Covenant Service: Good News For Failures (Jeremiah 31:31-34)

Jeremiah 31:31-34

It’s that time of year when sign-ups to health clubs and gyms breed like rabbits. Yet in a few months’ time, many of the direct debits will still be going out from bank accounts, but a lot of the new fitness enthusiasts of January will have given up. The thought of ‘New year, new me’ will lie in tatters. Another set of New Year’s Resolutions will have failed.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t bothered with such resolutions for many years. I feel sure I’ll fail.

So much of life is made up of failures – cheerful thought, I know! – be they failures of good intentions or that much larger feeling that our lives themselves are a total failure. Not one of us is without our failures.

But on this first Sunday of the New Year, when we renew our covenant with God, and we traditionally become sombre and serious, wondering whether we can keep the solemn and intimidating promises we make, I want to preach Good News.

In my draft order of service, I simply called this sermon ‘The New Covenant.’ But now I want to give it a different title: ‘Good News For Failures.’ I want you to have a sense of hope from our reading in Jeremiah.

Yes, I know many people have Jeremiah down as a depressing and depressive prophet of doom. But if you read him closely, he preaches short-term doom but long-term hope. And that’s why we can have a theme of ‘Good News For Failures.’

I have two pieces of Good News from Jeremiah for Failures:

Firstly, God’s New Covenant means Failures Are Not Forgotten:

31 ‘The days are coming,’ declares the Lord,
    ‘when I will make a new covenant
with the people of Israel
    and with the people of Judah.
32 It will not be like the covenant
    I made with their ancestors
when I took them by the hand
    to lead them out of Egypt,
because they broke my covenant,
    though I was a husband to them,’
declares the Lord.

Jeremiah has preached doom to Israel. He warned them that if they did not turn from their sins the king of Babylon would come and conquer them and take them into exile. They didn’t listen. They thought they could find political solutions to their troubles without changing their ways while continuing to sin.

It didn’t work. The Babylonian army turned up. At this point, a first tranche of Israel has been marched off into Babylon. They are away from the land, which was so central to their religion, because it had been promised to them by God. If they are away from their own land, then surely they are forgotten and rejected by God for ever.

Yet Jeremiah comes with this word and others that looks forward to the future. God has not finished with his people. They may have broken the old covenant, but he will make a new covenant.

And of course, that is what the coming of Jesus at Christmas is about. If you re-read the nativity stories you will see how many of the promises don’t simply look forward to Christianity and the Church (which is the way we often read them) but are promises to Israel. God has not forgotten and rejected his people. His own Son is bringing the promised new covenant.

Now we Gentile believers are grafted onto the vine which is the People of God, and so we too are inheritors of this same promise. When we fail, God has not forgotten us.

If we come to this Covenant Service this morning conscious of how much we have not lived up to our promise a year ago, we come to a God of grace who in Jesus Christ offers us yet another new beginning. Just as we confess our sins every Sunday morning together and receive assurance of forgiveness, so too year on year at this service we shall confess our sins before we renew the covenant and again receive God’s promise of a fresh start.

Every now and again, I come across people in church who believe that God cannot continue forgiving them. A few will even say they think they have committed ‘The unforgivable sin.’ However, Jesus said the unforgivable sin was blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, and if someone is sensitive to their sin then believe me that usually indicates they are also sensitive to the Holy Spirit.

No: to everyone who fails, I believe God invites us to look at Jesus on the Cross and see his arms stretched out wide – so wide they embrace the world, including us.

Those who are excluded from his embrace are those who exclude themselves not simply by sinning but by refusing to accept they have sinned, perhaps painting their sin as righteousness (often self-righteousness), and thinking they have no need to repent.

But to those of us who are acutely aware of our need to repent, God says, I have not forgotten you. I have not rejected you. Come back. You will find I am already waiting for you.

Secondly, God’s New Covenant Means Failures Have New Hope:

33 ‘This is the covenant that I will make with the people of Israel
    after that time,’ declares the Lord.
‘I will put my law in their minds
    and write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
    and they will be my people.
34 No longer will they teach their neighbour,
    or say to one another, “Know the Lord,”
because they will all know me,
    from the least of them to the greatest,’
declares the Lord.
‘For I will forgive their wickedness
    and will remember their sins no more.’

Neatly for me, this gives me a chance to link back to my sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, when I looked at the relationship between Jesus and Moses. To recap part of it:

In the Old Testament, people were not saved by the Law but by grace. Keeping the Law did not save people, rather it was a response to having been saved. We can see this by the fact that God only gave Moses the Law for Israel after he had delivered them from Egypt.

Nevertheless, it was external to the people. It showed God’s righteousness, but it did not convey the power to obey it. On the other hand, the Christmas promise is that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us, and when Jesus returns to the Father that changes to the Holy Spirit, God within us.

Now link that with what Jeremiah records God as saying here. The external Law will be replaced in the New Covenant with everyone knowing the Lord. In other words, the New Covenant promises God’s indwelling of every disciple.

Not only that, we do not have to depend on priests to mediate between us and God – again, because everyone will know the Lord.

We don’t have to struggle to know God, we don’t have to struggle to know his law, and we are also enabled with divine power to do his will.

Yes, we shall still fail from time to time, and God in his mercy will forgive us and lift us up. But we shall also find God’s own strength when we truly want to obey his will.

The Old Covenant was good – it was very good – but the New Covenant is like that moment when you are driving in your car, gently accelerating, but then the turbo cuts in, and whoosh!

The New Covenant contains not only the Old Covenant promises of forgiveness, but the additional promises of God’s presence and power with us. This is God’s side of the bargain. This is his generous, grace-filled offer to every disciple of the Messiah.

So when we come to renew our promises today, I want us to realise that we are not coming to a severe God who is ready to stoke the flames of Hell the moment we let him down. He is the God of mercy and love who has provided everything we need through the Cross of Christ. Forgiveness comes there. The restoration of our relationship with God comes there. The gift of the Spirit follows.

If we remember that this is the nature of our God who calls us to reaffirm our covenant with him, then perhaps we shall be more ready to make those challenging promises.

After all, we’re not making a New Year’s Resolution, we’re responding to God’s grace.

Advent, The Prologue and Relationships: 4 Jesus and Moses (John 1:1-18)

John 1:1-18

Moses isn’t the first Old Testament character that comes to our mind at Christmas, I’ll give you that. Maybe we think of Isaiah prophesying the virgin birth or the One who is called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. We might remember Micah and his prophecy that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, which Herod’s advisers quote when the Magi show up.

But Moses?

Well, John seems to think it’s worth contrasting Jesus with Moses at the end of our great passage. Hear verses 14 to 18 again:

14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

15 (John testified concerning him. He cried out, saying, ‘This is the one I spoke about when I said, “He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.”’) 16 Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. 17 For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in the closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.

Why didn’t I just read verse 17, which is the only verse here that explicitly mentions Moses? Because even when he’s not named, John is alluding to him. And by doing so, John tells us more about what the Good News of Jesus is.

I’m going back to three episodes in Moses’ life that John has in mind and we’ll see how the comparison and contrast with Jesus tells us about the wonder of the Incarnation.

Firstly, we go to the wilderness:

14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

When we read, ‘The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us,’ the English ‘made his dwelling’ if translated more literally would be ‘tabernacled’ Jesus tabernacled among us. Why is that significant?

Do you remember the tabernacle that Moses was instructed to get Israel to construct? It was the dwelling-place of God’s presence that the Israelites carried with them in the wilderness. And indeed it remained so until the Temple was built, centuries later, in Jerusalem.

