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Well, I've entitled this message, First Love, and I hope that becomes very clear as we work through a few different passages.
It is tied to Revelation 2, verses 1 through 5, but I won't have you turn there quite just yet.
We'll actually begin somewhere else. Our theme for this year's retreat is putting away idols.
Brother Ken, this morning, began the first of two messages from Romans 1. And, of course,
Romans 1 gives us the opportunity to hear about idolatry all around us, to understand why our culture, why the days we're living in, have taken the course they have taken.
And so, while we're looking at idolatry without my task this evening, we'll begin where we have to begin.
The first principle, the first commandment, the greatest commandment. And so, we'll look first at the first love of our law.
The first love of our law. In other words, the first love that our law commands. And then, secondly, we'll look at the first love of our labor.
And then, lastly, the first love of our Lord. So, the first love of our law.
The law which the Lord gave us could be summarized in two commandments. Jesus himself said, the first and great commandment, which itself could be summarized in two words, which is really first love.
Remember, Paul the Apostle said, love is the fulfillment of the law. So, the whole law can be comprehended in this word, love.
First, love the Lord your God. And the second commandment is like it, to love your neighbor as yourself.
If you look at Mark chapter 12, beginning in verse 28, we'll begin with the first love of our law.
Mark chapter 12, beginning in verse 28. Then one of the scribes came, and having heard them reasoning together, perceiving that he had answered them well, asked him, which is the first commandment of all?
We begin with a scribe asking an honest question. Now, we can see that.
This scribe, having heard them reasoning together, perceiving that Jesus had answered them well.
So, in his mind, if Jesus can answer that, then surely he could answer this. He had his eyes cracked open just enough to recognize the authority and the wisdom of Jesus.
And so, even if he's breaking the quorum, he can't help but ask this burning question. What is the greatest requirement of the
Lord God upon us? What's the first and greatest commandment?
Out of all the things that we are commanded to obey, out of all the ways that we are called to walk, what's the first?
What's the greatest? What's above them all? And Jesus answered him and said, the first of all the commandments is, hear,
O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the
Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strengths.
This is the first commandment. And in verse 32, we see the response of the scribe.
Well said, teacher. You have spoken the truth for there is one
God and there is no other but he. Now, that sounds a lot like what? The first commandment.
You shall have no other God before me. So the scribe is recognizing, you have rightly understood, the first commandment really holds together all of the commandments, which holds together all of the law of God.
The first and great commandment is to love the Lord our God. Please notice, the first commandment is not, you shall obey the
Lord your God. That's certainly there. In fact, the word commandment implies obedience.
Think of what we're memorizing. We haven't come to the very end of Joshua 24 in many of the recitations, but we will obey is the end.
That's what you do to a command. But notice the language here. What's the first and great requirement?
To love the Lord your God. First, love. You shall love the
Lord your God. This is the first love of our law. To love the
Lord our God. The old Scottish Puritan, Charles Calhoun, put it this way, the love of God to man is the sum of the gospel.
The love of man to God is the sum of the law. That's what the law is requiring, that you would love the
Lord your God. And very clearly, this first and great commandment, to have no other
God but God, and to love the Lord God with all that we are, and with all that we have, raises the issue of idolatry, which is the issue we're looking at intensely this weekend.
Question 53 in the larger catechism asks, what is forbidden in the first commandment? And the answer in part is the first commandment forbids us to deny or not to worship and glorify the true
God as God and our God, and to give that worship and glory to any other which is due unto him alone.
We are forbidden to deny the glory of the true and only God, to take that glory and ascribe it or direct it toward any other thing but him and him alone.
That is breaking the first and great commandment. To love anything more than we love
God, to value, to delight in, to seek after, anything other than the living
God is idolatry. And the people of God are, of course, constantly surrounded by false loves, false gods.
Ancient gods, of course, are a little different than modern gods. Ancient gods were seen as having control over fertility, or reigns, or agricultural productivity, or over victory in war.
Most of these gods were pinned in the ancient mind to geographical boundaries. But irregardless, they were all worshipped for pragmatic reasons.
Almost never were the ancient idols worshipped for their intrinsic beauty. In fact, if you see some of the carvings, some of the statues, they're quite ugly.
They're quite hideous. They were never worshipped for their inherent goodness. They were often malevolent, fickle.
You had to sacrifice a lot and keep keeping up praise and maybe even make a whip like the prophets of Baal and strike across your back.
You had to do something to gain their attention and their favor. Why would you do that? Why would you sacrifice or even injure yourself?
Because of what they offered. Idols always offer control. They offer wealth, prosperity.
They offer fulfillment. It's because of what idols offer. It's because of what idols promise that idols receive worship.
So in antiquity, of course, these hostile, capricious gods were appeased with many sacrifices so that they wouldn't outpour their wrath but rather bestow their favor.
That was largely because of the powers they possessed or the benefits they could bestow. And to put it simply, they were means to an end.
I don't know that these ancient idols were actually loved so much in the same way that the ancient gods manipulated man.
Man sought to manipulate the ancient gods. They were means to a desired end.
As far as we can read from Acts 17, the pagan was always on the lookout for a new god to serve. In other words, a new god to use.
I need a new idol, a new tactic, a new avenue to get the thing that I need, to get the thing that promises me fulfillment.
Now, of course, we may not bow down to carved statues and temples today, but we can certainly have a false love.
