Sermons – Page 2 – Excel Still More

November 13, 2025November 3, 2025

Greet One Another With a Holy Kiss

Summary of my sermon, based on 2 Corinthians 13:12. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 3, 2025.

How do you view greeting? For many of us, it’s probably not something we think about very much. Among my friends and colleagues—even my manager—it’s not really something we think about. Usually for me, it’s just a simple “what’s up,” because I grew up in Scarborough in the late 90s. That was our thing back then. For the most part here in the West, it’s not something we think of very often.

That’s not the case in other countries. Recently I came across a reel about greetings in Japan where, depending on your status relative to the person you’re greeting, there are various appropriate ways to greet. If you happen to see the president of your company in the morning, the appropriate greeting would be “Ohayougozimashita”—the longest, most polite form of “good morning.” For a manager it might be “Ohayougozaimasu,” for a senpai it’s simply “Ohayou,” and for a friend or colleague it can be as short as “Sus.” In general, the longer the greeting, the more polite and formal; the shorter, the more casual. Japan is much more rigidly structured in that way than the West.

Something else I found on the interwebs: people crashing out on LinkedIn over how you greet someone on the phone. One recruiter from North Carolina posted (in all caps): “I returned the candidate’s call. His first words shocked me.” The candidate had left a very professional message, a high-level profile, but when the recruiter called back (from the same number), he answered, “Hello.” Apparently that mattered a lot. The recruiter couldn’t understand why professionals answer without saying who they are. As you can imagine, the post was met with ridicule. My favorite reply: “It’s obviously unacceptable to answer just ‘hello.’ You have to say, ‘Hello, is it me you’re looking for?’” (Yes, that’s Lionel Richie.)

In all seriousness, while LinkedIn recruiters may be a little overzealous, greetings do matter. They matter enough that the Apostle Paul commanded Christians how to greet one another. This is one of the “one another” commands we’re covering: “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” (2 Corinthians 13:12, ESV) Paul repeats it in Romans 16:16; 1 Corinthians 16:20; 1 Thessalonians 5:26. Peter echoes it with a slight variation: “Greet one another with the kiss of love.” (1 Peter 5:14, ESV)

Depending on your cultural background, that may sound strange. But in Toronto, this might not be so foreign. Think of the Kennedy Kiss & Ride—a staple in Scarborough culture. It captures the idea: not an erotic kiss, but a simple greeting (often a cheek-kiss). In North America, that’s not predominant anymore; in parts of Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East, it still is. In the Philippines there’s the “besso-besso”. But, even within one culture, families vary. On my mom’s side, we greet elders with a kiss on the cheek (I don’t “mano” my Lola; I kiss her as a greeting). On my dad’s side, it’s different. Not better or worse—just different.

The key point: kissing has been, and continues to be, a common greeting in many parts of the world, especially among family and close friends. A biblical example appears in Acts 20 when Paul says farewell to the Ephesian elders: “And when he had said these things, he knelt down and prayed with them all. And there was much weeping on the part of all; they embraced Paul and kissed him, being sorrowful most of all because of the word he had spoken, that they would not see his face again.” (Acts 20:36–38, ESV)

That brings us to the adjective holy. What does a holy kiss mean? One way to understand it is by its opposite: unholy kisses.

The most infamous unholy kiss is Judas’s betrayal: “Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard.’ And when he came, he went up to him at once and said, ‘Rabbi!’ And he kissed him. And they laid hands on him and seized him.” (Mark 14:44–46, ESV)

Another unholy kiss is a kiss of deception in 2 Samuel 20. After David replaced Joab with Amasa, Joab met Amasa on the road: “And Joab said to Amasa, ‘Is it well with you, my brother?’ And Joab took Amasa by the beard with his right hand to kiss him. But Amasa did not observe the sword that was in Joab’s hand. So Joab struck him… and he died.” (2 Samuel 20:9–10, ESV)

In the church, we may not often face outright betrayal, but we can be tempted to deceive—to greet warmly while harboring jealousy, anger, or bitterness. Paul instructs us otherwise: “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:31–32, ESV)

