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We're in week three of our series That's My King, making our way through the first three chapters of the Book of Revelation. If you're new to church or not yet a Christian, this will be fascinating. The Book of Revelation is perplexing and causes even seasoned believers to scratch their heads—it's a humbling book.
Revelation contains vivid imagery and prophecy written in apocalyptic literature. While it was relevant for the original readers, the messages within it are timeless for the church today. The book is drenched in Scripture, so having a foundation in God's Word is essential for understanding it deeply.
Many of us read too much Scripture too quickly. With a book like Revelation, you need to slow down. Don't rush to get through it. Instead, let it get through you. God's Word is fascinating, and Revelation is a treasure for the local church.
Revelation opens our eyes to a critical reality: there is more taking place around us than we realize. Each of us comes in with different experiences—good weeks, bad weeks, strange weeks, painful weeks, awesome weeks. We all carry different thoughts, feelings, and experiences simultaneously.
Yet we often live unaware of this. We're attuned to our individual experience without realizing how many other things are happening at the same time. When you multiply your personal experience by a thousand, you glimpse what's happening in the spiritual realm.
The Book of Revelation quickly arrives at a profound truth: there is something happening in the spiritual realm, and a supernatural reality is taking place simultaneously with life as we know it. While parts of the supernatural may seem bizarre, there's no question that a spiritual reality exists and is happening at the same time as our temporal experience.
What's remarkable is this: what is happening in the spiritual is casting a significant shadow on what you're currently experiencing in the temporal. This is significant.
In Chapter One, John turns and sees Jesus standing within and among the seven golden lampstands. This imagery is powerful: the seven golden lampstands represent the church, and one of the church's primary functions is to shine light on King Jesus. When John seeks Christ in a moment when both he and his readers would ask, "Where is Jesus in all of this?"—he finds Him right there, among the church.
This is a wonderful reminder and a tender mercy: our God is present right now. God is with us. This is the Incarnation of Christ—bringing Heaven to Earth. He is among the Fellowship of Believers.
When we gather each week at Northview, this truth informs our postures and inspires our worship and anticipation. We show up to gather, dive into God's Word, and worship our heavenly Father because we believe He's among us.
Our Savior is remarkably faithful. Despite what comes our way, He's with us. His faithfulness may be one of His most overlooked attributes. Consider His longsuffering, forbearance, patience, and faithfulness. Aren't you amazed by how patient God is with you? He faithfully and patiently walks alongside us as we figure this thing called life out.
He's not concerned with the speed of your growth—He's concerned with the strength of your growth. As a Father who appreciates their child as a toddler, teenager, and adult, He enjoys this season of life with you, no matter where you're at in your development with Christ. Enjoy it back with Him.
John writes letters to seven churches. Today we're looking at the church in Smyrna, which spans just four verses. This message addresses what the church in Smyrna is going through—persecution, poverty, internal conflict, and the threat of greater suffering to come.
Here's what Christ says to the church in Smyrna:
To the angel of the church in Smyrna write: These are the words of him who is the first and the last, who died and came to life again. I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich. I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan... Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer... Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life... The one who is victorious will not be hurt at all by the second death.
This is a powerful and uncomfortable statement from Christ. The phrase "synagogue of Satan" is startling.
The church in Smyrna is known historically as the persecuted church. Smyrna was the crown of the Roman Empire—a beautiful, affluent port city with a diverse population and bustling culture. For everyone except Christians, anything went. But this Christianity thing was an issue.
Persecution has always been part of the church's story, and it's happening today around the world. As believers, we should develop the practice of praying for persecuted believers globally. What we experience as resistance to our faith cannot compare to what believers face in hostile environments. Imprisonment, death—these were constant possibilities for those claiming to follow Christ.
When Jesus addresses the church in Smyrna, He says something striking:
I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich. I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.
When we think about persecution, we typically think of external forces—culture, worldly agendas, opposition from outside. But Jesus says the real issue is internal. The church in Smyrna is facing persecution from within. They're being picked off by friendly fire—by those who claim to be part of the family of God.
