“Wake Up!”
Revelation 3:1-6
Scott Huie
Westminster Presbyterian Church
February 3, 2008

 How do you tell if a church is alive or dead?  Have you ever walked into a church and thought, “This church is dead”?  Or maybe the reverse, “This church is really happening.  It’s alive!”  What led to the observation?  Likely it had something to do with the worship.   Perhaps you thought, “Why, there is no passion in the preaching here, there’s no joy in the singing, there’s no zeal in the praying.”  Or maybe it was a positive experience, and you thought, “This place is packed, the band rocked, and the preacher really shared God’s word.  This church is alive.”

 But are these truly good, reliable indicators of the vitality of a church?  Could our perceptions of the deadness or the aliveness of a church be at least in part culturally conditioned?  While one Christian may covet very emotional, expressive, “modern” worship, another could just as easily find aliveness in worship with soaring classical music and a strong liturgy with participatory prayers and readings.  “Who wants to sing songs written by some Englishmen who died 400 years ago?” one may ask.  But another may wonder, “Who wants to sing songs that have six notes and repeat themselves over and over?”   Worship-style may not be the best barometer of how alive or how dead a church may be.

 This morning we continue our sermon series from the book of Revelation entitled, “Mail from the Living God,” and today we are looking at the fifth letter, the one written to the church in Sardis.  Here we discover Jesus’ answer as to what makes a church dead or alive and what makes a Christian dead or alive.  So let’s find out the answer as we read Revelation 3:1-6.

 (Read text)

 The church in Sardis was dead.  To most people, the church seemed alive and well—perhaps the pews were packed, the money was flowing, the carpet was new, and the feel-good vibes were high—but Jesus, as reported by the writer, John of Patmos, presents a different picture.  He says, “I have seen your works, and you, Sardis, are dead.”

Sardis was a city that lived on her past glory.  In centuries past, Sardis was a bustling metropolis built on a steep citadel hill.  It was famous for all its gold and silver.  It was the New York City of Asia Minor.  But twice in previous centuries, Sardis was conquered by foreign powers, and recently it had been devastated by an earthquake.  At this juncture, Sardis was little more than a sleepy, little town of no real importance.

Apparently, the church there modeled itself after the city.  Granted there was the appearance of a vital church, but her works, her faith, her religious activity, they were all just outward.  Jesus knew that the church’s inward spirituality was not infused with any life-giving Spirit.  Similar to the church at Ephesus, the Sardian church had lost its first love.  But it had lost not only its love, but also its very life.  The church had forgotten that they were the church of Jesus Christ, and the Christians there needed to be reminded of who they were.  They never pressed the Jews with the claim that “Jesus is God.”  They never countered the Roman claim that “Caesar is Lord” with the Christian claim that “Jesus is Lord.”  They apparently never took a stand against participation in the feasts of pagan worship.  To put it bluntly, they were complacent, apathetic, indifferent and dead.  Despite having the appearance of vitality, it was, at its core, a sleepy little church of no real importance.

 It causes one to do a little soul searching, doesn’t it?  Are we at Westminster anything like the church at Sardis?  Are we dead or are we alive?  Something to ponder.  Through our self-reflection, surely we discover that the church is not called to be a social club.  It is not an organization for the perpetuation of our sacred traditions.  It is not a fellowship of those who want to improve themselves and become good citizen.  The church is, very simply, first and foremost a gathering of believers who confess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.  Apparently the Sardian Christians had lost that very reason for being.

 For such a church, Jesus has this to say—two simple words—wake up.  Wake up. Stir from your slumber.  Shake the foundations.  Throw some water in your face.  You are like an ember that is dying out.  You are a church that is on life support.  You are in a deep sleep. Wake up!  

 Such a command reminds of a time 40 years ago—one of my earliest childhood memories—the Huie family, all six of us, were travelling across America by camper.  We made it to the Grand Canyon in Arizona.  I was four.  I had fallen asleep late one night. As everyone was settling in, Dad dropped the kerosene lantern on the floor of the camper causing a fire to erupt.  Immediately, he swooped me up and yelled “Wake up,” jolting me from my sleep.  We all made it safely out the camper that night, and the fire was extinguished and the camper did not burn down—all the way!  That was a “Wake Up” call I will never forget.

 When danger lurks, sometimes a loud, jarring “wake up” call is what people need.  Sometimes that is exactly what the church needs.  What does it mean for a “zombie church” to be awakened?  Jesus gives three strong verbs in quick succession as the antidote to waking up: Remember, repent, obey.  Remember, repent, obey.  Remember and repent were the same two verbs given to the church at Ephesus.  Remember who you are.  Remember that Christ died for you.  Remember that Caesar isn’t Lord, Jesus is.  Remember that you were bought for a price.  Remember that you received the Holy Spirit as a gift. 