That is the content of a holy greeting: kindness, tenderheartedness, forgiveness. A beautiful picture of a holy kiss appears in Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20, ESV)

It is a kiss of forgiveness and grace, overshadowing great wrong. I think Paul had this kind of grace in mind when he urged the Corinthians to greet one another with a holy kiss—especially given his painful history with them. He had confronted sexual immorality, greed, idolatry, slander, adultery, and divisions. He wrote a hard letter and made a painful visit. Then he explained:

“For I made up my mind not to make another painful visit to you. For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained?… For I wrote to you out of much affliction and anguish of heart and with many tears… to let you know the abundant love that I have for you.” (2 Corinthians 2:1–4, ESV)

So when Paul says “greet one another with a holy kiss,” he means: you are family now. Show closeness and affection in a way that fits the gospel you believe and the salvation you’ve received in Christ.

In closing, I’m not saying we need to start kissing each other as part of our greetings. We’re in Canada; that’s not our common form. But we should practice whatever is culturally appropriate to show we are not mere acquaintances—we are the family of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. Our greetings should be affectionate and reflect our relationship to each other. They should not be unholy or deceitful, hiding things that need to be addressed. They should be genuine and true, holy, and filled with the self-sacrificing grace and love Christ showed us when he died on the cross—a gospel we remember especially when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper.

November 6, 2025November 2, 2025

Promises that Cannot Fail

Summary of my sermon, based on Micah 2. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 26, 2025.

It’s unexpected that I’m in my heavy winter sweater this morning. The weather gives us a kind of justification for the sermon series we’re in now. As you know from last week, I started our Christmas series, God With Us: Advent in the Book of Micah. I want us to spend a good amount of time in this book so we can draw out the wonderful things we can learn about God.

Last week in chapter one, the prophet Micah gave an initial prophecy I called the Holy One drawing near—judgment against Israel and Judah. The imagery was earthquakes and volcanoes: the God of the universe coming down to judge his creation and, in particular, his people. Yet hundreds of years after Micah, God drew near again—this time not with earthquakes and volcanoes, but with a silent night: the Word became flesh in Jesus Christ.

It is fitting to talk about God’s judgment, because only a truly good God judges evildoers. If people can do evil without consequences, we lose any concept of right and wrong—might would make right, and only the strongest would flourish. Praise the Lord that he judges evil. The problem people have with God’s wrath is that it turns toward us. Everyone loves justice until that justice is against you. “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) Without judgment and wrath, there is no need for the gospel. But God does judge evil—therefore we do need a Savior.

The broad prophetic complaint is idolatry. “Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exodus 15:11) Yet “although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.” (Romans 1:21) This is the basic sin of humanity from which other sins flow.

In Micah 2, a specific sin surfaces:

“Woe to those who devise wickedness and work evil on their beds!
When the morning dawns, they perform it, because it is in the power of their hand.
They covet fields and seize them, and houses, and take them away;
they oppress a man and his house, a man and his inheritance.” (Micah 2:1–2)

Elites plot to seize the land of their fellow Israelites—likely the poorest and most oppressed. This brings us to social justice in Micah. “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8) That is absolutely an issue: the rich oppressing the poor, the needy neglected. But I want to be cautious not to conflate contemporary social justice with biblical social justice.

Here is the emphasis: contemporary social justice is entirely man-centered—all about human structures and human solutions. Biblical social justice has both social and theological aspects: social and theological wrongs, with social and theological resolutions. The social aspect is obvious: the rich steal land; people have their inheritance taken. The theological aspect appears in Micah’s wording: they covet. He doesn’t merely say they want fields; he calls it coveting—the Tenth Commandment: “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house… or anything that is your neighbor’s.” (Exodus 20:17) Micah intentionally ties this to the Ten Commandments as a whole.