The greatest form of relational pain and persecution comes from people you know, people you trust, people who claim to be godly. Have you ever been hurt by a godly person? Let down by someone claiming to be Christian? Disappointed by a pastor, leader, or fellow believer? That's the persecution Jesus is addressing in Smyrna.
During John's time, the distinction between Christianity and Judaism wasn't as clear as it is to us today. Jesus didn't come to start a new religion called Christianity. He came to complete and fulfill the ultimate Plan of Redemption for Humanity.
The first people called "Christians" were at the church in Antioch—the first predominantly Gentile church. The community around them started mocking them, calling them "little Christ," and the name stuck.
When the church first started, people weren't thinking "Christianity vs. Judaism." They were thinking different camps of thought—similar to how we have Baptists and Lutherans. It was more like Sadducees, Pharisees, and now this group following this Rabbi, Jesus.
They were all viewed as Jews in Rome, but the Jewish people had only a fraction of religious rights in Smyrna. So you had traditional, conservative Jews who didn't fully align with Christ as Messiah, Savior, and source of Salvation. They were nervous about this influx of Gentiles joining the church and worried about being guilty by association with the Roman Empire.
So here's what they did: they started fabricating lies, rumors, false reports, and slander about Christians—all to get them in trouble with the Roman Empire so the Empire would imprison them. This is wild to think about: the persecuted church was also being attacked from within by those who claimed to be godly.
This is a timeless message to the church—God's way of saying that internal division and slander can be as damaging as external persecution.
This is a timeless message to the church: God's way of saying that as long as there are imperfect people attending His church and part of the body of Christ, there will always be hiccups. There's always going to be the tendency for some people to go sideways. You have to keep in front of you the call, the challenge, the mandate to remain faithful.
But the challenge is this: very few things will disrupt your journey of faith, your relationship with Christ, and throw your theology through a ringer than getting hurt by someone who says they're doing it in the name of God.
As a pastor, I hear more recently there's a phrase where people refer to "church hurt"—negative experiences they've had in church. Yes, there are painful experiences everywhere. I've got some sport hurt, some church hurt, some school hurt, some home hurt. You've got hurt, right?
But here's what's tragic: some people have gone through painful things within the church, and I think the hardest thing sometimes to forgive is not a person—it's a place. Anyone who's ever experienced trauma understands that situational forgiveness is much more complicated and a more sophisticated maneuver in grace than relational grace. I can forgive you, but the environment sometimes comes with triggers. It's harder to forgive a space that represents a painful experience.
What's devastating is that people are walking away from the faith because they've been marked painfully by situations taking place within the church. They're walking away because they can't reenter a space they've yet to find the ability to apply grace to.
I thought I just need to stand publicly in front of our church and whoever's watching online and extend a sincere apology from one imperfect pastor. I understand and am disappointed by the fact that at times, leaders and individuals who serve in roles like mine make decisions and lead in certain ways that impact people negatively.
There are leaders who have caused hurt and prevented some from adhering to the faith and being part of the body of Christ. Regardless of whether I was involved in your experience, maybe it would be of some benefit as a pastor to just say: I'm legitimately sorry for the things you've experienced and the letdowns and disappointments you've had to encounter within the church.
As a pastor, I pray you can forgive flawed leaders, even like myself. I would just ask for your grace moving forward if Northview becomes your church.
I see a lot of room for improvement in the mirror. I'm not a perfect leader. I'm so thankful for those who have allowed me graciously over the last twenty years to learn how to be a pastor at their expense—you're my guinea pigs. When I first got started, I was terrible. I'm sure I let down people and disappointed them at times.
It's just learning to recognize your contribution to the matter. Drama, dysfunction, pain, and agony can happen within the church by those who lead it as well as those who attend it.
There's a great book called The Tale of Three Kings—a parable about the era in history that encompassed King Saul, King David, and David's son Absalom. The whole tension centers around the throne and who should be king. The premise is: what do you do when godly people hurt you?
