Sorrow & Profound Celebrations

Sermon Transcript

Having had my kids grow up in the church, participating in all those camps, I know the excitement and anticipation these kids have before they go to camp. It’s amazing. It’s amazing the effect it has on the kids even when the kids feel awful. Like when my 11-year-old got really sick before fifth grade camp—came down with the flu. I mean, full-blown flu: fever, vomiting, the whole nine yards. And you would go there the day before camp and say, “How do you feel?” And he’d say, “Great, great. I feel great. I’m fine. Never felt better.” No, you know you’re really sick, man. We take your temperature—“Oh, don’t you take me to…”—you know, go through all the rigmarole, and then you have to be a dutiful parent and you have to tell your kid, “Listen, I’m not going to send you to camp.” You know, nothing—well, you might die there, perhaps, but you’re going to get everybody else infected and I’m not going to… no, you can’t go to camp.

Now, it’s amazing, when you take camp away and then you ask him how he’s doing—“How you feeling?”—“Awful, miserable, I’ve never felt worse.” You know, like, “Well, wait a minute, five minutes ago you felt great!” The effect that the anticipation of something as exciting as camp has on a kid—they can overlook a lot of ailments to get them on their way. You take that away…

See, that’s what the Bible calls the power of Christian hope. And hope is anticipation. It’s confidence in the anticipation of something to come. And, of course, the big thing in the Bible—the “blessed hope” as Paul put it, the Christian faith—is the return of Jesus Christ, when his kingdom comes. It’s the thing that Christ taught us to pray for every single day. It’s the cry of the early church, “Maranatha. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.” And when that is the anticipation of our hearts—the adult version of the day before camp—that should change everything about how we view, speak of, and even allow the ailments of our lives, whether they be physical, relational, economic, how they affect us. There’s something about the tempering of our pain, something about the mitigation of our sorrow, and the absence of complaining and all this down, depressed kind of Christianity you see, which is nothing other than a reflection of the absence of Christian hope. That’s got to change.

Jesus, in a roundabout way, speaks to that here in Luke chapter 5. As we continue our verse-by-verse study through Luke, I want you to turn to Luke chapter 5. And I want you to see we’ve come to the end of the chapter now, and beginning in verse 33 you see we’ve got one more section to go. But I’m going to do something today that I think is necessary in our study of this last little section of Luke 5, and that is to lop off the first three verses. Now, I understand this is all a package deal here, and I’ll try to reassemble it all when we deal with the very last part of chapter 5. But I want to deal just today with three verses—verses 33, 34, and 35. And it may look like a passage that has little to do with Christian hope, but really the dynamic of Christian hope is active here in the logic of what Jesus is saying. And if we would just take the time to kind of look past the surface and even the seeming topic that’s on the table in this particular passage, I think we can leave here today understanding something of God’s expectation for you and I as it relates to our Christian hope. It is the fuel that should energize our lives no matter what our circumstances are. And I think that could be a real refreshment for us today.

And it’s necessary; it needs to happen not only because it’s important that we’d have a much better life, even with the difficulties along the way, but think of the things that God calls sin. I mean, I’m getting off topic here already, but you know, we’re told to do all things without grumbling and complaining. I mean, the sins that we will avoid simply by having firmly in our mind an understanding of the coming of Christ—that’ll change everything. Now, you look at this passage we’re about to read and you’re gonna say, “It doesn’t seem to say anything about what you’re talking about.” You’ll see—I think it does. Clearly it does.

The topic on the table, though, is fasting. And they come to him and ask him a question. Verse 33—let’s read this. You follow along as I read it for you. Verse 33: “And they said to him, ‘The disciples of John’—we’re talking about John the Baptist here—‘fast often,’” right, you know that we’re talking about here the willing abstaining from food. “They do that often and offer prayers”—those two things often go together in Scripture: prayer and fasting—“and so do the disciples of the Pharisees.” Now, you don’t normally see those two groups together because John was railing in his preaching against the Pharisees, but what’s the point? Pharisees are very serious about their religion. John is very zealous and serious about his religion. It seems like everybody who’s serious about God and religion—they’re fasting. “Your disciples, though”—by them, verse 33—“they’re not doing that; you eat and drink. What’s the deal?”

Verse 34: “Jesus said to them”—now he’s going to inject an analogy of a wedding reception—“Can you make the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?” I mean, you don’t introduce the bridegroom and the bride and have a celebration there at the reception and go, “Hey, by the way, we’re fasting.” I guess if you’re really on a budget that might be a tactic. But that’s not something you do. This is time for celebration and feasting, and we’re going to pull out the food and all the stuff—it’s a time for us to celebrate. We’re not gonna fast.” And that’s the analogy he gives.

Verse 35: “By contrast, though, the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in those days.”

Now, what I want to do—if you’ve seen the worksheet, hopefully pull that out; if you use that, I hope you do—you’ll see that I want to take this passage in reverse order. Why is that? Because a lot of people look at this text, and I think there’s a lot of debate as to how to understand it. But I think if we’re going to apply it to our lives, we’ve got to understand how we do not fit into the context historically of what the disciples were living in the first century. In other words, you are not a disciple walking through Galilee with Jesus, who he calls here himself the bridegroom. You don’t have the bridegroom with you. You can see why we’d want to start in verse 35, because he says, “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and they will fast in those days.” But right now they’re not. In other words, we are living in the era when the bridegroom has been taken away from us.

You may object to that—the super-spirituals among us will object, “Oh, Christ is with us; Christ is in my heart, my life.” We’ll get to all of that. But let’s just think this through. Look at verse 33 again. “Why are your disciples not fasting? Everybody else seems really serious, and there’s some level of asceticism and self-deprivation and there’s seriousness with fasting. Your disciples are so happy—why are they so happy?” Verse 34: “Because I’m with them.” Verse 35: “Oh, but then I’m gonna go. And when I go, they’re gonna fast.”

Now, before we even get to the outline and start to draw some principles to our lives here, let me talk about fasting real quick. And I don’t have time to do a lot on this, but let me give a little bit of a primer on biblical fasting. And because that’s the topic here on the table—which I think speaks to something deeper—and this explanation may help in our daily Bible reading. And I hope you’re following along every day in our Bible reading. We’re now in the middle of, or near the end of, Acts. And Acts is a good example of fasting. We’ll see even in today’s reading and yesterday’s reading two examples of the kinds of fasting I want to highlight, and a third example in chapter 13 and 14—and I’ll get to all that.