The tabernacle was the portable presence of God. When John says that Jesus tabernacled among us, he is telling us that in coming to earth Jesus is the very presence of God with us. He wasn’t just some prophet. He was the very presence of God in the midst of human life.

We do not believe in a God who has stayed remote from us. Contrary to the Julie Gold/Nanci Griffith song that Cliff Richard covered, God is not simply watching us from a distance. God has traversed the distance and in Jesus he is Emmanuel, God with us. He knows what it is to live the human life with all its joys and struggles. He is not an ivory tower God.

When we struggle with suffering or injustice, Jesus has lived it. This is what he came to do. As I often say at funerals, when I go through a bad experience in life, the people who come up with the clever answers that explain my predicament are no help. They are as smug as Job’s comforters. But those who have walked the road I am on, and who come alongside me – they make a difference. So it is with Jesus.

One simple example from my life: a few years before I met Debbie, I had a broken engagement. (Or a narrow escape, as my sister called it. I married the right woman in the end!) One day, when I was particularly down, two friends of mine, Sue and Kate, rang the doorbell and said, “We’re taking you out to lunch.” What I discovered over lunch was their own histories of broken relationships.

Jesus tabernacled among us. He understands. He is still present with us by the Holy Spirit. Hear the Good News of Christmas that the Son of God tabernacled among us. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

And it’s the model for the way we spread that Good News. For after the Resurrection, Jesus told his disciples,

As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you. (John 20:21)

So the way we begin sharing the Gospel is by openly living for Christ in the midst of those who do not yet believe. We do not go on helicopter raids to bring people in, we start by going among other people, living our Christian lives before them. This is what Jesus himself, the Word made flesh, did, when he tabernacled among us. So too us.

In one town where I ministered, some Christians left the local United Reformed Church and said they were going to start a new church on a deprived estate. They hired a hall there for meetings. But did any of them move to the estate and live out their faith among the people they were supposedly going to evangelise? No.

The Word was made flesh and tabernacled among us. It is Good News for us in all that life throws at us, and it is the model for us sharing that Good News even today.

Secondly, let’s look generally at the exodus and for this we go to verse sixteen of John chapter one:

16 Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.

Many people say that the Old Testament is about God’s Law and the New Testament is about God’s grace. Wrong! There is grace in the Old Testament. The New Testament tells us so, in verses like this. So when Jesus comes, his mission of grace builds on what has gone before and takes it to new levels.

In Moses’ case, grace is seen in the Exodus. God sees the suffering of his people in Egypt as they are enslaved, as Pharaoh worsens their already bad working conditions, as he attempts to have male Israelite babies killed.

The Israelites themselves are not perfect, but God in his mercy and grace will save them. Moses whom he calls to lead them is also far from perfect – in fact that’s an understatement, he’s a murderer. But in grace God calls him and mercifully redirects his passions.

Grace comes before anything we ever do for God. He acted in grace to deliver the Israelites from Egypt. And when Jesus comes, he does so to bring grace on a far greater scale, a cosmic scale, even. Yes, God is still interested in setting free people who are suffering due to the sins of others, but in Jesus he comes to do even more. He comes to set people free from their own sins. He comes to bring reconciliation not only with God but with one another. And he comes to heal broken creation. For when Jesus is raised from the dead, it will be the first fruits of God’s project to make all things new, even heaven and earth, as we learn in the Book of Revelation.

If from Moses and the wilderness we learn that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us, then from Moses and the Exodus, we learn that Jesus is – er – Jesus, the One who will save his people from their sins.

This tells us why the Word was made flesh and tabernacled among us. He came to bring this comprehensive salvation. To save us from what others do to us. To save us from what we do. To save creation from its brokenness.

Never let us reduce salvation to a personal and private forgiveness of my own sins which earns me my ticket to heaven. Yes, we do need our own sins forgiving, we do need to repent of them and put our faith in Jesus, but that is just the beginning. God saves us to involve is in the whole project of grace that Jesus heralded. We have a job to do, and Jesus is enlisting us in the ways of grace.

I love to tell the story of a keen young Christian who found himself on a train sharing a compartment with a man of the cloth dressed in a purple shirt, in other words a bishop. The young Christian had heard about these religious establishment figures and was sure the bishop would not have any vital experience of Christ, and so he said to him, ‘Bishop, are you saved?’

The bishop looked up and calmly replied, ‘Young man, do you mean have I been saved? Or do you mean am I being saved? Or do you mean will I be saved?’

Before the bemused young man could respond the bishop continued: ‘Because I have been saved – Jesus in his grace has forgiven my sins. I am being saved – Jesus by his grace is slowly making me more like him. And I will be saved – because one day there will be no more sin in this creation. I have been saved from the penalty of sin, I am being saved from the practice of sin, and I will be saved from the presence of sin.’

The bishop understood what it meant for Jesus to have given us ‘grace in place of grace already given.’

Thirdly and finally, let’s go to Mount Sinai with Moses.

17 For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

Ah, the law: that’s what we associate Moses with, isn’t it? Coming down from Mount Sinai with God’s prescription of two tablets, and then all those other laws, some of which perplex us today.

So it was law in the Old Testament and grace in the New Testament after all? Except you have to remember when it was that God gave the law to Israel. It was after he had delivered them from Egypt in the Exodus and they were on their way to the Promised Land. So it’s not true that keeping God’s law was the way to salvation, it was rather how they responded to salvation.

Even so, there was a problem. Israel failed to keep the law. Prophet after prophet called them to repentance, but either they rejected the message or it didn’t stick.

Hence, the coming of Jesus with grace and truth. For grace is not just about forgiveness. It is about that on-going salvation from sin that the bishop told the earnest young Christian about.

And he does not only bring the truth, he is the truth. Jesus the truth lives among us and eventually within us by his Spirit. The truth of God is no longer laws external to us on tablets of stone. Now that truth lives within us and enables us to be different. This is the promise of Christmas. Not only God with us, not only God saving us from our sins, but God within us.

An old lady once collared me after a service and told me that what this country needed to do was simply to get back to the Ten Commandments, and then all would be well. But she missed the grace that Jesus offers here. Because on our own we fail to keep the Ten Commandments, or indeed any of God’s law. We need the grace of forgiveness, and the grace of God’s presence in our lives to transform us. If faith was just a rule-keeping exercise, Jesus would never have needed to come.

But he did come. He came to be present with us, even when we wander in a wilderness, and he calls us to do the same in the midst of others. He came to bring the greatest exodus of all, in the many ways he liberates us and this world from sin. He came to bring the inner strength we need if we are to respond to God’s love for us by being with us and within us.

If anyone has reason for joy and celebration this Christmas, it’s the disciple of Jesus. Don’t be miserable in the face of inappropriate celebrations in the world at Christmastime. Instead, show that we have greater reasons to throw a party than anybody else.

I know there are lots of things that affect our mood and our ability to celebrate at Christmas. We may have had a good or a bad year. There may be an empty seat at the table this year, or there may be new life in our family.

But in terms of our faith, the coming of Jesus gives us true strength. Christmas really is ‘good tidings of great joy.’

Advent: The Prologue And Relationships: 3, Jesus And Ordinary People (John 1:9-13)

John 1:1-18

Well, it’s that time of year when you can’t escape the Christmas songs in the shops wherever you go. I have a certain sympathy for those shop workers who are subjected to the same songs all day long on an hourly basis. Maybe they think that by the time they’ve heard Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody for the eighth time that day, it must be close to the end of their shift.

And I grew up, surrounded by those songs. I remember the Slade record coming out, just as I also remember Wizzard’s I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday being released, along with Elton John’s Step Into Christmas and many others. Goodness knows, I was an adult by the time Wham’s Last Christmas and Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas found their way into the world.

