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Part 3 of 8
Revelation Series - The Church at Sardis: A Reputation Without Life
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Revelation is the final book in the Bible's library of 66 books, written by John, one of the original disciples and the last surviving member of that group. John has been persecuted and mistreated, and is now exiled to the island of Patmos to live out his remaining days in prison. It is in this space—which would appear hopeless, painful, and gut-wrenching to most—that Christ comes to him with a captivating vision and experience, bringing His words to the churches.
These letters are written by a real pastor to real churches, yet they are also timeless letters for the body of Christ around the world. As we read these letters, we must ask ourselves: how would we receive this message? How would we accept what God is saying?
These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits of God and the Seven Stars. I know your Deeds; you have a reputation for being alive but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your Deeds complete in the sight of my God.
Understanding the Salutation: Every letter in Revelation begins with a salutation, immediately followed by a reference to John's vision in chapter one. This vision helps us understand the identity and activity of God. When Christ writes these letters, He references this vision to say: Now that you have this vision of Christ and understand how He works in and through the world, it is this version of Christ you will experience in your circumstances.
Christ tells Sardis, "These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits of God and the Seven Stars." While different theological camps approach this with various nuances, everyone agrees at the foundation: these are the words of the one who stands at the center of the full, completed work of the Holy Spirit.
The number seven throughout Scripture indicates completion. This reference assures us that we are hearing from the one who has authority over and participation in the complete work of the Holy Spirit.
Regarding the Holy Spirit, some are misinformed, some have never been informed, and some are simply uncomfortable with the conversation. Many have witnessed things done "in the name of the Holy Spirit" that felt more like a circus—charades, acting, and manipulation—which can jade our perspective on this member of the Trinity.
However, you cannot live out the Christian life without a relationship with the Holy Spirit. Without the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, Christianity as a belief system completely unravels.
Look at Biblical history: at different times, one member of the Trinity takes center stage.
This means you and I live on the side of history where the Holy Spirit is center stage. This is critical to understand.
Christ's beautiful promise to His initial disciples was: I'm no longer just going to walk beside you; I will be living within you. This fulfilled promise of the Holy Spirit means that because of God's indwelling ability in our lives, a regenerative process begins. It comes with conviction and leads to empowerment. What happens in us begins to produce works of righteousness through us. It is by the grace of God and His work in our life that you and I accomplish anything truly impressive.
Christ says to Sardis: "You have a reputation for being alive but you are dead." The church appears to be doing well, yet behind the facade and veneer of religion is hollow emptiness.
When we read scripture, we often position ourselves as the hero—the Godly one, the righteous one. We see ourselves as Jesus when we're often more like Judas. One of the best things we can do is put ourselves in the shoes of the villain, because by thinking through the brokenness of the villain, we discover God's redemptive work in those lives and spaces. This helps us understand how God's redemptive work applies to our own lives.
So let's assume we are the church in Sardis. We are a church with a reputation for being alive, but we are dead. What is Christ trying to say?
Of the seven churches in Revelation:
What the church in Sardis had figured out was how to live in harmony with the broken world.
Over time, this church started drifting. They became more concerned with their spiritual reputation than with the mission they were participating in. They jumped on the religious treadmill, started going through the motions, and lost the reasoning for why they got into this in the first place. Now it's hollow.
One thing we can learn from Sardis is not to pay too close attention to our spiritual reputation. But let me be clear: it's important to aim to build a good name. Solomon, the wisest man in Scripture, says that a good name is more valuable than riches. We should be people of high character, integrity, and constant goodness to those around us—and that results in a good name.
However, we can take this too far.
When the church in Sardis gained affirmation because of their activity, that affirmation produced pride pretty quickly. Before long, they started to perform for the affirmation of culture, the affirmation of society, the affirmation of their peers—the affirmation of those who don't believe what they believe. They started to perform for that audience rather than for the audience of one.
We must be careful not to care so deeply about what other people think. This is not about going through life abrasive, bullish, or lacking self-awareness. It's about recognizing: the kingdom of God does not live in harmony with the brokenness of this world. We were not meant to fit in; we were meant to stand out as an option of redemption, pointing to the Savior we all need.
If you live for people's praise, you will die with their criticism. This is why so many Christians walk around insecure, unable to stand in what they believe, because they give too much weight to the words of their critics.
You don't believe what I believe? That moves me none. I'm so anchored in this; I will bet my life on this. Your petty criticism doesn't get me waffling in my confidence. At some point you have to graduate to no longer living on the fence. Be a Christian forever—that's the call.
Simon Sinek wrote a book called Start with Why with this statement: If we lose our why, we'll lose our way. This applies perfectly to the church in Sardis. They lost their why and now they're losing their way.
