To the Church at Sardis
They were, literally, a pioneering congregation. Recognizing the potential of the frontier settlement, in 1854 they planted themselves at 9th and Olive at the heart of what, four years later, would become the capital of the 32nd state in the Union. Missional from the very outset, they deliberately named themselves after the apostle whose mission was to carry the gospel to the gentiles. For decades, through waves of immigration, a devastating civil war, rapid industrialization, and economic boom and bust, St. Paul’s ministered to the elite and the downtrodden.
And they were amazingly successful. Home to governors, war heroes, wealthy businessmen, and countless people of influence they became a powerhouse of ministry in the rapidly expanding city. They organized a convention that launched a church planting movement, springing up three new churches around the city in the first few years of their history. Their reputation for establishing frontier gospel outposts was known far and wide.
They were so successful that they contemplated a move. Looking to establish themselves for a long-term future of gospel ministry, they disassembled their building and, stone by stone, timber by timber, hauled it by oxcart up the hill to a new plot of land with a commanding view. Their ambition, as I imagine it, was to be the lampstand on which the flame of the Spirit of Christ burned bright—a witness to the neighborhood and the nations. And on Christmas Day 1913 the congregation, now St. Paul’s on the Hill, celebrated their first service in their new building—the very one in which you are sitting.
But that once vibrant, missions-minded, church-planting, gospel-preaching congregation is no more. Somewhere they lost their way. They had a reputation of being alive. They were prominent in their many good works. But this building, with its Masqueray architecture and intricate stained-glass windows, is all that remains. That church is dead. Just as Jesus warned the church in Ephesus in Rev 1.5, he came and removed their lampstand.
Dear brothers and sisters, the story of the congregation that built this grand building is a cautionary tale—even more sobering when we consider the places where our story corresponds with theirs. The warning Jesus gave the church at Sardis was not heeded in St. Paul.
While it might be helpful for us, we can’t go back and open the books to see precisely where that congregation turned the wrong way. But, in reality, we don’t need to; we have the words of the living Christ, open here and now before us—words to which we would do well to pay attention. So let’s pause now, together, and ask for his help.
Spirit of the living Christ, you have been poured out upon us by the Lord Jesus for this very purpose, that we would see our need and fly to Jesus for help, for refuge, and for strength. Shake off our lethargy, cut through the fog of distraction and sin, reveal to us our hidden errors, compel us to come to you for grace, preserve us in the path of faith, for the glory of Jesus, we pray. Amen.
Warning, Remedy, Hope
For the sake of orientation, let’s look at this text together in three parts. First, we’ll look at the warning Jesus gives the church at Sardis (vv1-2). Second, we’ll look at the remedy Jesus gives (vv3-4); and finally, we’ll look at the amazing hope help out to those who, by faith, overcome (vv5-6). Now, before we get going—kids, pay attention, because there are two places where I’m going to ask for your help. Ok? First, let’s look at the warning:
Warning
The city of Sardis had a long and storied history—rich deposits of gold and silver were exploited there in the 6th century BC, making it quickly become a place of great wealth (Croseous, 560–547BC) and substantial economic and technological innovation. The city was more like a fortress—set high up on a rock outcropping which jutted out like a pier from the face of Mt. Tmolus. With its high walls and steep cliff-faces, it was nearly impregnable to invaders.
Perhaps not surprisingly, these strong defenses led its citizens to complacency. Twice in the following centuries, inattentive watchmen failed to spot small bands of soldiers who climbed in and simply opened the city’s gates to their waiting army. Sardis never recovered from its final defeat at the hands of Antiochus the Great (218 BC). The Seleucids carried off their wealth and imposed crippling taxes. For the next three hundred years Sardis lived off its former fame, kind of like that one old guy who is still wearing his high school letter jacket.
Given the town’s large Jewish population, when the good news of the gospel reached Sardis, the church grew quickly. The city’s unimportance to the Roman empire meant that it took longer for Christians to be identified as distinct from Jews and then persecuted as illegitimate religionists. Thus, early on, the church at Sardis had opportunities not enjoyed by sister congregations in places where government oppression of Christians was stronger. Perhaps this freedom was, in part, the way the church in Sardis established a reputation among other churches. But, apparently, the name they had made for themselves was no longer reflective of their own reality.