But if I were to confess a soft spot for one Christmas single, no, it’s not Mariah or Cliff, but it might be Driving Home For Christmas by Chris Rea. I wonder how many of you will be driving home for Christmas. Or perhaps you are at home and other family members are driving home to you?

Do you look forward to seeing family at Christmas? I do. That sense of the wider family gathering is important to me.

But what we often miss is that Christmas is about family in another sense. John tells us the purpose of Jesus coming is to invite us into the family of God.

Yet many of us missed our own Creator coming into the world (verses 9-10). Even a lot of those who should have known better ignored him or rejected him (verse 11).

12 Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God – 13 children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

So what does it take to become a child of God? Let me recount a story that appears in my book ‘Odd One Out’:

Many years ago, I used to meet a friend in central London and we would go to see movies together. We would always find somewhere to eat first and catch up with each other over a meal before heading for the cinema.

On one of these occasions, my friend suddenly said during the meal, “I’ve got something to tell you.” Putting on my best pastoral expression, I listened carefully.

What my friend said was this: “I was adopted as a child.”

Seeing the look of concern on my face, my friend continued, “Don’t worry, it’s all right, I rather like the fact that I know I was adopted. It means I was wanted.”

And that’s how we come into God’s family. We are not naturally children of God, as John says. So God adopts us as his children. And like my friend, he adopts us because he wants us.

In fact, he so wants us in his family that he sent his Son Jesus to bring the invitation personally to Earth. And when Jesus came, he knew that we had barriers we had erected between ourselves and God.

So Jesus took down those barriers. The shame we feel, rightly or wrongly, over our lives: nailed to the Cross. Our wrongdoing, when we do the opposite of what God loves: nailed to the Cross. Our weakness in the face of the forces of evil: nailed to the Cross.

What is there left for us to do? John tells us it takes two responses: receive Jesus, and believe in Jesus.

To receive Jesus is to receive him and all the gifts he has given us, including what I’ve just described, where he has taken away all the barriers between us and God.

To believe in Jesus is not simply to believe in his existence, but to trust in him. In fact, it is to trust our lives into his hands. Not only does he know what is best for us, he also enrols us on his adventure of making all things new. He has a purpose for our lives when we believe in him.

So this is God’s invitation to us at Christmas: to understand that Jesus has come with God’s invitation to join his family, because he wants us and loves us. And to respond by receiving all that Jesus gives us, and by entrusting our lives to him.

These things bring us into the family of God, and we join our brothers and sisters in the family who support us in our new journey.

Advent, The Prologue and Relationships: 2, Jesus and John the Baptist (John 1:1-18)

John 1:1-18

Isn’t it strange that just as ‘I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here’ is on our screens yet again that John the Baptist comes into focus in the church year? The man whom Matthew tells us wore clothes made of camel’s hair and lived on a diet of locusts and honey[1] sounds perfect for the bush tucker trial.

And speaking personally, I’d rather engage with John the Baptist than Nigel Farage. Which is one major reason I’m not watching this year.

But we think of John at this time due to his connection with Jesus – not simply that they were related through their mothers[2] but that they were related in the purposes of God. We talk about John as the ‘Forerunner’ of Jesus. Their relationship is important for the Advent story.

But it’s not just interesting historical detail. John’s mission of preparing the way for Jesus is also a model for the ways in which God gives us our mission of pointing to Jesus.

I’m going to explore that in two phases today.

Firstly, John was sent.

We are used in the Methodist Church to the idea of ministers being sent. I was sent to this appointment by the authority of the Methodist Conference. The Salvation Army send their officers; the Roman Catholics send their priests. (Other denominations are different and speak less of the church sending and more of God calling.)

But being sent isn’t just a churchy thing. It happens in other areas of life, too. As I mentioned to some around Remembrance Sunday last month, I am the first man in my family for a couple of generations not to go into the Royal Air Force. My Dad only did National Service, but I often thought he might have fancied a longer time in it than that. My uncle served for many years, and so did my three male cousins.

The armed services’ concept of a ‘posting’ is very much a sending, and young families are often in an area only for a short time before the next posting happens, with adverse effects upon socialisation and education. One of my cousins was awarded the MBE for work he and his wife did on RAF bases with lonely families.

John the Baptist’s sending comes not from the church or the armed services, but from God:

There was a man sent from God whose name was John.

And yes, John has a very special calling that we mark at this time of year. And yes, we are used to the idea that certain Christians have particular callings in which they are sent by God.

Sadly, what we forget in all that is that every Christian is called and sent by God in some respect. Being sent by God doesn’t automatically mean being sent to dark jungles to be attacked by ferocious creatures and wild savages. Sometimes, God has already sent us to the place where we are, and this is the place where we are called to be fruitful and faithful for him.

Perhaps we still have that mediaeval Roman Catholic view of being sent that regarded the only vocations worth mentioning as those where someone was called to the church – priests, monks, and nuns. At least the Reformers broadened out that sense of vocation so that Martin Luther, ever provocative in his writing, could say that were the job of village hangman to fall vacant, the devout Christian should apply.

I am not here to recruit any hangmen today! But I am here to invite us all to consider our sense of being sent. Has God sent us to the particular job where we work? The neighbourhood where we live? The social groups in which we mix?

And if we think that’s possible, how does that change our attitude to those workplaces, neighbourhoods, and social groups? Are we on a mission from God in those places? Have we been placed there to live out our faith and bless those we meet with the love of God in our attitudes and actions? Has God sent us there as a sign of his abiding truth to those who may or may not want to know about it?

And for others of us, have we become restless where we are? Is it because we have not embraced the sense that God has sent us here, or is God preparing us to take up another posting and be sent somewhere else? Is this an issue that some of us should be praying about?

Secondly, John was specifically sent as a witness.

One of the things I do when I go to preach at a new church is I always ask for an assurance from the person on the sound desk that they will turn my microphone off during the hymns. Much as I love music, I am not blessed in that area with any personal ability. I was once next to my aunt in a congregation and she said to me afterwards, “I’m glad my bad singing voice has passed down another generation in the family.”

So when my friends in the church youth group formed a band, I was the only one not to be part of it. They became quite popular in local church circles and sold out some concerts.

I talk in the first chapter of my book about some of the socially awkward ways in which I related to them. Yet one Saturday evening in December, and I think it proved to be their biggest concert ever, they involved me by asking me to be the compère.

It stayed with me, because the next morning the Advent theme was John the Baptist, and the preacher spoke about how John was the compère for Jesus. Given my rôle the previous night, that description stuck with me. Just as the compère’s job is not to point to themselves but to the act everyone has paid to see, so the rôle of John the Baptist is not to big himself up but to be ‘a witness to the light’:

He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

This rôle of a witness is seen in some of the other New Testament models for those who speak of Christ. We have the herald, who brought ‘good news’, rather like a town crier. ‘Good news’ was a technical term in the Roman Empire for the announcements heralds made that either the Roman army had won a great battle or that there was a new emperor on the throne. The first Christians translated this to their heralding of a different good news, the good news that God had won a great battle against evil at the Cross and that there was now a new king of the universe, Jesus the Lord.

And we have the ambassador that the Apostle Paul talks about. The purpose of an ambassador is to represent the king and the kingdom that sent them to an alien land. Paul and the first Christians saw themselves as representing Christ and the kingdom of God in an alien land.

All of these images – the witness, the herald, and the ambassador – have one thing in common. These spokespeople are not drawing attention to themselves but to Jesus Christ and the good news of God’s kingdom.

This was John’s purpose in a particularly special way when Jesus came into the world and thirty years later began his public ministry. It is also our calling.