Most commentators and scholars agree that what God is driving home is this: the church in Sardis has lost their zeal to reach lost people who don't know Christ. They've lost the passion to extend the gospel to a world that's never heard the good news. They've lost the passion to see people walk from death to life.
A church that is not encountering people going from death to life only starts to feel like death. They've lost their evangelistic zeal.
Over the last few years, with so many distractions, the church has taken its eye off reaching lost people who don't know Jesus. Listen: if you truly believe that Jesus is the only way, the only truth, the only way to salvation for eternity—the redemption of your soul, the only way to conquer and triumph over death and sidestep hell—if that's the only option, what does it say of us that we don't share that with people? That's a strange form of cruelty.
But oh, when the church does reach people with the gospel—they are lifegiving. We've all been around a new believer we're mentoring, and they inspire us, reminding us what it was like when we first gave our lives to Christ, the passion we had, the boldness we had. If we lose our why, we'll lose our way. If we take our eye off reaching the world, we'll miss the mark.
One question I love to ask is: what situation in Scripture do you look at and think, "Oh, that would be one of my worst nightmares?" For me, it would be to pastor a church and lead so many people toward empty religion and miss the mark. That terrifies me.
A mentor once told me a story—I'm not sure if it was true or a parable—but he said he wrote this big paper for a class, spent all this time on it, turned it in, and the next week the teacher handed it back with a note on top that said: "Great paper. Wrong assignment." He'd spent all this time writing a good paper, but it wasn't worth anything.
My biggest fear is to get down the road and have one of those experiences: great operation, wrong assignment.
Here's a way to explain it: How many of you have ever been water skiing? When my brother and I would go out with my father, there was always the moment when we knew we were done with our run and my dad would just whip the boat. You'd come outside the wake, hold on with one hand, and pull as hard as you could to go as fast and as far as possible. We'd have a challenge: see how far we can go, 40 yards, 60 yards, and we'd try to go as far as we could.
But here's what you immediately discover: you can't ski without a boat and rope.
Here's the problem with a church that just goes through the motions, jumps on the religious treadmill, and sinks into autopilot: you discover pretty quickly you can't do this if you're not anchored to Christ and empowered by the Holy Spirit. We cannot do this. We're trying to ski without a boat and a rope. We may look good for a second, we may fool people for the moment, we may carry a good reputation, but the Holy Spirit who knows all, who searches all, knows it's just a veneer. Behind it is emptiness.
Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your Deeds complete in the sight of my God.
How many of you enjoy being woken up? Universally, we almost all agree that being woken up is a terrible experience. We have a hard time being woken up.
I had a buddy growing up who was terrible at getting up in the morning, so his mom bought him this alarm clock—a ball that would roll off the dresser in the morning. He'd have to get out of bed and chase it down like Rocky chasing the chicken. By the time he caught it, he was awake.
None of us like being woken up. So if Christ is going to wake up His church, do you think we're going to like it? I don't know a person who likes being woken up. He's using it as a metaphor to translate into our lives.
You might not like being woken up. I can't help but wonder if over the last five years, Christ has been waking up the church. The greatest sleeping giant in human history may be the bride of Christ in America, just lying dormant. Scripture is clear: what can be shaken will be shaken. Every one of us to some degree—and we know so many people who have discovered this—life has been pretty wobbly. They realized, "Wait a second, I need to anchor myself to a better foundation. I need something of greater stature and substance in my life."
I do believe the church at large is waking up, but it hasn't been a pleasant wakeup.
Whenever I bump into something in the Bible, I ask: Do we see Christ waking anyone else up? How did that play out? Because it might tell us how it's going to play out among us.
I immediately think of John 11—the story of Lazarus. One of Jesus's closest friends is sick, and they send word to Jesus: "Lazarus is ill and about to die." Jesus says, "Sounds good, I'll wait." He decides to wait four days. Lazarus dies, and everyone is frustrated and disappointed with God for not acting the way they expected.
Have you ever been frustrated that God did not act the way you expected Him to? It's the one thing every disciple throughout human history has wrestled with.
Christ goes back, and here's what He says:
Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to wake him up.
Jesus shows up at the tomb. Lazarus has been dead for four days. Jesus gives four commands:
Here's what sticks out: only one of these four commands applies to Lazarus. Who did the other three apply to? The disciples. We have a moment where Christ is waking someone up—going from death to life—and one command is given to the dead man, but three commands are given to the followers of Christ.
What purpose does the stone serve? It's a barrier standing between the dead and the living.
Christ tells His disciples: Would you remove the barriers standing between the dead and the living? One of the great assignments of the church in today's world and culture is to remove barriers standing in the way of dead people experiencing a living God—people who have no idea they're dead in their trespasses, who haven't been marked by grace, who have no idea about the abundant life that comes with Christ. They are walking dead.
Here's a courageous question: Who in your life, as a Christian, are you becoming a barrier to them experiencing a living God? Am I ever myself a barrier?