We certainly hear the whispers of a false offer, of a false promise. As we heard this morning, we're often being tantalized for a foolish exchange.
Again, we can have a false god that we pursue and desire and enjoy before the one true god.
And the Lord says, there is no other. Before me, he says in Isaiah 43. Think of where that's going in Isaiah 44.
The foolish sculptor that worships what he makes. Before me, there was no god formed, nor will there be any after me.
I, even I am the Lord. Beside me, there is no other. That is the point.
Moses declares in Deuteronomy 4, Know this day, consider it in your heart. The Lord himself is
God in heaven above and on earth beneath. There is no other. Why would you go to worship the gods of the
Amorites? There is no other god. Why would you go and worship the idols that your fathers worshipped?
There is no other god. And so the conclusion, you shall have no other gods before me, rests in the fact that there are no other gods.
God alone is worthy of worship and glory and honor. And of course, even that demand, you shall have no other gods before me,
I shall be your first love, is predicated on what?
In the scope of the Decalogue, in the scope of how the law is given, that great demand is predicated on this.
I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.
We'll see that again on Sunday morning, as you've been memorizing it in Joshua 24. What Joshua puts before the people is not the mere bare fact of God being
God alone, but the redemptive work of this God. This is the God who brought us up out of Egypt.
This is the God who delivered us, who freed us from bondage. This is going to be a major point in tomorrow night's message.
When we separate being taken out of Egypt from the command to have no other gods, we end up meddling with and blurring the sharp contrast of true worship and false worship.
God acted in history for the sake of Israel, for the sake of the promise he had given first to the woman and to her seed through Abraham.
And God delivered Israel, made them his own people. He singled them out. He distinguished them from all other peoples on the face of the earth.
They were rescued into this relationship with him. We'll see it in a moment in Jeremiah 2. That result of rescue was also a call of worship.
Because I brought you out and revealed my salvation to you, brought you into this covenant relationship with myself, you shall have no other gods before me.
This is why the marriage relationship, as we heard even about natural relations this morning from Romans 1, is always tied into the issue of idolatry and exclusivity.
What is marriage if it's not a picture of absolute exclusivity? Wife, not wife, not wife, not wife, not wife.
Husband, not husband, not husband, not husband, not husband. Marriage is a picture of absolute exclusivity.
Marriage is a relationship which excludes all others. Nothing else is to impinge or invade the exclusivity of that bond.
And that is a metaphorical picture of the relationship God's people are to have to him, to worship and commune and enjoy him and him alone.
Now, that's the first love of our law. That sets the widest contour.
If you have your Bibles, turn to Revelation chapter 2. And as you turn there, let me give you some context.
Revelation 2, of course, begins the letters to the seven churches. The seven churches in Revelation chapters 2 and 3 are, of course, literal historical congregations.
They were spread across Asia Minor. They each, as we read, have unique characteristics, unique challenges.
They have unique exhortations and unique promises. Having said that, these historic literal congregations from the first century are also held out symbolically, or we could perhaps say universally.
The number seven, of course, in a book that's replete with numerical symbology, is a number of wholeness or completeness.
And therefore, the messages that are sent to these seven churches are also a message for the church entire.
The church everywhere, in all times. And Revelation 2 begins with the letter to the church at Ephesus.
Ephesus was a very important Roman seaport, a very wealthy place of trade.
It was a major province in Asia Minor. And perhaps it was most famous for its temple to Artemis, or what the
Romans called Diana. This massive, 425 -foot -long temple that was one of the ancient wonders of the world.
And if you want some context about that, you can see how it fueled the whole Ephesian economy, just by reading
Acts 19. How riots break out in Ephesus because the preaching of the gospel is beginning to pinch the economy of idolatry in Ephesus.
I was in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples last month, and we came to a miniature of the statue of Artemis.
It was modeled in the first century after the likeness of the full idol in that temple, and it's hideous.
Don't Google it now, but it has a really bizarre midsection, and I'll spare you the details of what's going on in that midsection.
This is the idol that caused Paul to be vexed, as he was in Athens. This is the idolatrous commerce and worship and temple prostitution that led to the preaching of the gospel and the planting of the church at Ephesus.
And when we're reading Revelation 2, we're looking at an established church that has been weathering the storm of idolatry in service of the gospel for decades after Paul had planted.
And this is what the Lord says to this church in Ephesus. To the angel, or to the messenger of the church of Ephesus, write,
These things says he who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks in the midst of the seven golden lampstands.
We're told at the end of chapter 1 that the seven golden lampstands are these seven churches.
It is the Lord, speaking to John, who's walking in the midst of the churches as he addresses them in the writing.
And this is what he says to the Ephesians. I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil.
And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them to be liars.
And you have persevered and have patience and have labored for my name's sake and have not become weary.
Let's pause there. So far, so good. Look at what they have going for them.
Look at what they have accomplished. I know your works, your labor.
Pay attention to that word labor. It's going to be repeated again at the end. The one thing that could define this church in Ephesus is the labor.
They are a working church. I know those works, the Lord says. I see that labor. And what is that labor coupled with?
Patience. It's not easy to be a gospel -centered church in a city like Ephesus.
There's a lot of influence. If Paul planted it and there was a riot in the arena, what would it have been like to maintain that ministry after Paul had left?
There's a lot of pressure. There's a lot of opposition. The whole economy is set against you.