For the New Testament also calls us witnesses. We may not all be evangelists, but we are all witnesses. Every Christian has the ability to witness to Jesus Christ by speaking about what he has done for them and what he has done for the world.

Think of a witness in a court of law. The witness speaks of what he or she has seen or heard, or about what he knows to be true. These are the things we do as witnesses for Christ, too. We speak about our experience of Jesus. We speak about what we know about him. Sure, we are not all what the courts call expert witnesses – perhaps those are the evangelists – but if we think about it, can we not all think of what Jesus has done for us, what he means to us, and what we know for sure about him?

Conclusion

Last week we saw that the Father’s relationship with Jesus said something about our relationship with Jesus, too. This week, John’s relationship with Jesus also has something to say about our relationship with Jesus.

Last week we saw that just as the Father’s relationship with Jesus was characterised by unity, love, and light, so too was Jesus’ mission to the world. This week with John we find that we are sent by God as heralds and ambassadors of King Jesus and his kingdom of unity, love, and light.

May the Holy Spirit show us the place where we are sent. And may we depend on that same Spirit to empower us as witnesses to Jesus and all that he has done.


[1] Matthew 3:4

[2] Luke 1:36

Advent, The Prologue and Relationships: 1, Jesus and the Father (John 1:1-18)

Introduction to series

For Advent this year, I want to explore one of the great Bible passages – the one that above all talks about ‘The Mystery of the Incarnation’, as it is often called in carol services.

It’s the passage we more widely call ‘The Prologue’ – but people of a certain generation must not think about Frankie Howerd and Up Pompeii when I say that!

It’s The Prologue to the Gospel According to John, the first eighteen verses of the wonderful Fourth Gospel, in which the evangelist introduces many of the themes of his Gospel in the context of Jesus’ birth.

There are so many ways we could explore this passage, for there are so many riches there. A friend of mine wrote his PhD on it, and I could easily imagine preaching every Sunday for a year on these verses.

But I’m going to resist that temptation! This is just an Advent series. And one way of exploring the Prologue over the four Sundays of Advent is to take a particular strand in it about Jesus’ relationships. So we shall look first of all at Jesus’ relationship with the Father, and in other weeks at his relationships with Moses, John the Baptist, and human beings generally.

John 1:1-18

I am not the most avid television watcher, but I did set our satellite box to record Monday night’s quiz programmes on BBC2 – Only Connect, Mastermind, and the one that goes right back to my childhood, University Challenge. That was something we used to watch as a family on Sunday lunchtimes – that and Thunderbirds.

For some reason, I still remember one starter question from an early series: ‘Which two books of the Bible begin with the same three words in English?’

Now, leaving aside the awkward issue of differing translations, the answer they wanted was Genesis and John’s Gospel, both starting with the words, ‘In the beginning.’

And that’s where we’re going today – to the beginning, to that relationship between Jesus and the Father that existed before creation and led to creation. I follow those scholars who say that the inner relationships of the Trinity are demonstrated in their actions towards human beings and the world. In the case of the Incarnation, they tell us something about why Jesus came, and that’s what we’re going to explore today.

Firstly, unity:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. 

Note those words ‘with God’, ‘was God’, and ‘with God in the beginning.’ The Word, that is, Jesus, and the Father are united in fellowship and very nature. Theirs is a perfect and pure unity of relationship. They are one in heart, mind, and spirit.

It is this inner experience of unity that Jesus comes to bring at the Incarnation. It is the knowledge that human relationships with God, each other, and creation are broken that leads him to come. This is not what was intended. Humankind was made in the image of God, the One God in Three Persons who is unity, but sin has distorted and destroyed that.

So when Jesus comes, his is a mission of reconciliation. He wants human beings at one with the Godhead again. He wants human beings reconciled to each other. He wants the alienation of human beings from the creation healed.

To bring this unity will involve a great cost. It will take him from Bethlehem to Calvary, from the manger to the Cross. It makes me think of a Graham Kendrick Christmas song, ‘Thorns in the straw’, where he imagines Mary seeing the thorns for Jesus’ crown of thorns in the straw of the manger.

Therefore as Christians we remember our need to draw ever closer to our God, as we receive the forgiveness of our sins. We remember our need to work for unity with one another, putting right our broken relationships, and finding reconciliation with each other. We remember that our reconciliation with one another is one of the deeds that witnesses to our preaching about reconciliation with God.

And we remember our calling to bind up the wounds of the creation – not out of the desperation many have over things like climate change, but in the Christian hope of the God who is making all things new.

Let us remember this Advent that the unity of Father and Son leads to Jesus’ mission to bring unity. And just as that was costly for him, let us be prepared to pay a cost to proclaim and demonstrate Christ’s nature and message of unity to the world.

Secondly, love:

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 

Jesus is the Father’s agent in creation. But what has that got to do with love?

Let me ask you a question that the famous twentieth century Swiss theologian Karl Barth asked: was it necessary for God to create?

Barth answered that question with a ‘Yes’, and so do I. Here’s why. It’s certainly true that love between people can be personal and exclusive, but it is never private. If two people love each other exclusively but it never touches others for good, how is it so very different from mutual self-indulgence?

Take marriage as an example. The most common way in which a married couple express this love is when they are able to have children. Their personal and exclusive love naturally reaches out in a creative act and they sacrificially love their children.

Of course, I know that many couples don’t want children immediately and others cannot have children at all. So one of the things I do when I prepare a couple for marriage is I challenge them to show the love they have wonderfully discovered between themselves in service of others. Can they do something in their community? Is there a cause they could support?

I think something like that has happened on a cosmic, spiritual scale in the Godhead. Such is the love between the members of the Trinity that it has to be expressed beyond them. The Father creates through the Son and in the power of the Spirit. A universe is created beyond the Godhead for the Godhead to love.

And it is out of this love at the heart of God that Jesus comes in the Incarnation. Seeing the brokenness and lack of unity that I talked about in the first point, it is his very nature of love that brings him to earth. Remember that most basic of all statements about God in the Bible: ‘God is love.’

What I’m talking about here is what Christina Rossetti wrote about in one of her Christmas carols:

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, Love divine;
worship we our Jesus:
but wherewith for sacred sign?

There it is: Jesus comes in love because the very nature of the Godhead is love.

And Rossetti also tells us what the only fitting response is:

Love shall be our token,
love be yours and love be mine,
love to God and all the world,
love for plea and gift and sign.[1]

If the Incarnation is about the love at the heart of the Godhead coming to us in Jesus, then our response is ‘love to God and all the world’ – love God and love our neighbour, as Jesus was to say the two greatest commandments were. Even the new commandment he gave was about love: ‘Love one another as I have loved you.’

Howard Thurman, who was a great influence on Martin Luther King, wrote a short poem called ‘The Work of Christmas.’ It says this:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.

Thirdly and finally, light:

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

At the heart of God’s life is light: purity, wholeness, righteousness, hope. But we have a world of darkness: sin, brokenness, injustice, despair. So when Jesus brings very inner character of God to Earth in the incarnation, he comes as light, the light of the world who ‘stepped down into darkness’[2].

Wherever we experience darkness, Jesus comes to shed his light. It may be the darkness when we know ourselves to be a moral failure, but the light of Jesus’ seventy-times-seven forgiving love draws us back to him again.

It may be the wounds we carry through life that leave us with low self-worth or even a sense of self-loathing, but the hope found in Jesus gives us strength to carry on.

It may be that a particular issue of injustice in the world affects us and we get involved with campaigning but nothing seems to change for the better. I listened to a talk recently by a Christian journalist whose life work it is to expose corruption in the church, but she has suffered attacks and false accusations from parts of the Christian community for her work. She has been tempted to give up, but the light of Jesus keeps her persevering for justice in the darkness.