But here we go. Let me start with this: I want to build a primer on biblical fasting. Let me talk in these terms. There are—and these are my categories, but I think they’re helpful—there are two categories of fasting in the Bible: there’s proactive fasting, and there’s reactive fasting. And that’s an important distinction to make—proactive fasting and reactive.

Proactive is scheduled; we plan it; it’s prescribed. If you read carefully yesterday in the first half of Acts 27, and you really were slow and careful, you noticed that you saw the word “Fast” there with a capital F on it. And it talked about “the Fast was over,” “the Fast was already over.” And if you stopped and thought about what Fast is that and why would the translators ever put a capital F on that—because there was only one biblically prescribed proactive fast that you knew was coming, and that was on Tishri—that’s the Jewish month; it was in the fall, September/October timeframe—Tishri the 10th. That’s the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, according to Leviticus chapter 16, it was the only time where, by God’s authority, the people of Israel were prescribed to fast. And so in Acts 27, when we were talking about the shipwreck right there—the storm was going on—the Fast was talked about because that’s the time for the nor’easters and the bad weather on the Adriatic Sea and the Mediterranean. So that was something that was just a time marker for Luke as he wrote this and recorded the scene there in Acts 27—the Fast. Any Jew would know, well, “the Fast”—there’s only one: the annual Fast on Yom Kippur.

Now, what was that about? Well, Yom Kippur, as we talked about, I think last week or recently, was that day when we commemorated in the most symbolic and engraved way the problem of sin and how God was going to solve it through the sacrifices and all that—the high priest went to the Holy of Holies and all that. What was that about? A day for us to contemplate the gravity and severity of sin, so we weren’t going to eat—no feasting, no eating; abstain from food—and you just focused on that and our need for forgiveness.

Now, there’s another kind of fasting, and I guess I should refer in this case, as it relates to the category of prescribed fasting, that we run into in Acts 13 and 14. When the early church got together and fasted and prayed for certain specific things—there were things going on, for instance, when they needed to commission missionaries and they were going to choose who they were going to send off—they would fast and pray. The book of Acts says they sat down and focused on it. Now, they may have said, “Okay, well, this Friday,” or whatever, “we’re going to fast; we’re going to pray; we’re going to focus and seek God’s will on this matter—who should we send?” In the process of candidating and deciding who goes, that’s also a proactive, prescribed fast.

That’s not what most of the fasts are in the Bible. Most of the fasts in the Bible were reactive. And that means that they were in response to something that was negative, something that was difficult—some challenge, some problem. For instance, in the bottom of chapter 27 in Acts, which is our reading for today, it makes a statement almost in passing—although it was part of the drama of the shipwreck—these men were trying to hold their ship together during that storm, and it said they had not eaten for 14 days. They didn’t sit down in the galley and say, “What do we have for lunch? Well, let’s cook up…” No one was thinking about food. They were thinking about saving their lives, and Paul had to encourage them to eat. They were abstaining from food purposefully, but without a lot of thought, because there was a problem.

Now, a lot of the Bible is reactionary fasts. There was a battle; the armies were attacking us—we need to fast, we need to abstain from food. Sometimes they would seek God in the fast, but there was a problem—an encroaching army. There would be a death—someone died—and they would fast. The king would die; they would fast. “We’re going to abstain; we’re going to mourn the loss of this person.” When they were contrite over their sin—whether it was Ezra; you can think of Ezra calling a fast—now, it was prescribed, I suppose, if you were in the nation, because the king, or the priest, or the leader said, “Everyone’s going to fast,” but it was still in reaction to a problem, and in that case the conviction over sin. You saw that even when Jonah went off to Nineveh—remember that? The leaders of Nineveh called a fast—even the pagans: “We feel contrite. God’s wrath is against us here in Nineveh. God is going to judge us. We need to repent. Let’s fast; let’s not worry about food.” Those are all reactionary fasts.

Now, if you think about it—even if you don’t think, “Well, I don’t really fast as a Christian”—you probably have. I think everybody in the room has had a reactive fast. I mean, you get a call—and I don’t know if this has happened to you—but most of us have had some tragedy or even some crisis in our family that sends us to the hospital. And we’re attending maybe a family member at a bedside—they’ve been in a car accident or something; we’re there. And after a while you recognize, “I’ve been here 10 hours; I haven’t had a bite to eat. I haven’t even thought about it. I never even went for a water or coffee or anything.” Why? It’s just reaction. Sometimes you have a task to do like they did in battle—and I hate to make this analogy—but you may be asked to speak or to teach or even give a presentation at work or something, and you’re not that kind of person. You don’t get in front of people. You’re not thinking about, “Well, let’s go have a cheeseburger before we do this.” You just—you don’t even have time for that. “I’m focused on this. This is a burdensome task, and I’ve got to do it.” That’s reactionary fast.

Two categories—as I say, a lot more about fasting, but we don’t have time for it today. But when they asked, “Why don’t your disciples fast?” now we can say that there were prescribed or proactive and reactive fasts probably going on with the Pharisees and John’s disciples, but either way, they all speak of a problem. Think this through. Obviously the reactionary fast: something happens—someone died, someone’s injured, the armies are encroaching our city, there’s some conviction of sin. If it’s a proactive or prescribed fast, even then, even the apostles sitting down to pray about who they should send on a missions trip—what’s the problem? They can’t just turn to Jesus and say, “Hey, Jesus, who should we send?” “Well, you should send him.” No fasting involved there. But they need to find the answer. And what’s the problem? “I can’t get clarity just by asking God and having a ‘wah-wah-wah.’” We don’t have that. “I need to seek God.” So there’s a problem—a problem of distance, if you will. Don’t react to that too negatively—super-spiritual—but just let me make my case.

That problem—whether it’s prescribed, proactive, or reactive—fasting speaks to a problem. And if Christ were here with us either at the first advent or the second advent, we wouldn’t have a need for any of that. That’s the answer, right? He says, “Why don’t your disciples [fast]?” “Because I’m here; the bridegroom is here. Why would anybody at the reception fast?” What was the anticipation of the prophets? Christ was coming. He would be called “Emmanuel.” What does that mean? You don’t have to be a Sunday School graduate to know the answer to that if you’ve been to church at Christmas time: “God with us.” The whole point of the coming of Messiah was that God—the heir to the throne of David, the great King, Mighty God, Prince of Peace—all that is embodied in this one person. Now, if Christ is with you, in your village, or in your town, or in your band, or in your group, you’ve got everything you need. There’s no need for fasting. There’s no problem that he can’t solve.

