The City That Is to Come
Toward the end of 2014, a burgeoning group of families that would soon become Cities Church gathered for worship. We were all still members of Bethlehem at the time, but we had already been commissioned by the elders to plant. This gathering was meant to give us an idea of what was to come — our Sunday space, our liturgy, all that.
I had chosen Psalm 137 for the sermon text — a “let down psalm,” as I called it, “deflating, depressing, and at the very least confusing.” The sermon was likely as disappointing as the psalm. I was more of a writer than a speaker, so it was full of cognitive overload and zero cadence. I only managed to share one illustration about eating Taco Bell alone and listening to “Kiss from a Rose” over the house speakers. That was probably the only thing people remembered a week later.
But the part that I remember is what I still I think about every time I read Psalm 137 … verses 5–6 …
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill!
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy!
Our current situation is not identical to Israel in exile, but it is similar. And it is similar because we, too, have promises from God that don’t exactly add up to our current reality. … Or we might say it this way: our current reality in Christ is different from what we might have expected or hoped.
See, we might think that our great salvation means smooth sailing from here out. We might think that since we are in Christ, the kingdom is complete and this thing is done. But no. In case you haven’t noticed, although we are new creations in Christ, we don’t live in a new creation world. …
… we sojourn in Meshech and we dwell among the tents of Kedar. Like Israel, we are in a land of exile … this place is not our home. We are sojourners.
[I copied and pasted the three paragraphs above from that original sermon.]
And then I said … with all our waiting and anticipation and excitement about Cities Church getting off the ground, let me remind us (me!), that we have not arrived. …
That is the temptation, you know. As God blesses this plant — and we pray he does — there is going to be this subtle thing that happens where we want to start patting our ourselves on the back. We’re going to feel like we’ve made it, that, well, here we are, this is the dream.
But no, it’s not.
Because, remember, our goal — our ultimate goal — is not a new church plant, but a new Jerusalem. And I am so jealous that we never forget that. In fact, I think Psalm 137:5–6 is an anthem for us.
Amen. I believe this more today than when I first said it, and it’s where I tried to ground us at Thursday night’s men’s meeting. Our hope is bigger than our church — and more certain than anything we can accomplish. That means our present challenges need not discourage us (just like our past successes must not satisfy us). We long for the new heavens and the new earth, and until then, we pray, “Your kingdom come” — like Jesus teaches us (Matthew 6:9) … not with minimum effort, but maximum (see 1 Corinthians 15:10).
God is at work, doing more than we can see, and our first priority is to simply stay the course — faithful, hopeful, and longing for the city that is to come.
Come, Lord Jesus!