Or maybe it’s bereavement. Six years ago when my father died, I said that a light had gone out of my life. He had modelled for me so much of what it meant to live with integrity as a Christian man in the world. Yes, he was just two months shy of his ninetieth birthday. Yes, Alzheimer’s Disease had taken his true personality before death took his body, and you could say it was a merciful release. But you know what grief is like. The logical answers don’t remove the pain.

Dad died on 1st August. It was not until Advent that year and reading John 1 that I felt a sense of hope. It was verse 5: ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it’ that made sense of things for me. Jesus gave just enough light in the darkness to take me forward in hope.

Let us begin this Advent with a sense of hope. The relationship between Jesus and his Father may seem like hi-falutin’ brain-bending stuff, but at its heart are characteristics that stretch out from the inner life of God to us through the Incarnation of Jesus. Let that unity, love, and light give us strength and hope.


[1] Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894) in Singing The Faith #210.

[2] Tim Hughes, op. cit., #175.

Seven Churches 7: Laodicea (Revelation 3:14-22)

Revelation 3:14-22

Like a lot of men, I am not keen on going to the doctor. One time, several years ago, I forced myself to go because I was suffering from regular blinding headaches. The reason I didn’t want to go was that I feared bad news.

The first thing the GP did was put me at ease. He was quickly able to assure me that I didn’t have a brain tumour. He said, ‘Almost everyone who comes to me with bad headaches assumes they have a tumour, but the vast majority don’t.’

If men don’t like seeing the doctor, I venture to suggest as a parallel that many churches would rather not receive a diagnosis of their spiritual health from Jesus. In the case of the church at Laodicea, they are in for a shock when Doctor Jesus gives his diagnosis of their condition and prescribes treatment in our reading. Unlike a lot of men who fear they have a serious condition when they are more or less fine, the opposite is true of them. They think they are fine, but they are perilously ill.

Let’s remind ourselves of Jesus’ diagnosis. It’s devastating:

15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth. 17 You say, “I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.” But you do not realise that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

We need to look separately at the problems of being lukewarm and being rich.

A lot of people misunderstand the criticism of lukewarmness. It is often said that to be hot is to be ‘on fire’, fiercely devoted to Jesus, and to be cold is to be hostile to him. Therefore in condemning lukewarmness, Jesus is saying either be totally for me or totally against me, both are preferable to being half-hearted. But why would Jesus want people to be against him? It makes no sense.

What does make sense is to put these images into the context of Laodicea itself. The nearby town of Hierapolis had hot springs which were used for healing and therapy. Nearby Colossae had cold water, which was used for cooling and refreshment. But Laodicea only had a lukewarm water supply, laden with minerals, which drinkers wanted to spit out.[1]

Applying this to the metaphor of hot, cold, and lukewarm water in our text, I think we are meant to understand that the Laodicean church’s so-called faith had no positive effect on anyone. They brought neither healing nor refreshment to those with whom they engaged. They were not a good news community. Nothing about them brought the transforming love of God in Christ into people’s lives for the better. Encountering them just left a bad taste in the mouth.

And as for their claim to be rich and self-sufficient, again this was something in which the Christians followed their city. Laodicea had been hit by earthquakes in AD 20 and again in AD 60. On the first occasion, they received imperial aid to rebuild. On the second occasion, they refused outside aid, saying they did not need it due to wealthy benefactors in the local farming community and a nearby centre of medicine.[2]

What does that sound like to you? Well, to me it sounds like pride. I don’t need any help thank you, I’ve got it all. In spiritual terms this is devastating to faith. In fact, it’s contrary to faith and kills faith. In the Gospel we are, as Jesus tells the Laodicean church, ‘wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked’. We need someone else. We need Jesus. We need the grace of God. And we need humility to ask for it. Pride stops us from receiving what God has for us.

And if they were full of themselves, full of pride, no wonder they were bad news for people they met. No wonder they left a bad taste.

It’s important for us to reflect humbly on where we are as a church in this respect. Are we a good news community? Is this a group of people where folk are being changed, bit by bit, so that they more beautifully reflect Jesus Christ to the world? Is this a society where the tired and weary find refreshment?

Alternatively, are we just a private club, maybe a bit harsh in tone, where rather than healing and refreshment people encounter judgmentalism and rejection? Which are we?

Because for any church that falls into the latter category, Jesus’ words, ‘I am about to spit you out of my mouth’ must be taken seriously. Did you realise that Jesus closes some churches? Not all – some churches that close have fought the good fight but run out of steam. But others, those like Laodicea, are ones that Jesus himself spits out of his mouth. He withdraws his blessing. He stops pouring out his Spirit. And these churches wither until they die.

These churches may be more familiar to you than you might think. How often have I heard people in some Methodist churches say, ‘I’m not interested in all that mission stuff, I just want this church to remain open to see me out and have my funeral.’ That is a statement of unutterable selfishness. It goes against the whole spirit of Jesus and his community. I think we can work out from today’s passage what Jesus does with a church like that.

Secondly, we need to reflect on Jesus’ prescription:

18 I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so that you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so that you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so that you can see.

19 Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. 20 Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.

I wonder whether you have childhood memories of being made to take vile-tasting medicine. For me, there was one dreaded medicine bottle in a kitchen cupboard. It was one that my grandmother, who lived with us, was fond of reaching for as some kind of cure-all panacea.

Kaolin and morphine. Or ‘Kaolin-morph’, as she called it. These days I shudder at the thought that pharmacies sold over the counter a medicine containing morphine for unrestricted use with children. In those days, all I knew was that it had the most disgusting taste.

I want to suggest to you that here Jesus has no alternative but to prescribe some fairly unpalatable medicine to the Laodicean church. But nothing other than a drastic turnaround will bring them out of their spiritual death.

So – gold refined in the fire: a Christian life that is costly and sometimes means suffering.

White clothes to cover nakedness: I think this is about a willingness to go against the popular culture. For the Greeks, public nakedness was celebrated. You may recall that the athletes in the original Olympic games participated naked. Even our word ‘gymnast’ derives from the Greek word for naked.[3] They had to be willing where necessary to go against popular culture, rather than think they could continue to fit in and just tack belief in Jesus on top of that.

Salve on their eyes so they could see – they were so spiritually blind that they needed to see again what was truly important to God.

No wonder Jesus talks about rebuke, discipline (or, perhaps better, instruction) and repentance. When a church is dying spiritually the solution is almost never the introduction of new methods and techniques. All they do is put new clothes on a corpse. Much more likely is a solution that entails taking some difficult medicine to get back on the right track, or submission to spiritual surgery.

There are many churches that need to stop asking, what quick fix can we apply that will turn us around, and instead ask, what pain are we willing to endure in order to become more Christlike?

The great tragedy of the church at Laodicea is expressed in verse 20:

20 Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.

That is not an evangelistic text. It is the description of a church that has shut Jesus out. And Jesus, who described himself to the previous church, Philadelphia, as one who could open doors, either cannot or will not open this door. He waits on the outside, where he has been exiled, until the Laodiceans welcome him back in.

We need to reflect on these matters from time to time. Have we just chosen the easy, comfortable life? Do we avoid the cost of discipleship by blending in with our wider culture? Have we lost sight of what is important to God?

Sure, there are times when churches decline because the wider culture has rejected the Christian Gospel. They struggle to get a hearing because of this. But at least they are trying to get a hearing.

