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That's My King
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Welcome to week six of our series That's My King. Before we dive in, I want to share a funny moment from this week. I was playing "would you rather" with my two youngest kids, Miles and Presley, and asked them whether they'd rather yell all the time or whisper all the time. My son said yell—so he could become a good preacher! So here I am, self-evaluating this weekend.
If you have your Bibles, please turn to Revelation chapter 3. For those who are new, I want you to know that we're thrilled you're here. Whether you're a Christian or not, we pray this is a space where you feel welcomed, at peace, and comfortable exploring the questions of life. If you surrender your life fully to Jesus, you'll discover His ability to transform you despite your brokenness.
We recognize we're not a perfect church at Northview—if we were, you would have ruined it when you showed up. We're all on a journey together. Salvation gets you to heaven, but sanctification gets heaven through you. It's a daily journey of following Christ and taking on His image and likeness.
The Book of Revelation can seem intimidating. There's a tendency to jump into the "gnarly stuff"—the mark of the beast, the Rapture, and all the wild imagery. But it's important to understand that Revelation begins with seven letters to seven local churches, and these letters create the foundation for everything that follows.
These churches face real pressure and persecution, but Christ sends them messages to encourage them. Without understanding the critical role the church plays in God's redemptive plan, we can poorly apply or misunderstand eschatology—the study of the end times. God intended for this conversation to be lived out among the community of believers.
For those new to this series: John, one of the original disciples, is late in his life, imprisoned and exiled on the island of Patmos. In that place of despair and pain, Christ comes to him in a bright and illuminating way, giving him a vision of who our King is and what He desires for us. Christ tells John to write letters to the churches, capturing this vision with wonderful and provocative imagery. This vision gets applied to each church and lived out among believers.
Today we're looking at the church in Philadelphia—not the one in Pennsylvania, but the original city whose name means "brotherly love." Like the other churches we've discussed, Philadelphia is in the middle of the Roman Empire, facing pressure and persecution. But this church is doing some things well, and Christ sends them a message of encouragement.
"To the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: 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. 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." (Revelation 3:7-8)
Each of the seven letters follows a consistent format:
Every letter begins with an affirmation. Christ says, "I know your deeds... I know your faithfulness... I know that you have not denied my name." When it comes to living a life with Christ, there's always an affirmation, always an encouraging word, always a stamp of God's approval upon your life.
Scripture reminds us that you are fearfully and wonderfully made, that you are a child of God, that you have been gifted and created on purpose and for a purpose. Yet so many Christians walk around with an unwarranted insecurity. I think much of this has to do with the fact that we base our confidence on everything else—on the words of others, whether our peers like us, whether they liked our social media post—rather than on the words of God, our Creator.
If you were to develop a studious approach to scripture, you would find that over and over again God is affirming the things you're doing right. A person who lives anchored to scripture in faithful step with Christ is a person who develops an appropriate and accurate confidence. That's what I believe humility is—accurate confidence. It's saying, "I know who I am and I know who I'm not, and I'm content with that."
As we gather for worship, much of our experience should be encouraging to every single person.
These letters all include a correction—words that address matters of the heart with clarity. None of us likes this part. But there's a growing tendency in our culture to be unable to receive any feedback or criticism, and this stunts our development.
At some point, we all need people in our life who have been given access and authority to speak into our life. We must discern the difference between people making assessments and people wanting to make an investment. Who are the trusted voices that get to guide and counsel me?
If God can't correct you, who can? One of the greatest benefits of this faith is when the Holy Spirit taps us on the shoulder and God's word opens our eyes to the fact that He created us for more. There's always room for improvement in every single one of us. The Book of Proverbs says, "Wise are those who welcome a rebuke." We should pray: "God, if I'm doing something wrong and if there's more potential in my life, would You make me aware of it? Would You give me the courage to say yes?"
Lastly, these letters all end with a motivation—a promise to those who remain faithful, to those who conquer, to those who stay the course. God never lies. He's the only person with an unblemished track record, perfect integrity, and remarkable credibility. When He says something, you and I can anchor our lives to those things.
Christ is essentially planning out the church service: an affirmation, a correction, and a motivation. I think our services should contain all three as well. Much of cultural Christianity is people who love to hang out in holy places but don't want to become holy people. Instead, we should say, "God, whatever You seek to graft into my life, if You said it, so be it. I believe it. Let Your will be done."
This passage emphasizes God's authority. He is holy—set apart, unique, perfectly righteous. He is true—we have a God who will never lie to us in a world full of lies. And He holds the key of David. Whatever door He opens, no one can shut. Whatever door He closes, no one can open. He's God, and He's in charge.
There's growing resistance to receiving God and acknowledging His authority in our culture. We live in times of suspicion toward anything that reflects authority—politicians, police officers, educators, pastors. This suspicion has created a snowball effect that's now projecting itself onto God's authority. There's an entire movement that wants to adhere to Christ while dismissing His lordship and the fact that He is the King of Kings with full authority.