Think of the commandments as vertical (first four: our duty to God) and horizontal (last six: our duty to one another). Keep the vertical, and the horizontal follows. Jesus said: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:37–40) To break the horizontal is to break the vertical. So David confesses, “Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.” (Psalm 51:4)

There is more. Land in Israel is not merely property; it is inheritance—a covenant sign of God’s relationship with his people. God’s promise to Abram: “To your offspring I will give this land.” (Genesis 12:7) This is codified in Israel’s law through the Jubilee: “In this year of jubilee each of you shall return to his property. And if you make a sale to your neighbor or buy from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another.” (Leviticus 25:13–14) And the foundation: “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me.” (Leviticus 25:23) To steal land is to tamper with a covenant sign; it is not only theft, it is rebellion against God.

Therefore the judgment:

“Behold, against this family I am devising disaster, from which you cannot remove your necks…
‘We are utterly ruined; he changes the portion of my people; how he removes it from me!
To an apostate he allots our fields.’
Therefore you will have none to cast the line by lot in the assembly of the LORD.” (Micah 2:3–5)

The yoke image is control you cannot throw off—foreign power, exile. Judgment extends to all Judah because the specific sin sits inside widespread idolatry. Yet notice the last line: the land-grabbers will have no advocate in the assembly of the LORD. That hints at hope: if there is an assembly to come, there will be a people to assemble.

But the rot deepens: false prophets say, “Do not preach”—they bless what God condemns. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.” (Isaiah 5:20) Here is a present example: the health, wealth, and prosperity gospel. As John MacArthur says, “Where does the prosperity gospel come from? Answer: Satan… This is satanic… the fulfillment of all your dreams and all your desires… the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life… turning temptations into somehow honorable desires.” It works because it plays into unregenerate desires—turning evil “good.” Some of the largest churches preach it. As culture in places like America grows more secular, prosperity preachers turn to the developing world—the Philippines, Africa—preying on the poor. (See, for example, Mike Winger’s long-form work calling out Benny Hinn.) In effect, they steal from the poor while distorting the gospel, making it harder for true believers to preach the true gospel.

God does not promise health, wealth, and ease; he promises his presence in suffering and ultimate restoration. “After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace… will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” (1 Peter 5:10) The true gospel is that Christ died to reconcile us to God, not to deliver our wishlist. “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God.” (1 Peter 3:18)

And Micah does not end in despair:

“I will surely assemble all of you, O Jacob; I will gather the remnant of Israel;
I will set them together like sheep in a fold, like a flock in its pasture…
He who opens the breach goes up before them… their king passes on before them, the LORD at their head.” (Micah 2:12–13)

A remnant will be gathered under a Shepherd–King. Jesus comes as the good shepherd who gathers, guides, and lays down his life for the sheep. Biblical social justice does not terminate on systems; it leads to the cross—to God giving his Son for us. It does not end with man-centered fixes (it doesn’t end with, say, pronouns in your LinkedIn profile); it ends with atonement and a new people who do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with their God.

We praise the Lord for the cross. We thank him that he has not given us merely temporal solutions to the problems of a fallen, broken world, but the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ, the promise that we will be made alive with him for eternity.

October 23, 2025October 20, 2025

When the Holy One Draws Near

Summary of my sermon, based on Micah 1. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 19, 2025.

We began with Micah 1:1–4, where the prophet introduces himself as “Micah of Moresheth” and summons the whole world to listen: “Hear, you peoples, all of you; pay attention, O earth, and all that is in it… For behold, the LORD is coming out of his place” (ESV). The scene is solemn and weighty. God draws near to judge, and creation cannot bear it: “the mountains will melt under him, and the valleys will split open, like wax before the fire, like waters poured down a steep place.” Father, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

As you can see from the passage and our title, we’re starting a new series on the book of Micah: God With Us—Advent in the Book of Micah. It may feel early—we just had Thanksgiving and it’s mid-October—but after a recent stretch in the Philippines I’m reminded they enjoy the longest Christmas season in the world, the “ber months.” I even took photos to prove it: a mall Santa in September and a countdown that read 87 days to go. That was three weeks ago. Today it’s 67 days until Christmas. In all seriousness, we’re starting now because I want us to spend a bit longer in Micah together—seven sermons, one per chapter. It’s a short book; take thirty minutes this week and read it in one sitting.