Even if there’s a storm—think of the people in the storm on the Adriatic in the book of Acts—they’re fasting because their boat’s going down. Why? Well, because when the disciples had a storm, what can Christ do in the middle of the storm? “Hey—stop.” Everything stops. No need for fasting. All I’m saying is Christ solves every problem and really negates the need for fasting. But the promise was, verse 35, there’s going to be a day when I leave. And when I leave, oh, they’re going to need to fast. Why? Because without me physically here, either at the first advent or the second advent—if I’m not ruling and reigning on the throne in the New Jerusalem, or if I’m not here walking through the streets of Galilee with them—they don’t have me physically here. Even though there are provisions for my absence, there is a problem, and that problem will necessitate fasting.

Now, fasting is not the point. What’s the point? Crisis. Emergency. Mourning. Problems. Distress. Encroaching armies. Whatever you talk about—we’re going to have problems. Problems that can’t be solved by going, “Hey Jesus, help me.” Well, you can say that, but you’re dealing with a different relationship with Christ during the Advent One or Advent Two than you do between the advents. And for the super-spirituals, let me get you on board. Isn’t it true—no matter how good you want to claim your relationship with Jesus, whether you’re saying “He walks with me, he talks with me,” or “I go to the garden alone,” and you know, whatever you think—your relation with God is so real and so tangible? Won’t you admit that if you were walking through the streets of Galilee in the first century with him, that’d be a little bit better than what you’ve got going on now? Or how about this: when he comes back and walks in the streets of the New Jerusalem, and you can look at him and talk, don’t you think that’ll be a little bit better than whatever good thing you’ve got going on now? Just admit that the presence of the physical Christ is far better than anything in between, even though he’s made provision.

I put it this way, number one on your worksheet, just to summarize verse 35: “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in those days.” Let’s put it this way: Number one, admit the ache of Christ’s ascension. Admit the ache. Now that’s a kind of a mitigated word—the ache of Christ’s ascension. It is a terrible time between the advents. Why? Because Christ has made provisions. He even puts it this way in the Upper Room Discourse: he said, “I’m not going to leave you as orphans. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

The key of the Upper Room Discourse—let me make this case real quick. And I summarize the Upper Room Discourse—Sunday School graduates know the Upper Room Discourse: John 13 through John 17. He’s giving some instructions at some length; the description here of his discussion with the disciples in the Upper Room—long, right? What is that—five chapters? 13, 14, 15, 16, 17. Now, if I asked you, Sunday School graduate, what is the theme of the Upper Room Discourse? A lot of people would say, “The Holy Spirit.” Okay, chapter 14, chapter 16—I get that; there’s a lot about the Holy Spirit there. That’s not the theme. I don’t think that’s the real point. As a matter of fact, here’s how John starts it in chapter 13: “The hour for Christ’s departure had come”—the time for him to leave this world. That’s how it starts. And then he says, “You need to learn to love each other while I’m gone.” He washes the feet of the disciples; tells them, “You need to be on your best behavior here. Love each other—love like I loved you.” Past tense. “That’s the way you need [to love]. So I’ve laid down a pattern. You guys love each other like [I did].”

Chapter 14—you know this passage; you learned this in Sunday School as little kids—he says, “If I go to prepare a place for you, I’ll come again and receive you unto myself.” What’s the point? “I’m going. I’m going back to the Father.” That’s how chapter 14 starts, just like chapter 13 started: “I’m leaving.” The rest of chapter 14: and while I’m gone, I’m not going to leave you orphans; I’m going to give you the Holy Spirit; I’ll make provision for you. It’ll be better than before I came, because the Spirit was with you, but after I leave, he’ll be in you. There’ll be a better relationship with the living Triune God. But all of that is because I’m leaving. He even says in chapter 14, “The reason I didn’t tell you these things before about the Holy Spirit is because I was with you. But now I’m leaving.”

Chapter 15: he says, “I’m sending you to go and bear fruit.” That’s the vine and the branches—“abide in me.” You need to abide in me—now we’re talking spiritually. You need a relationship with me that is tight, because I’m sending you into the world, and I’m not going to be with you. Matter of fact, he gets to the end of that passage in chapter 15 and he says, “Remember, the world will hate you. This will be hard for you.”

Chapter 16: he says at the beginning of chapter 16, “Listen, here’s the Spirit and what he’s going to do. Here’s the truth about the Spirit and how he’ll lead you—specifically you apostles—he’s going to lead you into truth. He’s going to be working in you and through you.” But he says again, “I’m telling you all this because in a little while you’ll see me no longer.” And the punch line in that passage, verse 33: “In this world you’ll have tribulation, but take heart, I’ve overcome the world. I want you to have peace. But I’m not going to be here—I’m leaving.”

Chapter 17—the great High Priestly Prayer of Christ—the end of the Upper Room Discourse. That’s at the end. Chapter 18 we have the betrayal, the arrest, the crucifixion of Christ. On it goes to the end of the book. What’s in 17? What kinds of things does he pray? He prays for them, the disciples, because “I’m leaving; I’m going back to the Father.” He says, “Now, Father, I want you to keep them. I don’t ask you to take them out of the world, like I’ve been taken out of the world—I’m about to be taken [out of] the world—but that you keep them. Sanctify them in truth.” All of the prayer—it’s about his departure.

Chapters 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are all about “I’m leaving.” Now listen, if you want to think there’s a continuity between the advents and the first advent and the second advent, and it’s no different in relationship with Jesus—“It’ll be just as good in any phase”—you’re wrong. The whole point of the Upper Room Discourse is “Get ready for big changes.” The disadvantage of my leaving will be partially compensated by the arrival of the Spirit, but just know there’s going to be some ache involved in this. There’s gonna be some trouble; you’re going to have problems. As Jesus puts it here, “In those days when I’m gone, you’re going to fast.”

Does that speak to a ritual of fasting like the Pharisees who fasted twice a week? I don’t think that’s the point. The point is: there’s going to be need to seek me with fervency, because I’m not here to speak to [you] face to face. There’s going to be problems in your life that I’ve promised all throughout my ministry—that when I leave, you will scatter like sheep, and they will persecute you; they’ll flog you; they’ll drag you before the tribunals. All of that is a reason for you to know that during the time between the advents, there’s going to be problems.

