Psalm 91

Psalm 91

Introduction

Personal story

In 2008, my family went through one of its greatest trials—if not the greatest. We experienced a death: the loss of my father. For context, my father had liver cancer, and I had already been witnessing its effects on his body for several years before he passed away. The more the illness progressed, the more fervently my family prayed. We prayed and prayed… We even received what seemed to be promises of healing for my father:

• One day, for example, a Christian woman—completely unknown to us—saw my mother crying in the street, approached her, and told her that her husband would be healed.

• Or my very devout grandmother in Egypt, who received a word of knowledge from someone saying that her son would be healed...

So we thought: “It’s all a matter of faith!” And so we believed, and we prayed even more.
Until that fateful December 6th, 2008, when the Creator decided otherwise, and my father left us. I’ll let you imagine how devastated we were, how disoriented we felt, realizing that those so-called prophecies were just empty words.

Over time, grief passed, and God clearly sustained us.
But still—why allow us to experience such disappointment, such “false hope” of healing?
Today, we’re going to study Psalm 91, a text full of promises. And if I, back in 2008, just 15 years old and with a rather immature faith, had stumbled across Psalm 91 before my father's death, I would have undoubtedly read it as yet another promise of healing...

That was my personal experience, but I’m far from being alone.
Some even see their faith erode because of the gap between how they interpret the Bible’s promises and what actually happens in life.
That’s why I believe it is absolutely necessary for every Christian to seriously examine what these kinds of promises really mean.

Structure
The structure of today’s message is based on verse 1, which is actually a summary of the entire chapter. Let’s read verse 1 again:
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”
Two parts stand out clearly, linked by a sort of logical condition: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High” (one part), resulting in “will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (another part).

Here is the outline:

• Resting in the shadow of the Almighty

• Dwelling in the shelter of the Most High

Resting in the shadow of the Almighty

Let’s focus on what the “shadow of the Almighty” is. What kind of protection does this shadow promise?

When we read the Bible superficially—only the pleasant parts, with one eye shut, ignoring the harder passages—we risk misunderstanding what the shadow of the Almighty truly is.
And I get it—it’s tempting to want to feel protected from all harm. Verse 9 says:
“No harm will befall you.”
That’s radical! No harm? Not even a little?

It’s tempting to interpret this as: we have nothing to fear—not poverty, not people, not sickness. That all of life’s hardships and sufferings will simply skip over us. This sounds so good, so positive, that it can actually lead us to a distorted view of the Gospel.

This psalm could easily be misused to promote, for example, a prosperity gospel—a gospel that says:

• God’s shadow equals material blessings.

• If you’re sick or poor, it’s because you’re not really under His shelter.

And we might think, “Well, the Bible supports that, doesn’t it?”
But that would be ignoring the more difficult parts of Scripture.

It’s a paradox.

• If we understand Psalm 91 only at surface level, we’ll quickly see that it’s completely out of sync with reality. Many Christians suffer at least some misfortune in life—if not a laundry list of them.
  Despite their prayers, their desire for God’s protection, despite their faith that God can act—they may live their entire lives marked by suffering, sometimes up until their final breath.

• And maybe we’d think this only happens to a few Christians who don’t have enough faith. But it’s more than that. Not only today’s Christians—but even the very “models of faith” in the Bible.

In the Old Testament:

• The prophet Jeremiah suffered rejection, was imprisoned, even thrown into a cistern for preaching God’s word.

• The prophet Elijah was persecuted, on the run for his life, and even asked God to let him die.

In the New Testament:

• John the Baptist was imprisoned and then beheaded for his ministry.

• Paul lists all his sufferings in 2 Corinthians 11—it’s a long list!

• All the disciples of Jesus, including Jesus himself—literally God on Earth—faced intense suffering, many of them even unto death.

Paul even writes from prison—probably his final letter before execution—in 2 Timothy 3:12:
“In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.”

So why the contradiction?
On the one hand, the Bible is full of “feel-good” promises of divine protection…
Yet on the other hand, it’s full of apparent counterexamples.

Do we have a God who doesn’t keep His promises?

In preparing this sermon, I came across a passage where Jesus directly addresses this paradox:

Luke 21:16–19
“You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. But not a hair of your head will perish. Stand firm, and you will win life.”

Jesus says that His disciples will be persecuted and killed… then immediately says, “Not a hair of your head will perish.”

If we believe Jesus is telling the truth, we’re left with two options:

• Either take it literally, and assume the disciples died with full heads of hair…

• Or realize He’s using imagery to describe a protection far greater than physical safety.

Protection from invisible dangers

Is there a greater danger than losing your life?
According to Jesus—yes. A danger so serious that, in comparison, death is just a detail.

And that’s the danger Psalm 91 is addressing:
An invisible danger, but one with eternal consequences.

Back to Psalm 91, verses 3–6:
“Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence... You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.”

This “great” danger has many faces:

• Natural dangers like disease (pestilence).

• Targeted attacks (arrows).

• Intentional traps from a cunning enemy (the fowler’s snare).

Paul warns us in Ephesians 6:12:
“Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but... against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

These dangers threaten us day and night—so that no rest is possible on this earth.

Yes, this psalm promises “a shield and buckler.”
Verse 13 says we’ll trample lions and serpents—it’s powerful, reassuring.
But even that, according to Jesus, is not what should bring us the most joy.

When Jesus sent out the 72 disciples, they came back thrilled that even demons obeyed them. But Jesus replied:

Luke 10:19–20
“I have given you authority... nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Protection from God’s wrath

Ultimately, the greatest danger we face—even more than physical death or spiritual warfare—is being separated from God.
Because God is just, and His justice demands that sin be punished. The wages of sin is death—not just physical death, but eternal separation.

Psalm 90 (which Hery will preach on August 17, God willing) emphasizes the brevity of human life under God’s wrath.

That wrath is the real “great” danger.
And we’re all affected—because we’re all sinners. From birth, we inherit Adam’s sin. Add to that our own daily sins… and we’re helpless to escape on our own.

Satan’s real power lies in tempting us into sin—so that, as the accuser, he can accuse us before the righteous Judge.

So yes—the punishment for sin is inevitable.
But—Psalm 91 still promises protection from the fate of the wicked:
Verses 7–8
“A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you... you will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.”

We see that what causes the thousands to fall is the punishment of the wicked. But under God’s protection, we’re not destroyed by it—we see it.

Dwelling in the shelter of the Most High

This brings us to the condition for this protection.
Who is this psalm addressed to? Can I benefit from this protection?

Psalm 91 is written in a unique structure—at times it’s someone speaking about God, other times God Himself speaks directly. At the end, in verse 14, God gives us the profile of the person He protects:
“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.”

But here’s the problem: we are sinners.
And as we said earlier, sin separates us from God. Just one sin expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden—from His presence.

This makes it impossible for us to love God perfectly and know His name...
Impossible for everyone—except one man.

Jesus alone can dwell in that shelter

God Himself became a man in Jesus. He alone can say, “I love the Father. I know His name.”

That relationship is confirmed by both sides:

• God declared it at Jesus’ baptism (Matt. 3:17)
  “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

• And Jesus confirmed it (Matt. 11:27)
  “No one knows the Father except the Son.”

So finally, one man can claim the full protection of Psalm 91.
But He chose to give it up—for us.

Jesus exposed so we could be sheltered

The only man who deserved full protection chose to be abandoned by God on the cross.
He faced the arrows, was tempted like us—but never sinned.

When Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, Satan even used this psalm against Him:
Matt. 4:5–6
“If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you...’”

Satan knew this psalm applied to Jesus.
But Jesus came with a mission: to save us.
That mission required laying aside Psalm 91's promises—at least for a time.

He drank the cup of God’s wrath in our place. And thank God—He triumphed over death.

Now, the justice of God is no longer a barrier. There is no more separation.
We’ve entered a new covenant with God, as prophesied in Jeremiah 31:31–34:
“...They will all know me... I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.”

Now, if I put my faith in Jesus, I can say, “I know God.”
And to the earlier question, “Who can dwell in God’s shelter?”—I can raise my hand and say, “Me. Because of Jesus, this promise applies to me now too.”

What a gift! A gift that cost God greatly.
But as with any gift—we must choose to accept or reject it.

A gift not to be rejected

The Bible shows us it’s possible to reject this gift.
Originally intended for Israel, God’s chosen people—yet they rejected it.
In Matthew 23:37, Jesus mourns for them:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem... how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.”

