جارٍ تحميل الأرشيف الحي.
Part 4 of 8
Revelation Series
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.
Welcome to everyone joining us here and online across our 16 locations. We're so glad you're with us. If you're new to Northview, know that we're one church in many places. We're far from perfect—we're not for everybody, but we believe we're for somebody. We hope you find yourself at home here among genuine believers in Christ who are seeking after God, where you can bring your curiosity, your questions, even your skepticism, because God can absolutely handle our questions.
Every single week, we unapologetically stand firm and confident, bold and excited to declare that Jesus is the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords. At His name, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord—that He is the way, the truth, and the life. If you're new, you should know upfront: we're really excited about Jesus, so you won't be surprised when you walk in.
I want to share something I often say: there are two ways of looking at life and faith. One is a victim's mindset, and the other is a victor's mindset. You can either view your God through the filter of your problems, or you can view your problems through the filter of your God. The latter is a victor's mindset—I know who my God is, despite what I'm facing.
I tend to say the same things often, sometimes in strange ways. My family jokes about it constantly. For instance, whenever I'm at the grocery store and an item doesn't ring up at the scanner, I can't resist saying, "It must be free." My kids roll their eyes every time.
Another thing I say constantly is something my dad taught me growing up. He would build anticipation into everything—opening a door, flipping on lights—and he'd say, "You ain't ready." He'd say it about the day ahead, a test, a game, a present, visiting grandparents. My dad raised us to be obnoxiously excited at all times.
Now I find myself doing the same thing. Walking through the hallways of our church, sensing God doing something really special, I think: What if all of us just elevated our anticipation? Every week I feel like I'm saying, "You ain't ready. Just wait. See what God can do."
When you jump into the Book of Revelation—the series we've been in for the past few weeks—you sense a very similar urgent prompting from John. If you're new to the book, John is one of the last remaining heroes. He was an original disciple, one of the twelve, and one of three that Jesus singled out for deeper leadership development.
John was at the foot of the cross. When Jesus was dying, He said to John, "Look after my mother." John wasn't just an original disciple—he was arguably Jesus's closest friend. He witnessed Jesus's ministry, His death, and His resurrection. He gave his life to carrying forward the gospel to anyone who would listen.
John is the last of these heroes. He's in his late 80s, imprisoned on an island called Patmos, where he's been exiled to die. The wicked Roman Empire tried to kill him. Somehow he survived all the torture and pain. Finally, they decided to just imprison him.
Here's what's important: it's in that place of pain, perplexity, and confinement—at the end of his road—that John has an encounter and vision with Christ. Many of us think God is selective about which spaces He enters and which people He intervenes with. But there's not a space in your life, not a circumstance you face, not a pain too great, not a space too small, not a situation too complex for our God to lean in and do something profound and special in and through our lives.
It's about living every single day knowing He is with me. He's for me. Even now, despite what I'm facing, I'm open and ready to experience more of my God.
John has this vision, and in it, he sees one walking among the lampstands. This figure is prolific and mesmerizing. John describes Him in vivid detail: His hair, His eyes of burning fire, His tongue like a double-edged sword, His robe, His feet of burnished bronze. He puts Jesus in such vivid language that it jars your soul. Who is this Christ? What is His purpose? What kind of King and Lord have I anchored my life to?
The first chapter of Revelation should have you standing back in wonder and awe, thinking: That's my King.
We live in a culture and a moment in time where many people are settling for lesser kings. But Christ sends seven letters to seven churches in what we know as modern-day Turkey. These letters are written to real churches but are also timeless letters meant for all churches throughout human history.
Each letter begins the same way: "To the church in Ephesus..." or "To the church in Smyrna..." or "To the church in Thyatira..." After each salutation, John references the vision. And here's why this matters:
Identity always shapes activity. You have to remember the vision of Christ because He's going to apply that vision to your circumstance.
