REACTIONS TO A FEARFUL VERDICT

Indulge me for a moment: I need to borrow your imagination. You’re walking to work or school or anywhere. You’re probably running late, and meandering your way through some human traffic. Now, in your attempt to take a turn into a freer part of the path, you bump into a random gentleman. In that infinitesimal moment, time screeches to an abrupt halt. You’re in the midst of thousands of people but it really feels as if it’s only you and this strange gentleman who exist. And then, looking directly into your eye, maybe with a smile, and a voice half a whisper, he says, “I know all your works.” Would that be comforting or threatening? 

Well, some points must be cleared first. Let’s assume that we had no reason to doubt that this person was telling the truth. How would we respond? I do not believe our responses would be homogeneous. What response is triggered would largely be influenced (among other things) by who we think the speaker to be. If we thought this someone inconsequential, we probably won’t bother much. But assuming this person turns out to be the Lord Jesus himself, the man you cannot ignore (as was once the theme of a certain evangelism crusade). Again, what would our response be? It would depend, now, most importantly, on what we’re doing with our lives. 

Now, I know that human beings are infinitely complex and can’t easily (at least, not without hedges) be fit into boxes. But for the purposes of the arguments I wish to marshal, I would like to imagine two broad categories of responses (at the risk of simplification) that could be triggered in such a scenario. I will then focus more extensively on the last, as, I imagine, that category as my primary audience. 

A. The Non-Startled

The Non-Startled Stubborn

For a long time, I thought that if people were absolutely convinced that there really is a God, then they would believe him; and that if people were irrefutably persuaded that there indeed is a hell with ever-blazing fire and never-dying worms, they would do everything possible to avoid it. While that is quite true, I’m beginning to suspect that there are those who find the idea of God (i.e., that there really is a supreme being who has a say in what they do with their lives, and to whom they will give account) very repulsive. Consequently, even if all the evidence in the world to prove the existence of God is presented to them, they would find delight merely in rebelling against God, even if it means defiantly going to hell. 

I believe the Israelites of Jeremiah 18 fit in this classroom. The prophet Jeremiah was sent to them to warn them about impending disaster, in the hope of triggering repentance. Their response? They did not deny their guilt or the authenticity of the message, nor did they even pretend that they would take heed to the message. They looked the prophet in the face and stated their thesis: “Don’t waste your breath. We will continue to live as we want, stubbornly following our own desires” (Jer. 18:12, NLT). Such derive pleasure not from the pleasures of sin, per se, but from the satisfaction of doing exactly what God hates. In that sense, if they love alcohol, and God said tomorrow that the only qualification to enter heaven was to drink a bottle of alcohol, then they’d rather miss heaven than drink alcohol, which they, in fact, love. I’m thinking therefore about the character of Satan that Milton paints in Paradise Lost. His creed is simple: “To do aught good will never be our task, but to do evil our sole delight.”

Now, I think we can easily agree that if such a person were told by Jesus that “I know all your works”, they would not be necessarily startled any more than a man, who having already told his wife that he is cheating, is caught by his wife in the act of cheating. Such a person is living in explicit disobedience to God. They’d, therefore, probably say to Jesus, “But, of course, I know you know my works!” (even if they find that admission arousing of aversion). Essentially, such a person is not a hypocrite. His public life is not incongruent with his life in the closet. If you met him in a crowd, and made as if to reveal a part of his life that no one knew, he would find it surprising that you would expect him to be startled, because he is a man of integrity, even if of a perverse kind. In fact, we shouldn’t be surprised if they respond to Jesus, “And so what?” The Church of Sardis, I think, does not fall in this category. 

The Non-Startled Christian

I’m thinking here about the kind of mature Christian who has lived all his life consistently in the knowledge of the truth that all things are laid bare before the sight of him to whom we must give account (Heb. 4:13). As a result, he has not made any move or taken any decision without considering this truth in some measure. Therefore, to be told by Jesus, “I know your works” is at best a reminder of a fact he has held dear all his life. He bears witness like Peter: “Lord, you know all things” (John 21:17). Even if this person is startled, it is not because he is shocked at being hit by some new truth but because something he has believed has come to life before his very eyes. Hence, he’s startled in a positive manner.

He has been walking in the light, as Christ walked (1 John 2:6), anyway. He is not ashamed, then, if his works are exposed. So, when Christ says, “I know all your works”, it is in essence nothing new to him. All the while he prayed in secrecy, for the salvation of the souls of human beings; all the while he resisted sin to the point of shedding blood; all the while he tithed faithfully; all the while he fell short in his pursuit of Christlikeness but resolved to do better by God’s grace; all the while that it was extremely difficult to forgive and forget, but he strove to do so anyway, wishing (in tears, even) that he did not have to forgive someone who so hurt him/ her. All this while, it was not without the conviction that God knew his works. It was, in fact, this knowledge that spurred him to do what God would have him do, even if it was contrary to his own will. Of such a person, therefore, the following Scripture is true: “Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God” (John 3:21). I need to remind you that I’m making a lot of simplifications.