Almost everything we know about Micah is in the opening verse. He’s “of Moresheth,” a small town about 35 km southwest of Jerusalem in the Shephelah—the Judean foothills. Rural and agricultural, yes, but strategically set on the routes from Egypt to Jerusalem. So while it wasn’t Jerusalem, it wasn’t isolated; travelers passed through, and armies too. Think of a rural town along a major corridor—fields on both sides, but the highway runs straight through. Micah’s very name preaches: “Who is like Yahweh?”—a question that is really a confession. No one is like our God. His ministry spanned the reigns of Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah (roughly 750–687 BC), making him a contemporary of Isaiah. Jeremiah, a century later, tells us Micah’s warning reached Hezekiah and led to repentance (Jer. 26:17–19). Micah is a “minor prophet”—minor in length, not in importance. Their recurring pattern is judgment and deliverance, despair and hope, calling people back to repentance.

And yet the prophets are rarely preached. We love Isaiah 9:6 at Christmas—“For to us a child is born”—and Jeremiah 29:11 for encouragement. But Zephaniah’s thunder? “The great day of the LORD is near… a day of wrath… distress and anguish… darkness and gloom” (Zeph. 1:14–15, ESV). Not exactly a crowd-pleaser. Our culture tolerates—even celebrates—the judgment and wrath of cancel culture, but balks at the judgment and wrath of God. Consider Adam Smith, who in 2012 filmed himself ordering a free cup of water at Chick-fil-A as protest and berated the drive-through attendant. He lost a $200,000-a-year CFO job, was effectively blacklisted, and within a few years his family was on food stamps. The “judgment” was swift and socially acceptable. But speak of divine judgment, and people recoil. Why? Because once justice turns its gaze inward, the instinct is to look away.

How could a loving God not judge? A truly good God must not let evil go unanswered. Think of the flood-control scandal in the Philippines—bloated contracts, ghost projects, luxury cars bought with stolen funds, and the human cost measured in lives lost to preventable flooding. Some will get away with it here. Are we really okay with a God who never judges that kind of evil? Scripture says otherwise: “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil” (2 Cor. 5:10, ESV).

Back to Micah’s vision. The Holy One draws near, and creation convulses: mountains melt like wax, valleys split like water pouring down a steep place. Why? Because God is judging. “All this is for the transgression of Jacob and for the sins of the house of Israel… What is the high place of Judah? Is it not Jerusalem?” (Mic. 1:5, ESV). The sin is idolatry. Micah likens it to prostitution: taking what should be given in marital faithfulness and spending it elsewhere. Idolatry is turning to created things for sustenance, satisfaction, and joy—what we should seek from God alone. Worship misplaced.

So the verdict falls: “I will make Samaria a heap in the open country… I will pour down her stones into the valley and uncover her foundations” (Mic. 1:6, ESV). Imagine a great city flattened to vineyard-ready soil—rows where streets used to be. And it’s not only the north. “Her wound is incurable; it has come to Judah; it has reached to the gate of my people, to Jerusalem” (Mic. 1:9, ESV). The Assyrian empire stood at the border, instruments of judgment at the ready. The rest of the chapter is a series of wordplays forecasting the downfall of Judah’s towns: “Tell it not in Gath” (a play on “tell”), “roll yourselves in the dust” at Beth-le-aphrah (“house of dust”), the bitter town (Maroth) “waiting anxiously for good.” It’s poetry with a point: idols bring ruin.

Why do we need this? Because God is holy and deserves the worship we’ve withheld. “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name… worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness; tremble before him, all the earth!” (Ps. 96:7–9, ESV). He is just; therefore he judges. But here is the difference with God’s judgment: unlike cancel culture, God always pairs judgment with an off-ramp—hope and deliverance. The Holy One draws near again, centuries after Micah, and this time there are no volcanoes or earthquakes—just a manger and a quiet Judean night. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory… full of grace and truth” (John 1:14, ESV). He still judges evil—at the cross. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23, ESV). “The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 6:23, ESV). Judgment and mercy meet in Jesus; wrath is satisfied and sinners are saved.