What were the grave clothes? Lazarus comes out of the tomb bound up like a mummy, with strips of linen wrapped around his body.
Jesus tells His disciples: Remove the barrier and remove the bandages. Help them.
A lot of times, unrealistically and even foolishly, we as believers expect people to walk through the door their first weekend as perfect Christians—as if they should pass some Biblical litmus test on their first visit, as if they should be as righteous as you. Which is not that righteous. We're all in this together.
What happens is people show up, and there are no believers willing to say: "Hey, I'll help you get the bandages off. I have no idea what your journey's been like, what pain you've walked through, what inconvenience, what trauma, what trial. I have no idea the relational strain, the lost dreams, the brokenness. I have no idea. But here's what I can tell you: we all have a bunch of that in our lives."
This God who is a Healer and a Redeemer, and the work of the Holy Spirit in your life—He can make it all be leveraged for good. Help people take the bandages off. Help people walk into freedom. Help people get ready for the moment.
What is the moment? When we meet our Maker.
Much of Christianity—and this is a strange way of thinking about it—is a preparation to die well. We die with courage, dignity, and honor.
Here's the powerful thing: The moment you stop fearing death, you stop fearing life. This is how life swallows up death; it loses its sting. When you stop fearing death, you stop fearing life. Suddenly you live emboldened by Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit, unmoved by the petty stuff in our world.
I'm not afraid of life because He lives. I can face tomorrow. That's the idea behind that hymn. It's wonderful.
Lastly, He says: Let them go. What could that possibly mean for a group of disciples who are helping people walk from death to life in Christ? Let them go.
Lastly, He says: Let them go. What could that possibly mean for a group of disciples helping people walk from death to life in Christ? Let them go.
Here's the tendency in all of us—and this is not an indictment on you. If we're Sardis, we have to examine ourselves. The tendency in religious spaces is to try to create systems, methods, and religious protocol so we can control other people. Anyone ever found that someone tried to control you with religion?
What He's saying is this: As believers, it's very important that we understand we do not determine nor do we control God's will in someone's life. You're not sovereign. You're not omniscient. I'm not sovereign. I'm not omniscient. I have no idea how He's going to do it in their life. I don't get to control that.
I just get to serve it. I get to support it. I get to pray for it. I get to just be a constant edifying voice in that person's life, however God seeks to do it. I don't control your will.
The religious manipulation that is causing so many people to walk away from the church and become disenfranchised orphan children is rooted in this toxic, dysfunctional approach to religion and controlling people. My therapist says it this way: "Policies are relational scar tissue." It's a great way of thinking about it. Someone makes a mistake, and you put a policy in place. Why? So you don't have to do the hard work of relationship. It's just so much easier to say we have a contract than to say, "Hey, we should work this out together."
But Christ is saying: The people of God, they approach relationship differently. In fact, you cannot be a Christian and not bump into the reality that majority—if not all—of what Christ is going to call you to do in your life is going to be lived out through relationships.
Jesus not only makes life better. Jesus makes you and I better at life. When a church is so committed to saying, "Hey, we remove barriers standing between dead people and the Living God"—when we help people remove the bandages that come with the pain in this life—and we open-handed trust the work of the Holy Spirit in this person's life, and we just pray and believe that He is going to do "exceedingly abundantly more than we could ever ask, think, or imagine," then we don't control it. God, have Your way in their life. And let us as a community be an enormous value-add to this individual.
This idea—"you're dead, it's time to wake up"—will irritate some folks. It makes me think of the story about Mark Twain. One year, he woke up to a newspaper posting an obituary saying that Mark Twain had died. Someone in the community—maybe as a prank—posted this false rumor about Mark Twain in the press.
He wakes up to this and calls the editor and says, "Hey, I'm not dead. I'm alive. You posted my obituary. I'm not dead. I'm alive." The editor says, "I'm sorry. I can't do anything about it. The paper's already been printed. But you have my word—tomorrow I will move you into the birth category."
Some of you here today: you're not a Christian. You haven't fully surrendered your life to Jesus Christ sincerely, genuinely, and completely. And I would say with every ounce of conviction in my life: you're dead. Not to be offensive—I'm just telling you there is a way of life you've never tasted or experienced because it's found only in Christ. You're dead.
I know some will not like that. But here's my promise: For anyone who places their faith in Jesus Christ, they are immediately moved into the birth category. You're immediately placed into the birth category where you become a born-again child of God, saved for eternity, anchored in Christ, blessed and highly favored with a purpose and a calling upon your life. And you get to march every single day, empowered by the work of the Holy Spirit in your life.
Some of you this is your moment to say: I'm in with Christ. I'm done playing games and going through the motions. If that's you, I'd love for us to pray as a church. If that's you, with no one looking around, just raise your hand—I'd love to pray with you.