The image of Psalm 91 returns here—a place under God’s wings is available, but they didn’t want it.

That place is now open to all nations—including us.
Let’s not make the same mistake.

• If you’re hearing this message and haven’t accepted this gift—it’s not too late. But the time is limited. This gift is offered to us as long as we are alive, or until Jesus returns to judge His creation.

• If you have accepted this gift—praise God! But be vigilant.
  Our hearts can still seek refuge in other things—people, addictions, money.
  When we do that, we say with our actions: “God, your protection is not enough.”

Let’s pray constantly that our hope remains rooted in the refuge of Psalm 91.
That everything else would seem dull compared to the shelter of His wings.

Conclusion

As humans, our eyes are naturally fixed downward—on our lives, our comfort, our loved ones, our health.

Psalm 91 isn’t meant to disappoint us—as I felt after my father died.
Its goal is to redirect our gaze toward what should truly concern or delight us.

Back then, what I should have feared was whether our family’s faith would survive such a disappointment.
Because that has eternal consequences.
That is a great danger.

Thank God—He didn’t leave us. I’ve seen His hand providing for my widowed mother, but above all, preserving the faith of my mother, my brother, my sister, and myself.

Our faith is stronger now than it was in 2008, and we remain attached to God—still under His protection.

We don’t have a God who makes temporary, perishable promises.
His promises are eternal.
They bring peace.
Peace that—even in suffering, even in death—we are preserved.

Psalm 88

INTRODUCTION  

Hello darkness my old friend, here I come to talk again – The sound of silence, Paul Simon.  

After reading Psalm 88, we might feel like Paul Simon in this song. I translate the lyrics of the chorus. 

I should point out that this song is not Christian, and I don't know if its authors were inspired by Christianity. What I am sure of, however, is that although the psalmist ends this psalm by evoking “darkness,” he certainly does not give victory to darkness. That is what I would like to explore this morning.  

As I reflected on this during the week, I remembered that as a child I often saw astrological reports (horoscopes) in newspapers or on TV. I also remembered that these reports never announce bad news. To check this, I looked at the horoscopes for all the signs for the coming week. And roughly speaking, I can summarize it as follows: for some, you will be successful in love; for others, your projects will be successful; for others still, you will find new energy in your activities; and for the last ones, you will discover a new eloquence and charisma in communication that will be useful in your relationships.  

In short, everyone will have their “little piece of happiness” next week.   

If we lived in paradise, why not? Let's take it easy next week.  Happiness for all!! 

The Bible, on the other hand, seems more realistic about the life we lead and the struggles we face in a fallen world.   

I invite you to join me in reading this psalm—so keep your Bibles open: 

• first, to see that the faith of the faithful can waver in affliction 

• then to see what place God has in our affliction  

• and finally to see that darkness does not have the final word 

Let's read it together.  

PSALM 88  

O LORD, GOD OF MY SALVATION

The psalmist begins his lament by addressing the LORD as the GOD OF MY SALVATION. That is to say, the Lord, God who saves. On many occasions, we find these terms associated in the Bible to evoke victory, deliverance, help, and salvation coming from God.  

 For example, when the Israelites fled from slavery in Egypt, trapped between Pharaoh's army behind them and the Red Sea in front of them, they were filled with fear and dreaded death (Ex. 14:4 and Ex. 14:10-12). In verse 13 we read that “And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today”_ESV. Then in the next chapter, after being definitively saved from Pharaoh's army, Moses and the Israelites sing (Ex. 15:2) " The LORD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him."_ESV 

This is also how the psalmists often refer to the Lord: as the one who can help them, deliver them, save them, and give them victory. There are many references in the psalms*1. I will mention here only the refrains of Psalm 42-43 and Psalm 62 (ESV). 

Psalms 42:5/11   /   Psalms 43:5
Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation

Psalms 62:1
For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.
Psalms 62:3/7
He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken. 

 In Psalm 88, the psalmist again addresses God, invoking him as his savior: O LORD, GOD OF MY SALVATION. These are the only words of hope you will find in this psalm. At the lowest point of his misery, at the bottom of the abyss, from the depths of darkness, all his lament is addressed to the LORD, GOD WHO SAVES / who can save him.  

Let us continue reading this lament together:  

A soul filled with afflictions  

The psalmist suffers terribly from many woes:  

 4 For my soul is full of trouble; his soul is satiated with pain. This man has encountered enough trouble. He is overwhelmed by his suffering in life. 10 my eye grows dim through sorrow.,either from crying or from all the suffering he has seen since his youth. 16 Afflicted and close to death from my youth up; he has seen enough, he can no longer bear to suffer so much for so long. These sufferings seem to have lasted. We also note that his suffering is visible to others, particularly his friends and loved ones, since he has become an object of horror to them and they have consequently distanced themselves from him.  

9 You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a horror to them.
19 You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness.

The psalmist's suffering soon leads him to death: 

The darkness of death pervades this entire psalm. Three times we read the word darkness. The psalmist is in danger of dying soon: 4b- and my life draws near to Sheol.  

And already he is counted among the dead. He is not only at the end of his strength, he is soon without the strength to survive. The grim image is striking: the man awaiting the end of his misery already lying in the grave among the dead.    

5 I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength,. 6 like one set loose among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom you remember no more, for they are cut off from your hand.

These grim descriptions should not be read literally. The image is deliberately evocative and serves to convey to the reader the intensity of the psalmist's despair. We can imagine the fatal anguish of this man.  

Moreover, the word “set loose” in verse 6, “like one set loose among the dead” (The Annotated Bible of Neuchâtel suggests “I am abandoned”), has the literal translation “FREE,” like a slave freed by his master in Mosaic law in Exodus 21:2. 

Here we should understand that the psalmist is freed from the bond that keeps him alive among men. This is what angers this man the most: the idea of being abandoned by God in the manner of " like those whom you remember no more, for they are cut off from your hand”. This is what ultimately afflicts his soul. This man does not merely fear death; he is terrified by the idea of having lost the bond that keeps him alive under God's care and protection, terrified by the idea of dying separated from God. What gnaws most terribly at the psalmist's soul is to be counted among those who are cut off from God's hand, thrown into a in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep, far from God (v. 7). The abyss, darkness, depths, and prison are different representations of the realm of the dead (Sheol) found in this psalm.

What overwhelms the psalmist is that he suffers like the wicked, enduring the waves of God's anger and divine fury, which already crush him (v. 8; v. 16b-v. 19).  

Derek Kidner notes that this anxiety about being counted among the wicked and rejected also seems to have troubled King David in Psalm 28:1-3. We read:

" To you, O LORD, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if you be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the pit. 2 Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy, when I cry to you for help, when I lift up my hands toward your most holy sanctuary. 3 Do not drag me off with the wicked, with the workers of evil, who speak peace with their neighbors while evil is in their hearts. "

Although God heard and saved David in Psalm 28, for our psalmist the anguish of being led into the ruin of the wicked remains intense, since his supplications are not answered and, on the contrary, he seems to be suffering the same treatment as them.   

We realize the deadly affliction that dominates his soul. This fear of being rejected by God is explicit in verse 15: O LORD, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?

From his sufferings, the psalmist recognizes God's sovereignty:  

From here (verse 7), all his sufferings are explicitly attributed to God. Whatever the agents of these evils may have been, note that they are not identified in this psalm. We cannot say for certain whether these misfortunes came to him through his enemies, through illness, through guilt, or through some other means. We see only GOD in these troubles. Whatever the agents of his troubles may be, he looks only to God. From the depths of his afflictions, this man recognizes God's sovereignty over all his woes. 

Like Jeremiah in his lamentations and like other psalmists in Book III*3 who also recognized God's sovereignty over their evils, the psalmist does not become proud and filled with indignation because of these afflictions, but on the contrary, he recognizes that God is sovereign and persists in calling on his help. 

Is this not a remarkable attitude of humility and piety? I am personally struck by the degree of humility and faith required for such a reaction in such circumstances. Recognizing God's sovereignty in his affliction, the psalmist says:  

The God of my salvation is always God in my torments.
The God of my salvation is always the one who can save me in my sufferings.
God is sovereign, so He is the one who can save me from my misfortunes. 

How well must one know God to recognize His sovereignty and humble oneself before Him in the midst of terrible suffering?  