So I’ll give you the first one already: admit the ache of Christ’s ascension. Be good to jot this one down—Acts chapter 1. In Acts chapter 1 he’s going to tell them, “I’m leaving.” And that came as a surprise to them. Let me just summarize—or if you want to turn there, you’re itching to get in the Bible, you Bible freaks—let’s turn to Acts chapter 1, verse 6. And this will make sense, I think. If you think about Christ saying he’s leaving, you could see where some commentators would suggest all he’s talking about is leaving between Friday and Sunday. In other words, he’s going to be crucified, he’s going to be in the grave, he’s going to be resurrected, then he’s coming back. That’s not the “coming back” he’s talking about, although the disciples, optimists in this particular scene as they were, were hoping that’s what he meant.

Now, after several days of appearing and proving that he was really risen from the dead, they asked him, verse 6, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” Is it time now for the second advent? Is it time now for you to set up your kingdom—the thing you’ve taught us to pray for? And he said, verse 7, “It’s not for you to know the times or the seasons that the Father has fixed by his authority. You’ve got a job to do. You’re going to receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you’re going to go do a job—to be my witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, to the ends of the earth.” And when he said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up and a cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way you saw him go into heaven.”

There will be a second advent. Now you’ve got a job to do, and a resource—the Holy Spirit in you, empowering you to do the job of collecting people for the kingdom. That right there should leave us—even as, I think, is hinted at and implied in verse 11—as they stood there looking into the sky. That reminds me vividly of the day I got dropped off for college by my parents. My parents drove me out to Chicago; I was 17, soon to turn 18. And much like Christ—I hate to make too many close analogies here—but my parents had made provision for me. My first semester was paid for. I had a meal card. I had access to food. I had a warm bed in a dormitory to sleep in. They drove me from Southern California to downtown Chicago; they unpacked my stuff; we grabbed a hamburger at McDonald’s. Then they said, “We’re leaving now.” And for a tough 17-year-old guy—I’m not supposed to get misty—but I’m like, “My parents—really?” And sure enough, they get in their van and they drive down Chicago Avenue. And there they go. And I remember gazing down Chicago Avenue, like the men, again—I don’t mean to make too many personal connections to this passage, and certainly my parents aren’t the Christ—but I’m thinking, I am aching. The foundation of my childhood is gone.

Now, I had what I needed to survive. I was going to be cared for. I was going to be able to talk—this is before texting and cell phones and all that—but you know, I had a little bit of money to call them every now and then. I had a place to stay. But they were gone. And that was the ache of the absence of my parents. It’s the same way for the church. The church has a certain ache and a pain and a problem between advents. We don’t have Christ physically here; he’s not ruling and reigning. Now, our hope is he’s coming back. And that hope should change everything.

Here’s my concern—and as I try to build the picture: first advent was good; he’s gone—the ache and the loss of the Messiah personally. Second coming—wow, better than the first coming. I just want to talk about that right there. That’s the reality of biblical theology, and that is: we live here. And I hate to call it a slump, right? But I want to say it’s not the first advent and it’s not the second—it’s a time of fasting; it’s a time of pain; it’s a time of tribulation; it’s a time of trouble. Are we cared for? Yes. Do we have our dorm room? Yeah. Do we have a meal ticket? Yes. But we’re in that.

Now, here’s the problem. Preachers will get up on platforms and behind pulpits all across the country today, and many of them will talk about biblical theology this way: “Christ came, and it just gets better and better. Amen—isn’t it great?” We like to call them prosperity preachers—don’t we? They’re easy to pick on—I know that—because they write books like Your Best Life Now. Which if ever you could talk about a wrong view of theology, it’s that. Because, you know what? I’d rather be a first-century disciple walking with Jesus and being able to talk to him—that was a better life then. Or I’d rather have the kingdom come and live with Christ now. This isn’t my best life now. Give me either one of those; I prefer the latter. But we’re living here, where he says, “In the world, tribulation.” “Take heart, though—[I’m] coming back. If I go, I’ll prepare a place for you, and I’ll come again. And when I come again, I’ll receive [you].”

See, the opposite of that is something to contrast with the present pain of the reality of “When I leave, they will fast.” What is the point? This is going to be a tough period. I just want to contrast, because some people think every promise in the book should be realized now. That’s what the theologians call an over-realized eschatology. If you’ve heard me use that phrase before—over-realized eschatology—it’s just a fancy way to say: everybody who has that personal perspective thinks that every good promise of the Bible should be realized now. And a lot of those good promises are exclusively in the category of eschatology—what does that mean? When Christ comes back: the end times.

One passage on this and then we’ll leave this alone, because you’re looking at me like you already got it: 1 Corinthians chapter 4—drop down to verse 8. You want a passage that shows the problem of an over-realized eschatology? Here it is. And if you don’t know Paul’s writing to the Corinthians very well, you may not know that one of his major rhetorical devices throughout 1 and 2 Corinthians—particularly 2 Corinthians—is sarcasm. He is dripping with sarcasm. You have to read it with the inflection of sarcasm here, starting in verse 8: “Already you have all you want.” Now, this only works, by the way—an over-realized eschatology—in times of prosperity, in places of prosperity. It’s why in America we have the prosperity gospel. You don’t have it in places where the church has been persecuted, because everyone goes, “Duh, that’s stupid. That doesn’t make any sense; that’s not our experience or reality—and we love Christ.”

He says, “You already have all you want—already you’ve become rich. Without us, you’ve become kings.” Right? Now we add the punctuation—they put exclamation marks here—but what’s the point? “Really now, have you?” He says—now bottom of verse 8—“And would that you did reign, so that we might share the rule with you.” Now, are you following the logic here? “Listen, if you were reigning, we’d be reigning.” And he’s about to say how we reign in verse 9: “For I think that God has exhibited us apostles…” Now, if anybody’s going to be at the top of the heap, it’s the apostles. Their names are going to be on the foundation stones of the New Jerusalem walls; they will be sitting on the 12 thrones judging the 12 tribes of Israel—Matthew 19 says. They’re superstars in this thing. And they are what? “The last of all,” like men sentenced to death, because “we’ve become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men.” “We are fools for Christ’s sake,” verse 10 says, “but you are so wise.” “We’re weak—oh, but you’re so strong.” Flex sport again—“You’re so mighty. You’re held in honor, but look at us: we’re in disrepute. To the present hour,” you want to talk about us? “Hungry, thirsty, poorly dressed, buffeted, homeless. We labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and still are, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.”

Now, here’s the Corinthians, sitting there with their thumb in their mouth going, “Isn’t it great? We have all the promises of Christ being fulfilled in our lives. We’re reigning; we’re ruling; we’re strong; we’re rich; we have everything.” And Paul’s going, “Listen—I’m doing the work of Christ as an apostle. God has promised that the apostles will be at the top of the heap in the kingdom. You claim to have all the kingdom promises now available to you and you’re exercising all the blessings and prosperity of every promise in the Bible—and we are the scum and refuse of the world. Something’s wrong here. Your theology is messed up.” It’s what we call an over-realized eschatology. You want to claim all these things out of order—it’s an anachronistic eschatology, if you want to use two five-dollar words in one phrase.