The Greek word kyrios refers to God's authority. It appears 20 times more often in Revelation than in other biblical books, and 687 times throughout the New Testament. Someone recently told me, "The church is always overdoing the authority conversation about God." I ask: Does scripture overdo it? Does Scripture place emphasis on God's lordship? Absolutely. Throughout the New Testament, the message is clear: He's Lord. He's Lord. He's Lord.
We are tempted to adhere to the attributes of God that we like while dismissing the ones we're uncomfortable with. One theologian put it this way:
"The Greek word kyrios can mean the teacher who has authority over disciples, the master who has command over servants, or the Lord who has power over all. With Jesus, all three meanings apply."
At the end of the day, He's either Lord of all or He's not Lord at all. Whether you're a Christian or not, each of us will meet our Maker and be accountable to Him. And we should see that as a good thing.
The only uniquely set-apart, holy, and righteous source of truth—the only person who will never leave us nor forsake us, the one who has done the unthinkable on our behalf—He's in charge. That's great news for a world so suspicious of its leaders. We have a God like this. We're glad He's in charge.
Many Christians love Jesus as Savior but shrug at Him as Lord. He's Lord. Anyone who predicts his own death and resurrection and then pulls it off stands in a league of his own. So we look to Him for our guidance and covering, and we recognize that He is fully in control. He is Sovereign.
We live in times where conversations are getting tricky, and this is bubbling up even within the community of faith. How do we look to scripture and develop discernment so we can navigate life without drifting in our relationship with God?
One major pressure we face is what's called choice architecture—a way of presenting decisions in a manipulative way that pushes people toward a desired outcome. It's all over our culture, in the press and media, and we bump into it every week. We're constantly faced with two options that don't feel great, but we feel forced to choose one or the other.
I'll give you some real examples. During 2020 and the murder of George Floyd, the choice presented was: "Do you support the organization Black Lives Matter, or do you support white supremacy?" That's choice architecture—not the only options.
Or: "Are you pro-choice or against women having rights?" Or: "Are you affirming or do you practice hate?"
For someone trying to navigate this, it's like, "Well, I don't support white supremacy, I don't practice hate, and I'm certainly not against women having rights. What are my options?"
Here's what we must understand: If we don't learn to resist the world's categories, we will continue to arrive at the world's conclusions. We have to learn to say, "No, those aren't the only two options, and that's not the only way to approach this conversation. That's misleading, unproductive, and harmful."
This is happening in how we view Jesus. Many people love that He's loving, that He's a good shepherd, that He's a great friend. But there's a way of thinking that assumes you have to choose between the friendship of Christ or the lordship of Christ. Which one is it?
We must be very careful not to delineate and dismiss parts of God that are true to His nature and character. This will always be a temptation within the community of believers. John begins his gospel by saying:
"Christ was full of grace and truth."
It wasn't one or the other. We as believers sit in the tension and learn how to have deeper dialogue, reason better, and move things forward in a way that is edifying and respects the dignity of all people.
We don't have to take our cues from culture. To dismiss the lordship of Christ is a terrible miss. He's holy, He's true, and He holds the keys. We have a God who will never leave us, who has done the unthinkable on our behalf, and He's in charge. That's great news.
Christ is described as the ultimate gatekeeper who holds the keys to the kingdom. He has defeated death, hell, and the grave, and now holds authority over who gains access to the kingdom. He has swung wide open some doors for us to take full advantage of, and shut others completely. Many of us should be grateful for closed doors—those distractions God removes from our lives. We can pray, "God, would you open doors of your will and close the doors of distraction in my life?"
The idea of an open door appears throughout the New Testament. Paul frequently referenced open doors, often referring to ministry assignments and ministry opportunities. Many believers move through life failing to recognize all the ways God wants us to participate in His work within the world.
Max Lucado wrote about a fishing trip with his family that turned rainy. Stuck in a camper for three days unable to fish, the group began bickering and fighting. He observed: "The moment we stopped fishing we started fighting."
For followers of Christ, just as Peter was called to be a fisher of men, we are called to live on mission—sharing the gospel and good news of Jesus Christ with anyone and everyone. When we stop actively reaching people who don't know Jesus, we become unproductive and at odds with one another, arguing over nonsense within the local church. The key is learning to stay white-hot on mission so that the world, yet to meet Christ, can discover His goodness.
First, there is the door of salvation. If you are not yet a Christian, the first step is to walk through this door—to recognize that Christ did for you what no one else could or would. He is different than any other person in your life because He always leans in, despite our brokenness and mess.
To truly follow Christ means to consider: Will I be a Christian not just today, not this week, not just this month, but for the rest of my life? It's important to pause and seriously consider whether you are truly committed to following Christ and living in relationship with Him, anchored to His word. This is what it means to be a Christian and a disciple of Jesus.