The irony of death: the psalmist is perplexed: 

Note also that in his lugubrious lament, the psalmist expresses no guilt, no repentance, and surprisingly does not seek to justify himself. Nevertheless, his faith is shaken by his suffering and by God's silence. Humbly and cautiously, he nevertheless questions the meaning or reasons for his misfortunes. Even though he recognizes God's sovereignty, this man is troubled by the fact that he receives no answer to his pleas and, on the contrary, suffers his terrors.   

The only times he mentions God's attributes is to question his silence.  

From verses 11 to 13, we see that the psalmist has not forgotten that God is powerful (to perform miracles), that God is good, that God is faithful, and that God is just. But perhaps he is so for the dead, the psalmist wonders. 

Rhetorically, the psalmist reminds God that he is close to death and has not yet seen his help. Ironically, he tells God that if he delays a little longer, it will be from the realm of the dead that God's goodness and faithfulness will be proclaimed: that is, through silence.

 Imagine a depressing musical interlude or total silence at verse 11 for the indication of “pause.”  

11 Do you perform miracles for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise you? 

- Silence 

Now let us see that in his affliction, the psalmist did not give up.

A prayer inspired by affliction

What do we know about the author of this psalm?

The heading of this psalm is quite detailed compared to most psalms. Among other things, it tells us that its author was Heman the Ezrahite.  

The Bible tells us that Heman the Ezrahite was appointed by King David, along with Ethan the Ezrahite and Asaph, “to lead the singing in the house of the Lord, since the ark had a fixed location.” These musicians and singers, descendants of Korah and Levi, founded three choirs which they led for the service of praise in the tabernacle and then in the temple (1 Chronicles 6:16-32; 1 Chronicles 25:1-8; 2 Chronicles 5:12-14). In particular, regarding Heman, the Bible also tells us that he was a man full of wisdom (1 Kings 5:9-11) and that he was responsible for revealing the words of God to the king and exalting his power (1 Chronicles 25:5).    

I would also mention that the instructions given to the choir director in the heading also indicate that this psalm was to be sung in a specific mode in the temple of God.

Let us now see how this great poem of suffering (as Frédéric L. Godet calls it) honors the Lord God.   

A humble and persevering faith

First, we have already mentioned the perseverance and humility of Heman the Ezrahite in the midst of his misfortunes and anguish. All his lamentations are addressed to the LORD,  GOD OF MY SALVATION and consist in fact of a persevering prayer despite the agony of his soul. 

Sated with troubles (v. 4), Heman prays:  

Lord, God of my salvation, day and night I cry out to you. 

Worn out by suffering (v. 10), Heman persists:   

Every day I call upon you, Lord, I stretch out my hands to you. 

Suffering and dying from his youth (v. 16), Heman's faith endures:  

And I, Lord, call upon you for help. In the morning, my prayer is directed to you. 

Despite his physical suffering and spiritual agony—the shadow of death that persists—, Heman continues to pray to God, his Savior. His hope is persevering. He prays night and day, every day from morning until night, because he still hopes to be heard and rescued by God. Despite the darkness, he refuses to be separated from God. Who else could deliver him from the darkness ? His hands reach out to God and his mouth cries out from the depths of his soul in the morning:   HELP ME! GOD OF MY SALVATION.

A song of affliction engraved in the Word of God 

Then, from the woes he experienced in his life, Heman the Ezrahite as a singer produced a song that found its place in the book of praise through God's compassion. From his lamentations, his honestly expressed anguish, and his perseverance, God inspired Heman to compose a song that is still used today for meditation and praise in the temple.  

There are times when believers see no end to their suffering, sometimes even unto death. This psalm encourages and prepares the faithful to persevere in faith in the face of all the dangers to which their souls may be and will be exposed. A sister from the community group this week shared with us that she was comforted and reassured by psalm of this kind because it puts into words our most discouraging feelings. W. Robert Godfrey puts it this way: "Psalm 88 reflects how we feel when the cross becomes particularly heavy and the struggle is at its peak. [...] We understand that we are not alone in our doubts, our lack of understanding, and our complaints. Not only have other believers felt the same way, but God has engraved these feelings in His Word. He did this to assure us that it is legitimate to feel them and to express them in prayer." - Learning to Love the Psalms, 2017.   

Reading in God's Word the troubled, plaintive, and unhappy words of a man endowed with the wisdom of the Spirit reassures our hearts when our faith is so ardently tested. The believer sings with him:
in darkness and suffering, it is You, Eternal One, God of my salvation, whom I call upon for help.   

God in our afflictions: divine compassion

Finally, although the last word of the psalm evokes darkness, God's compassion does not end there. God has not only accepted our anxieties and fears, but has engraved them in His Word and have compassion on us. God also shared our sufferings in order to heal us. Even more astonishingly, God experienced our anguish of dying, cut off from his hand, enduring his wrath, in order to deliver us from it. 

A thousand years after Heman's life (personal approximation), a man suffered all the waves of God's wrath. He was an object of horror to men and to his friends, who abandoned him. He was seized with fear and anguish (Mark 14:33) at the thought of suffering and dying. His soul was sorrowful to the point of death (Mark 14:34) in anticipation of his suffering and death, from which he prayed three times to be spared. But he was burdened with our sufferings and our pains (Isa. 53:4) and died forsaken by God (Matt. 26:46). He was counted among the criminals, and his tomb was among the wicked (Isaiah 53:12; Luke 23:32-33), and his grave was with the rich man, even though he had done no wrong (Isaiah 53:9; Matthew 27:57-60).  

The name of this man is Jesus—literally, “The Lord saves,” “The Lord delivers.”  

Let us read the account of his death on the cross in Matthew 27:45-54 

45Now from the sixth hourf there was darkness over all the landg until the ninth hour. 46And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

 [….47-49…]

50And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.

51And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, 53and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many. 54When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, “Truly this was the Soni of God!”

To quote Timothy Keller, Jesus Christ was forsaken by the Father so that we would not be forsaken by the Father.  

A brother pointed out to the community group this week that when you read Psalm 88 without Jesus, it is terribly dark and sad. When you read it with Jesus, it becomes comforting and joyful. I want to rephrase his idea. When we go through terrible misfortunes hoping for a savior, the struggle is fierce. When we go through them with Jesus, we are comforted and supported by his compassions. He shared our fears and afflictions so that we might be delivered from darkness.  

What comfort, what joy, what peace for the soul.

Glory be to Jesus—the Eternal One who saves, the Eternal One who delivers, through whom we can say: God of my salvation, you have delivered me from darkness! Amen! 

I invite you to take a moment to thank God for delivering us from darkness through the sufferings of Christ. And if you do not know God this way, I invite you to pray that the Lord GOD who saves will reveal His salvation and His light to you.

What do you want me to do for you?

I grew up in a Christian family and decided to follow Jesus over twenty years ago when I was in middle school. Yet, despite all these years, there are teachings that struggle to move from intellectual knowledge to daily application. Today's teaching is one of them. God is master of timing in putting me in this position.

Last Sunday Jason encouraged us to reflect on what we truly desire deep down, to think about what guides our decisions and actions. We saw that this impacts our journey with Jesus.

There are many wrong reasons that can make us act or, conversely, paralyze us: fear of failure, what others think, feeling we need to redeem ourselves, pride, self-deprecation. We can "act well" but for the wrong reasons, or sometimes our motivations are a mix of good and bad things.

Personally, I struggle with this kind of introspection. It's not really in my upbringing to put words to what I feel deeply. It's also possible that I'm afraid to look at myself as I really am. Maybe you are too.

I have the impression that James and John have the same problem.

While Bartimaeus is clear about his situation and faces his real problem with the right solution.

I propose we compare James and John, the sons of Zebedee who wanted to elevate themselves, to Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus who humbled himself. And especially to see the importance of Jesus, the Son of David, who came to save us.

Let us therefore focus on the sons of Zebedee who want to elevate themselves.

The Sons of Zebedee Want to Elevate Themselves

Jesus and his disciples are on the road to Jerusalem. The disciples are afraid, those following them are in fear. The tension is mounting. Jesus could have given them a speech to encourage them like Aragorn before the Black Gate at the end of The Lord of the Rings: *"Sons of Gondor! And of Rohan! My brothers, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take my heart. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds, but that day has not come."*

No, that's not the speech Jesus gives them. This is the 3rd time he tells them what will happen to him. That is, his death and resurrection. In chapter 8, Jesus announced this as a fatality: "The Son of Man must suffer many things..."