Saul is established as a maniacal king having a hard time sleeping. They bring in David, the shepherd boy, to play the harp to try to put him to rest. Saul mistreats David, picking up spears and throwing them at David. David is ducking the spears and continuing to play the harp.
Every single one of us is likely to immediately identify with David. Something in us always identifies with the victim before the villain. We should all just pay attention to that: something in us always thinks we're the victim, never the villain.
But here's the revelation of the book: the moment King David picks up the spear and throws it back, he becomes King Saul. I hate to admit it, but there's some King Saul in all of us.
Jene Edwards makes important statements in the book—one pertaining to leaders and one to people who attend churches. This gives you language around some of this stuff.
He says to leaders: "Rules were invented by Elders so they could get to bed early." Men who speak endlessly on authority only prove they have none. Kings who make speeches about submission only betray twin fears in their hearts—they are certain they are not true leaders sent of God. They live in mortal fear of rebellion.
No authority from God is not afraid of challenges, makes no defense, and cares not one wit if it must be dethroned. True, godly, healthy leaders hold loosely what they've been entrusted to and steward it. The Lord gives and the Lord can take away. I'm not entitled to any of this. It is only by the grace of God that God gave a microphone to a broken person to share the good news of the gospel.
As long as I get to do it, great. But you don't owe me this. I'm not entitled. I hold it loosely. I'm going to try to steward it my best, but there should never be posturing and dysfunctional toxicity within the church.
About those who attend the church, Edwards says: "In the spiritual realm, talking about the community of believers, a man who will lead a rebellion has already proven, no matter how grandiose his words or angelic his ways, that he has a critical nature and an unprincipled character."
What a statement. When I see people lash out at Christians and attack the local church at scale, I think unprincipled character and hidden motives in his heart. Frankly, he is a thief and he creates dissatisfaction and tension within the realm. Then either seizes power or siphons off followers to found his own dominion.
Here's how he closes it: "Such a sorry thing built on the foundation of insurrection." God never honors division in His realm.
Here's the thing: you're going to bump into this all the time in your journey with faith. Jesus would say it this way: "This is how they will know you are my disciples—by how you love one another."
What Jesus is saying is: when we allow our character to go sideways and we start to participate in things that are harmful to the bride of Christ, Jesus uses some of his strongest language. He says that's a "synagogue of Satan." In other words, people who do that are being pastored by the devil. That's a strong word.
But He comes to the persecuted church and says: "Greater is He that's within you than He that's within the world. Your concern is not the world around you. Your concern is: you Christians have got to learn how to treat each other better."
Over the last five years, haven't you found yourself embarrassed by some of the things taking place within the church? Christians fighting over the most bizarre things—politics, COVID and whether we should wear masks, and you go down the list. We have all these different camps now at odds with each other, separated even by our churches.
None of this honors God. None of this honors God.
Christ is saying: "Hey, would you tell them to not lose hope? Every time they're marked painfully by an imperfect person or someone who chooses to do wrong in the body of Christ, would you encourage them to remain faithful and trust that it'll be worth it in the end?"
Because He knows their afflictions. How does He know our afflictions? Because Jesus Christ was dragged through town, handed over, celebrated by the chief priest who orchestrated His execution. When He says, "Hey, I know what it's like to be hurt by a godly person," He's saying: "Yeah, I know your afflictions. They pierced me to a tree."
Do not lose heart. This life comes with pain, and sadly, sometimes that's found within the local church. But if you will remain faithful, you find that God is faithful through it all.
He ends by saying: "We will not be harmed by a second death. That death is now a passage, not a prison. We are not forever eternally separated from God in what Revelation would refer to as the second death."
Church, let's be Christians who treat each other better. How simple would that be? The world needs Christians. The church needs Christians. The next generation needs Christians. Your kids need Christians. You need Christians. I need Christians who treat each other better—who have the maturity to stay in dialogue, who understand the complexities that come with being in relationship with broken people, but are committed to one another and through the process as we all try to figure this thing out.
Because in case you're wondering, even as your pastor walking this journey of faith myself, there are some things I'm still figuring out. That's what makes it faith. You're always going to have to trust. We don't graduate from that.
