There are all too many people who want to hold God to promises He’s never made.  They get sick, and they blame Him for not keeping them healthy.  They run into financial hardship, and they grumble because He hasn’t helped them prosper.  They’re single and unhappy, and they claim it’s His fault that they aren’t married.

The problem is that God never has promised Christians that they would be healthy and rich and have great family lives.  We might have set our hearts on these things, but that’s a sure sign that we are seeking treasure on earth, not in heaven.  The God who unfailingly grants them is the God of our own imaginations, not the God of the Bible.

However, God has made us some astounding promises, and one of them appears in 2 Corinthians 1:3-7.  He does not promise to shield us from suffering.  Indeed, the structure of the passage implies that the godly can expect to suffer.  However, in the midst of that suffering, God will bestow His comfort.

As do all Christians who have sought the Lord through trial, I’ve experienced God’s faithfulness to His promise.  It is true in my current distress, and it was true 13 years ago when my daughter was unexpectedly stillborn at full term.  Lauren and I suffered.  Indeed, we suffered greatly. 

Our suffering, though, did not overwhelm us.  We did not commit suicide.  We did not get divorced.  We did not become alcoholics or drug addicts.  We avoided the double disasters that befall parents who lose children.

This is not to our credit, except to the extent that we chose to lean on the Lord and His people.  Instead, it was due to the brethren both far and near who cared for us in our grief.  They came to the funeral (some traveled hundreds or thousands of miles), they brought food, they visited, they sent cards, they sent money, and they prayed.  It was due also to the God who worked through them and in ways beyond my understanding.  We mourned (and still mourn), but we were (and are) comforted.

However, Paul points out that this blessing carries an obligation with it too.  We are supposed to take the comfort that God showers on us and use it to comfort others.  Lauren and I certainly were on the receiving end of this.  Some of the most memorable, helpful conversations we had during that dark time were with Christians who also had lost children. 

Ever since, we have tried to pay it forward.  Most Christians are at a loss about how to deal with others whose children have died.  We aren’t.  That’s familiar country to us.  When we hear of someone in that position, we try to reach out.  We call.  We write.  We attend funerals with heartbreakingly small caskets.  We trust that the God who used others to bless us will use us to bless others.

It’s easy for human beings to camp out in their misery and affliction.  I know the temptation well.  However, as disciples of the Man of Sorrows, we have a higher calling.  We must allow our griefs to refine us and teach us compassion.  When we do, God can use us in even the greatest tragedies to reveal His comfort and love.

Language is a funny thing.  Over decades and centuries, words shift in meaning, sometimes dramatically.  One such word in English is the word “spectacle”, particularly in its adjectival form.  Rather than merely referring to that which is attention-grabbing, “spectacular” now is generally that which is both attention-grabbing and good.  People today would not describe the Hindenburg disaster, for instance, as spectacular.

However, every major English translation of the Bible uses “spectacle” in its older sense in 1 Corinthians 4:9.  When Paul writes there that he and the other apostles have become “a spectacle to the world”, he doesn’t mean that they are surrounded by people applauding their virtue and skill.  Instead, he compares the spectacle they offer to that of a man condemned to public execution. 

The Romans were thrifty people.  To them, executions weren’t only an opportunity to rid the world of someone they considered undesirable.  Instead, they also sought to shame and disgrace the condemned as an object lesson to anyone in the crowd who might consider defying the might of Rome.  The humiliating subtext of the crucifixion of Christ was typical for the Romans.

This, then, is the kind of spectacle that Paul and the apostles are presenting.  They are being held up for mockery, reviling, persecution, and slander.  More provocatively, Paul says that they are being displayed in this way not by the Romans or even the Jews, but by God.  He is allowing them to be exposed to mockery so their mockers could see their faith, to reviling so the revilers could receive their blessing, to persecution so their persecutors could see their endurance, and to slander so the slanderers could see their graciousness.  In the end, the spectacle is not of humiliation.  It is of glorifying God by imitating Christ.

I have become a spectacle at two times in my life.  The first was when my daughter died; the second is my terminal diagnosis.  Neither of these are positive.  I believe that both are evils conjured up by the devil and permitted by God.  My struggles with ALS already have exposed my vulnerability to mental illness.  I anticipate that in future, they will reveal the weakness and failure of my body and perhaps even my mind.  These are the things that my disease will highlight in me.  Nonetheless, I am determined to turn each, so far as I am able, to the glory of God.

I say these things, though, not to elicit either sympathy or admiration.  I am only what Christ has made me, and I never will be anything more.  Instead, I want to point out that for all of us, the worst times in our lives, the times that shock others and elicit their pity, are also the times when God is exhibiting us as a spectacle. 