Now Jesus is determined, this will happen and it will be in Jerusalem.

It's in this context that James and John approach Jesus to make a request. Let's reread verse 35:

**35** "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask." **36** "What do you want me to do for you?" he asked. **37** They replied, "Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory."

Let's be clear, James and John's approach is the equivalent of a child coming to his mother saying "Mommy, can you promise to say yes to what I'm going to ask you, pleeeease?"

"Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask." Quite audacious as an approach.

Jesus is not fooled, of course, and he encourages them to express their request clearly. "What do you want me to do for you?"

They want to be first, in the front seats, the places of honor when Jesus is in his glory. While Jesus speaks to them of humiliation, suffering and his death, James and John try to position themselves well when Jesus will be in his glory. Seeking a ministerial position or advisor role with a political or military leader, so to speak.

Jesus was disappointed when he heard their request, we see this in his reaction: "You don't know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?"

For those not familiar with biblical jargon, "drinking the cup" is a figurative expression from the Old Testament. We sometimes speak of a cup of blessings, but mostly it means enduring God's judgment or God's wrath. We also speak of a cup of suffering. The image of baptism is even stranger because it doesn't refer to the baptism we saw with John the Baptist or what Christians practice. Here, Jesus' baptism refers to his death on the cross that he has just announced to them for the 3rd time. In the New Testament, these two images are used with this meaning.

James and John's approach was already very audacious, so I think they might have a high opinion of themselves and think they are able to endure suffering. They could also be unconscious of what they're saying and commit without knowing. The fact remains that they seem ready to do anything to obtain these places of honor. They are ready to suffer, yes, but for themselves.

We might wonder what led them to think they could deserve such places.

Peter, James and John had Jesus' confidence: they were the only ones to see the resurrection of Jairus' daughter in Mark 5, they were the only ones to witness the transfiguration in Mark 9 where they saw Jesus glorified, and in both situations, they had to keep it secret. Maybe that's what made them believe they could dare make this request?

Don't we also, after seeing Jesus act through us or in us, sometimes think we had something to do with it and that we deserve something?

But Jesus' response to James and John is final: yes they will suffer but no he cannot grant them this place because he is not the one who decides. No favoritism.

They wanted honors? They will have suffering. James will be the first disciple to die, executed by Herod, in Acts 12, and John will suffer persecution and end his life exiled on the island of Patmos where he will notably write Revelation.

Well, we might think this only concerns James and John, but if we look at verse 41:

**41** When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John. **42**

And then Jesus teaches them all. They are all concerned. If they are indignant, it's not only because they find James and John's request inappropriate. But also because they asked **before them, behind their backs**. I remind you that in chapter 9, all the disciples were discussing on the way who was the greatest. They are disgusted at having almost been beaten by a "first come, first served."

That's why Jesus gathers all the disciples to teach them. Not to publicly rebuke James and John and shame them, but because it's the depths of each of their hearts. James and John perhaps had fewer filters. Like Peter who had allowed himself to rebuke Jesus and earned the "Get behind me, Satan."

I'll return to the rest of Jesus' response later. I'd like first to look with you at the story of Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus. Because the comparison with the disciples is striking. Because if the sons of Zebedee want to elevate themselves, the son of Timaeus humbled himself.

The Son of Timaeus Humbled Himself

Jesus, still on his way to Jerusalem, passes through Jericho. In Mark, this is his only passage here, but crowds are already gathering. Let's reread:

**46** Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (**the son of Timaeus**), was sitting by the roadside begging. **47** When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, ***"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"*** **48** Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" **49** Jesus stopped and said, "Call him." So they called to the blind man, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." **50** Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. **51** "What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him. The blind man said, "Rabbi, I want to see." **52** ***"Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you."*** Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

This is the first time we have the expression "Son of David" in the Gospel of Mark. In this gospel, Jesus' genealogy is not transmitted (but Jesus is indeed a descendant of King David), but Bartimaeus doesn't say it thinking of his genealogy. "Son of David" is a title that means the same as Messiah or Christ. He designates Jesus as the one who is the heir to David's throne for eternity. He is convinced of Jesus' identity. So convinced that he shouts loudly, so loudly that the crowd cannot silence him and Jesus hears him.

This is not the first disabled person we see in Mark, but often the others were supported by friends who brought them to Jesus. People asked Jesus to do something for the disabled person. Here he is alone, and he is even scolded by the crowd who wanted to silence him.

Notice the irony: they try to silence him, but as soon as Jesus calls Bartimaeus, they try to encourage him...

What is the difference between Bartimaeus and James and John? In both cases they make a personal request, don't they? In both cases they put themselves before others.

Bartimaeus recognized Jesus as Son of David, as the Messiah, even though he had apparently never met him before. But Bartimaeus also recognizes his place: as a blind man, he is nothing in this society, nor on this earth. **He recognizes that only pity, only Jesus' grace, can save him.** James and John are disciples who have Jesus' confidence, but they still want more: they have wanted to constantly elevate themselves since they understood that Jesus was the Messiah. Bartimaeus, on the other hand, humbled himself before Jesus.

See the irony here: Bartimaeus means Son of Timaeus and Timaeus means "the honored one." The one who humbled himself has a name that means "the honored one."

Finally, the last and most important difference: Bartimaeus identified his real problem, he identified his real need and he sought to solve it with Jesus. And Jesus wants him to say it: "What do you want me to do for you?" The same question as to James and John.

This week I studied this text with a friend and one of his 8 or 9-year-old daughters said, "But Dad, it's obvious that he wants to be healed of his blind eyes, isn't it? Why does Jesus ask him what he wants?" What does a crippled person begging in the street ask for? Money or healing? Money, every time. But what does he really need?

Why does a disabled beggar ask you for money rather than a healed leg? Because he doesn't believe you're capable of healing him, while giving money is normally within our reach. So rather than not having what he really needs, he asks for something else, which he ends up believing is his real need.

That's what Jesus wants to hear from Bartimaeus: he wants to hear that he has recognized his true need and that he believes Jesus can heal him. And seeing this faith, Jesus heals him.

Bartimaeus didn't seek to elevate himself; he sought to elevate Jesus and place himself under his grace.

Note also that Bartimaeus immediately began to follow Jesus. Only the man possessed by multiple demons had asked to follow Jesus, but he had not been permitted at the time.

So once again, like Jason last week, I'd like to encourage us all to reflect on what we want, desire, and think about what we really need.

We're coming to the end of our series on Mark, so I'd like us to step back a bit. A few weeks ago we studied Mark 8 with another healing of another blind man in two stages. After this miracle we had Peter who had recognized that Jesus was the Messiah. We had noted that the healing of the blind man in two stages was an illustration of the healing of the disciples' spiritual blindness and that this would be progressive.

Peter had recognized Jesus as Messiah, but immediately after he had allowed himself to rebuke Jesus, who had responded: "Get behind me, Satan." Last Sunday, Jason pointed out that Peter was still attached to showing that he had sacrificed things for Jesus and was therefore seeking to put himself forward. He's beginning to see but is still blinded.

The other disciples have been rebuked and taught by Jesus several times on the same subject: they want to elevate themselves, be first, when they should serve others.

We get the impression that the disciples have made absolutely no progress in the last 3 chapters!

When will they finally understand? When will they be healed of their blindness? I think they will be healed when they see the risen Jesus.

The Son of David Sacrificed Himself

Let's return to what Jesus says to his disciples at the heart of our text, in verse 42: **42** Jesus called them together and said, "**You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. 43 Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. 45 For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.**"

This is not the first time Jesus tells them not to seek to elevate themselves above others, but on the contrary to serve others. Mark 9:34: **34** But they kept quiet because on the way they had argued about who was the greatest. **35** Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, "Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all."

Last week in Mark 10:31: "**31** But many who are first will be last, and the last first."

I am a teacher in life, and like all the teachers in this room, we know that we must never tire of repeating again and again the important things to remember. Jesus never stopped repeating this lesson:

"**Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all.**"

The disciples seem impervious to this lesson for now. And in practice, let's be honest, we are too most of the time. We know we must serve others, not seek to elevate ourselves, but our actions are a mixture of a real desire to serve the Lord and a desire to feel useful, important, deserving, etc.

"**Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. 45 For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.**"

Note the progression: great => servant, First => slave of all.

What does Jesus get, who gives his life for others? He will return to the place that belongs to him, that of the Son of God, with the Father, Lord, the object of our praise and worship.