(v1-2) And to the angel of the church in Sardis, write: “the words of him who has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars. I know your works—you have a reputation (name) of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains, and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God.
Though it considered itself spiritually alive, in reality, the church at Sardis was in a condition of spiritual death. While others might not have seen it, Jesus did. Perhaps, like the city itself, the church was living off of its former glory.
We have hints to the church’s condition in verse 2. Jesus exhorts the Sardian church to “become one who is watchful” and to “strengthen what remains and is about to die.” That there remained something, yet, to strengthen implies that the church began with a life of faithful gospel witness, but somewhere lost its way. It set out with a passion for the name of Jesus, but compromised its mission as time wore on (or as cultural pressure intensified).
The letter to Sardis closely parallels the letter to the church in Ephesus. Looking back to chapter 2 helps us see what might be happening in chapter 3. Notice that, just like in Sardis, Jesus calls the Ephesian church to repent and do the works they were doing at first (2.5). According to 2.4, the Ephesian church had “lost their first love” and, should they ignore the gracious call to return, Jesus warns them that he will come and remove their lampstand from its place (2.5).
Now, the book of revelation can get confusing when we forget the symbolism. Remember the first picture we behold of Jesus in this book? If you need a reminder, look at the center window right over my head. It is a depiction of what John writes to us in Rev 1.12-20. Ok kids, here’s the part I was talking about. See how many of the things John describes you can find in that center window:
Rev. 1.12 Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, 13 and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. 14 The hairs of his head were white like wool, as white as snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. 17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades. 19 Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are, and those that are to take place after this. 20 As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands, the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.
Jesus, shining like the sun, stands in the midst of the lampstands. The lampstands are the churches. And what is the purpose of lampstands? To hold up the light. The mission of the church as lampstand is to shine the light of Jesus to the outside world.
Kids, how does the song go? This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Hide it under a bushel? No.
The danger for the church in Ephesus is that it was losing its love for Jesus. What good is a lampstand if it isn’t holding up the light? That’s why Jesus warns the Ephesians to return to their first love—making Jesus known in the world.
And this helps us see why the situation is Sardis is even more concerning. The church in Sardis hadn’t only lost their first love, instead of holding up the name of Jesus to the world, they were preserving their own. Look again at Jesus’s warning in 3:2.
(v2) Wake up, and strengthen what remains, and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it and repent.
The verse does not imply that doing more works would give them right standing before God. Rather, their works were “incomplete” or “unfulfilled”—or, perhaps better, “hollow.” While they started out professing faith in Christ, they were shrinking back in proclaiming him as Lord of all. Though the Sardians claimed to be his people, they were actually denying him. They seemed to be more concerned about making a name for themselves.
There’s an important echo here in v2 of something Jesus said in the sermon on the mount. He’s provoking the Sardians to remember that simply claiming the name of Christian doesn’t make one so. Listen to what Jesus says in Matt 7.21-23:
Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ (Matt 7.21-23)
While salvation is by grace through faith alone—saving faith is never alone. Works of faith flow from a heart transformed by grace. The person who believes that Jesus is Lord, lives as though he is. By doing the will of our Father in heaven, we demonstrate that our claim of his Lordship is for real. The Sardians’ works were shown to be “incomplete” because, whatever they were saying, they weren’t living as though Jesus was real.
Friends this is a stunning reality for much of American evangelical Christianity today. We say that we know Christ, but our lives are nearly indistinguishable from the world. How many fight to blend in or to preserve power rather than bear witness in gentle and vibrant ways. Wrestling with the dangerous consequence of nominal Christianity in the last century, Anglican pastor J.C. Ryle said “a widespread revival of the kind of Christianity we know today in America might prove to be a moral tragedy from which we might not recover for a hundred years.”
Jesus confirms that the Sardians hypocrisy by giving them a warning quite similar to the one given to Ephesus in chapter 1. Look at 3.3.
Remember then, what you have received and heard. Keep it and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief and you will not know what hour I will come against you. (v. 3.3)
In Matthew’s gospel (vv. 24.26-44), Jesus exhorted his disciples to remain diligent in the mission he had called them to since his final return would come at an hour no one was expecting. In the same way we would be tempted to relax now if we knew we knew a robber was coming at precisely 8pm, it would be easy for us to slack in our mission if we knew when Jesus would come to wrap up all things. The message in Matthew 24 was about remaining vigilant in our mission.
