Thursday, February 18, 2021

Ash Wednesday: Repent and Remember

 

Jesu Juva

Revelation 2:1-7                                                            

 February 17, 2021

Ash Wednesday                     

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          It’s the end of the book.  It’s God’s great conclusion to the greatest story ever told.  It’s the grand finale of God’s holy, inspired, written Word.  But if you’ve dared to dabble in the book of Revelation, then you know that it often raises more questions than it answers.  Revelation is arguably the most mysterious, most inaccessible book in the New Testament.  The numbers and the symbols alone can confound even the best students of the Bible.

          But near the beginning of the book, in chapters two and three, you will find something not so mysterious:  Seven letters written to seven churches of the ancient world.  Now, these seven letters are from the Lord Jesus Himself.  Imagine that!  Imagine if our little congregation were to receive a letter from the Lord.  What would He tell us?  How would He correct us?  How would He comfort us?  What we’ll come to see throughout these forty days is that these seven ancient letters from the Lord—they are alive and brimming with meaning even for our little church, especially in these gray and latter days.

          Has it ever occurred to you that this little church, dedicated to our Savior, has its own special angel assigned to it?  We know that angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven join with us right here in our worship of the Holy Trinity.  But it wasn’t until I started reading someone else’s mail—these seven letters from Revelation—that the thought of an angel assigned to our congregation occurred to me.  You see, each one of these letters has a similar salutation:  to the angel.  Tonight we heard:  To the angel of the church in Ephesus.  Next Wednesday it will be:  To the angel of the church in Smyrna, and so on.

          Would it really be that surprising if we did have an angel assigned to us?  After all, we are loved by the Lord.  He lavishes His church on earth with nothing but the best care and the best gifts.  In tonight’s letter to the church at Ephesus, Jesus describes the seven angels as stars—stars He is holding in His right hand.  And the seven churches are called golden lampstands.  Each church—each congregation—each fellowship of believers is precious like gold.  Notice, too, that Jesus “walks among” the golden lampstands—walks among His congregations—actively, intimately involved in each church.  Angel or no angel, of this we can be sure:  What happens in this church and in the lives of her members is of exceedingly great importance to the Lord of the church.

          Among the congregations of the First Century, the church at Ephesus was number one.  Ephesus was the chief city of the Roman province of Asia.  But to truly understand this letter and the six others, you need to know that Christianity was an illegal religion.  Under Emperor Domitian, horrific acts of persecution were being carried out against Christian churches.  It was six years ago this week that 21 Coptic Christians were beheaded by ISIS on a Libyan beach.  That kind of thing was commonly happening under Emperor Domitian.

          But even under the intense pressure of persecution, the church at Ephesus had thrived.  Jesus commends them for their good works, their toil, and their patient endurance.  At a time when it would have been easy to tolerate false and wicked teachings—when it would have been so tempting to “go along to get along,” the saints at Ephesus remained steadfast.  They did not grow weary or weak, but stood strong on the gospel of their crucified and risen Lord.

          Jesus also praised them for their . . . well, their hatred:  You hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate.  Now, the Nicolaitans prove that there’s nothing new under the sun.  They were advocates of sexual immorality.  They lived for lust and licentiousness.  They pandered to sexual perversions of every kind—doing untold harm to marriages, to families, to women and to children.  The church at Ephesus “hated” the works of the Nicolaitans—hated their lies and the harm they caused—and were commended for it by the Lord.  Now, love is the greatest Christian virtue; but, note carefully, it is not wrong to hate what is evil.

          But even to this exemplary church at Ephesus, Jesus dictated a crushing dose of law:  But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.  Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first.  The church at Ephesus had forsaken their first love.  That strong love of Jesus which reached out and claimed them from the cross—that love which had showed itself in drops of blood and a crown of thorns—the Ephesians had fumbled it, forgotten it, forsaken it.  That perfect love which came from the Christ and which they themselves had reflected to others—it had somehow faded away.

          A Christian lacking in the love of Christ is like a fish out of water.  This love is our life.  We cannot do without it.  If we are not receiving that love and reflecting that love toward friend and foe alike, then we have abandoned what is critical and crucial for life.  We may have zeal.  We may have the best intentions and plans.  We may have clearly defined doctrine powerfully proclaimed.  We may have beautiful music and a balanced budget, but without that love—without the love of Jesus at the center of everything—we are nothing.  Without the love of Christ defining our days and reaching into every relationship, we are just making noise in a world already filled with sound and fury.

          What can we do if we have lost this love?  Jesus doesn’t tell us to try harder—doesn’t tell us to get out there and be more loving like He is.  He simply says,

“Repent.”  Confess your lack of love and turn to Him for absolution.  Confess your cold and loveless heart; and let Him create in you a clean heart.  He—and He alone—will renew a right spirit within you.  He will wash you and make you whiter than the snow that has drifted deeply just beyond these walls.  Return to the Lord, your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  To repent is to let the awesome love of Jesus have its way with you.

          Repent . . . and remember, Jesus says.  Remember your first love.  Remember the Savior who loved you first.  Recall that love.  Relive that love.  Ponder the Passion during these forty days—how your sin was laid upon God’s Lamb, who willingly carried it to His crucifixion cross.  Meditate on the mystery of how His body and blood are given here for you, for your forgiveness, in His Holy Supper.  Behold the blessings of your baptism by which your sins have been forgiven, you have been rescued from death and the devil, and you have been given eternal salvation, as the words and promises of God declare.

          Repent and remember.  Return to the Lord your God.  Love as you are loved.  This is what Lent is all about.  The Lord’s last word in His letter to Ephesus is the promise of paradise.  That’s where you’re headed, by the grace of God in Jesus Christ.  The final sentence of His first letter concludes:  To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.  God grant that one day we will all be there, with Jesus, in paradise.  Amen.

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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