A clear vision of Christ will often help you discern which version of Christ you are about to experience or are currently experiencing. One of the great challenges in spiritual maturity is learning to discern God's activity in your life.
Now, let me be clear: I'm not saying there are multiple versions of Christ—there are not. There's only one Christ. He's always good, always powerful, always wise, always just, always merciful, always a source of logic and truth, always a source of peace.
What I am saying is this: your circumstances, your conduct, your decisions, your environment will often determine which version of God you're going to experience.
Some of you are battling illness, and you're praying and hoping to encounter the Great Physician. Some of you are confused about major decisions ahead, thinking of the Wonderful Counselor available in Christ—that's the version you need. For others, it's crippling lack, and you need a vision of God as Jehovah Gyra—my Provider. Your vision of God helps you understand which version of Him you're going to experience or need to encounter.
That's what you find in every letter to the churches. To the church in Ephesus: "These are the words of the one who walks among the lampstands." To the church in Smyrna: "These are the words of the one with the double-edged sword as his tongue." These vision pieces help us understand His activity.
Now comes the letter to Thyatira:
"To the angel of the church in Thyatira write: These are the words of the Son of God whose eyes are like a blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze."
This vision references back to the original vision. The blazing eyes mean: These are the words of the one who sees everything, knows everything. There's nothing in your life you can keep secret from God. There's nothing you can hide from God.
I understand that for many, this message brings fear, timidity, anxiety. You might think, "Wait—He has what kind of information on me?" If anyone else in your life knew everything about you, you'd either be canceled or they'd run in the other direction. Much of what drives canceled culture comes from this fear. Some accountability is needed, but our culture has weaponized our past and disguised hatred as accountability.
But here's the good news—here's the gospel: The one who knows you best knows everything about you. And the one who knows you best loves you the most. He doesn't run. He doesn't retreat. He doesn't turn a blind eye. He leans in full of mercy, full of love, full of commitment, longsuffering and forbearance, saying, "I'm committed to you. I'm all in."
These are the words of the one who sees and the one who stands. His feet are like burnished bronze—our God is immovable. Nothing bumps Him off His stance. He doesn't change His mind. He doesn't waffle under peer pressure. He certainly isn't influenced by arrogant children who think they can move Him—and I say that strongly for all of us, Millennials and younger. We're not the first generation to think this God is waffling or that we can bump Him off His stance.
These are the words of the one who is immovable, whose stance is an unshakable reality. And here's the good news: Why wouldn't you want to anchor your life to someone who loves you that greatly, who is that firmly set in His stance and foundation?
Many are walking around with a wobbly, shaky life, discovering they've built on a foundation that can be shaken. But not those of us who surrender to Christ. These are the words of the one who sees and stands.
Folks, and young people especially, please hear me: I know I sometimes come at you like a coach. But know this: you can give the rest of your life trying to dismantle, disprove, or discredit this God, but when your life comes to an end, He'll still be standing resolute and immovable, ready to face the next generation.
Then Christ says:
"I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first."
For those who want to go deeper: scripture often links two virtues or behaviors together. Love and faith. Service and perseverance. In the creation story, God tells Adam and Eve to "be fruitful and multiply." When God is described, He is both "just and merciful." When scripture does this, it invites us to understand that these concepts are mutually reinforcing.
Love and faith are mutually reinforcing. Faith is the foundation of love. The source of love is God—perfect, unlimited, unconditional love. He loves us not because of who we are but because of who He is. Our faith in Him produces an expression of love. Our love is the evidence of our faith. How do you know someone is truly in relationship with Christ? They're loving. A "cruel Christian" is quite an oxymoron.
He says: "I know your deeds, your love and faith."
Here's an exercise you can do with your life group or by yourself. Create a quadrant: put "love" on one axis and "faith" on the other (or "service" and "perseverance"). Let me give an example with service and perseverance.