Sadly, there are other churches that are uncomfortably like Laodicea, choosing the easy life and compromising with society. These churches face a hard choice, to know that the only way to spiritual life is the costly path of discipleship.

And maybe it’s the fact that the way of Jesus is a costly and at times painful route through life that puts us off and leads us to take the soft option. If that is the block, then let’s just take a step back and consider all Jesus has done for us. The universe was made through him. He left the glory of heaven for the poverty of the Incarnation. He was betrayed, falsely accused, tortured, and subjected to a cruel death. All this he did for us.

If he has done so much for us, what can we, his people, offer him in gratitude?


[1] Ian Paul, Revelation (TNTC), p113.

[2] Op. cit., p111.

[3] Op. cit., p116.

Seven Churches 6: Philadelphia (Revelation 3:7-13)

Revelation 3:7-13

One of the discussions Debbie and I have been having lately has centred around the fact that next March our daughter reaches the age of 21 and what we might do to mark that occasion.

It’s less of a milestone now, since 18 became the age of majority in the UK. (I think I’m right in saying it’s still 21 in the USA, though.) So our daughter will probably not recognise the old ditty,

I’ve got the key of the door, never been 21 before! 

The traditional gift of a key or a key pendant when someone reached 21 signified them becoming an adult and now being responsible enough to have an actual key. Doors opened for them both literally and metaphorically.

In our passage, Jesus is the One who has the key to the door, spiritually:

These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of David. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. (Verse 7)

‘The key of David’ alludes to a messianic prophecy in Isaiah 22:22:

The one with the keys, the steward of the household, had authority both to allow and to prohibit admission to the house itself … As the successor to the Davidic kingdom, Jesus has authority to give access, not to the physical Jerusalem, but to the New Jerusalem and the presence of God.[1]

And Jesus explicitly says he has opened the door for the church at Philadelphia:

I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. (Verse 8a)

When we use the metaphor of a door being opened, it is often to mean that an opportunity has presented itself for us. It’s not unusual for Christians to read about the door Jesus has opened for the church at Philadelphia and think that Jesus has given them a particular opportunity. Indeed, I recall reading many years ago the book ‘God’s Smuggler To China’ and learning how this verse encouraged the author that there was an opening to smuggle Bibles into communist China. It’s a thrilling story.

But the original context here does not indicate that Jesus is presenting an opportunity to the Philadelphian church. Remember, he has the key of David, which opens up citizenship of the New Jerusalem and a place in the presence of God.

And that key of David opens the door to three blessings for the church at Philadelphia. There are no criticisms or rebukes of this church, unlike most of the others, just blessings of grace.

Blessing number one is affirmation:

I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name.

Philadelphia is not a big, strong church. Their city is fragile, and so are they. The city had been devastated economically by the Emperor Domitian. Although they were loyal to the emperor, he had taken over half their vineyards to grow grain that would feed the Roman army. Philadelphia depended economically on their vineyards. This was a devastating blow.[2]

Jesus explicitly says he knows the church has ‘little strength.’ Perhaps they are a mixture of those who have weathered the economic storm and those who have been plunged into financial difficulty and poverty. They are not glamorous. But Jesus loves them. He is pleased with them.

Why? They have access to the presence of God through Jesus and in response to that they have engaged in good deeds out of gratitude, they have kept his word because he is trustworthy, and they have not denied him, despite strong social pressures.

A church doesn’t have to be big and trendy to be loved and cherished by Jesus. If we are small because we have been unfaithful, that is one thing. But if we are small, despite celebrating Jesus who opens the door to God’s presence by his death and resurrection, and if we respond to that in gratitude with our deeds, and faithfully keep God’s word even when it is costly, then you can be sure he is pleased with a congregation like that.

It’s not for us to worry about whether we have flashy programmes, big budgets, and eye-catching publicity. We only need to concern ourselves with whether we are doing good because Jesus has been good to us, and whether we are remaining faithful to his word, because we know he has the words of eternal life and it is therefore worth sticking with his ways, even when society doesn’t like them.

Blessing number two is vindication:

I will make those who are of the synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews though they are not, but are liars – I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you.

The church in Philadelphia is under the cosh. At a guess, what has happened is something like this. Whoever first took the Gospel to that town probably followed the example of the Apostle Paul and shared the message first of all in the local synagogue. You may recall that Paul said that the Gospel is first to the Jew and then to the Gentile, and there are several examples of him pursuing this strategy in the Acts of the Apostles.

But what typically happened was that some responded positively and others with hostility. Some Jews would believe that Jesus was their Messiah, but others would react angrily. Maybe that is what has happened in Philadelphia. The church is suffering unjustly. What does Jesus say to them?

Effectively, his message is, leave this with me. I will sort it out. It’s a version of Paul’s counsel in Romans 12:19, where he quotes Deuteronomy 32:35,’Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.’ No fighting back. No violence in words, thoughts, attitudes, or actions. Leave it in his hands.

My last but one appointment was a mismatch. I certainly made some mistakes there, but from the beginning my gifts were not what several of the more vociferous church members wanted, and it became a painful experience. The trouble was, it was a lovely area to live in and the children had settled in happily to an excellent primary school. But we had to make the painful decision to leave.

When we did so, a friend who at the time was the URC minister of an ecumenical church in the circuit had words for me that I have never forgotten. He pointed me to the opening of Psalm 35:

Contend, Lord, with those who contend with me;
    fight against those who fight against me. (Verse 1)

That’s what I needed to do. Ask God to sort it out. It was no use me getting worked up about it. If I tried to sort it out, then even my purest motives for justice would have been coloured by the emotions of my pain. Best to leave it to God.

It didn’t mean that things were fixed quickly. I know that, because a few months later I was asked back to conduct the funeral of a saintly church member. I was still subjected to nastiness.

But leave it to God. Hand it over. In time, he will sort it out. It is not for us to set the timetable for his justice.

Whenever we are picked on for our faith, let us ask God to contend with those who contend with us. He can do so with pure love. Even his wrath is an expression of his love.

Blessing number three is preservation:

10 Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth.

What is this hour of trial that will test the inhabitants of the earth? I don’t think it can be a reference to the Last Judgment. That could hardly be construed as a test. It sounds more to me like a time of general suffering in the world, as opposed to the specific suffering for faith in Jesus that we considered in the last point. I suspect this is the suffering to which all people are vulnerable, from ill health to natural disasters to war and so on. Certainly God uses such times to test people and perhaps to see whether such times will lead people to call out to him.

Christians were not exempted from COVID. Christians are not being spared in Israel and Gaza, or in Ukraine. We are in the thick of these things just like everyone else. In what sense does God preserve his church, then?

Well, it’s not that we are miraculously protected from the suffering of the world. We do not get an escape route in the way that some Christians read Revelation and other New Testament texts to believe that we shall be ‘raptured’ to heaven before the so-called ‘Great Tribulation’ comes on the earth.

But God will always preserve his church. Remember that Jesus said the gates of Hades would not be able to withstand the church. Hades is the place of the dead. Death cannot destroy the church. We are resurrection people!

But neither will death destroy the church on earth. Many of the churches in Revelation disappeared years and centuries later. Places that became strongholds of the church in her early centuries, such as North Africa, are now deserts for Christianity. Yet even though the church may be crushed in some places, she blossoms and flowers elsewhere. In our day, the western church may be in trouble, but the church is growing in Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, and south-east Asia amongst other places.

To the world, the church of Jesus Christ is the jack-in-the-box that will not stay in the box. To our enemies, their efforts to destroy us are no better than a game of Whack-A-Mole. Hit us in one place, we pop up somewhere else. God will always preserve us. His church is central to his eternal purposes.

Whatever discouragements we face, let us never forget that.