Verse 14: “I don’t write these things to make you ashamed.” I mean, he’s using a lot of dripping sarcasm. He says, “I’m just not trying to shove your face in it, but I want to admonish you as my beloved children. For though you have countless guides in Christ, you don’t have many fathers. I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel—I led you guys to Christ; you should know better. I urge you,” verse 16, “then be imitators of me.”

Now, draw a line in your brain or on your paper back up to what he said in verse 11: hungry, thirsty, poorly dressed, buffeted, homeless. Verse 12: laboring with our own hands; reviled, persecuted, slandered. Verse 13: scum of the world, refuse. “Hey—be like us.” “Well, I don’t want to.” But that’s the point. During this time between the advents, you want to stand up for Christ? You don’t get on The Oprah Show, unless it’s to be mocked and ridiculed. Anybody tracking with that subtle illustration? All I’m saying is, listen: when you become the guest of honor by non-Christians who hate everything about the truth of Christ, and you’re upheld as a great person and you wear a Jesus badge—something’s wrong with your theology. There’s a problem there. And you are one of those prosperity guys—over-realized eschatology guys, anachronistic eschatology guys—who tries to claim that every good promise of the book should be applicable now. That’s a problem.

And by the way, I say all this to encourage you. It doesn’t sound very encouraging. I want to encourage you. Why? Because many of you, when you have really difficult lives, you think, “Something must be majorly wrong with me.” And the prosperity gospel’s people will help you with this—they’ll kick you right down the stairwell by saying, “Well, something’s wrong with your faith—that’s your problem. That’s why everything’s going wrong for you.” Paul says, “Look at our lives—everything’s going wrong for us, and we’re faithful to the call of God.” Timothy, verse 17: “I sent him to you—he’s a beloved and faithful child in the Lord. I wanted him to be there with you guys to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church.” I don’t know why you guys aren’t getting it. You perhaps are living in such a time of prosperity and peace in a rich, wealthy corner that you’re missing the idea of what it means to be a follower of Christ, which will bring the hostility of the world.

And that is kind of the perspective change. We need to know that if you’re aching between the advents—hey, everything’s right on schedule. We should be aching so much that we cry out at the end of our prayers, as they did in the early church, a little Aramaic phrase: “Maranatha.” We can’t wait for the kingdom to come. And if you don’t have that attitude—if you’re a little too comfortable down here—something’s wrong with your theology or your Christian practice.

Now, when I’m gone, he says, they’re going to fast. So we’re in that period of pain and mourning and deprivation, and it will lead to all kinds of fasting—which I wish I had time to talk about, but I don’t. Verse 34 of Luke 5: he then says the reason they’re not fasting now is because, hey, the wedding guests are hanging out with the bridegroom; the party’s on—I’m here; we’re feasting now; we don’t take time for fasting because I’m here and with them.

Now, we’re not going to go backwards in time, and frankly I don’t want to, because Christ is going to be with his people again, where the dwelling of God will be among men. Now, what’s the point? I thought God was going to make a new earth and a new heaven, and God is going to live in heaven. He is—but his throne is going to be among men. Why? Because the God-man will sit on that throne, and he will be the center. There’ll be no temple. Why? Because God himself will be present in the person of the glorified Christ.

I’ve got to show you a little bit of this. Would you turn with me, real quickly, to the end of the book? Let’s go to Revelation chapter 19. Because when we look at an analogy like bridegroom and bride and wedding reception, it should trigger in your mind one biblical phrase that maybe you haven’t looked at lately, and that is the “marriage supper of the Lamb.” You remember that? Old-timers used to preach on that a lot. Today, unfortunately, we’re too busy, I don’t know, with a lot of things that make me really angry that have nothing to do with biblical theology. The Bible is all about getting our hearts fixed on the blessed hope of the return of Christ, where the kingdoms of the world become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ. He takes his great power and he begins to reign—that should be the hope of the Christian life. And that should be where our heart is set, as Colossians 3 says: “Your mind has to be set there on things above, where Christ is, seated; so that when he appears, we appear with him in glory.”

Let’s take a look at a little bit of that glory when he appears—Revelation 19. Drop down to verse 6: “I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters, like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out, ‘Hallelujah!’” That’s a transliterated Hebrew word that we often say and sing, but maybe we need to stop and define it: hallel—the Hebrew verb “to praise”; “-u”—second person plural particle in the middle of this word; “Yah”—which is the short abbreviation for Yahweh, the personal name of God. “Hallelujah” means “Praise y’all—Yahweh.” Praise everybody—y’all—God of the universe. Everyone’s yelling this out. Now why? Because the Lord—bottom of verse 6—“has taken his power” here and he’s reigning: “The Lord God Almighty reigns.”

Now here’s real rejoicing. You want to know a time when you won’t be thinking about fasting? It’s here. “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.” We’ve collected every person that belongs in this team—the bride; the bus, we often call it—where every seat is now filled from every tongue, tribe, and nation. We’re here; we’re ready. God’s people are ready to serve him and praise him, and he is ready to bless them. “It was granted to her,” by the way, “to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.” Not only do we get positional sanctification and justification; we get practical sanctification as we live out, by God’s grace, the righteous deeds that we practice.

Verse 9—different sermon, sorry—verse 9: “And the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’” You see that—marriage supper. That’s the wedding reception. And at the wedding reception—when you walk into that—you’re not thinking about fasting. You’re not mourning; you’re not going, “Man, I’ve got to sit and fast and pray right now.” You’re not thinking about depriving yourself; you’re not sitting there saying, “I have such pain in my heart; I can’t even think of eating.” You’re rejoicing. Why? Because everything you ever longed for is now being fulfilled, because the presence of Christ is doing what he promised he would do, and that is rule and reign, extract every bad thing, and establish every good thing. I know that sounds very simplistic, but that’s the promise of the Bible.

Revelation 21: “I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God.” Now look—we get the analogy of a bride again and a bridegroom in a wedding setting: “as a bride prepared, adorned for her husband.” Now think about this—the analogy’s just been turned around. We were seen as the bride of Christ coming to the marriage supper of the Lamb—a little different than what Jesus said, the attendants here at the reception. Now we recognize in the bottom of the book, Revelation 19, that we are the one that is now the attention of the bridegroom—Christ. Now, how good is it for the bride? It’s really good. It’s like the bride has a bride—and what’s the bride? Well, it’s this place that the people of God are going to live in. I mean, the fulfillment for us not only is God himself, but what God grants us in his favor and generosity—and that is the place we’re going to live.