High service + high perseverance: I'd call this Legacy. These are people who do impressive things, add value, understand the importance of living beyond themselves and serving others, in season and out of season. They get down the road, and you realize what a legacy they left—because they understood the importance of serving and never gave up.
High service + low perseverance: I'd call this Learning. These individuals have the right intuition—"I should serve others"—but they haven't developed the character, values, or disciplines to support it consistently.
Low service + low perseverance: I'd call this Lethargic. Honestly, I have a hard time reasoning with this quadrant. Lazy people are crazy people to me.
High perseverance + low service: I'd call this Let Down. These are high-capacity people who have the strength to not quit, but they haven't attached their capacity to significance. They haven't lent their gifts, time, or energy to adding value beyond themselves. A narcissistic, selfish approach to life is such a boring, unproductive, bland way of living.
God's work in your life is tied to God's work in someone else's life.
Christ is saying about the church in Thyatira: "I see Legacy-minded people. I see people faithfully living on mission. Despite what comes your way, you're sticking with it."
He says: "I know your deeds and you are now doing more than you did when you first began."
Jesus—the author, perfector, and finisher of life—looks at a group of imperfect people going through trials and says, "I can see your progress." Words carry weight when they come from a good source. And when the source and standard of all life looks at imperfect people and says, "Don't lose heart, I can see your progress"—that matters.
The challenge is: most people can't see their own progress. We obsess over what's in front of us. We're always aware of the gap between where we are and where we want to be. We're always striving, always reaching for the next thing. We're always aware of that space.
But what we fail to do is pump the brakes, pivot, and turn around. Realize the gap between you and your former bondage, foolishness, or whatever challenge you walked through, and how much God has done to bring you to where you are now. You may not be where you want to be, but by the grace of God, you are where you shouldn't be or could be. It's because of God's grace that you've landed here and are progressing in your relationship with God in such an impressive way.
Some of you need to learn how to encourage yourself, put points on the board, and pat yourself on the back. The next time you stay faithful in a tough situation, Christ is saying, "I know your progress." And Church, I believe He would come to many of you and say, "I know your progress. You're doing well." Many in our church are doing well. It's amazing.
But then He says:
"Nevertheless, I have this against you: You tolerate that woman Jezebel who calls herself a prophet and by her teaching she misleads my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols. I have given her time to repent of her immorality but she is unwilling. So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely unless they repent of her ways. I will strike her children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds."
People often say: "Wait, Pastor. You said that if you read Revelation and it doesn't put hope in your heart, a smirk on your face, and some steel in your spine, then you're not reading it well. But after reading this, I don't feel a smirk rising up. This is strong language."
And as a community, the question has to always be: What do we do with a hard conversation? What do we do with a hard word? Are we the type of community that can sit in dialogue with our heavenly Father on meaningful matters, or are we lacking the maturity to sit at that table?
John is once again name-dropping. Last week he referenced how some had given themselves over to Balaam and the teachings of the Nicolaitans. Now he's addressing this figure called Jezebel.
John name-drops again, this time invoking the figure of Jezebel. To understand what he means, we need to look back at the Old Testament. Jezebel was a Phoenician princess who married King Ahab in a politically advantageous arrangement. Immediately upon entering Israel, she began to indoctrinate the people of God with idolatry and immorality.
The greatest threat to her agenda was independent thinking. So she targeted those who could think reasonably for themselves—the prophets of God. This led to one of the greatest confrontations in Scripture: Elijah standing against Ahab and Jezebel and the prophets of Baal.
Elijah's response was brilliant: "Let's compare our Gods." He invited a direct test—the prophets of Baal would call down fire to consume an altar, and then Elijah's God would do the same.
The prophets of Baal performed strange rituals and hurt themselves in the process, but nothing happened. Then Elijah—with his characteristic trash talk—suggested perhaps their god was taking a nap or out to lunch. When his turn came, Elijah had the altar soaked in water, stacking the odds against his own God, then called down fire that consumed everything.
