جارٍ تحميل الأرشيف الحي.
واصِل الاستكشاف
مرتبطة بالمقطع الكتابي أو بموضوعات مشتركة.
لم تُترجم هذه الصفحة بالكامل بعد. يظهر بعض النص أدناه أو كله بلغة English، وهي لغته الأصلية.
We find ourselves in the book of Revelation, a text filled with complexity, mystery, and danger. John of Patmos wrote to the seven churches of Asia Minor after receiving divine revelation, calling them to remain true to the faith and resist accommodating to the cultural norms of the Roman Empire. This was a risky admonition—a costly exhortation that resulted in John's own banishment to the island of Patmos for his unwavering commitment to Christ.
Our text describes the final eschatological battle, where Satan is released from his prison after being bound for a thousand years. During this time, the very saints he persecuted reigned with Christ. When he was finally released, he took the earth by storm, gathering all hostile nations—symbolized by Gog and Magog—to surround God's people in the city that God loves.
When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations and the four corners of the earth. (Revelation 20:7-10)
Imagine the magnitude of this malice closing in on you, your family, and your community—like the sand on the seashore in number. For many of us, this doesn't feel like some far-off distant future. It feels a lot like the policies, practices, and persecutions driving today's America. Welcome to the book of Revelation, where God's future exposes the truth of our present.
Let me share a memory from my childhood. I often played with friends in an alleyway behind our homes. At the end of this alley was a small fenced-in dogyard whose occupants were nasty. One day, I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. As I rounded the corner, the dogs suddenly jumped the fence.
Most people in that situation would run. But as shock took over my body, my legs were unable to carry me to safety. What I could not see at that time was that my father had been watching over me from the top floor of our deck. While I had my eyes on those dogs, he had his eyes on me. He moved decisively without a care for the malice of those dogs, sprinting down the steps and clearing the yard—jumping not one but two fences—all to save his child.
Don't miss this: Running is the logical response. But if I had run away, I would have missed a story of overwhelming grace. I would have been tempted to play the hero, boasting of how my speed saved me. Instead, because I remained in place, I welcomed the help of my father. What seemed like a failure of my legs was actually an invitation for the faithfulness of my father.
I'm talking to some saints tonight who know that despite any fear, worry, or doubt that may try to seize us, we can stand firm because of who our heavenly Father is. Because of God's love, we don't have to run. Because of God's love, we don't have to hide. Because of God's love, we can know with absolute certainty that whatever trials or tribulations we may face, we have the victory.
Satan was freed not by force, not because he broke out, and certainly not because his allies pulled up. He was allowed to leave. He was released. This fact alone transforms the entirety of our text.
In the middle of what looks like, sounds like, and feels like a catastrophe of epic proportions, we have found that God is in control. But what does this mean for the saints who declare God is still in control when empire seeks to punish their witness of Christ? What does it mean for our nation to trust in God's sovereignty when the institutions claiming to protect our liberties uphold bondage under the banner of freedom?
The oppressed and marginalized are embraced unconditionally by Christ. But far too often our world weaponizes identity.
What does it mean for the church to keep faith in God's power when signs point to the triumph of evil? It does not mean the weapons will not form. It does not mean there will not be losses. It does not mean that chaos will not surround us.
But hear me clearly: It does mean that we can stand with confidence knowing that while we may be fighting a battle, the Lord of heaven's armies is winning the war. When you know who is almighty, when you know who still sits on the throne, when you know who is the defender of truth, humility, and justice—it shapes how we stand our ground. It shapes how we march.
Staying dangerous is a transition from defense to offense. It is the recognition of knowing whose we are and who we are. It is the unleashing of heaven's power through earth's vessels for the glory of God's kingdom. It is the posture of determination to testify to the one living and true God in a world that has no problem killing us for it.
It is standing amid this hostility of the world and still shouting back:
Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be unto God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
When we find ourselves at verse 9, yes, we know the enemy is amped up—assembled, mobilized, and positioned. But we also know that God is in control. We also know that God has a plan. Therefore, this story is far from over because God does step in. God does intervene. God does come to see about his children. He sends down holy fire straight out of heaven to completely consume and conquer the enemy. Satan meets his fiery end, thrown into the lake of burning sulfur—all for daring to tread upon the people that God loves.
God doesn't play about his people. God doesn't play about me. God doesn't play about us.
We shouldn't play about our kingdom identities either. The community of saints in our text knew this well. There is a temptation to imagine that the saints did nothing in the face of Satan's army. This could not be further from the truth. Their mere presence in the city meant that they testified. They stood firm. They took seriously the word of God. Even when the surrounding pressure was lethal, they held God's word in their hearts and moved in accordance to what it revealed about God.
Scripture reminds us: Greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world. And tonight I declare and decree that sharper is the word that is in you than the blade that is in the world. Your very witness cuts through every false reality and idolatrous illusion that anything or anyone can ever take the place of God.
Because your testimony is dangerous. Your discipleship is dangerous. Your obedience is dangerous. Your forgiveness is dangerous. Your surrender is dangerous. Beloved, you are dangerous.
Our weapons for warfare are not weak. Our prayers are not weak. Our worship is not weak. Our faith is not weak. For even in our weakness, our God is strong.
So put on your belt of truth. Pick up your breastplate of righteousness. Lace up your shoes of peace. Grab hold the shield of faith. Place on the helmet of salvation. And hold firm to the sword of the spirit—that is the word of God.
It's time to take back your mind. It's time to take back your joy. It's time to take back your purpose. It's time to take back your power. The enemy can't have it. The enemy can't steal it. The enemy can't stop it because the enemy is defeated.
Let me share how I know the enemy is defeated. One Friday on a hill called Calvary, they took our Jesus. They hung him high. They stretched him wide. He hung his head for us. He died.
But that's not how the story ends. Three days later he rose again with all power in his hands.