Verse 45 is the preamble to verses 43 and 44: "**For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.**" The disciples will only be freed from their blindness when Jesus has died and risen. Only then will they understand and be able to put into practice what Jesus teaches them. We can only succeed in living as Jesus calls us to live in his kingdom because HE gave his life for our sins.

This is the first time Jesus is explicit about the objective his death and resurrection serve. To use the expression from earlier, Jesus gives his life to drink in our place the cup of judgment and God's wrath against sin.

We must therefore understand and meditate on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. There are two important events that separate us from the disciples: the death and resurrection of Jesus at Easter and the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. The first is the source of our salvation. As for the Holy Spirit, God present in us, he is the one who gives us true understanding of the meaning of death and resurrection. If you reread the book of Acts, you will see that it is the Holy Spirit who will make the disciples true servants who will give their lives for Jesus and his gospel.

We must believe that through his death and resurrection Jesus can give us what we really need. Jesus, through his Spirit, can transform us in our deepest being. He can heal us of our blindness, purify us from our desires for glory. He can fill the void within us, he can restore our identity. He wants us to count on him to meet our needs.

Take time to examine in prayer your desires, your professional, personal and church life goals. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal to you what he would like to work in you and submit them at Jesus' feet.

And if you feel like you can't believe it, then you know what to answer Jesus in your prayer when he asks you "What do you want me to do for you?" Ask him for faith!

I'd like to conclude with an excerpt from Isaiah 53 that we reread at Easter:

Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. **5** But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.

Let us pray.

The Basic Christian Life (Mark 10.23-31)

I’m going to start by saying something a lot of you know already, but it’s particularly important for this text.

There is a particular brand of so-called Christianity that has been going around for several decades now; it’s come to be known as the “prosperity gospel.” I could try explaining it to you, but I think it would be more effective to simply give you some quotes from some very famous (and very rich) pastors who teach this.

Joel Osteen: “God wants us to prosper financially, to have plenty of money, to fulfill the destiny He has laid out for us.”

Kenneth Copeland: “Let’s receive our offering this evening, and give you a chance to raise your income.”

Benny Hinn: “There will no sickness for the saint of God… If your body belongs to God, it does not and cannot belong to sickness.”

And here’s Benny Hinn again: “God will begin to prosper you, for money always follows righteousness.”

So you see the essence of this teaching: if you come to God, he will give you riches. He will give you health. He will give you that job promotion you’ve been wanting. He will give you the wife or husband you’ve been wanting.

We can all understand why such a message would be so appealing—because we all have something we want. We all have something we dream of. So if someone seems to give us a way to get exactly what we’ve always wanted, it’s pretty hard to resist.

This teaching is a horrendous twisting of the actual gospel message. The last man I quoted, Benny Hinn, is an interesting case. He is the one I’m most familiar with, because he was always on the television at my grandmother’s house—he’s always been one of the most exuberant proponents of this so-called prosperity gospel. He’s old now, and he’s reaching the end of his ministry, and apparently starting to re-examine some things. He asked forgiveness for his years of giving this particular teaching, and promised to never again ask for money from his listeners.

If he holds to that, he’s absolutely right, because this teaching is not the gospel. The message of the gospel is that we have all rebelled against God—that’s what sin is—and deserve his just wrath against our sin. But because he loved us, God sent his Son Jesus Christ to live the life we should have lived, suffer the death that we deserve, in our place, in order that we might be freed from our sin and reconciled to him.

And now he calls us all to turn from our sin, to trust in him alone for our salvation, and to follow him. But following him requires a radical reorientation of our priorities, as we’ve seen these past few weeks. At the end of Mark chapter 8, Jesus says this:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.

So the gospel is not just the means by which we escape hell; it is the means by which the focus of our entire life changes. Everything we wanted, everything we desired before, now takes a back seat to what he calls us to do.

And the difficult thing about this is that very often, it doesn’t seem to be worth it. We are short-sighted people, and few things seem less immediate to us than the idea of heaven, because that’s something that happens a long time from now—or at least, something that happens after we die. And it’s hard to imagine what it will be like (it’s actually not that hard: the Bible gives us an awful lot of information about heaven—we just don’t know it). So it can be easy to feel like Jesus is asking us to give up an awful lot—a lot of very tangible, immediate things—for something that feels less tangible, less immediate.

We see a really good example of this in the text that we saw last week.

Let’s re-read the story of the rich young man, because that is the context in which today’s text really plays out. V. 17:

17 And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’ ” 20 And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.” 21 And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” 22 Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

So Jesus calls this rich young man to go further than simply obeying the commandments God has already given. He tells him to go sell all of his possessions, to give the money to the poor, and then to come and follow him. And what does he get in return? “Treasure in heaven,” or eternal life, as the young man said it in v. 17…and then who knows how many years of following Jesus.

And for the young man, it just doesn’t seem worth it. He’s very sad about this, because he wants to follow Jesus…but the exchange just doesn’t seem worthwhile, at least not at this point.

So here is the real question of today’s text: Is this exchange really worthwhile? Letting go of everything to follow Christ…is it worth it, not one day in heaven, but today? Does Jesus really promise us nothing but a life of difficulty if we follow him, and then—once we’re dead—eternal life?

That’s the question this text answers for us.

Riches and the Kingdom of God (v. 23-27)

Let’s keep reading in v. 23—this is immediately after the rich young man has walked away disheartened.

23 And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” 24 And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.”

Wealth is just an illustration of what Jesus is talking about…but it’s a very good one.

Few things reveal our hearts better than our bank accounts. Our bank accounts give an in-depth picture of what is important to us. Of course, a lot of our expenses go toward necessities. I’m not talking about true necessities: food, housing, things like that. I’m talking about everything else. How much money do we spend on leisure activities? On vacation? On clothes (that go beyond the merely functional)? On fancy restaurants (that go beyond the simple need to eat)? I’m not saying these things are necessarily bad; they’re not. I’m just stating a fact—we spend money on things that are important to us.

The danger is when these extraneous things, that aren’t really necessary for us to live, become necessities in our minds. When we no longer think of these things as something we could do, but as something we need to do.

That’s why Jesus says it’s difficult for those who have wealth to enter into the kingdom of God. Wealth is not a bad thing in itself—but if you’re not careful, it’s easy to get used to certain things that are nice, but that you don’t really need, and to get used to them to the point where living without those things becomes unthinkable. That was the problem with the rich young man—it’s not that he really couldn’t live without all of his possessions, but that he was so used to having them that life without them was something he couldn’t conceive of.

Now the disciples, surprisingly, show a good bit of intelligence after Jesus says this. You can see they’re thinking about it—v. 26:

And they were exceedingly astonished, and said to him, “Then who can be saved?”

That’s a very good question. Even though most of the disciples weren’t rich before, they are able to recognize that everyone has something that is important to them—everyone has something that constitutes their “wealth”. Something they desire, something they hold dear, something they can’t imagine living without. And if Jesus asked them to give that away… Would they respond the same way the rich young man did? Most people probably would. Their question shows that they understand Jesus is talking about something more than just material wealth—he’s talking about what is closest to our hearts.

And Jesus agrees. V. 27:

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.”

He puts it very bluntly: With man it is impossible. The disciples are right.  If what Jesus really requires is that we put everything in second place—all of our dreams, all of our priorities, all of our desires—in order to give him the first place… That’s a very hard sell. In fact, it’s an impossible sell. No one has ever seen a camel go through the eye of a needle. It’s impossible.

But not with God. All things are possible with God. God can take the hardest heart and change it so that he, God, actually is more important than all the other things we hold dear.

We see him do it over and over again in the Bible. The apostle Paul is a great example—the apostle Paul was a very well-educated man, a Pharisee who prided himself on his knowledge and strict application of the law of Moses. But in one encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus, everything changed. Everything that used to be important for him took second place—to the point where Paul called it all “rubbish” (Philippians 3.7-11). After he met Christ, Paul lived the hard life of a nomad, a life filled with persecution and suffering and hunger and thirst and imprisonment, and eventually, even death.

And he’s far from the only one.

So here is the question this text is pushing us toward: For those who “give everything” to follow Christ, letting all their former dreams and priorities take second place… Are they getting the short end of the stick? Are they the losers in that exchange?

The Promise of the Kingdom of God (v. 28-31)

Let’s keep reading. The disciples recognize how hard this is, and Jesus says it’s impossible for man but possible for God.

And then Peter gets an idea.