Verse 3: “I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man.’” Is the invisible God, in unapproachable light, living with us? Well, it’s the God-Man specifically, sitting on a throne, dwelling with us. “They will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Think about this—what are the things that make you not want to eat? Well, death is one of them—no more of that. “There will be no more mourning”—that’s when our hearts want to say, “I have no time for food; I don’t want to eat.” “No crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Again, I don’t know if we as Christians think of these things enough or as specifically as we should. Perhaps your level of complaining, your gloom, your glum, your bad attitudes, your frustration in life is partially hinged on the fact that this is not your hope—that you don’t set your hope on this.

One more chapter—chapter 22. Look across the page: verse 1. Speaking of fasting—no fasting there—“The angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb.” And I know—we’re like the Corinthians; we’re spoiled rotten. You’re used to turning a tap and seeing clear water come out, which we’re too snooty to even drink—we’ve got to buy it at Costco now. It’s amazing how that works. And even that, some of you won’t touch because that’s “Costco water.” Sorry, don’t get me started.

What’s the point? In an ancient Near Eastern culture, you tell people you’ve got an endless source of crystal-clear water—they’re excited about that—flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. I know this is symbolic; I get that. But you’re talking about drink. Now look at food, verse 2: “Through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month.” And “the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it.” He’s with us now, and “his servants will worship him.”

Whatever distance there is between the advents is now closed, because God’s living with us. And what’s there, at least symbolically expressed here—which is certainly literal, because the Bible talks a lot about it—is endless food, endless connection, extraction of all that’s wrong. That sounds too simplistic for you—I’m sorry. But the bottom line is, we’re heading to a place that is so perfect—it’s way better than an 11-year-old expecting summer camp. You understand. But it should excite you more than an 11-year-old looking forward to summer camp, because it’s something for us where every wrong will be made right, every crooked path straight, every rough place plain—as God said through Isaiah.

You ought to anticipate the joy of Christ’s return. Did I say that yet? Number two—I preached the whole point now, but jot it down: Number two, anticipate the joy of Christ’s return. It’ll change a lot in your attitude.

And since I just now gave you the point, I have to give you some more on this. How about this—Romans chapter 8, verses 18 through 25. Romans chapter 8:18—you know this verse. He says this—what’s the verb there? “I consider that the sufferings of this present age are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Think about that. Paul had a lot of suffering—he talked about it: hunger, sleeplessness, he had been persecuted; he’d been running around, poorly dressed—all these things. “Not even worth thinking about, if you compare it to how great it’s going to be.”

As Lewis rightly said in response to Oliver Wendell Holmes, who said, “A lot of Christians are so heavenly minded, they’re no earthly good.” Remember that old line? Lewis said, “Listen—the problem is not only is that false; I’ve never found a Christian that’s any earthly good until he was heavenly minded.” Until you really get fixed on the eternal end of where God is going to place our entire future—in a place of complete satisfaction and joy—will you ever really start to get to work at doing anything that’s truly profitable here on earth? Why? Because most people that don’t have that hope are sitting around worrying about their aches and pains and moaning and complaining and whining. Get over all that.

Don’t you find the Christians that you really admire—they’re not sitting around worried about their hangnail. They’re not sitting there licking their wounds all the time. They’re standing up, looking past all of that, and they’re ready to go—and even go the distance, even if it costs them their lives. In the early church, that was a real, active example in their face—I mean, gals like Perpetua, willing to say, “I don’t care—even with a small child and a husband—I will die for Christ. It doesn’t matter.” Because “the sufferings of this present age I consider are not even worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed to us.”

Oh, in that passage, by the way, it goes on to talk about the problem—it’s creation. And we groan with the pains of childbirth, waiting for the revealing of the sons of God. Do you have any of that kind of “I can’t wait”? Now, there’s pain in the process. As Paul said, “Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.” We read that in Acts recently. And that childbirth example—even Christ brought that up in the Upper Room Discourse. He said, you know, it’s like you’ll forget the pain when you finally get the payoff. It’s like labor and delivery. Isn’t it great that it’s not just a wing in the hospital called “Labor”—it’s “Labor and Delivery.” Why? Because after the labor, here’s the good news. And that part of the hospital—lot of happy people there. Why? Because there’s delivery.

Jesus says after the baby is born you can forget the pain of the labor. It’s like when people—even when the labor pains are ramping up—they have little baby showers for their girlfriends. They don’t sit around and call them “labor parties.” They call them “baby showers.” They don’t have “contraction games” they play—like little baby-naming games or whatever. Why? Because they’re there to celebrate the delivery. They’re there to celebrate the good thing at the end of the pain. Now, do they talk about the pain? I don’t know—I’ve never been to one—but I’m assuming there’s a few hints and ideas shared with one another as to how to manage the pain. But that’s not the focus. Matter of fact, I’m assuming you’d get mad at a gal who went to a baby shower and just wanted to talk about, “Man, this really hurts, right? Terrible. You ready for this? It’s awful pain—you’re going to…” Get out of here—we’re here to celebrate the baby.

Now, every experienced mom sitting around the circle knows it’s going to hurt. It does hurt. I’ve seen it three times—I know it hurts. But let’s not talk about it at the baby shower. Matter of fact, if we do talk about it, we downplay it. And sometimes we downplay it strategically by looking at the end goal. We celebrate the baby.

When it comes to our lives, we need to celebrate where we’re going. And that’ll do a lot to get all the pain in perspective. Let us anticipate the joy of Christ’s return. It’ll go a long way toward changing your life and perspective. It is the energizing hope of the Christian faith. It changes a lot.

Lastly, now I’ve worked this backwards—verse 35: “Oh, in those days they’re going to fast”—the ache between the advents. Verse 34: “Oh man, they’re not aching now.” Why? “Because I’m with them.” Now, we’re not going to go back in time, but we’re going to be with Christ—and that’s going to be great. We’re going to anticipate that joy.

Verse 33—the difference between John’s disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees, who are fasting often and praying, and Christ’s disciples who aren’t fasting at all because Christ is with them. Where do we fall in that paradigm? Think that through. You’ve got disciples of John that are fasting often, and you’ve got Christ’s disciples that aren’t fasting at all—but that’s because Christ is with them. Where are we in that? And I’m going to say, we’re in neither party. We’re neither camp.