Second, there is a door of ministry opportunity standing before us. Based on population, America is the third largest mission field in the world—only China and India have more non-Christians. This represents a greater missional opportunity than at any other point in our nation's history.
We are called to go into our communities, companies, schools, and wherever God takes us to be a representation of Christ to people who have yet to know Jesus. Here's a courageous question to ask yourself: When was the last time you personally led someone to Jesus?
This is not about church growth strategy. It's about living on mission and taking as many people with us to heaven as possible. Heaven will be crowded with people from every tribe, nation, every background and generation. What an opportunity for us to live on mission for the glory of God.
When Christ speaks of making believers pillars in the temple, He is placing before them the promise of eternity and eternal life. Life is challenging and comes with pain, yet scripture reminds us that life is but a vapor. However, every single one of us lives forever somewhere. What you make of Jesus is the most important decision of your life and the deciding factor of eternity.
Philadelphia was a missionary city—strategically positioned by the Roman Empire to advance Greek language and philosophy throughout the region. Christ places a church in the middle of this activity to carry forward the influence of the Gospel around the world. Much of what we experience and know as believers is shaped by individuals who carried out the gospel in contexts like Philadelphia.
All the churches in Revelation faced pressure and persecution under a wicked and maniacal Roman Empire, yet they lived faithfully. Especially for young people: you can live a faithful life in a wicked world. You can stand in values and truth in a world full of lies, despair, and evil. Christ sees this in you—take Him at His word.
Philadelphia was built on the edge of a volcano. While the volcanic soil was advantageous for agriculture, it meant the city constantly experienced earthquakes and tremors. The people lived in perpetual instability, always on edge and uncertain about their circumstances.
To this people lacking stability, Christ promises: "I will make you a pillar. I will graft within you a stability you can't even imagine and don't know to pray for." This stability will carry you through this life and into eternal life, where you will stand resolute, immovable, secure, and stable in Christ. This is a wonderful promise to stay faithful, remain the course, and not give up.
It's difficult to find an appealing opportunity in scripture. Divine opportunities are rarely appealing at first glance. Look at Moses, Abraham, Noah, Jonah, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—none lived in situations or were called to do things that sound amazing.
God called Abraham and Sarah to be homeless late in their age. He called Noah, who had never even experienced rain or seen a large body of water, to build an ark during a coming flood. He told Noah to gather animals onto the boat. That sounds like a nightmare, not an amazing opportunity.
Divine opportunities rarely appeal to us initially. When it comes to reaching people for Christ and living on mission, we can look at our world and current circumstances and find many things that seem to contradict our beliefs. It's about rising up in faith and saying: "Okay God, whatever you have in store for my life, let it be. I'm saying yes to your command, and I'm stepping outside my comfort zone so I can experience your work in and through my life."
There's a common discussion about pessimism and optimism—the glass half full or half empty. A cartoon depicted this perfectly: a glass sat on a kitchen counter with a note beside it. While a pessimist and optimist argued about whether the glass was half full or half empty, a third figure—the opportunist—had simply drunk it.
Maybe we need to be opportunists. Is there anything we're doing where we're missing the point? Do we need to get back to seizing the opportunity to reach people who do not know Jesus? Who was the last person in your life that you led to Christ or shared your faith with? This question should cause every one of us to consider: Am I daily living on mission, looking for opportunities to introduce people to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?
We see and hear opportunities to share Christ every single day, yet we often miss them. With my own kids, I turn it into a game: Someone has a bad day? Jesus had a bad day. Someone complains about their stepdad? Jesus had a stepdad. The people in your life are cracking the door for you to share your faith more than you realize. When it comes to the opportunity to share Jesus, it's not a knock—it's ringing the doorbell, leaning on the doorbell. It's always available to us.
I was listening to a podcast recently where two atheist hosts were discussing Christianity and the church. One asked the other why he dislikes Christians so much. The response was striking: "Because I know so many of them."
When asked to unpack this, he explained: "I know so many Christians who truly believe that Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life—that He is the only source of our salvation and the deciding factor in having eternal life with God. Yet they've never shared Christ with me once." He then made a profound observation: "If what they believe is true, how cruel is it that they never share that with me?"
Here's a perspective from someone who stands in contrast to our beliefs: if what we say we believe is true, why are we being so stingy with such good news?
As believers, the courageous question is: God, who in my life do you want me to be a reflection of you? How can I best represent you in a world and culture where people desperately need to know Jesus?
I pray that we all find the motivation to live on mission for Christ as if eternity really does hang in the balance for many people. Would we consider: Is there any type of bizarre cruelty in our inability or unwillingness to share Jesus with people who've yet to meet Him? What would it look like if all of us began to pray: "God, would you break our heart for the thing that breaks your heart, so we can bring more and more people into a saving knowledge of Christ?"