Every convert is painting a bullseye on their back and perhaps a target on the church.
But what does this church do? They labor in patience. They can't bear those who are evil.
Look at this holy zeal. They're working. They're being patient, but they're not being passive.
In fact, they hate the evil around them. They detest it. They can't bear it.
They've even seen the evil creep into their midst. They've tested those who came in saying, look, we're apostles, and found them to be liars.
How do you find a false apostle to be a liar? Well, there's really only one way.
You have to hold the word of God against the things that they're teaching. So here's a church that labors patiently, is vexed about the evil around them and the evil within them, who knows the word because they can test the prophets to see whether what they're teaching is true.
This is like the noble Bereans. And you've persevered.
They're not waving the flag. They're just getting going. And again, repetition.
They're still patient. And repetition again. They're laboring for the name of Christ.
You have labored for my name's sake. And if we missed the perseverance, if we missed the patience, you've not become weary.
Is this the kind of church you'd want to join? Is this the kind of church that you'd want to print out posters about and put them on your wall and tell every other church in Asia Minor, that's your model.
That's your example. That's what it looks like. By all accounts, this is a strong church.
And you can almost imagine the messenger to the church of Ephesus reading this letter from the
Lord up to verse 3, and the warm fuzzies are washing over the congregation. And they're all beginning to half -smile and pad their shoulder and think, we really are an amazing church, aren't we?
And then you come to the scandal of verse 4. Nevertheless, I have this against you.
You have left your first love. What do we make of verse 4?
How could a church like this leave their first love?
They're laboring. They're persevering. They're patient. They're against evil within and evil without.
They're laboring. They're patient. They're not growing weary. And they've left their first love.
The Lord is present. The Holy One has drawn near. He's weighing everything in the balance.
He's the one walking through their midst. They're laboring for His name's sake.
And they can no longer even detect His presence. The Lord is present.
He's walking in the midst of them. That's what we read. So says He who holds the stars in His hands, who walks in the midst of the seven lampstands.
He's walking in the midst of the churches. And He finds the church, the mighty church, the patient church, the laboring church of Ephesus, to have forsaken
Him in their affections. They've left their first love. That word left is not some haphazard departure.
It's the Greek term aphiemi. It's used elsewhere to describe divorce. I know some people in this church have grown up as children of divorce.
And maybe even now or maybe you have memories of times where you were in the house and mom and dad were there.
They were dwelling in the same place, but they were estranged. They were in the same place, but there was no affection.
You could use this word, this Greek verb, to describe that reality.
They were in the same place. They were dwelling together, but really the wife had left.
This marital imagery is taken up throughout the prophets. When God prosecutes
His people for leaving them, for forsaking them, He does it with marital imagery.
Jeremiah chapter 2, you could turn there if you'd like. Jeremiah chapter 2, beginning at verse 1.
Moreover, the word of the Lord came to me saying, go and cry in the hearing of Jerusalem saying, thus says the
Lord, I remember you, the kindness of your youth, the love of your betrothal.
When you went after me in the wilderness, in a land not sown. Israel was holiness to the
Lord. Do you see what the prophet is describing? It's the
Lord in this marital imagery, describing His covenantal relationship to His people.
Israel, I remember what it was like when I first met you. He's using this language.
Think of some couple, some old man, and he's reminiscing of his wife of youth, and he's saying,
I'll never forget the day that I met her. How kind she was. How loving she was.
She chased me. I had nothing to offer. We lived in a cardboard box and she went after me.
And we're all meant to go, aww. Then the old man says, not anymore.
She left me a long time ago. Now we're just in the same place, but there's no love.
Her heart is far from me. The Lord is saying of His people,
I remember what it was like when you went after me, when you were my betrothed.
And it wasn't because of the benefits. There weren't many benefits. You were just chasing me into the wilderness. But even then, you were holy to me.
Israel was holiness to the Lord. This is the love of betrothal when they went after Him.
This ought to remind you, brother or sister, of what it was like when you first came to the
Lord. And those affections began to sparkle. And honestly,
He could have put His finger in any direction and you would have run. Just say, where,
Lord? If you go, I go. Wilderness, fire, tempest, trial, come what may.
There was that zeal, that hunger. He called you to follow Him in the weary wilderness of the world and you went running after Him.
You were betrothed to Him. You were head over heels in love with Him. The church at Ephesus used to be like that.
The Israelites used to be like that. And then they forgot the wonders of the
Lord, the things that He did in their sight. All the fruit of their labor and the success of their hand and the blessings of God that flowed down to them across the generations began to eclipse
His very presence. They no longer remembered who their God was. And the reason for this is very clear.
In the context of Jeremiah 2, much like the context of Revelation 2, the reason for this is singular.
It's idolatry. Look at verses 7 and following.
I brought you into a bountiful country. So now the bride, this madly in love bride is taken out of that wilderness and she's followed
Him into a bountiful country. They've arrived now, this dwelling place where they can dwell in the goodness of the
Lord. I brought you into a bountiful country to eat its fruits and its goodness. But when you entered, you defiled my land.
You made my heritage an abomination. The priests did not say, where's the
Lord? Those who handle the law didn't know me. The rulers transgressed against me.
The prophets prophesied by bail. They walked after things that don't profit, worthless carvings.
And let me just draw your attention back to verse 8. The priests did not say, where's the
Lord? Those who handle the law didn't even know me.