So where is your heart as Advent nears? If you don’t yet know Christ, hear Micah’s warning and Christ’s welcome. Receive the gift. And for those who believe, don’t shy away from speaking about God’s justice. It isn’t the whole gospel—but without it, the gospel makes no sense. The world is about to turn (however faintly) toward Bethlehem. Let’s tell them why the Child came: God drew near to judge and to save, to bear wrath and bring peace. Who is like Yahweh? No one.

October 16, 2025October 20, 2025

United in the Gospel

Summary of my sermon, based on Philippians 1:27-2:4. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 12, 2025.

Our text is Philippians 1:27–2:4. Hear Paul’s charge (ESV): “Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, and not frightened in anything by your opponents… So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind… Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Unity is fragile. I remember where I was on September 11, 2001—how a moment galvanized nations. Yet the legacy of the “war on terror” is complicated. Mission creep set in: Afghanistan led to Iraq, “freedom fries” replaced French fries in some restaurants, and “mission accomplished” was declared far too soon. Two decades later, Afghanistan returned to Taliban control. That’s what mission creep does—when objectives drift, unity fractures. And this isn’t just geopolitics; it happens to churches. When our mission creeps away from the gospel, unity crumbles.

Paul gives us the basis of gospel unity: “Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ.” The phrase translated “manner of life” reflects a citizenship idea (politeuesthe)—live as citizens. He’s cueing what he’ll say later: “But our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20). Read 1:27 like this: “Let your conduct as heavenly citizens be worthy of the gospel.” Why this framing?

First, citizenship speaks to duty. In earthly civic life we obey laws, pay taxes, serve on juries, vote, stay informed. In the same way, our heavenly citizenship carries responsibilities, not just benefits. Today, citizenship talk often centers on benefits. I’ve seen it up close: many reacquire Philippine citizenship primarily for property rights. Benefits matter, but if that is all citizenship means, something vital is lost. Many Christians think of heavenly citizenship the same way—deliverance from hell, mansions in glory, and for some, invented “benefits” like guaranteed wealth and health. But Scripture calls us to responsibilities too: “Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Eph. 4:1). Benefits are real and glorious; duty is real, too.

Second, citizenship warns against dual allegiances. Roman citizenship in Paul’s day was costly and coveted (see Acts 22:27–28), and it could easily eclipse heavenly priorities. Paul redirects the Philippians: live according to the gospel, not the shifting demands of society. We see what happens when churches let society set the agenda. I think of a nearby congregation that once had a self-professed atheist minister and now organizes around values untethered from the gospel. It looks more like a social club—nice people, a knitting circle—but with little affection for Jesus. What’s the point of meeting weekly if not to know, love, and obey Christ? When earthly agendas dominate, gospel unity dissolves.

What happens when we are united in the gospel? Paul says it plainly: “…not frightened in anything by your opponents” (Phil. 1:28). Gospel unity produces courage because it provokes opposition. The very existence of a holy, united church is “a clear sign… of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God” (v. 28). That’s hard truth. The gospel divides. As John 3:36 says, “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.” No wonder the world pushes back.

Yet we need not fear. “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isa. 41:10). “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Tim. 1:7). And Paul goes further: suffering for Christ is not an accident; it is a gift. “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake” (Phil. 1:29). How can suffering be a gift? Because it brings reward: “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial… he will receive the crown of life” (Jas. 1:12). Because it re-weights our hearts: “This light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17). And because it shapes us now: “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope… because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 5:3–5).

We don’t have to look far to see a world groaning—earthquakes, storms, disease, lonely deaths. I recently watched a story from a Japanese cleaning company that specializes in “kodokushi,” lonely deaths where people go undiscovered for weeks. The owner, also a Buddhist monk, performed rites and told a grieving sister he hoped her brother would enter Nirvana. She replied, “I hope he is able to enter heaven.” That aching uncertainty is everywhere apart from Christ. The world is full of suffering; we need the living hope of the gospel, and we need each other—united—to endure and witness.