We know Peter. He’s the hothead, the industrious one—the one who not so long ago, on the mount of the Transfiguration, actually said to Jesus, “It’s a good thing we’re here, so we can build tents for you and Elijah and Moses!” (Mark 9.5). For everything he’s learned, clearly he’s not quite grasped everything yet. V. 28:

28 Peter began to say to him, “See, we have left everything and followed you.”

This is only partially true. It’s true that Peter left his job as a fisherman to follow Jesus, and he’s travelling with him for long periods of time. But we also know that Peter was married, and had a mother-in-law, and after one of their trips the disciples come and eat at Peter’s house, with his mother-in-law. So while he did leave a lot to follow Jesus, he didn’t literally “leave everything”—he didn’t abandon his family; he didn’t divorce his wife; he didn’t break ties with those who were close to him.

So why does Peter say this? It’s possible that he’s just trying to check that they really have left enough to “inherit eternal life,” as the rich young man said. But that kind of self-doubt isn’t really in keeping with his character. It’s more likely (especially given Jesus’s response) that he wants Jesus to see that he and the disciples aren’t like that rich young man. That man wouldn’t sell everything he had and give it to the poor, but they have “left everything” to follow him.

I went with elders went to a conference a couple weeks ago, and there was a talk on the parallel text to this one, in Luke 18, by Joël Favre. He helpfully put it this way: Peter and the rich young man are two very different men, with two very different paths…and they both fall into the same trap. By pointing out his own sacrifices, Peter shows that he is just as self-centered as the rich young man. By insisting on everything he sacrificed, he shows that he still hasn’t let go of the need to be recognized for having done it.

Peter gave up a lot to follow Jesus, yes. But he hadn’t yet given up the need to be seen as sacrificial.

To this, Jesus gives a very interesting response. He doesn’t argue with Peter—doesn’t say, “No you haven’t, you still have your wife!”—but he does push back a little, in a very encouraging way. V. 29:

29 Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, 30 who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life. 31 But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”

Jesus says a lot in these three verses.

First, he talks about what someone might give up for him—and just as the disciples had seen before, he goes far beyond material wealth. He talks about those who give up “house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands”. Two of those are material, and the rest is family. Nothing hits closer to the heart than family.

Second, he makes two promises to those who would “leave” their house or family or land. The second thing he promises is what we would expect: “in the age to come, eternal life.” That is not surprising—it’s what the rich young man asked about, and it tends to be what we think of when we think of “the kingdom of God.” We usually put most of our eggs in the “eternity” basket, because that is where we’ll spend the vast majority of our time.

But the first thing Jesus promises might take us off guard. He says that those who leave all of these things for his sake and for the gospel will receive “a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands”.

That sounds suspiciously like what those prosperity preachers said, doesn’t it? Those guys regularly say things like, “Give a hundred dollars to our ministry today, and God will return it to you tenfold.” And they often use these verses as a reference point to defend that teaching.

It’s a little disconcerting. Jesus doesn’t just make a promise for the future, in heaven, after we die—he makes a promise for now, in this time. And that promise doesn’t seem to be purely spiritual, but quite real and tangible—houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands—the same things these people will have given up.

Now, I don’t believe Jesus is saying that every believer will be like Job, who lost all of his possessions and whose children died, but then who later had more kids and became even richer than before. There are plenty of believers—like the disciples, like the apostle Paul—who gave up almost everything to follow Christ, and who didn’t literally receive all this. (And the prosperity preachers conveniently ignore what Jesus adds on to the list of promises in v. 30: “with persecution.” He never promises that all our troubles will go away.)

We need to remember that a lot of what Jesus says is not meant to be taken in the most purely literal sense: he often uses images or exaggeration to make a point.

So when Jesus talks like this, what exactly is he doing? He’s expanding the way the disciples think about what is important to them.

Think about the promises of family—brothers and sisters and mothers and children, multiplied by a hundred. We have a lot of missionaries in the church, who haven’t broken all ties with their families in their home countries, but who have accepted to “leave” them—leave their homes, leave the regular contact with their families—and move to another country to serve the gospel.

Go around and ask these missionaries if, in accepting to leave their homes to serve the gospel in a foreign country, they feel like they’ve lost family, or gained family. Through their “loss,” they have met brothers and sisters in Christ they never knew they had. They have met spiritual mothers and spiritual fathers. They have been welcomed into new homes, new countries, new cultures. Those who leave their homes for the gospel—if they have really left them for the gospel—invariably find their worlds expanded rather than reduced. Their families grow, they don’t shrink. They gain far more than they sacrifice.

Now when you’re a missionary, it’s easy to see that, because the contrast between your life in your home country and your life in your new country is so extreme. But all of us who follow Christ undergo the same expansion of our worlds. We all have families—some of us are close to our families, and some of us are not. Some of us have families who celebrate our faith, and others of us have families with whom our faith has created hostility.

Jesus has not called us to cut off all ties to our families, to abandon our wives, to abandon our children. But he does call us to see that the world he has given us, the “kingdom of God” he has brought us into, is far bigger than that. Look around you. If you have faith in Christ, then you now have dozens, hundreds, countless brothers and sisters you didn’t know before. You have new fathers and new mothers. You have a new family. And this new family will last far longer than your family at home. Your family at home will last for as long as you’re alive—this new family will last forever.

And you have it, now. Not tomorrow, not in heaven—now. Jesus has made good on his promise.

At the conference Joël Favre told the story of the famous Welsh pastor, Martyn Lloyd-Jones; it’s too good not to share. Lloyd-Jones began a brilliant career in medicine. Very quickly, when he was young, he became the chief clinical assistant for the king’s personal physician—a position that he likely would have taken upon his boss’s retirement. He was well-known in his field, known to the press. He had an incredible career ahead of him as the private physician to the royal family. But in his early twenties, the gospel took a particular hold on him, and he found that he was no longer able to refuse the pull of the gospel on his life. So he gave up his medical career to become a pastor.

His first pastorate was in Aberavon, in South Wales. His was an impoverished church in an impoverished town, populated mainly by sailors and miners. The press in London finally got wind of his move to the pastorate, and came out to see what was happening. When they arrived in town, they came to him and asked how he could have given up this brilliant career to come here, of all places, to live in relative poverty preaching to sailors and miners.

Lloyd-Jones’s response was simple and succinct: “I’ve left nothing; I’ve received everything.”

What Do You Want?

This text, perhaps more than any other in the New Testament, shows us exactly what changes in our lives if we give our lives to Christ. It is not a change meant for the elite, the “pros” of Christianity. This isn’t apostle-level faith; this isn’t “heroes of the faith” level Christianity. This is the first step. This is the foundation.

What changes in us when we meet Christ? The simplest response to that question is, our priorities. We follow after Christ instead of after ourselves. But do we do it gritting our teeth, because we’re afraid of what we’ll happen if we don’t?

No. There are many warnings of eternal punishment in hell if we reject Christ, yes. And sometimes those warnings are necessary, just like when we tell our little kids that if they disobey us, there will be consequences. But those warnings alone don’t produce lasting, heartfelt obedience; they don’t produce love.

There is a very famous quote from C.S. Lewis that many of you have heard before, but I’m going to read it again here, because it is perhaps the best summary I’ve ever heard of what Jesus is saying here:

“The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire… Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

So here is the challenge of this text: What do you want? Where is your treasure? I won’t even give examples, because it could be literally anything for any of us: people or habits or things or activities or even sins. What is most important to you? What do you want?

It’s really important that we know the answer to that question, because when you seek your treasure in one place, it’s very hard to let yourself find it in another. But we absolutely must find it elsewhere, because every treasure that is not Jesus Christ will ultimately fail us. Nothing that is not for him will last.

Following Jesus requires sacrifice, absolutely: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,” Jesus said. Why do we accept this call?

We accept this call because of God’s past grace to us—because he sent his Son to live our life and die our death, in order that we might be saved.

We accept this call because of God’s present grace to us—because for everything he calls us to give up, he promises infinitely more in return.

We accept this call because of God’s future grace to us—an eternity in heaven with Christ, freed from suffering and sin, perfectly reconciled to God the Father in Christ.

It is indeed difficult for us to let go of what we have for Christ…but it pales in comparison to what we receive from Christ.

Do you believe that?

You have to know, because that is the test. Whether or not you believe that we receive far more than we sacrifice will determine whether or not we will persevere as Christians. If anyone would follow Christ, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Christ. There is no other way to follow him. That’s not professional-level Christianity; that’s not apostle-level Christianity; it is the basic Christian life.