The scribes that study the Word of God, painstakingly transcribing, theologically debating every facet, every jot and tittle, didn't even know the
God who gave the law. The priests who were tasked with all of the ritual boundaries of holiness, going through morning and evening sacrifice, directing the holy feasts unto the
Lord, drawing the people into the presence of the temple dwelling. They never once said, where is the
Lord? Where is His presence? How bad is the state of things when priests don't ask, where's the
Lord? How could that possibly be? Do you want to know how that happens?
Do you want to know why that happens? They don't ask about the
Lord's presence because they don't care about the Lord's presence. There's something else that's satisfying them, that's calling them, something else they're driving towards, something else that's moving them.
They don't ask about the Lord's presence because they don't care about the Lord's absence.
Sacrifice continues, temple ritual continues, the singing of the halal continues, the rote memorization of Deuteronomy 6 continues, and God's indictment of all of that is, these people worship me with their lips, but their hearts, their first love is far from me.
Priests don't even care. Lawgivers don't even know. Now what does that look like in a church?
Well, we see it in the Church of Ephesus, don't we? Maybe we could see it in the mirror in a church like ours.
Perhaps it looks like, assuming our worship must be acceptable to God.
Why? Because we offer it from a heart that's been convicted of sin and has pled for mercy at the throne of grace?
No, no, no, no, no. Because we follow the regulative principle, that's acceptable worship.
Where capital R reforms with the hallmark, isn't that what renders praise acceptable?
I've got the right rubric of theology. I'm in the right stream of tradition.
Surely, everything I offer is acceptable as a result of that. These priests, these law handlers were not in the wrong tradition.
You can read John 4. Salvation is of the Jews. The Samaritans got it wrong. They're not in the wrong tradition.
They're in the right place. They're literally in the place God commanded to be built and they don't even fear his absence.
They don't even care to ask about his presence. They wouldn't know his presence from his absence.
That's going on in the church in Ephesus. Is it going on in a church like ours?
Again, how bad is the state of things when priests don't ask, where is the
Lord? It's as bad as a church that is persevering patiently, laboring in great endeavors, carrying on great effort, but has left their first love.
I know your works, your labor, your patience. You can't bear those who are evil.
You've tested those who are false apostles. You've persevered and you haven't grown weary. How is it that a church could be so accomplished on the one hand and so lost on the other?
What are they laboring for? What are they persevering to? They labor in their mind for his name's sake, but they don't even know he who has that name.
We read they haven't become weary and honestly, that's the most puzzling part of this passage to me.
I don't think a church can persevere in all of these strengths for long if the presence of the
Lord is not found among them. Isn't that the threat that comes? I'll remove the lampstand.
How is it that they're patient and persevering and haven't become weary? I want to just simply ask, but why?
Why are they working so hard? Why are they laboring so long? Why are they so enduring and persevering and patient?
For what? If they don't even know the Lord's presence or the Lord's absence, if they don't even have him as their first love, why are they doing all of that?
Why? Maybe you've seen that viral video clip. You could
Google it, don't do it now, by simply typing in penguin climbing mountain. I'm looking for faint smiles of recognition.
It was a clip taken from a documentary by Werner Herzog called Encounters at the
End of the World. He was in the Arctic and he's surveying all sorts of creatures and just survival on the end of the world.
And he notices this penguin that kept on fleeing from its colony and just trudging along up this mountainscape to imminent death at a certain point in time.
There was nothing but 5 ,000 kilometers of wasteland ahead of it, no food sources, no warmth or protection from the elements or from predators.
And so Werner Herzog, pointing his camera in this direction, as you see this huddle of penguins in this one, just marching forward to mountains that are 170 kilometers away, just on a mission.
And he said, one of them caught our eye, the one in the center. He would neither go towards the feeding ground at the edge of the ice nor return to the colony.
Shortly afterwards, we saw him heading straight toward the mountains, 70 kilometers away.
Dr. Ainley with us explained that even if we caught him and brought him back to the colony, he would immediately turn and head back to the mountains.
And Herzog says, but why? There's no answer.
It's trudging along with great effort and perseverance. He almost thinks it was rushing in urgency to get somewhere.
But why? It was rushing, trudging, persevering headlong into death.
The church in Ephesus is persevering. But why? The church in Ephesus is laboring with patience.
But why? Grace Reformation Bible Church is trudging along in duty.
Again, how is it that a church could be so accomplished on the one hand and so lost on the other?
It is simply this, they left their first love.
They left their first love. You see how idolatry affects us.
It estranges us from the presence of the Lord. When we give ourselves over to new affections, to new inclinations, when we, in other language, bow down before other gods, the true and only
God becomes a stranger to us. The more we seek to direct our lives, our goals, our animations toward these false gods, the more the real
God becomes false to us. Even if he's walking in our midst as he is here in the
Ephesian church, they don't know him. And so we go on with God estranged because of our idolatry.
We struggling to know why we're beginning to feel weary, why we're no longer persevering, why it's too hard to do works for his namesake.
The Lord in Jeremiah 2 states, the very people who should most know him no longer know him.
The priests don't say, where is he? The lawgivers don't even know him. Doesn't that sound to you a lot like what
Jesus said? Many, many will come to me on that last day and say, Lord, didn't we do all of these great things in your name?
But what does he say? I never knew you. He doesn't say wrong
God, wrong name, wrong direction, wrong tradition, wrong theology.
