Be Faithful unto Death

 

Jesu Juva

Revelation 2:8-11                                                           

February 24, 2021

Lent 1 Midweek                             

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          The words of the Bible were given to us at particular times and places, and in particular cultures.  As I often remind you in Bible class, there is a context in which God’s Words were first given, first received, written down, and preached.  Our understanding of God’s Word is always enriched and deepened when we know that context—the situation—in which God first gave His words.

          Nowhere, perhaps, does the context add more than in the letter Jesus wrote to the church in Smyrna.  Each of these seven letters from the Lord begins with the words:  To the angel.  Tonight you heard: To the angel of the church in Smyrna.  On Ash Wednesday I suggested the possible interpretation that each congregation, including this congregation, has its own special angel.  But another possibility is that the word “angel” actually means “pastor.”  “Angel,” as you probably know, means “messenger.”  In the rich and symbolic language of Revelation, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think of the pastors of these churches as being angels—messengers of God.

          The angel of the church at Smyrna—the pastor there—was a man named Polycarp.  Polycarp was likely born in the year 70 AD. What we know for sure is that he died on February 23^rd in the year 155.  He died 1,866 years ago yesterday.  Polycarp had been a disciple of the Apostle John.  But allow me to tell you a little bit more about this pastor with the funny-sounding name.

          He was the bishop of Smyrna, a city in Asia Minor where Christians were despised.  In Smyrna they mocked Christians by calling them “atheists.”  They were called “atheists” because they refused to worship idols, because they refused to worship the Emperor, and because the object of their faith was apparently just a mere man, named Jesus. 

          On February 23, 155, a bloodthirsty crowd at Smyrna had just cheered and jeered as a group of Christians was thrown to the lions.  Hungry for more blood and gore, the crowd demanded that a search be made for Polycarp, the pastor of the Christians—the angel of the church at Smyrna.  Polycarp, you should know, was 86 years old—a very, very old man by the standards of the second century.  When the police arrived to arrest Polycarp, he ordered that food and drink should be served to them.  He asked if they would allow him an hour in which to pray.  And his request was granted.

          When later that night Polycarp was finally dragged before the judge and before the bloodthirsty mob, he was informed that it would be very easy for him to avoid being burned alive.  All he needed to do was say a few words: “Caesar is Lord,” and, “Cursed be Christ.”  Those words, together with just a pinch of incense offered to a statue of Caesar, would spare Polycarp’s life and everything would be fine.

          The old pastor responded calmly and gently:  Eighty-six years I have served Christ, and He never did me any wrong.  How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?  You threaten me with fire that burns for an hour and in a little while is quenched; for you know not of the fire of judgment to come, and the fire of the eternal punishment, reserved for the ungodly.  Why do you delay?  Do you what you will.  And within but a matter of minutes the angry mob ignited hungry flames to burn an old man to death.  Within but a matter of minutes, Polycarp was with the Lord Jesus, the King who saved him, in paradise.

          What could have given Polycarp such faithfulness under fire?  What could have prompted such fearlessness in the face of an agonizing death?  Perhaps it was a letter—the very letter that Polycarp and his church had received from Jesus.  We heard that letter minutes ago:  These are the words of Him who is the First and the Last, who died and came to life again.  I know. . . I know your afflictions and your persecutions.  I know your poverty.  I know the slander spoken against you.  I know the devil will test you and imprison you.  I know you will suffer . . . Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.

          The account of Polycarp’s martyrdom is very moving, but at the same time, so shaming.  For how can we hear of his faithfulness without recognizing our own faithlessness and unworthiness?  Under far less pressure than he—in peaceful times of plenty—we have all failed to be faithful.  Polycarp’s situation was rather black and white—clear cut.  Confess the Christ or curse Him.  The temptations to our faith are often less clear and shaded with gray.  What will you do when your faith in Christ singles you out for scorn, ridicule, job loss, or worse?  Will you confess Jesus Christ as your Lord—your Savior?  And do you live out that confession already today in such a way that other people know that Jesus is your King who saved you?  On April 15^th we all render to Caesar what is Caesar’s.  But on what day do we ever truly render to God what is God’s?  Our thanks, our praise, our prayers, our offerings, our very lives as living sacrifices.  The terrible truth is that we often live our lives as if Caesar were our only king; while concerning Jesus, our words and actions seem to suggest that we don’t know the man.  In the life and death of Polycarp there is reason enough for each of us to repent.

          But tonight you need to hear more than that.  Hear what Jesus wrote to the angel of the church in Smyrna:  I know.  In all your trials and temptations—in all your tears—in all the mess that is your life—the Lord Jesus says to you what He wrote to the persecuted saints of Smyrna:  I know.  Now, when the Lord Jesus says “I know,” He means more than just the knowing of facts and information.  He knows and feels your plight.  He knows what you must face.  He knows the enemies and the demons that battle against you.  He knows your doubt and despair.  He knows it all, just as if it were happening to Him.  Because, in truth, it has—it has all happened to Him, as your sacred substitute.

          Because Jesus’ cross was the instrument of your deliverance and salvation, it means that the crosses in your life can also be instruments of deliverance.  The very worst that gets thrown at you in this life, Jesus uses it to bless you, to test you, to cleanse and purify you, to teach you to rely on Him and Him alone.  He is the King of Kings who controls all things in heaven and on earth.  He wrote to the church at Smyrna about suffering tribulation for “ten days.”  That didn’t necessarily mean a literal ten days; but it did mean a specific span of time—a set time, a limited time, a short time specified by Him.  God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it and be saved (1 Cor. 10:13), just like Polycarp, the angel of the church in Smyrna.

          The one who is First and Last—the one who died and came to life again for you—He says, “I know.”  But that’s not all.  He also says, “I will give.  I will give you the crown of life.”  How can you be sure?  Because the giving of that crown is based on His faithfulness, His forgiveness, His love, His death, His resurrection.  And nothing is more sure or certain than that.  Whether it’s 86 years that you have lived in and with Christ, or some shorter span of time that He has allotted for you, the Lord is faithful.  He knows.  He will give.  In Him we have confidence even unto death.  And whether that death be the “little death” of cancer or stroke or Covid, or the “big” death—the “second death” of eternal fire—Jesus promises this:  it will not hurt you.  His grace is sufficient.  His power is made perfect in our weakness.

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