In conclusion, Christ’s faithful church receives many blessings, even in times of trouble: affirmation, vindication, and preservation. How might we respond? Jesus says,

11 I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown.

Keep on keeping on. Continue to be faithful to Jesus’ word.

Simply said and sometimes less simple to put into practice, I know. But let us remember God’s grace and mercy to us in Christ. Let us remember the blessings he promises his faithful people that we have thought about today.

And let those things motivate us to depend on the Holy Spirit to hold on in faith and await Christ’s blessings.


[1] Ian Paul, Revelation (TNTC), p106.

[2] Op. cit., p105.

Seven Churches: 5, Sardis (Revelation 3:1-6)

Revelation 3:1-6

I’m sure you have noticed that whenever a major organisation is in the news because of a scandal, one of the first things they often want to do is protect their image. They call in public relations consultants who specialise in so-called ‘reputation management.’ The public image must be protected at all costs.

I think it was to the credit of McDonald’s UK boss on Thursday that when the BBC reported nothing had changed there since they had exposed a culture of sexual abuse and harassment of young workers, he didn’t pretend that everything was actually fine. He spoke instead of his determination to make the company a better and safer place to work. Of course, only time will show whether there is substance to what he says.

And with that in mind, let’s take a trip to this week’s church in Revelation, the church at Sardis. This time, Jesus is so troubled by them that his rebuke comes before his praise – the opposite way around from usual.

So the first thing we will consider is Jesus’ rebuke of Sardis.

I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead.  (Verse 1b)

‘You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead.’ If ever a church was trying to maintain a good public image while everything was in truth rotting, it was Sardis.

But to help hear just how forceful Jesus’ words are here, it’s useful to know something about the history of the town itself. Listen to what Dr Ian Paul says about them:

Sardis lost out to Smyrna in competing to host an imperial temple, because of emphasizing its past splendour rather than the present reality. And though the capturing of the acropolis became a byword for an impossible task, it was in fact taken by force – not once, but twice! When Cyrus attacked the city in the sixth century, his forces noticed the use of a trapdoor under the unguarded walls, and while the occupants slept he entered to open the city gates. Three hundred years later, the Seleucid king Antiochus III the Great besieged the city, and apparently took it after reading of Cyrus’ victory. The inhabitants were once again asleep instead of on guard.[1]

The church at Sardis was just like the city itself. In having a reputation of being alive when they were dead they too were trading on past glories. They might not lose an imperial temple but rather a community that was the temple of the Holy Spirit, worshipping the One True God. They too were asleep and needed to wake up if they were not to suffer invasion from their spiritual enemy.

How easy it is for a church to trade on its past reputation, or to live in the past when the present doesn’t seem so appetising. I tell the story of a vociferous elderly lady in one past church who repeatedly reminded everyone of the time when the church had a hundred children in the Sunday School. It didn’t do much for the morale of those who were trying to lead the children they did have at the time, and nor did it help in finding out what God wanted to do there and then in that part of the church family’s life. The only way to do that involved sidelining and ignoring the nostalgia, and then praying, ‘Lord, this is the honest situation. Things are not good. What do you want to do here with children and young people?’

There are many churches which would like us to believe the hype that they are alive when in fact they are dead. They may be trading on past glories. They may be deluding themselves that because the people who worship there at present are happy, it must be a good place. They may not want to ask why some people have left. Show me a church that doesn’t say it’s a friendly church. But then ask people if they have ever encountered an unfriendly church. Many dying congregations expend a lot of time and energy on deluding themselves. They need to hear the rebuke of Jesus to Sardis for themselves.

And they need to hear what Jesus says they should do instead.  

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.

Get back to basics, says Jesus. What brought you to a living faith in the first place? Was it not repentance for your sins and trusting in the mercy and grace of God rather than your own good deeds? Why is it that we confess our sins in every Sunday service? Is it not because we always need to be in that habit of getting back to basics? None of us is beyond the need to confess our sins.

When I was in my church youth group, our favourite preacher in the circuit was an elderly Welsh Local Preacher. I worked out once that he had been born two years before the Welsh Revival at the beginning of the last century. He would have been a toddler during that revival, and he preached like he was still in the middle of the revival.

One Sunday he challenged us from the pulpit with these words: “Have you been converted? Because I’ve been converted many times.” And I think what he meant was that he regularly had to come back to Christ in repentance and be made new again.

If we spend our time telling the old stories, we should be thankful to God for what he did then. But if we live in the past without walking with Jesus today, it counts for nothing. We are asleep in the light and it won’t be us who closes the church, it will be Jesus.

The second of our two things to consider is Jesus’ praise of Sardis.

Yet you have a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes. They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy. The one who is victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out the name of that person from the book of life, but will acknowledge that name before my Father and his angels.

What is this about? Let’s hear from Ian Paul again:

It is striking that the contrast here is not between the (spiritually) dying and the living, but between the dying and the unpolluted; spiritual life involves purity of living, symbolized by the unsoiled garments. From Genesis onwards, walk[ing] with God signifies approval, friendship and obedience (Gen 5:22); the purity of the garments now is in anticipation of the life of the age to come (6:11, 7:9, 13). Although the high priests in the Old Testament wear linen, white is predominantly the colour of pagan worship, signifying purity, holiness and honour in Greek and Roman culture. Participation in the life of God and Jesus includes sharing in their qualities; just as God and the lamb are lauded as being worthy (4:11; 5:9), so those who remain faithful are the ones who have ‘lived a life worthy of [their] calling’ (Eph 4:1).[2]

So here is our number one priority in the church: to be people who walk with Jesus, who reject the pollution of the world for the purity of his ways. This is what pleases him. This is the true sign of life in the church.

Having a lively programme of events and meetings is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Having high-quality music from a choir or a band is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Being the hip and fashionable place to go where there are lots of young people is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Being an institution that is a respected pillar of the local society is not our priority: walking with Jesus is.

If other blessings come, that’s great, but they are not what we seek. Our priority is walking with Jesus.

And the thing is, we already know what to do about this and we’ve heard it over and over for years. We know from the Gospels how Jesus wants us to live our lives. We also know he has given us the Holy Spirit so that we can put these things into practice. Let’s not deflect from this by saying, “But how do we do it?” because Jesus has already given us his instructions and given us the tools for the job.

I read a column on the Internet by an American New Testament scholar called Scot McKnight. Every Friday he hands over his column to a recently retired minister, a Baptist pastor by the name of Mike Glenn. This week, he was writing about the ways in which preachers look for sermon illustrations and how long it takes us. But he ended his column this way:

Since my retirement, I’ve had a little more time to think. As you would imagine, I’ve come up with a lot of theories with what’s wrong with the world. Here’s one of my theories. The world needs some good sermon illustrations. That is, we need more people whose lives prove the reality of the Risen Christ. Before people look at Jesus, they look at His followers. Do His followers show any difference in their lives? Do they show evidence of having been with Jesus? If the world sees something interesting, then they might want to learn more about Jesus. If they don’t find anything in the lives of His disciples, the world will conclude there’s nothing to Jesus either. 

As I have often said, the world isn’t mad at the church because we’re different. They’re mad at us because we aren’t different enough. 

Maybe the world needs a few more sermons. Maybe. What we really need, however, are more good sermon illustrations. People whose lives tell the gospel in unforgettable ways. People who love their neighbors. People who forgive after being horribly wronged. People who can live in hope when the world is filled with despair. Whenever we hear stories like these, they stick with us. We can’t forget them.

The world is always looking for a good story. We just can’t find enough of them. Maybe if we made it easier to find a few good stories – a few good sermon illustrations – the world would find it easier to find Jesus. 