He doesn't say any of that. He simply says, I never knew you. How do we account for the church in Ephesus?
How can we make sense of how a church so accomplished, so resilient, honestly, at least up to verse 3, so faithful?
How can we account for it? I've struggled to come up with an answer, and this is about the best
I can do. The church in Ephesus had taken their eyes off of the
Lord they were laboring for and made a Lord out of their labors.
Let me say that again. The church at Ephesus had taken their eyes off of the
Lord they were laboring for and instead made a Lord out of their labors.
We did many works in your name. I never knew you.
You must have been worshiping those works that you did. Those were the things that fulfilled your life.
Those were the things that you sought to create meaning and satisfaction by. Those are the things that you delighted in, but not because you delighted in me.
In fact, you didn't even know me. You just kept going through the rituals. You never loved me.
I wasn't your first love, maybe not even your second or third love. I was a convenient love when and where I could fit into every other gap between your desires and ambitions and hopes and dreams.
This church in Ephesus had a love not for the Lord any longer, but for the work and the progress and the reputation that came with it.
This is the essence of idolatry. It's the idols that we don't like to talk about very much, but if we have any idols, we have these idols.
The idol of accomplishment. The idol of success. The idol of respectability.
Aren't these the most powerful forces in our lives? We attribute so much of our cowardice to the fear of man.
Let me tell you, brothers and sisters, that it's not so much the fear of man that makes us cowards. It's the love of self that makes us cowards.
It's not that we're afraid of these big, scary strangers. It's we love ourselves too much to be thought of differently.
I love my name. I love my reputation. I love my perception. I love my effect.
I love my comfort. That's the idolatry behind fear of man.
It's the idol of respectability. Aren't these the kinds of idols that John Newton calls in his hymn, the hidden evils of my heart?
The hidden evils of my heart. The evils that you could probably never quite see them for what they are.
You remember that great moment at the beginning of Lord of the Rings when, of course,
Bilbo, as an old man, has the ring. And he's weathered the burden of that through his long life.
And as an elderly man now, he knows this ring must be destroyed. And he's wrestling over this. And there's that wonderful little moment when you think he's so genteel, so composed, so polished.
He's been through it all. He's weathered it all. He's learned all of the life lessons. He almost seems dauntless.
He almost seems invulnerable to any sort of temptation or weakness. You think the ring for him would almost be nothing.
And there's that moment when Frodo has it out, and he sees it, and his whole face contorts. He becomes an entirely different creature.
That's the hidden evil of the heart. You almost couldn't perceive it, but in a flash like that, in a hurt feeling, in a snipe, in a haunting memory, in a sideways glance, you're driving along, and someone comes in your mind, and all of a sudden, your smile sours.
It's the hidden evil in the heart. Consider the idol of being regarded simply as a good person.
That is an idol that controls a lot of people's lives. And even though week by week, they're becoming worse and worse of a human being, they claim more and more boldly,
I'm a good person! I'm a good person! And those around them are going,
Ugh! I remember seeing this body cam footage. I watched some inane things, but you get sermon material out of it.
It was body cam footage of first responders to a motel in Kentucky. And the manager was very concerned that a man had barricaded himself in the motel room, and he was not in his right mind.
And he probably had been using bath salts and some other things. And he had a history of improvising explosive devices.
And so the manager said, you know, we're kind of uncomfortable about what's going on in that room. We don't want to press down the door.
You might want to call the bomb squad. The officers are like, we've dealt with this guy before. We'll take care of it. So they're knocking on the door, hounding him to come out.
They get the door cracked, and they basically force it open. And as they do, these explosives go off. And this man, who's completely unclothed, begins screaming in terror and in rage.
And there's three officers trying to wrestle him to the ground. And he's not at all in his right mind. And they're basically throwing coats over him as they're trying to get him into handcuffs, and they're escorting him out.
There's this wonderful moment in that scene where they're all coming. It's all on the chest cam footage. And a maid opens the door, and then she just closes it.
It's like, nope. I'm calling out for the rest of the day. And my favorite moment is when they have this guy hunched over, and they're about to force him into the squad car.
And he's crying, and he's obviously in great duress. And he says, I'm a good person.
Rigging your motel door with explosives and wrestling three officers. And as the ship is sinking, your last cry is,
I'm a good person. I'm better than a lot of people I know. Do you see the hidden evil of our hearts, of our self -flattery?
John Owen describes the heart as a hornet's nest of evil. How do you come against a hornet's nest?
You might have a stray buzzing, a stray comment. You're with someone, and they just have a little vent or a little rant about someone.
That's like a hornet buzzing by. Ugh. Do you know what's actually going on in their heart?
It's not that singular hornet that just goes around in solitude, and then lands and comes out every now and then.
What's actually going in their heart is what Owen calls a hornet's nest. If you could take the wall panels away from their heart, you would see the hideous, convulsing source of all sorts of evil thoughts and jealousies and wrath.
It's the idol of respectability, the idol of a good reputation, the idol of being perceived well, the idol of man's praise.
What's the idol behind all of that idolatry? It's the idol of pride. I think the church at Ephesus was a prideful church, and they inflated so much in their own estimation as being the product of Paul, the apostle's labors in Ephesus and weathering the storm, trudging forward, bearing through it all, laboring for his namesake.
Their ego and pride had inflated so much, they no longer had any room for the Lord himself.