The stakes could not be bigger. But neither could the reward. Don’t settle for less.

For Whom Is the Kingdom of God? (Mark 10.1-22)

We all know how frustrating it can be when we have a discussion, and the person in front of us constantly changes the subject. It usually happens when the discussion is a little uncomfortable—maybe you’re talking to a member of your family about a conflict—and they keep interrupting, trying to flip the blame back on to you, or on to something else. You get distracted for a second—because you want to take into account what they’re saying—and then you say, “Please don’t change the subject. We can talk about that after if you want, but right now I’m talking about this.” And then they do it again. So you say, “Please don’t change the subject.” And again.

We’ve all had discussions like that, and we know how frustrating it can be.

Christians are experts at changing the subject. When we read the Bible, one thing jumps out at us, and we get stuck on that thing. It’s not that that thing is unimportant, but it’s not the point. And while we start going down rabbit holes in our thinking, God is yelling down at us: “Don’t change the subject!”

Of course there are reasons for this. Sometimes, we see something we don’t understand, or that hits a particularly sensitive nerve in us. And sometimes we do this just because we enjoy it—we like trying to figure things out. It can be like intellectual candy.

But we need to pay attention to God when he says, “Don’t change the subject.”

I say that because the text we just read contains two verses that will immediately want to make us change the subject.

What Jesus says in this text is wildly countercultural. I even had to take a minute to talk to the elders, to ask them what they thought about why they think this text is structured the way it is, and that discussion was incredibly helpful for me. It’s a difficult text. So it’s natural to want to get sidetracked by the very intense things Jesus says here.

But he says both things to teach a greater truth—and it’s that greater truth that we want to keep in our sights today.

There is one central truth undergirding the three main sections of our text today. I’m sure you already noticed these sections when we read the text. We have the discussion between Jesus and the Pharisees in v. 1-12; we have Jesus’s teaching about being like children in v. 13-16; and we have Jesus’s discussion with the rich young man in v. 17-22.

This text is structured like a sandwich—the biblical authors often do this, it was a common way of making a point. You have one part that says one thing (A), another part that says something else (B), and then a final part that says the same thing as the first (A)—so it’s A-B-A, like a sandwich.

Because in our day we’re more used to linear thinking and this sandwich structure can be a bit confusing for us, I’m going to make it a little easier for us and talk about the bread of the sandwich first: the first part and the last part. Both of these parts show Jesus dismantling a false idea that someone brings to him. Then we’ll get to the meat (or the soy steak, if you’re a vegetarian), by talking about the second part—where Jesus establishes the true idea that goes against those two false ideas. And hopefully we’ll be able to see what Jesus is getting at, because it’s really important.

So let’s start with the first piece of bread, in v. 1.

The kingdom of God doesn’t belong to those who know the commandments (v. 1-12).

And he left there and went to the region of Judea and beyond the Jordan, and crowds gathered to him again. And again, as was his custom, he taught them.
2 And Pharisees came up and in order to test him asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

So we need to ask, why are the Pharisees asking Jesus this question? The Pharisees made a point of studying the law in the minutest detail—they know perfectly well what the law of Moses says. So even if they’re not trying to trap him, at the very least, they want to test either Jesus’s knowledge of the law, or his faithfulness to the law.

Of course Jesus knows this, so he does what he does so well and answers their question with another question. V. 3:

3 He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” 4 They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce and to send her away.”

This is only partly true. The law allows that such a thing might happen, but rather addresses the question of remarriage after a wife has married a second husband (if her second husband dies, for example). If you read the law as it is given in Deuteronomy 24, there is no suggestion that this is a good thing to do. It just allows that such a situation might come up, and tells how it should be handled.

But, of course that’s how these things go: we read the Bible, and we see it say, “This might happen,” and because we see the words written down on paper, we assume that if it could happen, it must be okay. (Look at how they say it: “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce.” It’s a subtle twisting of what the law actually says.)

What’s interesting is that Jesus doesn’t pick apart the way they answer his question. Instead, he goes to the heart of the matter. V. 5:

5 And Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote you this commandment.

Before we go further, we need to address this. A lot of people have a lot of issues with this idea, that God might make allowances for people in some situations, allowances that aren’t ideal.

But we all understand this. Little Alice (Tom & Silvia’s little girl) is a baby; she’s just learned to walk not too long ago. If she’s on one side of the room, and Tom calls to her and says, “Alice, come here,” and Alice starts to come, she’s not super steady on her feet yet. She’s just learned to walk. So she’s going to wobble, and she might fall. So Tom will say again, “Alice come here,” and she’ll totter again, and maybe fall again, maybe get distracted by a ball she sees on the ground (she’s a baby, after all). Getting a toddler to come to you is not easy.

But what is Tom not going to do? He’s not going to punish Alice for getting distracted. He’s not going to yell at her for being so slow and not listening to him—“Why is your heart so hard towards me, your father?” He’s going to make allowances for her, keeping in mind that she’s a baby, and that he can’t expect from her the same kind of reaction he’ll be able to expect when she’s thirteen.

This is, essentially, where the people of Israel are in the desert when God gives the law to Moses. They’ve just come out of centuries of slavery. They know nothing about God’s character or God’s holiness. They’re babies in the faith. God gives them his law in order to structure their society and teach them what he is like, but he knows they won’t be able to take in everything all at once. He makes allowances for their hardness of heart.

But these allowances God makes—just like the allowances we make for our kids—are not meant to last. Our intention is not that our kids keep on not listening to us when they’re teenagers. Our intention is that they listen to us, and learn to obey us.

So what is God’s intention for his people on this subject? V. 6:

6 But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ 7 ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, 8 and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh. 9 What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.”
10 And in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. 11 And he said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her, 12 and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

So to put it succinctly: God’s intention for his people is that they form societies around families, and that these families be composed of one husband and one wife, who remain united in a faithful and monogamous relationship as long as they are both alive. Why? If you’ve ever been to a wedding here at Connexion, you know why: because the marriage of a man and a woman under God is meant to symbolize the relationship between Christ and his church. Christ remains faithful to his church, and the church is called to remain faithful to Christ. So our marriages should follow the same pattern.

That’s God’s intention, and he means us to take it incredibly seriously. Marriage is meant to reflect the union between Christ and his church—it is no light matter.

Now what does that mean? Several of us here have families that have been formed following a divorce, either ourselves or our parents. Does that mean those families are not legitimate, because they came from divorce? Of course not. Even if those families were formed in less-than-ideal circumstances, there is always grace, and God can always restore what was broken.

But Jesus’s point here is not to talk about divorce. His point is to show the holes in the Pharisees’ thinking.

The Pharisees know the law of Moses inside and out. They know the ins and outs of every commandment. But knowing the commandments isn’t enough.

That’s Jesus’s point. That’s what he shows here so brilliantly. The Pharisees know the commandments better than anyone…but they still can’t get to the heart of the matter—which, in this case, is that just because you lawfully can do something doesn’t mean it’s what God intends for you.

Do you see what he’s doing? He’s pulling apart the Pharisees’ source of confidence, which is their knowledge of the law. They have adopted the false idea that the kingdom of God belongs to those who know the commandments. But Jesus shows that knowing the commandments doesn’t get them any closer to understanding what God’s intention is.

I know we love to think that we’d not be on the wrong side of this conversation, but this is something I’ve seen again and again over the years, and it’s something I saw a lot in myself when I was a young Christian. In our church circles we love to study the Bible. We love to learn doctrine. We love to be able to argue and debate and point out the reasoning behind obscure and difficult points of theology.

This is a good thing. Knowing the Bible as thoroughly as possible is our job as Christians; if we are followers of Christ, we need to know what he tells us.

But it’s not enough.

I know a good number of people who have made an absolute shipwreck of their faith—and many of them know the Bible incredibly well. They have a very firm grasp of Christian doctrine, and can explain that doctrine very well.

But the kingdom of heaven does not belong to those who know the Bible. All of our study, all of our knowledge, our ability to clearly articulate the ins and outs of the Bible’s teaching is not enough. Knowing the Bible is not enough.

So that’s the first false idea that Jesus dismantles here: that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who know the commandments. It doesn’t

Here’s the second false idea—the second piece of bread on our sandwich.

The kingdom of God doesn’t belong to those who follow the commandments (v. 17-22).