We're in week three of our series That's My King, making our way through the first three chapters of the Book of Revelation. If you're new to church or not yet a Christian, this will be fascinating. The Book of Revelation is perplexing and causes even seasoned believers to scratch their heads—it's a humbling book.
Revelation contains vivid imagery and prophecy written in apocalyptic literature. While it was relevant for the original readers, the messages within it are timeless for the church today. The book is drenched in Scripture, so having a foundation in God's Word is essential for understanding it deeply.
Many of us read too much Scripture too quickly. With a book like Revelation, you need to slow down. Don't rush to get through it. Instead, let it get through you. God's Word is fascinating, and Revelation is a treasure for the local church.
Revelation opens our eyes to a critical reality: there is more taking place around us than we realize. Each of us comes in with different experiences—good weeks, bad weeks, strange weeks, painful weeks, awesome weeks. We all carry different thoughts, feelings, and experiences simultaneously.
Yet we often live unaware of this. We're attuned to our individual experience without realizing how many other things are happening at the same time. When you multiply your personal experience by a thousand, you glimpse what's happening in the spiritual realm.
The Book of Revelation quickly arrives at a profound truth: there is something happening in the spiritual realm, and a supernatural reality is taking place simultaneously with life as we know it. While parts of the supernatural may seem bizarre, there's no question that a spiritual reality exists and is happening at the same time as our temporal experience.
What's remarkable is this: what is happening in the spiritual is casting a significant shadow on what you're currently experiencing in the temporal. This is significant.
In Chapter One, John turns and sees Jesus standing within and among the seven golden lampstands. This imagery is powerful: the seven golden lampstands represent the church, and one of the church's primary functions is to shine light on King Jesus. When John seeks Christ in a moment when both he and his readers would ask, "Where is Jesus in all of this?"—he finds Him right there, among the church.
This is a wonderful reminder and a tender mercy: our God is present right now. God is with us. This is the Incarnation of Christ—bringing Heaven to Earth. He is among the Fellowship of Believers.
When we gather each week at Northview, this truth informs our postures and inspires our worship and anticipation. We show up to gather, dive into God's Word, and worship our heavenly Father because we believe He's among us.
Our Savior is remarkably faithful. Despite what comes our way, He's with us. His faithfulness may be one of His most overlooked attributes. Consider His longsuffering, forbearance, patience, and faithfulness. Aren't you amazed by how patient God is with you? He faithfully and patiently walks alongside us as we figure this thing called life out.
He's not concerned with the speed of your growth—He's concerned with the strength of your growth. As a Father who appreciates their child as a toddler, teenager, and adult, He enjoys this season of life with you, no matter where you're at in your development with Christ. Enjoy it back with Him.
John writes letters to seven churches. Today we're looking at the church in Smyrna, which spans just four verses. This message addresses what the church in Smyrna is going through—persecution, poverty, internal conflict, and the threat of greater suffering to come.
Here's what Christ says to the church in Smyrna:
To the angel of the church in Smyrna write: These are the words of him who is the first and the last, who died and came to life again. I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich. I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan... Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer... Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life... The one who is victorious will not be hurt at all by the second death.
This is a powerful and uncomfortable statement from Christ. The phrase "synagogue of Satan" is startling.
The church in Smyrna is known historically as the persecuted church. Smyrna was the crown of the Roman Empire—a beautiful, affluent port city with a diverse population and bustling culture. For everyone except Christians, anything went. But this Christianity thing was an issue.
Persecution has always been part of the church's story, and it's happening today around the world. As believers, we should develop the practice of praying for persecuted believers globally. What we experience as resistance to our faith cannot compare to what believers face in hostile environments. Imprisonment, death—these were constant possibilities for those claiming to follow Christ.
When Jesus addresses the church in Smyrna, He says something striking:
I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich. I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.
When we think about persecution, we typically think of external forces—culture, worldly agendas, opposition from outside. But Jesus says the real issue is internal. The church in Smyrna is facing persecution from within. They're being picked off by friendly fire—by those who claim to be part of the family of God.