Do you see now how important it is that we all walk with Jesus. We shall fail. I do. We shall need to return to confession every week and be converted many times.

But there is nothing more vital in our lives and the life of the church. It comes above everything else we do.

So let’s make it our priority.


[1] Ian Paul, Revelation (TNTC). p99.

[2] Op. cit., p102.

Seven Churches: 4, Thyatira (Revelation 2:18-29)

Revelation 2:18-29

Let me ask you a question or three: is tolerance a good thing? And if you say yes, why is it good? And what are the extents and limits of tolerance?

It’s a live question in our society today. As many thinkers have pointed out, there are vastly different views in our culture about what it means to be human. But proponents of some views shout down those who hold other convictions.

So, for example, some people essentially believe that we are just minds trapped in physical bodies. (This is called ‘transhumanism.’) Others say that our biological sex is decisive for understanding who we are. But others say we should listen to Nature at large, or to our own intuitions and desires, or we just make our own choices to construct reality as we see fit.

Hence, you get the situation where even a lesbian professor at Sussex University, Kathleen Stock, was driven out of her post because she believed that biological sex was primary, but militant transgender activists wouldn’t tolerate an opinion that disagreed with theirs.

In other parts of public life in the UK, the majority opinion has a low tolerance for immigration, refugees, and asylum seekers. Our Prime Minister wants to ‘stop the boats’ and our Home Secretary wants to send people to Rwanda – despite both of them coming from immigrant families themselves.[1]

Tolerance, it seems, is rarely the two-way exchange it claims to be. It often ends up as a one-way street.

As we’ll see in a few minutes, tolerance of the wrong kind is a big issue at Thyatira.

But first, let’s look at what Jesus commends at Thyatira. Because there’s actually some pretty good stuff going on in the church there.

19 I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first.

If that were the sum total of a church’s profile that I saw when I was looking for a move of appointment, I would probably think yes, I’d love to be the minister of that church! And if you had moved to a new town and came across a church that could be described like that, perhaps you too would think that this was the kind of church where you would like to belong.

I mean, what’s not to like? This is not just a Sunday religious club. They are serious about their faith and putting it into practice. And I could connect a lot of Thyatira’s qualities to Midhurst. ‘Deeds … love … faith … service … perseverance … doing more’ – yes, I can think even after only two months with you of ways in which this church exemplifies these qualities.

I think of the way some members are getting involved in the Midhurst Community Forum, in order to make a difference for good in this town, and the possibility of an official partnership between the church and the forum.

I think of the way you showed care and concern for Debbie and me when you learned that we had had a difficult move here.

I think of how I learned at the Pastoral Committee of the quiet dedication of our Pastoral Visitors, who get on without fuss in regularly staying in touch with the people on their lists.

I think of the way Jeanette took the trouble to contact me specifically to tell mw how much she had loved being your minister. If you ever formed a church fan club, I think Jeanette might stand for election as the President!

In fact, risky as this may be to put on record after only such a short time with you, I want you to know how much Debbie and I look forward to driving over here to see you.

So yes, I know the age profile of the congregation has skewed older. I know the numbers are not what they used to be. But while we may need to draw some lessons from that, don’t let it hide the fact that a lot of good, commendable Christian things are going on here.

And provided we don’t overload the same few individuals, a good challenge for us would be to consider how, like Thyatira, we could be ‘doing more’ of the ‘deeds, love, faith, service, and perseverance.’ What are the opportunities for us to do that?

Let’s not forget that the kind of church which receives praise from Jesus is one in which the prevailing attitude is, ‘What can we give?’ rather than “What do I get out of this for myself?”

Then secondly, let’s look at what Jesus criticises at Thyatira. Here’s where the question of tolerance in a bad way will come in. What we have is cultural compromise by some Christians that is tolerated by the church.

You might say this is a variation on a theme from the previous church, Pergamum. In that city, there was cultural compromise in that some members, like in Thyatira, were eating food sacrificed to idols and committing sexual immorality (verses 15, 20). The difference at Thyatira is that the church was actively tolerating it (verse 20).

Why am I describing these sins of eating food sacrificed to idols and committing sexual immorality as cultural compromise? Thyatira had a number of professional guilds for the different trades and occupations that were followed there, and these guilds were the basis for social recognition and progress. It was particularly known for coppersmiths (which may explain why Jesus introduces himself as having ‘feet like burnished bronze’, verse 18). Each of the guilds had a patron god. At social events held by the guilds there would be a meal, and beforehand the food to be served would have been dedicated to that god. Post-meal entertainment was usually provided by prostitutes.[2] 

So if a Christian tradesman went to his guild meeting and wanted to get on in the society, he probably associated with the false god by accepting the food, and then broke Christian sexual standards with a prostitute.

You might think that the church would condemn such behaviour, but evidently not. If we think that the church in the early centuries was just filled with zealous, passionate Christians who were willing to give up everything for Christ, we are mistaken. There was cultural compromise going on regularly, as one new book amply illustrates.

This, then, is the wrong kind of toleration. It’s good and fine to tolerate people who are different from us and show them kindness and love, but what was going on here was a toleration of outright sin.

Do we do that? Sometimes we do. It may be that a church member has committed an egregious sin, but pressure is placed on the minister not to engage in our disciplinary procedures, because the friendship of church members with this person over-rides the concern for the holiness of the church.

I know that all too well from when I began ministry as a probationer thirty-one years ago and had to deal with a long and painful child protection situation, when Safeguarding had not fully come in. Some church members cared more that I was raising queries against members of the church family than they did that I spent eighteen months living under threats of violence from them.

Or another common example is this. A church is so concerned to make ends meet that it will allow regular bookings from organisations whose practices are in conflict with Christian belief. For me, it’s a really delicate issue when a church is approached by a yoga teacher. For yoga is originally not just a set of exercises but an act of Hindu devotion, and therefore not to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. If the meditation aspect is left out and all that is being taught is an exercise regime, I am less worried, but I find too many churches will brush this all under the carpet (or should that be the yoga mat?) because when push comes to shove, balancing the books matters more than costly devotion to Christ.

Could it be that today, as in the days of Thyatira, that Jesus is also calling some churches to repent? Could it be also that he has given some churches time to change their ways and they have refused, leaving Jesus himself to cause their decline and death?

The Anglican New Testament scholar Steve Walton warns that

Compromise is not about choosing to worship other gods instead of Jesus; it’s trying to include other gods along with our worship of Jesus.[3]

What are the stages of compromise? Walton says we go through four stages[4]: attraction to the other ‘god’, rationalisation that it’s OK to do so, indulgence in practices contrary to Christ, and finally a re-definition of our faith. If we recognise that process going on in our personal lives or our church, we need to turn back to Christ.

In conclusion, what does Jesus ask of his church? In Thyatira’s case, he says,

hold on to what you have until I come (verse 25)

and

do[es] my will to the end (verse 26).

In other words, keep on with all the good things the church is known for, and weed out the cultural compromise.

Let us not judge our success in the faith on whether we are a big and growing congregation or not. Instead, let us judge it in the way Jesus does: are we doing things that bring joy to his heart, and are we faithfully keeping ourselves away from the idols of our day with a single heart for Christ alone?


[1] I am indebted to Steve Walton for this approach to introducing the passage.

[2] Again, I’m following Steve Walton here. See his slides.

[3] Walton, slides, slide 11.

[4] Walton, slides 12-15.

No Video This Week

There is no teaching video from me this week: today is my Sunday off for the quarter.

I’ll be back next week when we look at the fourth of the seven churches in Revelation, Thyatira, where we consider the thorny question of tolerance.

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