Here in 3.3, the message is about repentance. While Jesus is expressing a similar idea—that he will come at a time no one is expecting—he’s not talking about his final coming. He’s saying he won’t wait.
The local church is the lampstand on which the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ shines in the world. The local church is the means by which his people are equipped on their task to make disciples of all nations. But the light can’t be seen if we put the lampstand on top of the lamp. The church can’t make disciples of all nations if it is more concerned about its own exaltation or preservation. If some in the church, especially its leaders, are more concerned about preserving their name than his name, he won’t wait for the end of time. He will come when we are least expecting.
The city of Sardis had a great reputation. It had the best wall, I mean, it was uuuge really really great—an amazing wall, really. Mexico even paid for it. So, its watchmen relaxed. Resting on their success, they neglected their very reason for existing. And Antiochus came at an hour they didn’t expect.
The church at Sardis had a great reputation. It had amazing works. So, some of its people relaxed--perhaps even its leaders. They had become more concerned about their standing in the community than being a lampstand for Christ. If they didn't wake up, Jesus promised that he would come at an hour they didn’t expect.
Saint Paul on the Hill had a great reputation. They had amazing works. Yet somewhere along the way, they began caring more about their reputation than faithfully bearing witness to the gospel of Christ. And Jesus came at an hour they didn’t expect.
Cities Church has a great reputation. We are a zealous and faithful and growing congregation, active in ministry in the city, home to people of influence, driven by a vision for church planting, and sent out each week on mission. We want the cities and the world to know that Jesus is real.
And yet, because of this success, it is easier for us to become a church that cares more about its own name than the name of Christ. Compromise happens in subtler ways than we’d tend to expect. While we must be on guard against doctrinal drift or cultural accommodation, are we as watchful for prayerlessness? ingratitude? self-righteousness? celebrity?
While we stand for Jesus on Sundays, do we bend to the pressures during the week? At school, or at work, or at home, do we compromise our witness to preserve our reputation? Are we more motivated by the thought of being known than by the thought of Jesus being known?
At the root of all gospel-compromise is self-importance. Pride is the root of all kinds of sin. And pride is sneaky—we can do works in Jesus’s name while mainly motivated by our own glory. We can be Christians when it is advantageous and agnostic when it is not. There are so many ways we could go wrong. So many ways we could leave the path of faithful witness to trod our own path of self-exaltation. Even that thought is bewildering. We need Jesus’s help.
And that’s exactly what he gives us.
Remedy
Now that we’ve heard the warning, let’s see the remedy.
(v3) “Remember, therefore, what you’ve seen and heard. Keep it, and repent.”
Jesus says that turning away from self-exaltation looks like holding on to what we’ve seen and heard. We need to see less of ourselves and more of Jesus. We need to remember what he has told us about himself. He is:
The one (1.5) “who loves us and has freed us from our sins and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father”
The “Alpha and Omega…who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty” (1.8)
The one who tells us not to fear (1.18), because he is the “First and the last, and the living one. The One who died and, behold is alive forevermore, who alone has the keys of Death and Hades” (1.18)
The one (2.8) “who died and came to life” for us and for our salvation
The one who says to those who conquer:
(2.10) “I will give you the crown of life”
(2.17) “I will give you some of the hidden manna and I will give you a white stone with a new name written on it”
And, as we saw last week, (2.28) “I will give you the morning star.” Jesus will give us himself.
Friends, when we remember him, the spell of sin is broken. Our slumber is overcome. We regain our bearings. Fear is destroyed in the light of his supreme authority. Hopelessness is overwhelmed in the light of his gracious promises. The illusion of loneliness is shattered with his personal affection and redeeming love. Self-exaltation becomes as laughable and nonsensical as it truly is. How could we put our name over his? How could we care more about what people think about us than what they think about him?
There are some here this morning whose faith feels very weak. You might even be asking, “am I one of the people Jesus is talking about in vv1-2”? I want to talk to you for a moment. First of all, you are not alone. Anyone who has followed Jesus for some time knows what it is like to find their faith faltering. You may be looking back and wondering what happened to the excitement you once had about Jesus. You may feel fearful that you’ve moved so far away from that early love that there is no going back. Hear me, dear friend. Jesus is speaking to you, here. These words are him firmly, lovingly, calling you back to himself. He tells us that anyone who comes to him, he will not turn away. That includes those of us who have grieved him by our thoughts or our actions or our fickle affection.