What Jesus says here probably won’t shock us as much as the first point—but it should actually shock us more.

V. 17:

17 And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.

Quick side note—this verse often confuses people. Jesus isn’t saying he’s not good; he’s saying that it doesn’t make sense for the young man to call Jesus “good teacher” unless Jesus is God, because “no one is good except God alone.” He’s reframing the young man’s thinking.

19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’ ” 20 And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.”

So this young man knows the commandments too. He may not know the details of the law of Moses as well as the Pharisees do, but he knows the ten commandments at least, as every young man born in Israel would have at the time. So Jesus gives him some examples from the ten commandments—don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, etc.

The young man, probably feeling good about himself, can say in all good conscience: “I’ve kept all of these since my youth.” Most of us here could probably say the same, or close to it. There’s nothing in the text to suggest that this young man is full of pride, or that he’s got bad intentions. He’s simply stating a fact: he’s obeyed the precepts of the law since his youth.

Now he was surely expecting Jesus to stop there—he’s asked the question, “What do I have to do to inherit eternal life?”, and Jesus responds the same way he responded to the Pharisees: “What does the law say? You’ve done that? Good.” That should be the end of the story, you would think.

But no. V. 21:

21 And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” 22 Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

Why does Jesus say this? He didn’t ask the other disciples to sell everything they had and give it to the poor. He didn’t tell the crowds to sell everything they had and give it to the poor. So why did he say it to this young man?

Because Jesus knew that this was the one thing—perhaps the only thing—that would give this young man trouble.

You see, he’s not trying to trap this young man, but to show him what’s really going on in his own heart. This young man came asking how to be saved—that’s a good question. It’s a right question.

And Jesus responds by saying, “You’ve followed the law, yes—that is good. But where is your heart? Here’s a test for you: sell everything you have, give it to the poor, and lay up treasure in heaven. Then come, and follow me.”

And the young man couldn’t do it. Because although he had followed the commandments, the commandments couldn’t change his heart. His heart was in his wealth. That’s where his security was; that’s where his identity was.

Knowing the commandments cannot save you; even following the commandments can’t save you.

And that’s really interesting, isn’t it? We tend to think of the law of Moses as the way the people of Israel could be saved—follow the commandments, and you’ll be saved, right? Wrong. The law of Moses served two purposes. It served as a guide for the people to follow, and it served as proof that even following the guide wouldn’t be enough to save them. It was enough to form a basis for society in Israel, and it was enough teach them what they needed to know about worshiping God. But it would never be enough to save them.

Jesus tells the Pharisees, and this young man, that they know the commandments, and they follow the commandments, but that despite this, they still don’t know everything. The commandments are not an end in themselves; on their own, they’re not enough.

So the question is, what can save us? The kingdom of heaven doesn’t belong to those who know the commandments, and it doesn’t belong to those who follow the commandments.

So to whom does the kingdom of heaven belong?

The kingdom of God belongs to those who depend on God for their salvation (v. 13-16).

So we have the conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees on one side; the conversation between Jesus and the rich young man on the other side. In between those two conversations, we see something vastly different, but that actually highlights what Jesus is saying in both of them.

V. 13:

13 And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. 14 But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 15 Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” 16 And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.

So here, Jesus says it clearly. To whom belongs the kingdom of God? The kingdom of God belongs to those who are like little children.

Of course you can understand that to mean several different things. Some people have suggested that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are humble like children, to those who are innocent like children. That simply can’t be right, because kids are great, but they are not humble, and they are not innocent. Sin shows itself in children very early.

So what characteristic in children do we want to see in ourselves?

Jesus actually tells us in v. 15. He says, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

Children work for nothing. I love my kids more than I love myself, and Jack’s a little older now, so it’s slightly less true of him—but everything our kids have, they’ve received. They don’t earn any money. They don’t buy any groceries. They don’t pay for electricity or water. They are completely dependent on us for everything they need.

And that’s normal; they’re kids. They’re supposed to be dependent on their parents.

That is the characteristic of children that Jesus is highlighting here. Children are not humble, and they’re not innocent. But they are dependent. On their own, they will die. They need their parents to keep them alive.

The only way to enter the kingdom of heaven is to receive it, the way a little child receives what he needs to live. It’s what the Pharisees and the rich young ruler didn’t understand. It’s not by working hard to know the commandments and keep the commandments that we are saved, but by depending on God alone for the salvation we receive.

I know I’m saying nothing new for most of you; we say this all the time. It’s three of the five “solas”: Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Christus—we are saved through faith alone, by grace alone, in Christ alone.

But as often as we repeat this to ourselves, functionally we still operate as if we play a part. There is a toy you can get for children’s car seats, which is essentially a plastic steering wheel with a little horn that you can clip on to the front of the car seat, and the kid can turn the wheel and feel like they’re driving. We say that we’re saved through faith alone, by grace alone, in Christ alone…and we still sit in the backseat, trying to “drive” with our plastic steering wheel.

Or maybe this is a better illustration. Trying to earn or deserve our salvation through our obedience is like buying a plane before you get your pilot’s license. I mean, you can do that, and you’ll have a plane, and that’s great. But you can’t fly it. And if you try to fly it anyway, you might be able to keep it in the air for a while, but chances are, it will kill you.

Obeying God’s commandments to earn our salvation will always lead to either pride, depression, or disillusionment. Pride when you feel like you’re managing it; depression and disillusionment when your obedience doesn’t seem to give you what you thought it would.

The only way to salvation is to receive it, like a little child who is entirely dependent on his parents for his needs. A child will reach out his hand and take a piece of bread offered to him, but he didn’t make the bread, he didn’t buy the bread, he didn’t earn the bread. We do need to reach out our hand and take the salvation offered to us, trusting Christ for his forgiveness and grace, but we don’t earn it, and we didn’t make it happen.

We are wholly dependent on God for our salvation, and the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who receive it in just that way.

Conclusion

So if that is true, why do we obey? Think again of what Jesus says to the Pharisees and the rich young man. Jesus applies an even stricter rule than the law of Moses on the subject of divorce; and Jesus gives a commandment to the rich young man that is far more comprehensive than anything the ten commandments say.

Jesus never says that obedience isn’t important, quite the contrary. Following Jesus requires a lot of work. It’s just not what saves us. Our work, our obedience, is profoundly important, just not the way the rich young man thinks it is, or the way we often think it is.

What do we see in this text?

We see commandments from Jesus, which essentially become tests of the heart. The rich young man’s obedience is good up to a certain point—but when Jesus tells him to sell everything, give it all to the poor, and follow him… That’s the step too far for him, the step where his heart can’t go.

Jesus’s commandment reveals that for all of this young man’s good discipline, for all of his good behavior, his heart is still not changed. Perhaps it’s only partial—I don’t want to be too hard on this young man, because he did at least ask Jesus a question—“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”—that shows that he’s sensitive to Christ’s teaching. Then Jesus asks him a very hard thing, and we don’t know what happened to the young man after. But at least at this point, there is a barrier between him and Jesus that he’s not willing to take down.

So how do I know that I am still receiving the kingdom like a little child? Ask yourself: What am I still not willing to do for God? What commands am I not willing to obey? At what point will we consider that God is taking it too far?

This is a profoundly important question to have in our minds, because all of us will reach a point where we see a commandment that we don’t want to follow. I had to have a really difficult conversation with a brother in Christ, a pastor friend, this week. I absolutely did not want to have it. I was dreading it all week long. But it was clear that, because of what the Bible tells us, that conversation needed to happen. So even though I really did lose sleep over it this week, I asked him to talk, and we talked.

Why did I do that? I did it because God has saved me, and because I am entirely dependent on him for everything—including the final result of that difficult conversation. And because God is good, I could trust him with that, and do the hard thing. And God was faithful—it wasn’t an easy conversation, but it was good, I’m closer to that brother today because of it.

The kingdom of God belongs to those who depend on him entirely—for our salvation, and for our obedience.

Why did God send Christ? Why did he save us? Because we couldn’t save ourselves.

We jumped out of the plane, we didn’t have a parachute, and he jumped out, grabbed on to us, and opened his chute.

So what do we do now? We hold on to him for dear life, we hang on with everything we have, because he is all that’s keeping us from falling. Every act of obedience, every practice of discipline, every prayer we pray, every conversation we have to help a brother or sister in the faith, is an act in which we grip even tighter to our Savior, knowing that his parachute is good, and he really will keep us from falling.