Jonathan Edwards, when he was describing in 1737 the account of the great awakenings, of course, he's on scene, and he writes several treatises trying to describe and reflect what was happening, and then years would go by, and as he reflected on it, he would begin to criticize certain elements of this great revival movement.
And he wrote a treatise called The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God, because he saw what happened when genuine revival began to decay into pride.
And he said pride is the worst viper in the heart. It's the first sin that ever entered into the universe.
Pride was the sin of Lucifer. It lies at the lowest foundation of the whole building of sin.
It's the most secretive, the most deceitful, the most unsearchable in all the ways of its workings.
You cannot trace it in any of your lusts whatsoever, but it's always ready to mix with everything. And nothing is so hateful to God.
Nothing is so contrary to the spirit of the gospel. Nothing has a more dangerous consequence.
There is no sin that so much invites the devil into the hearts of saints as pride.
Jonathan Edwards was describing this as the effect of the radical growth and labor and perseverance and good labor in the name of the
Lord. He was calling out the pride that began to ignore the very presence of God himself.
This is the great sin of the loveless church of Ephesus. Pride is the aching of a church's fellowship.
Do you want to know why I hate glimmers of pride that I see in some of your lives?
The only reason I even see it and the only reason I hate it is because of my own pride.
It's my pride that causes me to notice and then to be offended by other people's pride.
Pride is the idol behind all idolatry. Whatever other
God we may serve, pride is the idol that always gets worshipped. Whenever we devote ourselves toward anything else, we look at this laboring, persevering, unwearying church in Revelation 2, we could almost wish up to verse 3 that we could just be a part of it.
We almost want to cry and say, Lord, do it again. Make us a church like that. And there's a lot of churches that frankly would settle to have that kind of bio, whether or not the
Lord is present with them. Give us a name. Give us a reputation.
Give us something to hang our hat on. We want to rest in our labors. We want a glory in our strength.
We want to have all the accolades and all the wisdom. We want to be able to direct every other church and be able to pinpoint what they're doing wrong that we're doing right.
We want to hold everything in great contrast and array. And if anyone's doing something better than us, it's actually just their own pride and foolishness.
It's never ours. We look at this laboring, persevering, unwearying church in Revelation 2, and we realize even the most godly labors and endeavors may be fueled by a godless pride.
And this will inevitably pull our hearts toward the fruit of our labor and away from the
Lord of the harvest. So what can we do? What must we do? We're going to explore the answer to that question more fully tomorrow night.
And it has a lot to do tomorrow night with this one word that we have in verse 5. Remember.
Take that as a preview and a bookmark for tomorrow night. Remember. But leaving that aside for the moment,
Revelation 2 actually tells us what must be done. Remember, therefore, from where you have fallen.
Repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly. Take away your lampstand from its place unless you repent.
This was a church that labored, labored. The Lord says to this church, repent, repent.
We read, remember from where you have fallen. Is that the place as if it was some specific sin or failure?
No, I think it's the state. Remember the state from which you've fallen. Remember what you used to be like, church at Ephesus.
Remember what worship for you used to be like. Remember what opening
God's word for you used to be like. Remember what praying to God used to be like.
Remember what sitting with brothers and sisters and hearing testimonies and seeking to give a word of grace used to be like.
And remember that place because you've fallen from it. So repent and do the things you used to do, the first works, when you had me as your first love.
Essentially, the Lord, just like he is wooing in Jeremiah 2, is saying, do you remember when we first met?
When you were running after me headlong and there was no obstacle you wouldn't overcome to commune with me.
Remember how that used to be your chief joy? Remember how it electrified the rest of your day?
You couldn't wait to speak about me and then meet me all over again. Lunch break couldn't come quick enough because you could get to that next page in what you were reading about me.
Prayer times were full of relish and power. Fellowship left you with a bounce in your step.
Do you remember what it was like when you first loved me? The bookends of repentance here point us to what's in between them.
It's the first works. This is how repentance will actually be shown.
Repent, do the first works, repent. Repentance is going to be seen. It's going to be evident in doing those first works, the kind of works you did and the way you did them when you first loved me before you fell from that place.
Do you remember that place? You've forgotten my presence, you've forgotten me.
Did you forget what it was like when we first met? The first works of that first love was almost fully contained, brother and sister, in the way that you used and you sought and you enjoyed the means of grace.
Was it not? Those means of grace of sitting under the word, of reading the word, of praying, of Christian fellowship, you sought it out, you used it, you enjoyed it.
Those were the first works that were flowing out of your first love. Remember how life -giving that was to you?
Can we all just agree that we won't cop out and say, yeah, but this is just a season. It's just a trial of weariness.
Sometimes there's just dryness in the Christian life. Are we not honest enough with ourselves to say,
I've left my first love. That's why the word is closed.
That's why prayers ring hollow if they're offered up at all. That's why Christian fellowship is not only dull but annoying.
I left my first love. The means of grace back then weren't merit badges you put on your
Christian Boy Scout vest. The means of grace were avenues of the love you received from God and tokens of the love you had for God.
This is how I receive love from Him. This is how I show love toward Him. I love Him. I remember sitting at a restaurant that's closed in Leominster with a friend from the bookstore.
And I was just sitting there. I almost couldn't sit still saying, surely there's something we can do.
Something we can do. Let's go to Nashua. Aren't some places open past midnight? Let's go outside bars and just witness to drunks.