Remembering needs reinforcing. It requires repetition.  And so we gather often, at least weekly, to remember and give thanks for what Christ did for us.  To become faithful disciples, we encourage a regular engagement of the Scriptures, both personal devotions and Bible study with a group, to remember the faithfulness of the God we worship.  Coming to church just on Easter and Christmas won’t do it.  It requires an ongoing, consistent coming together to remember the might acts of God. Revival within the church doesn’t come from the latest program or gimmick or some new teaching.  Revival comes from an act of memory—from returning to the central truths and disciplines that have been forgotten.  We remember.

 And when we remember, you know what happens?  We can’t help but repent.  We can’t help but realize how far we have fallen, how needy we are, how deep sin has crept into the crevices of our lives.  And we pledge with God’s help to turn around—away from sin and towards the very source of life.  When we remember, we are moved to repent. 

 But that is not all.  As we remember, we repent, and we go one step further—we  obey.  That is, we seek to keep the commandments and faithfully follow Jesus. That is, we take what has happened to us here in church out into the world.  Waking up is not just some intellectual exercise believing that Jesus is who he says he is.  Waking up is about being a missional church, engaging faith with real life seven days a week. 

 The downfall for those in Sardis and the danger for those in Snellville, is that faith and church become like a cruise ship.  It’s comfortable on the ship.  It feels good on the ship.  We dare not get off the ship unless it’s a safe port where we can go visit safe sites that were designed to entertain and amuse us tourists.  The church is not called to be a cruise ship. 

 We are called to be—are you ready for this—an aircraft carrier.  We are called to go into enemy territory and to carry out our mission.  We launch out from our aircraft carrier to take on our task, to fight the enemy—the enemy of disease and poverty, the enemy of immorality and apathy, the enemy of greed and idolatry.  That, my friends, is what the church is about.  That is what we are about when we collect the Souper Bowl offering to help the hungry.  That is what we are about every month when we go downtown to serve hungry and homeless people at First Presbyterian.  That is what we are about when we to go Honduras, yes, but also that is what we are about when we go to work every day and go to school every day.  We are entering the mission field, and carrying out the dangerous mission that our leader has called us to.  We are seeking to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ.  That is what it means to wake up:  we remember, we repent, we obey. 

 And when we do so, you know what happens?  We have the promise that God will adorn us in white robes, declaring us clean in Jesus Christ, saved by his blood, with our names written in the book of life.  We have the promise that we will live with God forever.  What a picture that is!

 A church is not dead because it fails to fill up the pews or have passionate preaching and hot donuts and Starbucks coffee.  A church is not dead because its members aren’t especially extroverted.  Rather a church is dead if it fails to confess the name of Jesus clearly, if it fails to remember, to repent, and to obey, if it fails to wake up—words of wisdom not only for the church in Sardis, but also for the church in Snellville.

 As I once heard:

Live churches are constantly changing.

Dead churches don’t have to.

Live churches have lots of noisy kids.

Dead churches are fairly quiet.

Live churches’ expenses always exceed their income.

Dead churches take in more than they ever dreamed of spending.

Live churches are constantly improving for the future.

Dead churches worship their past.

Live churches move out in faith.

Dead churches operate totally by human sight.

Live churches focus on people.

Dead churches focus on programs.

Live churches are filled with tithers.

Dead churches are filled with tippers.

Live churches dream great dreams of God.

Dead churches relive nightmares.

Live churches don’t have “can’t” in their dictionary.

Dead churches have nothing but.

Live churches evangelize.

Dead churches just fossilize.

 As Jesus makes so clear, what is said of churches is also true of Christians.  There can be live Christians in dead churches, and of course there can be dead Christians in live churches.   So let us all remember that by God’s grace, we have been saved through faith, and let us both individually and corporately turn from our sin and repent, and let us seek to obey Jesus.  Let us hold each other accountable as we seek to show God’s love and obey God’s word.

 Within each of these seven letters in Revelation, with rare exception, is both a promise and a threat.  The promise here is wonderful good news.  I think we Presbyterians tend to be high on the promise, and that’s good, because it’s indeed good news.  But maybe we tend to gloss over the threat.  But the threat is real and sobering.  If we fail to remember and repent and obey—if we fail to wake up and be alert—then Jesus will come like a thief, unannounced and unexpected, and worst of all, he will come against you.  But to those who are faithful, he is for you, and he will hold you tightly in his embrace.  He will wipe away every tear from your eyes.  There will be no more sorrow, no more pain, no more hunger, no more thirst.  And you will have joy in his presence.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.