The greatest form of relational pain and persecution comes from people you know, people you trust, people who claim to be godly. Have you ever been hurt by a godly person? Let down by someone claiming to be Christian? Disappointed by a pastor, leader, or fellow believer? That's the persecution Jesus is addressing in Smyrna.
During John's time, the distinction between Christianity and Judaism wasn't as clear as it is to us today. Jesus didn't come to start a new religion called Christianity. He came to complete and fulfill the ultimate Plan of Redemption for Humanity.
The first people called "Christians" were at the church in Antioch—the first predominantly Gentile church. The community around them started mocking them, calling them "little Christ," and the name stuck.
When the church first started, people weren't thinking "Christianity vs. Judaism." They were thinking different camps of thought—similar to how we have Baptists and Lutherans. It was more like Sadducees, Pharisees, and now this group following this Rabbi, Jesus.
They were all viewed as Jews in Rome, but the Jewish people had only a fraction of religious rights in Smyrna. So you had traditional, conservative Jews who didn't fully align with Christ as Messiah, Savior, and source of Salvation. They were nervous about this influx of Gentiles joining the church and worried about being guilty by association with the Roman Empire.
So here's what they did: they started fabricating lies, rumors, false reports, and slander about Christians—all to get them in trouble with the Roman Empire so the Empire would imprison them. This is wild to think about: the persecuted church was also being attacked from within by those who claimed to be godly.
This is a timeless message to the church—God's way of saying that internal division and slander can be as damaging as external persecution.
This is a timeless message to the church: God's way of saying that as long as there are imperfect people attending His church and part of the body of Christ, there will always be hiccups. There's always going to be the tendency for some people to go sideways. You have to keep in front of you the call, the challenge, the mandate to remain faithful.
But the challenge is this: very few things will disrupt your journey of faith, your relationship with Christ, and throw your theology through a ringer than getting hurt by someone who says they're doing it in the name of God.
As a pastor, I hear more recently there's a phrase where people refer to "church hurt"—negative experiences they've had in church. Yes, there are painful experiences everywhere. I've got some sport hurt, some church hurt, some school hurt, some home hurt. You've got hurt, right?
But here's what's tragic: some people have gone through painful things within the church, and I think the hardest thing sometimes to forgive is not a person—it's a place. Anyone who's ever experienced trauma understands that situational forgiveness is much more complicated and a more sophisticated maneuver in grace than relational grace. I can forgive you, but the environment sometimes comes with triggers. It's harder to forgive a space that represents a painful experience.
What's devastating is that people are walking away from the faith because they've been marked painfully by situations taking place within the church. They're walking away because they can't reenter a space they've yet to find the ability to apply grace to.
I thought I just need to stand publicly in front of our church and whoever's watching online and extend a sincere apology from one imperfect pastor. I understand and am disappointed by the fact that at times, leaders and individuals who serve in roles like mine make decisions and lead in certain ways that impact people negatively.
There are leaders who have caused hurt and prevented some from adhering to the faith and being part of the body of Christ. Regardless of whether I was involved in your experience, maybe it would be of some benefit as a pastor to just say: I'm legitimately sorry for the things you've experienced and the letdowns and disappointments you've had to encounter within the church.
As a pastor, I pray you can forgive flawed leaders, even like myself. I would just ask for your grace moving forward if Northview becomes your church.
I see a lot of room for improvement in the mirror. I'm not a perfect leader. I'm so thankful for those who have allowed me graciously over the last twenty years to learn how to be a pastor at their expense—you're my guinea pigs. When I first got started, I was terrible. I'm sure I let down people and disappointed them at times.
It's just learning to recognize your contribution to the matter. Drama, dysfunction, pain, and agony can happen within the church by those who lead it as well as those who attend it.
There's a great book called The Tale of Three Kings—a parable about the era in history that encompassed King Saul, King David, and David's son Absalom. The whole tension centers around the throne and who should be king. The premise is: what do you do when godly people hurt you?