I love Him. And then we can become zombified season after season.
It's just a trial. This is just a Christian life. At some point the Lord is in your midst and He's saying, you're laboring,
I'll give you that. You're maintaining the duty, I'll give you that. You're even persevering without complaining.
You're not showing weariness, I'll give you that. You're a priest who doesn't even ask where I am.
You handle the law. You don't even know me. You're not looking for me.
You used to look for me. It was the power of that first love that was transformative, was it not?
The Apostle John is calling for us to remember that place we fell from. He's doing it to the whole church in Ephesus, and He's doing it to each one of us here tonight.
Do you remember that place? Do you remember those first works that flowed so free, returned so rich?
Those days of your first love? Of course, we cannot conjure up the feelings.
We also cannot continue to walk in this gradual charade of labor, and labor, and labor.
If we're to remember the place that we fell from, when we left our first love, we need to remember what
John is pointing us to. The widest contour is the first love of our law, that we should love the
Lord our God with everything we are. He made us, and He saved us. And then there's the first love of our labor, that we would labor for His name's sake, out of that love of our betrothed, running headlong into the wilderness out of that love.
And the only thing that will break through turning that love for the Lord into a love for the labor, and the fulfillment, and the accomplishment, and the respectability, is not to focus on falling from our first love, but it's to actually focus on His first love.
That's what John does at the very beginning of Revelation. If you turn back a page to chapter 1, looking at verse 5, he's addressing to Jesus Christ, and he says, verse 5,
That is music to the church of Ephesus' ears.
You left your first love, and He's walking in your midst, and He's holding it against you.
And He's saying, do you even remember My presence? Do you remember what it was like?
He's already pointed us not to focus, and conjure, and manufacture our love, but to be washed in the love that He has for us.
To Him who loved us, washed us from our sins in His own blood, made us kings and priests to His God and Father.
What does a priest do when he no longer asks, where's God? As the church, according to Peter, is a royal priesthood.
So, fellow priests in the house of God, what do we do when we no longer even ask, where is the presence of God?
Because we don't even miss His absence. It's all awash for us, and all of the other things that are eclipsing our first love.
We don't focus on our love for Him, we focus on His love for us.
What does that love look like? What does His love for us look like? It looks like the kind of love who wouldn't withhold the peerless
Son of Glory, but actually submerge Him into the filth and rebellion of our sin, so that by His crucified blood, our sins could be washed, and we could be made priests who actually care about the presence of God.
And not just care like a curious interest, but yearn for the presence of God. Cry out for the returning presence of God, come.
That's what John the Apostle says elsewhere in 1 John. We love Him because He first loved us.
That's the first love that's behind all other first loves. It's not the first love of the first commandment.
It's not the first love of a church that was planted by an apostle, and shown the direction of labor.
It's the first love of the Lord. We can only love the Lord, we can only return to the place that we fell from, if we are washed in the blood of Him who first loved us.
I could put it this way. We answer the call to the first works as a response to the one who first loved.
What is the Lord doing in Jeremiah 2, but saying, will you stop dwelling in my presence in this home, like a wife that wants a divorce, and you won't even look at me with affection?
Can we just remember what it used to be like? John says, do the first works again.
If you're remembering that place, if you're remembering that state, if you're remembering that sweetness of presence, if you're remembering all of these things, remember what it meant for your life.
It had a product, it had fruit. When you had the first love rightly ordered in your life, the means of grace were something entirely different.
When I went to this minister's conference, I was so greatly blessed that each morning we had about an hour devoted to prayer.
And there was one pastor in particular who was using his whole prayer time to repent of coldness of heart, and saying, forgive me,
Lord, the very thing that was once the light of my life, studying the holy words of God, has become merely tools of the trade.
The whole conference was about revival. What is a movement of revival?
What are the distinguishing marks of revival? How does one put himself in a place to beseech revival?
And another man, David Strain, might have been the same man praying, frankly, said revival.
Revival, of course, is not just speaking of some mass movement, but even the revival of your soul, the personal, individual revival of your walk.
Revival is not some extraordinary blessing that takes place over here apart from the ordinary means of grace.
Prayer, reading of the word, Christian fellowship, Christian worship, means of grace, and been there, done that, tried that.
It's not for me. I'm in a trial. It's a dry season. Just be patient. I'm going through the motions. I just need revival.
It's going to be over here somewhere. John's not going to let you get away with that in Revelation 2.
Revival is not this extraordinary blessing apart from those means of grace. It's God's extraordinary blessing on the means of grace.
That's what it means to go back to the first works in repentance. I remember you, the kindness of your youth, the love of your betrothal.
Lord, you went after me in this wilderness. You were kind to me in this wilderness, in this desolate wayscape of things that I have not sown.
You became my holiness again. You revived my weary soul. Do you remember what it was like when you first met the
Lord? At that time, nothing, and I mean nothing else in this life, was more important than that relationship with Him.
And I know half of your testimonies, and I know that's the case. Could you look me in the eye and say that's still the case tonight?
Can you resonate at all with the words that William Cooper wrote in one of his great hymns from the
Only Hymn book? Where's the blessedness I knew when I first saw the Lord?
Where's the soul -refreshing view of Jesus and His Word? What peaceful hours
I once enjoyed. Do you notice that? What peaceful hours
I used to enjoy. How sweet their memories still, but they've left an aching void the world can never fill.
