (1 Ki. 16; 21), promoted Baal worship, incited  rebellion against the Lord, and led Israel into detestable practices. Scripture says there was none  like Ahab, “whom Jezebel his wife incited” (1 Ki. 21:25–26). Her life ended in humiliating  judgment (2 Ki. 9). That name carries the weight of corruption and divine reckoning. 
And now Jesus says to this church, “You tolerate that woman Jezebel” (v. 20). The easy thing  to do is to avoid conflict by ignoring sin. But ignoring sin never solves the problem—it only  allows it to spread. Christ gave her time to repent, but she refused (v. 21). The church had a  responsibility to confront her influence, yet they tolerated it and endangered the flock. 
So Jesus announces judgment: “Behold, I will throw her onto a sickbed… and I will strike  her children dead” (vv. 22–23). The One who searches mind and heart will not allow corruption  within His church to go unchecked. Christ is patient—but His patience has limits. 
Conclusion 
After addressing Jezebel and those who followed her, Jesus turns to His faithful servants: “But  to the rest of you in Thyatira… I do not lay on you any other burden” (v. 24). That is mercy.  He does not overwhelm them with new demands or complicate obedience. He simply says,  “Only hold fast what you have until I come” (v. 25). In a city where compromise promised  security and faithfulness threatened their future, following Jesus was costly. To hold fast meant  loving Christ more than comfort and valuing truth more than stability. 
Then comes the promise: “The one who conquers… I will give authority over the nations”  (vv. 26–27). The world may reward compromise for a moment, but Christ rewards faithfulness  forever. Those who overcome will share in His reign (v. 27; Ps. 2). The ones who seemed small  in Thyatira will one day rule with the King. 
And then this: “I will give him the morning star” (v. 28). Later, Jesus identifies Himself as the  Morning Star (Rev. 22:16). The reward is not merely relief from pressure. It is not merely future  authority. It is Christ Himself. The world offers comfort through compromise. Christ offers  Himself through endurance.

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.