How then do we maintain gospel unity? Paul repeats himself for emphasis: “Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind” (Phil. 2:2). He knows division can destroy a church. He pleads elsewhere, “that there be no divisions among you… for it has been reported to me… that there is quarreling among you” (1 Cor. 1:10–11). Unity is not optional; it is essential to faithfulness and mission.

And he tells us how, with simple, searching commands: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Phil. 2:3–4). That’s the way. Lay down selfish ambition. Refuse conceit. Cultivate humility. Consider others as more significant. Look to their interests. If each of us looks out for the others, all needs are met and unity is preserved.

It also happens to be Thanksgiving. Gratitude steadies unity. “Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship with reverence and awe” (Heb. 12:28–29). We have received an unshakable kingdom. So, let’s live as heavenly citizens worthy of the gospel, stand firm in one Spirit, strive side by side, refuse fear, embrace the gift of suffering, and, in humility, look to the interests of one another—with reverence, awe, and thanksgiving.

September 18, 2025October 20, 2025

Called to True Repentance

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:35–48. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on September 14, 2025.

This morning we looked at Luke 12:35–40, where Jesus tells His disciples, “Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the wedding feast, so that they may open the door to him at once when he comes and knocks.” His message is simple: always be ready. We don’t know the day or the hour of His return, so every moment of our lives ought to be lived in readiness.

The preacher reminded us that this is not a new call for God’s people. Many Christians in the last century looked at world events and believed the Lord’s return was near. On November 29, 1947, the United Nations voted to establish a Jewish homeland after nearly 1,800 years of exile. For Bible-believing Christians, this looked like a direct fulfillment of prophecy, like Amos 9:14–15 where God promised to plant His people back in their land never to be uprooted again. If Israel was back in their homeland, many believed the rapture was just around the corner. Nearly eighty years have passed, and while some things have come to pass, others like the rebuilding of the temple have not. But Scripture reminds us in 2 Peter 3:8–9 that God’s timing is not like ours: “With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” What seems slow to us is actually God’s mercy, giving time for more to come to repentance.

Of course, Christians have understood prophecy in different ways. Some see the millennium as a literal thousand years still to come, others see it as symbolic of the present church age, and still others see it as the spread of the gospel before Christ returns. But whatever our viewpoint, one truth remains the same: Jesus is coming again. We may debate the details, but we cannot ignore the command to be ready.

Jesus uses two pictures to describe readiness. He says, “Stay dressed for action,” or as the old translations put it, “gird up your loins.” In those days, men wore long robes that would get in the way of work or travel, so they would tuck them up into their belts so they could move freely. To stay dressed for action means to live ready, unentangled, unhindered, able to obey quickly. Then He says, “Keep your lamps burning.” In other words, don’t let your faith burn low. Don’t grow drowsy in your walk with God. Be alert, be awake, because He could come at any moment.

And then Jesus gives a surprising promise. He says that when the master returns and finds his servants awake, “Truly, I say to you, he will dress himself for service and have them recline at table, and he will come and serve them.” That is astonishing. The servants are the ones who ought to serve, but here the Master serves them. What a picture of the blessing Christ will give to those who remain faithful and ready.

But there is also a sobering side. Jesus says His coming will be like a thief in the night. You don’t get a calendar notice for when a thief will show up; he comes suddenly. That’s how Christ’s return will be—unexpected, swift, like lightning flashing across the sky.

Peter wanted to know if this warning was just for the apostles, but Jesus’ answer shows it is for everyone. Every servant will give an account. The servant who knows his master’s will and ignores it will be judged severely. The one who is careless with what he has been given will also be held responsible. And then Jesus lays down the principle: “Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required.” Week after week we hear the Word of God. That is a gift, but it also carries responsibility. We cannot treat His Word lightly.

The call is clear. Live watchfully. Keep your faith burning. Be faithful in what God has given you. Christ could come at any moment, or our life could end at any moment. Either way, the question remains: will He find us ready?

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.