Return, O holy dove, return, sweet messenger of rest. I hate the sins that made you mourn and drove you from my breast.
Do you see what he's saying? Something happened in his life. There used to be a presence in the midst.
There used to be the gentle dove -like sweetness of the Holy Spirit surging, animating every aspect of his life and his walk.
It was a sweetness that had him in hours in the means of grace. I enjoyed it. I was at peace.
The memory is still sweet, though I'm aching, and it's void. My soul was refreshed. It was blessedness all around.
He knows the culprit. I hate what drove the gentle dove from my breast.
It was my sins. But he's more specific than that. And it becomes his plea.
The dearest idol I have known. Don't you love a well -chosen word?
The dearest idol. What's the first love?
The first love is the dearest love. It's the most precious love.
The dearest idol I have known, whatever that idol be. Help me tear it from thy throne and worship only thee.
That is brilliant. He recognizes my heart is a throne. Your spirit used to dwell there back when we first met in the wilderness.
When you were there, I could see the fruit. I could see the blessedness. My sins drove the spirit from the throne that belongs to you and to you alone.
And an idol's there. That idol became my first love. Whatever that idol be, he's saying my heart is so labyrinthine.
My emotions and passions are so confusing. I don't even know what the idol is. I just know what the love is not.
I don't know what the idol is, but I know that the Lord is not my first love. And it drove his spirit from the throne of my heart.
And he feels helpless. Help me to tear it. He doesn't say help me.
Tap it on the shoulder and kindly request it to leave. You don't do that with idols. Repenting and doing the first works is tearing something from the throne of your heart.
What do I have to do to get back to the blessedness I once knew? Before I allowed rogue affections to invade the throne of my heart.
We're coming to a close now. And I have simply some questions. The churches described in Revelation 2 and 3 appear with this constant refrain.
After every letter, he who has an ear, let him hear what the spirit says to the churches. In other words, every church is potentially the church of Ephesus, isn't it?
He who has an ear, let him hear what the spirit, what the dove -like presence has to say to the churches.
Here's the first question. Do we hear? Do we hear?
Can I be frank? Last year was a winnowing season for our church.
We're still feeling the lingering pains of that. If I take a microscope and zoom in to all of the human horizontal means that factored into last year,
I can make sense of some things. I can see some things. There's probably a lot of things I can't see.
When I zoom out, I see one thing glaringly clear. We were a church marked with a lot of pride because we labored long.
We withstood much. We were persevering and trying our best to not grow weary in a good work.
And I think the Lord the whole time was walking through our midst and wondering why we were in the active moment of leaving our first love.
Think of what we're doing. Think of the great work. Look at where it's all going. Can you imagine what it will be like?
Has our labor been in vain? Are we like that little penguin trudging along in perseverance uphill?
But why would the Lord walking in the midst of our church, walking in the midst of this gathering, walking in between every row, draw close to any one of us and say,
I have this against you. You left your first love.
He who has an ear, let him hear what the spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes,
I will give to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of God.
Let's pray. Father, I confess
I don't know how I ought to pray. I think
I feel more like Cooper. Lord, just help me.
And help us. As a church to remember where we were, each one of us individually, if we are believers.
To remember the blessedness we once knew. The power, the sweetness, the relish of your word, the relish of your worship.
The glory of Christian fellowship, the simple joys that filled our souls with sweetness that animated our walks.
Help us to remember this place that we've backslid and declined and perhaps fallen from.
Lord, help us to ask if we even ask where you are.
To think if we even realize whether you are present or absent. To wonder if we're going through the motions and the rituals and the institutions of worship.
We don't even know you. We're too busy, too fixated, too excited about the fruit of our labor.
The effect of our progress. The status, the acclaim, the reputation that we can secure.
The jockeying for position, whether against one another or against other churches or even other traditions,
Lord. How hideous, how ugly, how offensive to the
Holy One of Israel who is delighted to dwell with a lowly and contrite people.
Lord, as we said last Sunday, humility is the road to pleasure. May we trace our lack of pleasure and look at that spot on the throne of our heart that belongs to you and to you alone and wonder whether you are securely seated there.
Father, I pray for myself in this regard. Lord, I join that brother's prayers and saying, forgive me, Lord. I have all too easily forgotten the blessedness
I once knew. Lord, those sweet memories of commuting with you, of running headlong after you to wherever the lamb would have me go, seem so distant of memories now
I don't think that ever return in my life. Lord, help us to be a church that asks for you to tear down every idol, anything that would eclipse your presence, your glory in our midst.
Help us to be a praying people. Lord, I know what it's like to go through sermons and words and convictions season and cycle after season and cycle and still be unmoved like a zombie in a graveyard.
Lord, awaken us, awaken us, Lord. Revive your work, O Lord.
Is there one here tonight, Lord, who's in such decline that they're almost like the paralytic and they need their friends to bring them into your presence?
Might we have a heart, an insight, a discernment of who that might be and carry them into your presence?
Is there one here, Lord, who cannot understand the first thing that I'm talking about? What it was like when they first met you, they've never met you.
They don't know that sweetness, that blessedness. They've never had intimate communion with you. Lord, open their eyes, open their ears, give them a heart.
I pray, Lord, this focus of this weekend would not be wasted on us.
Lest you remove our lampstand. Forbid it, Lord. Give us great mercy in the blood of our