When we work our way backwards through this text, we need to think about the normative experience of the Christian life. And you may say, “Well, you’ve already told us—it’s awful. It’s why none of your books will be bestsellers, because it’s all awful between the advents. That’s what my new book is, right? The Awfulness Between the Advents.” It’s not true. Well, it’s not going to be all awful. As a matter of fact, here’s the good thing about how God operates between the advents for people that are Christians: I refer back now to the Upper Room Discourse. In John 13 through 17 there’s a lot of talk about the Holy Spirit. That’s the reason my experience after the first advent is better than my experience as a follower of Yahweh before the first advent. And the way it’s put critically in chapter 14 is: the Spirit is with you, but then after I leave and the Spirit comes, he’ll be in you.

Now, those are spatial analogies to talk about the level and intensity of connection and relationship. The Spirit now works on you and influences you and convicts you. But now, when I go, the Spirit is going to be so involved in your life—it’ll be like he’s in you. And there’s going to be a transformation of who you are. There’s going to be a connection with the Third Person of the Godhead. You will have a different experience. And here’s something often connected with the Holy Spirit in the New Testament: joy. Joy that surpasses all understanding; a peace that comes with the Holy Spirit.

Notetakers, let me give you three quick passages—I could give you a lot more, but let me give you three. 1 Thessalonians 1:6. In 1 Thess 1:6, Paul—this is commiserating; I had some bad word—he’s identifying with their pain. He says when the word of God came to you, you received it—you got a lot of persecution. He puts it this way: “You received the word with much affliction,” and then he says this with a little conjunction, “and with the joy of the Holy Spirit.” That makes no sense. If we’re being persecuted, shouldn’t we be sad and sorrowful? Would that be a time to just lick our wounds—“Oh, it’s terrible between the advents and maybe we’ll fast a little bit”? No, no. You’ve got the Holy Spirit, and with the Holy Spirit he added this element: joy. Because there’s something about the presence of the Spirit that’s not just with you but in you that changes your perspective in a dynamic, organic way that changes how I traverse and navigate these difficulties.

There’s another one—Acts 13:51–52. Here’s a group of disciples that have the message of the gospel rejected. Does that hurt? It hurts. You may even be an experienced evangelist; you still walk away from someone who rejects you and your message and it hurts. Here’s the response: well, “They shook off the dust from their feet,” verse 51. And verse 52, it says, “And the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit.” I don’t feel real joyful by nature when someone rejects me or my message. But the Bible says because of the presence of the Spirit in their life—the activity of the Holy Spirit in their life—filled with the Holy Spirit, they’re also filled with joy.

One more—how about Romans 15:13. The whole passage is great, obviously. But he just ramps up to this statement: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace”—now, he explains the mechanism—“so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Now, there’s something very practical and pragmatic about me telling you, “Oh, it’s hard now between the advents, but get your focus and your gaze on the horizon.” Now, that’s very pragmatic and practical. This is somewhat metaphysical; this is somewhat spiritual and almost mystical. But when it comes down to it, if you’re really a Christian, the Holy Spirit dwells in you. And if he dwells in you, there’s some other aspect that’s going to cause peace and joy that will traverse the circumstances and the pain and the difficulty and the disappointments of life. And that is: if you’re rightly connected to the God of the universe and the Holy Spirit really resides in you. And that’s when people go, “I don’t get it—why aren’t you just completely devastated by this death in your family? By this collapse of a relationship? By the fact that you can’t get a job or you’ve lost your house?” Well, there’s something about the presence of the Holy Spirit that changes my sentient responses—the joy of the Holy Spirit.

One passage on this I have to turn you to. Please turn, if you would, to John 14. Talked so much about the Upper Room Discourse—let’s look at one section of this that I think is helpful. Now, stay with me—are you still with me in the sermon? You need to think on this passage, because the passage—as Christ so masterfully does—moves from some very practical statements to some statements that start to have some double entendre, double meaning, and then gets into some very almost, you know, spiritual statements. Watch the move here, starting in verse 15. We’ll go from verse 15 to 21. John 14:15–21: “If you love me, you’ll keep my commandments.” There’s a whole sermon—which we have no time to preach—but it’s great. The evidence of my connection with God is my devotion and love for him that expresses itself in the keeping of his precepts.

Verse 16: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another paraklētos—a helper—para (next to), kaleō (to call), from which we get that part of that word—klētos—to be called in alongside.” You’ve heard me preach on this before. It’s like a knee brace—something that comes in and supports and bolsters and keeps in place what needs to be in place—the encouragement of the Holy Spirit. “He’ll be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth.” Now, that’s very practical. Truth is profound as it is—the Spirit is going to come when he leaves. “Now the world can’t receive him,” verse 17, “because it neither sees him nor knows him, but you know him; for he dwells with you and will be in you.” There’s that key change that’s going to happen with the coming of the Spirit and the new covenant relationship that starts in Acts 2. “I will not leave you as orphans.” Why? Because I know I’m leaving. There’s a real downside to that, and there’s an ache about it. But I’ve made provision for you, and the provision primarily is through the person of the Holy Spirit. “I will come to you—I’m going to go away, prepare a place for you, and I’m going to come again”—second advent’s on the horizon.

Verse 19: “Yet a little while, and the world will see me no more; but you will see me.” Now, this is key. I told you, you’ve got to think in this last point here, so stay with me. Look at that: “A little while, and the world will see me no more, but you will see me.” Now, a lot of people—commentators—look at that and they say, “Well, he’s going to die; they’re going to stick him in a crypt, right? In the grave, and then the disciples will see him again.” This is a reference to the resurrection. I understand that can be part of it. But it goes much deeper than that. Look at where he goes now—there’s some double entendre coming up here: “Because I live”—okay, this is talking about the resurrection—now there’s more than that: “you also will live.” Now, there’s got to be double meaning in that. Why? Because they’re already alive. Can’t be talking about being biologically alive, because “now you were dead and now you’re biologically alive.” You’ve got to mean more than that. So: “I’m not going to see you, and then I will see you.” Now, that could be short-term—from Friday to Sunday, crucifixion to resurrection—or it could be something much bigger: after the ascension—“You’re not going to see me, and… because [I’m] now the resurrected Christ who sent the Holy Spirit, I’m going to live in a new way I didn’t live before.”