Jesus says something unusual about himself in this letter—something that we skipped over at the very beginning but is critical for us here. In verse 1, Jesus says that he “has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars.” This is a beautiful but somewhat opaque saying, and here is what it means. Jesus is saying, all the resources of the universe belong to me. Do you need renewal? Call on me and I will pour out on you, afresh, the fullness of my Spirit. Do you need help? The universe is mine. I will help you.
27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
The remedy is to remember Jesus.
Hope
Finally, let’s consider the confident hope we find in the letter to Sardis in vv4-5. Pastor David said last week that the best promise in all the letters is the one in 2.28, but I think the confident hope held out here might be even better yet.
Jesus comforts the church by reminding them that there are some who have not failed in their mission to be bearers of light. These “names” (v4) have not hidden the name of Christ for their own reputation (v1, GK “name”). They have not compromised their confession—they have not “stained” their garments by clouding the message of the gospel or going along with the pagan worship of their culture. They have a faith that testifies openly to Jesus. Their eyes are set on him.
These, Jesus says, will walk with him because they are worthy. Friends, let that settle in. Those who put their hope in Jesus will live in deep fellowship and sweet friendship with the creator and sustainer of the universe. They are not made more worthy by their gospel fidelity—rather, their lives demonstrate that they have, in fact, been transformed by the Spirit of Christ. Their lives demonstrate the certainty of his promise to draw them into inter-trinitarian fellowship, forever. These, Jesus says, will be clothed in white garments because, as we see in other places in Revelation, white garments represent the purity that results from being tested by a refining fire.
These “names” are to be examples to others in Sardis, and to us. Because, Jesus says, v5, those who conquer will be like them. Their lives prove that their names are in the book of life, a book from which one’s name can never be blotted out. They belong to Jesus, forever.
At bottom, the issue in Sardis is a search for significance. The Sardians wanted to be known and loved. And, somewhere along the way, some lost sight of their identity in Christ and became more concerned about being known and loved by others. They used their lampstand to draw people to their own name rather than shining the true light of the gospel of Jesus. Ultimately, it seems, some of them chose to deny Jesus rather than suffer loss of reputation. To trade the glory of Christ for the praise of men is the most tragic exchange. And, perhaps, that is why Jesus leaves us with this final word. To the one who overcomes, Jesus says, “I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels.” What could possibly be more humbling and meaningful and hopeful than the Son of God declaring, “Father, and all you his angelic hosts, this is my child.”
Conclusion
As important as it is to be known and valued by others, we weren’t designed to find significance or identity apart from the Triune God. Without him, trying to fill our need for intimacy and identity is like shoveling sand into a bottomless pit. Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in him.
Maybe that describes you, this morning. Perhaps you’ve not ever put your faith in him. By his death and resurrection, he has made a way for you to find your rest in him. That you are here this morning is not an accident. Consider what you have seen and heard. Call on him.
Perhaps you are here this morning and you do trust him—but you are struggling to acknowledge him before others at work or at school or at home. That you are here this morning is not an accident. Remember what you’ve seen and heard. Keep it and turn to him.
The Table
Which is why, each week, we come to the Lord’s table. We remember. We receive grace by his Spirit. And proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. The Passover supper reminds us of God’s deliverance of Israel from death as he rescued them from Egyptian bondage. The Lord’s Supper reminds us of God’s greater deliverance of his people out of the bondage of sin through Jesus’s atoning death. And this table also reminds us of the supper yet to come, when we will feast again with our Lord in that country where there is no stain of sin and death. All who have professed their faith in him and have trusted him for forgiveness of sin and life everlasting are welcome. The pastors will come and distribute, hold out your hand. We will eat together.
His body is true bread, his blood is true drink. Let us serve you.
The Lord Jesus, on the night that he was betrayed, took bread and, when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples saying: “this is my body which is for you, do this in remembrance of me.”
In the same way, he took the cup after supper saying: “this cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me”
As the apostle Paul reminds us, as often as we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.