B. The Startled

But there are those who would definitely be startled. Here, I can imagine at least two categories.

The Ignorant

He would be a strange Christian who did not know that Christ knew all his works. So, I’m definitely not talking about the Christian here, but about the non-Christian, who, perhaps, believes in the existence of some higher being, but has no sound doctrine to back it up. When he’s told, “I know all your works”, he is naturally startled, but in quite a positive way. He has had no encounter with God, but he has suspected that there must be a supreme being somewhere. Although he lacks certainty, this suspicion has guided his life. He may be a Cornelius, not a Christian, but his actions (namely his alms and prayers) suggest that he believes that there must be a God somewhere who hears him, who sees him, and under whose eyes he lives. He may be a Muslim, Hinduist, or perhaps he might not have subscribed to any religion but he testifies that the law of God is written on his heart (Rom. 2:15), for he has striven to listen to the voice of conscience and lived by the golden rule of doing to others as he would to himself.

The Christian Startled

This is the main category I wish to linger on, especially because I think the Church of Sardis, and many other Christians belong here. In fact, all the other categories have cleared the path to get here. 

Since this classroom is made up of Christians, we’re not referring to those unaware of the omniscience of Christ. But their (in)actions betray this knowledge, failing to demonstrate a deep conviction about this truth. They may bear witness on the outside to the doctrine of Christ’s omniscience. They may even preach about it. If you judged them based on what you saw them do in the company of the saints, at work and in public spaces, your verdict would be “Oh, what a fine Christian you are. You are very much alive.” And how they would wear this verdict like perfume, for they enjoy it that people regard them so. In reality, their sense of aliveness is only a façade, merely a reputation. You would find as much life in them as you would in whitewashed tombs.  

Now why is such a Christian startled when they’re told by Jesus, “I know all your works”? It’s obvious. He’s soon going to be exposed! The disparity between who he appears to be and who he really is is going to be made known. And, so, he looks left and right to see if anyone is observing, heard what Jesus has told him, and is interested in the conversation. For he is quite aware that if this person claiming to know his works begins to talk, his hard-earned precious reputation would be lost. He might even attempt to settle the matter in a gentlemanly conversation over coffee. He can’t risk his works being exposed. Such people are living in perpetual angst and they never really have peace. Every now and then they have to clear their browser history, lest someone stumbles on the pornographic websites they have been visiting; delete some nude pictures in their gallery or some messages in their WhatsApp chats. They have to strive laboriously, constantly, intentionally, to make their private lives appear in sync with people’s perception about them because they would be ruined if they inadvertently drop a hint of incongruence. In essence, those who have decided to do evil wholeheartedly and stick to it are more honourable than this group of people.

Now, there’s a personal angle to this. I know this feeling too well because I have felt it too many times. In the past, when in the gathering of saints, the Holy Spirit would move and there was prophecy, I would be super excited. The presence of God was sweet to me. It wasn’t that I was a perfect Christian or that I did not have my weaknesses. But I knew that I was really growing, that I was really pushing through with God’s grace. I would look forward to a word from God. At some point I grew cold and I knew it. The presence of God that used to be sweet to me became fearsome, especially in corporate gatherings. I wanted to hide when there would be prophecy. I feared being exposed. Would God single me out and say “I know all your works”? I knew, indeed, that I had a reputation of being alive, but was dying. 

THE MESSAGE

I’m focusing subjectively on one part of the message here: “I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God.” 

One character trait of Christ that I have not yet foregrounded is his mercy. Of the Godhead, he is the only one who has experienced humanity. Part of this, the writer of Hebrews tells us, is so that he can be a merciful and faithful high priest (Heb. 2:17). In other words, his sense of holiness, justice and perfection is tempered by the fact that he understands human weaknesses and frailties (Heb. 4:15). If such a person, therefore, claims that he hasn’t found our deeds perfect in the sight of his God, it is not because he is using an exaggerated standard of perfection. He’s taking everything into consideration and saying,

 “Look, this reputation is false. I know everyone is giving you all these fancy titles. They’re calling you ‘Papa’. And you’re tolerating it, intentionally reinforcing that narrative. But you’re living a double life. You’re a hypocrite. You know that you’re dead. The reputation is only a veneer. See, you may be able to fool everybody else. But I have all knowledge, I see what these others do not see. And my verdict is that you are dead. I’m a just judge. No spite, no exaggeration, no rivalry, only the truth: you are dead. I’ve weighed your works on the scale of my God. They don’t meet the pass mark.”