“In that day”—now notice this, it gets even more spiritual—“In that day you will know that I am in the Father”—there’s a spatial analogy about relationship—“and you in me, and I in you.” There’s a closeness here. Now again he recites the theme of verse 15: “Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, it is he who loves me; and he who loves me”—bottom of verse 21—“will be loved by my Father, and I will love him”—now underline this—“and manifest myself to him.” Now, think about that. There’s something about the presence of the Spirit that in my life gives me a foretaste of the coming of the dwelling of God among men that Revelation 19 through 22 is all about. That’s ultimate—you can see it with your eyes; your faith will then be sight. But now, through the activity of the Third Person of the Godhead, you’re now supposed to have some kind of profound connection with God that it’s like God is manifest to you in that.

Now, I understand there’s some mystery to that. But that’s something that gives me hope—that even between the advents and how bad it gets in this world, I’m taking heart, because he’s overcome the world—not only in terms of my perspective that one day I’m going to be in the kingdom, but that right now the presence and activity of God gives me a foretaste of that coming kingdom. And that’s how I put it:

Number three, we need to celebrate any foretastes of heaven. Any foretaste of the coming kingdom—any and all foretastes of something truly connected to the idea of God living among us and dwelling with us—needs to be celebrated.

What do I mean by that? Well, there’s a lot. For now, let me suffice it to give you two simple, practical ways that this is, in some way, manifested in our daily activity. Let me put it this way—back into this: if you’re saying, “I don’t get many foretastes of heaven; I don’t experience a lot of the tastes of the coming kingdom; I don’t have that kind of transcendent joy very often; even when I put my brain on the coming kingdom, it helps, but I still don’t have that profound joy I see in other Christians’ lives”—let me give you two practicals. I could give you 22, but let’s start with two, because that’s all we have time for.

Number one—just jot this one down: Acts chapter 2, verses 46 and 47—Acts 2:46–47. The Bible says that these people—who, by the way, were outcasts; the persecutions were already ramping up against the early church—it says they “met and took their meals together with glad and sincere hearts.” There was something about their connection. And it starts with this phrase: “They met together daily in the temple courts,” and then “in houses, from house to house, they took their meals together with gladness—with joy, with happiness—and sincerity of heart.”

Let me illustrate it this way. You get the little ember that has the glow in it, and you remove it from the fire pit, and it quickly goes out. I don’t want to over-sentimentalize this idea, but when you get the people of God together, there’s something synergistic about that. There’s certain reciprocity to that. There’s a certain work of the Spirit within the people of God gathered together—so much so that when the world gets colder and darker, the Bible says we ought to be meeting together more as we see the Day approaching—quoting now Hebrews. What’s the idea? The Spirit of God—if you don’t see a lot of that activity manifesting itself in joy despite your circumstances, you need more time with the body of Christ. By the way, Satan’s strategy is to keep you isolated. And it isn’t just showing up for an event and sitting here and staring at me gab at you for an hour—it’s you being in the body of Christ to the extent that people really know you. And unfortunately, some of you are already victim to Satan’s strategy. Because I can ask you at the door on the way out, “Who in this church really knows you?” and a lot of you go, “Nobody.” You’re isolated. You need to get into a place where you’re actually finding yourself with the people of God from your local congregation, taking meals together in homes—sharing a kind of koinōnia. That’s why I put that sermon I preached on the back of the outline, because there’s so much to that commonality that then produces an activity of the Spirit in my life—as mystical as that sounds—producing the effects like joy and peace despite our circumstances.

One more. Not only do you need, maybe, to be more connected with your church people here and less isolated, but the last verse in Acts 2:47 says, “They were praising God and having favor with all the people, and the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.” And when I read that and pondered that and thought that through this week, I thought to myself—that quickly took my mind to Luke 15. Luke 15:7–32—you can just look at the whole section there—shows me that when there is participation on the front lines of seeing Christ the Lord add to our number people, one by one, there is something about transcendent, Spirit-induced joy that cannot be thwarted.

Let me put it this way: in Luke 15, do you know that context? Jesus tells three parables about people that were, frankly, down and frustrated and always glum and gloomy—those were the Pharisees. And he says, “The disciples here are not like you Pharisees, because we’re on the front line of seeing people come to repentance.” He tells a story about a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. And the whole point of all of those is: look how joyful heaven is—and the people whose hearts are with heaven—when people come to repentance. When someone finds the lamb, they celebrate. When someone finds the coin, they call their friends—they rejoice. When the lost son comes home, we put a ring on his finger, a robe around his shoulders, sandals on his feet; we kill the fattened calf, and we eat and celebrate. Why? Because the one that was lost has been found; the one who was dead is alive. The whole point of that series—that triad of parables—is that there’s nothing more transcendently joyful than seeing someone come to repentance and faith in Christ.

So let me put it this way: maybe you’re not only isolated, but maybe you’re doing very little to see the gospel get beyond yourself. And maybe you haven’t seen anybody come to Christ because of your life, your family, your small group. You get on the front line of seeing people come to faith in Christ and be converted—no one will have to give you seminars on joy. There’s something joyful about that that no one can thwart.

If you think through—and I told the guys I felt like this is such a schizophrenic sermon, not because I feel like I’m schizophrenic, but the sermon felt schizophrenic—because it really is all over the map. But, you know, I’m taking my cues from the text. Some disciples of John fasting; Christ’s disciples not. “Oh, they’re not because they’ve got me with them—I’m with them.” And then, “One day I’m going, and there they will fast.” It’s just up and down; it’s ping-pong.

Would you stand with me? Let’s pray together. We’re going to sing one last quick song, but before we do, let’s pray.

I want to remember how important it is for us to be allied with you by faith in our hearts—to be able to say right now, we want to be so connected with you like that John 14 passage says, that it’s us in you and you in us. We want that benefit to our account. So, God, we just want to state by faith our alliance with you—that we stand with you, that we trust in you, that we believe in you, and that we’re ready to follow you in a world where, if we say what you said, it’s going to bring some hostilities and difficulties. But that’s okay, because we look forward to the day when our faith will be sight—when the kingdom will come and Christ comes back and sets up the kingdom.

I know it’s not for us to know the times or the seasons, and we don’t know when that’ll happen. But we’ll get to work; we’ll do our work; and we’ll look forward with great anticipation to that day. God, perhaps we need to be a little bit more like those 11-year-olds, or even our teenagers, going off to camp. Get us excited. Let us anticipate with the kind of anticipation that really tempers all the pains and troubles and ailments of our lives. Let us rejoice in the good things that are coming. Let us consider, as Paul did, that the sufferings of this present age aren’t worthy to be compared to the glory that’s going to be revealed to us. Get us more excited about that. Bring that into sharper focus in our lives this week. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.