Next time someone starts to criticize your faith, think to yourself: game on, let's compare Gods. What claims can your God make? What has he done in the world? What has he done in your life? How is he going to save you?
We're too insecure when we fail to recognize we stand anchored to the one who sees and the one who stands and the one who's gone before us.
John writes to the church at Thyatira—a border town and military town—with a crucial message. There is a Jezebel Dynamic at work among them: false and wonky teaching that is allowing moral decay to creep into the body of believers, the same kind of collapse we saw in the Old Testament.
But here's the merciful part: God says, "I have given her time to repent of her ways, but she is unwilling." The letter calls the entire church to examine themselves, recognize their need for repentance, and recognize their faulty tendency to tolerate and accommodate the wrong things.
We live in a culture that celebrates tolerance as a virtue. And yes, as Christians we should always be gentle, kind, graceful, patient, and affirm the dignity of every person. But there is a form of tolerance that goes too far.
G.K. Chesterton said it perfectly: "Tolerance is the virtue of the man without convictions."
As a border town, Thyatira understood the importance of guarding a boundary. John writes to remind the church: you should know this too. God's boundaries for your life are God's blessings for your life. He's not being a cosmic kill-joy; he's showing you how to live in true freedom. What appears to be freedom is actually bondage.
What you tolerate, you help create.
God has given time for repentance, yet the church continues to tolerate this. Saint Augustine said it well: "God has promised forgiveness to your repentance, but he has not promised tomorrow to your procrastination."
Repentance is not a one-time event. You give your life to Christ today and wake up tomorrow to discover you still have broken tendencies. Salvation happens in a moment; sanctification takes the rest of your life. Salvation gets you to heaven; sanctification gets heaven through you.
Some of you know what you're banking your life upon is faulty. Why gamble with your future? Why gamble with your purpose? Why gamble with your potential when there is a clearly set-apart God from any other option in the world?
When God says he will make her lie on a bed of suffering, understand this: what should have been a pleasure for you is now going to become a pain for you. What was meant to be pleasurable and intimate is now going to be painful. That's a quickening.
Jesus addresses those remaining faithful: "Now I say to the rest of you in Thyatira, to those who do not hold to her teaching and have not learned Satan's so-called deep secrets."
This idea of acting so smart, acting as if there's knowledge beyond your grasp—this elitism, this sense that "you just don't know"—this is the wickedness that will overcomplicate things and muddy the water. The moment it seems over your head, they make you think you're dumb. That's the deep secrets of Satan: muddy water.
But the gospel comes with simplicity and clarity. Jesus says, "Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Christ's message to the faithful is simple: don't quit. Stay the course. Remain faithful. And here's what he offers: "I will not impose any other burden on you except to hold on to what you have until I come."
That's grace. Jesus is not trying to make life hard on you or place another burden on you. What you have is enough. A pardoned sin. A conquered grave. An unblemished Savior. A relationship with Christ. A library of 66 books divinely inspired, infallible and inerrant—God's written Revelation for humanity. The same power that conquered the grave lives and resides in every single one of us who call upon the name of Christ.
What you have is enough. Hold on to what you have. Stay anchored to the one who sees and the one who stands.
To the one who does not quit, Jesus says: "I will give... the Morning Star."
Consider the paradox: Is the Morning Star the first star in the sky or the last star in the sky? Both. If you stay faithful, what you hold onto is not just a glorious new day but a light that is remarkable, unparalleled. The Morning Star represents Christ.
That's the goal. You stay with it. You don't quit. What's your prize? You get Jesus. And if that doesn't fill you with excitement, you don't understand how wonderful he is.
John comes to the church in Thyatira saying: Yes, all that stuff is taking place, but you don't quit. Just wait. What I've seen in my vision is mesmerizing. John would tell that church, our church, and the church in America today: You ain't ready. Because what happens next—I believe God is going to amaze us.
Live every day with anticipation. Bring it on. Don't quit.