Saul is established as a maniacal king having a hard time sleeping. They bring in David, the shepherd boy, to play the harp to try to put him to rest. Saul mistreats David, picking up spears and throwing them at David. David is ducking the spears and continuing to play the harp.
Every single one of us is likely to immediately identify with David. Something in us always identifies with the victim before the villain. We should all just pay attention to that: something in us always thinks we're the victim, never the villain.
But here's the revelation of the book: the moment King David picks up the spear and throws it back, he becomes King Saul. I hate to admit it, but there's some King Saul in all of us.
Jene Edwards makes important statements in the book—one pertaining to leaders and one to people who attend churches. This gives you language around some of this stuff.
He says to leaders: "Rules were invented by Elders so they could get to bed early." Men who speak endlessly on authority only prove they have none. Kings who make speeches about submission only betray twin fears in their hearts—they are certain they are not true leaders sent of God. They live in mortal fear of rebellion.
No authority from God is not afraid of challenges, makes no defense, and cares not one wit if it must be dethroned. True, godly, healthy leaders hold loosely what they've been entrusted to and steward it. The Lord gives and the Lord can take away. I'm not entitled to any of this. It is only by the grace of God that God gave a microphone to a broken person to share the good news of the gospel.
As long as I get to do it, great. But you don't owe me this. I'm not entitled. I hold it loosely. I'm going to try to steward it my best, but there should never be posturing and dysfunctional toxicity within the church.
About those who attend the church, Edwards says: "In the spiritual realm, talking about the community of believers, a man who will lead a rebellion has already proven, no matter how grandiose his words or angelic his ways, that he has a critical nature and an unprincipled character."
What a statement. When I see people lash out at Christians and attack the local church at scale, I think unprincipled character and hidden motives in his heart. Frankly, he is a thief and he creates dissatisfaction and tension within the realm. Then either seizes power or siphons off followers to found his own dominion.
Here's how he closes it: "Such a sorry thing built on the foundation of insurrection." God never honors division in His realm.
Here's the thing: you're going to bump into this all the time in your journey with faith. Jesus would say it this way: "This is how they will know you are my disciples—by how you love one another."
What Jesus is saying is: when we allow our character to go sideways and we start to participate in things that are harmful to the bride of Christ, Jesus uses some of his strongest language. He says that's a "synagogue of Satan." In other words, people who do that are being pastored by the devil. That's a strong word.
But He comes to the persecuted church and says: "Greater is He that's within you than He that's within the world. Your concern is not the world around you. Your concern is: you Christians have got to learn how to treat each other better."
Over the last five years, haven't you found yourself embarrassed by some of the things taking place within the church? Christians fighting over the most bizarre things—politics, COVID and whether we should wear masks, and you go down the list. We have all these different camps now at odds with each other, separated even by our churches.
None of this honors God. None of this honors God.
Christ is saying: "Hey, would you tell them to not lose hope? Every time they're marked painfully by an imperfect person or someone who chooses to do wrong in the body of Christ, would you encourage them to remain faithful and trust that it'll be worth it in the end?"
Because He knows their afflictions. How does He know our afflictions? Because Jesus Christ was dragged through town, handed over, celebrated by the chief priest who orchestrated His execution. When He says, "Hey, I know what it's like to be hurt by a godly person," He's saying: "Yeah, I know your afflictions. They pierced me to a tree."
Do not lose heart. This life comes with pain, and sadly, sometimes that's found within the local church. But if you will remain faithful, you find that God is faithful through it all.
He ends by saying: "We will not be harmed by a second death. That death is now a passage, not a prison. We are not forever eternally separated from God in what Revelation would refer to as the second death."
Church, let's be Christians who treat each other better. How simple would that be? The world needs Christians. The church needs Christians. The next generation needs Christians. Your kids need Christians. You need Christians. I need Christians who treat each other better—who have the maturity to stay in dialogue, who understand the complexities that come with being in relationship with broken people, but are committed to one another and through the process as we all try to figure this thing out.
Because in case you're wondering, even as your pastor walking this journey of faith myself, there are some things I'm still figuring out. That's what makes it faith. You're always going to have to trust. We don't graduate from that.