When we are so exhibited, we choose the kind of spectacle that we will be.  Will we display only suffering and shame, human frailty and human failure?  Or, instead, will we imitate Christ and His apostles?  In the face of trial and tragedy, will we shine with faith, resolve, courage, and hope?  We usually cannot choose to avoid becoming a spectacle.  However, we can determine that regardless of what the devil throws at us, our spectacle will honor God.

Language is a funny thing.  Over decades and centuries, words shift in meaning, sometimes dramatically.  One such word in English is the word “spectacle”, particularly in its adjectival form.  Rather than merely referring to that which is attention-grabbing, “spectacular” now is generally that which is both attention-grabbing and good.  People today would not describe the Hindenburg disaster, for instance, as spectacular.

However, every major English translation of the Bible uses “spectacle” in its older sense in 1 Corinthians 4:9.  When Paul writes there that he and the other apostles have become “a spectacle to the world”, he doesn’t mean that they are surrounded by people applauding their virtue and skill.  Instead, he compares the spectacle they offer to that of a man condemned to public execution. 

The Romans were thrifty people.  To them, executions weren’t only an opportunity to rid the world of someone they considered undesirable.  Instead, they also sought to shame and disgrace the condemned as an object lesson to anyone in the crowd who might consider defying the might of Rome.  The humiliating subtext of the crucifixion of Christ was typical for the Romans.

This, then, is the kind of spectacle that Paul and the apostles are presenting.  They are being held up for mockery, reviling, persecution, and slander.  More provocatively, Paul says that they are being displayed in this way not by the Romans or even the Jews, but by God.  He is allowing them to be exposed to mockery so their mockers could see their faith, to reviling so the revilers could receive their blessing, to persecution so their persecutors could see their endurance, and to slander so the slanderers could see their graciousness.  In the end, the spectacle is not of humiliation.  It is of glorifying God by imitating Christ.

I have become a spectacle at two times in my life.  The first was when my daughter died; the second is my terminal diagnosis.  Neither of these are positive.  I believe that both are evils conjured up by the devil and permitted by God.  My struggles with ALS already have exposed my vulnerability to mental illness.  I anticipate that in future, they will reveal the weakness and failure of my body and perhaps even my mind.  These are the things that my disease will highlight in me.  Nonetheless, I am determined to turn each, so far as I am able, to the glory of God.

I say these things, though, not to elicit either sympathy or admiration.  I am only what Christ has made me, and I never will be anything more.  Instead, I want to point out that for all of us, the worst times in our lives, the times that shock others and elicit their pity, are also the times when God is exhibiting us as a spectacle. 

When we are so exhibited, we choose the kind of spectacle that we will be.  Will we display only suffering and shame, human frailty and human failure?  Or, instead, will we imitate Christ and His apostles?  In the face of trial and tragedy, will we shine with faith, resolve, courage, and hope?  We usually cannot choose to avoid becoming a spectacle.  However, we can determine that regardless of what the devil throws at us, our spectacle will honor God.

In all of human history, there never has been a more devastating debater than Jesus.  He knew the Bible like He’d written it—because He did.  He could read hearts, and He had more wisdom than any mere human being could possess.  As a result of these attributes, He routinely wiped the floor with His adversaries.

This was no mean feat!  We might read the record of Jesus’ confrontations with the Pharisees and scribes and conclude that He was up against the clown squad, but these were no clowns.  These were the smartest men in the Jewish nation.  They had been trained in the Law and the subtleties of argument.  They presented Jesus with conundrums that, if we didn’t already know the answer, we wouldn’t be able to solve.  These were no clowns, but Jesus made them look like clowns.

However, there is one person in the gospels who bested Jesus rhetorically, who won their point over Him.  It wasn’t a scribe, Pharisee, or lawyer.  In fact, it was the last person we might have expected to succeed.  However, their success tells us a great deal about them and about Jesus too.  This morning, then, let’s turn to the story of how somebody won an argument with Jesus.

The first segment of our study concerns Jesus’ antagonist, THE CANAANITE WOMAN.  Look at Matthew 15:21-22.  Even though Mark’s account of this story is generally shorter, it offers some additional information here.  Jesus and His apostles haven’t come to the region of Tyre and Sidon because they wanted to enjoy the beautiful views of the Mediterranean.  Instead, they came because it was a Gentile area, and they wanted to get away from all the Jews who believed Jesus was a prophet and were pestering Him for healing.  This should remind us that it wasn’t easy to be Jesus.  His ministry was about as serene and peaceful as the Nashville rush hour!

We see, then, that Jesus and His apostles came to this region to escape all the people who were bugging them.  However, they find that their troubles have followed them.  The Jews have been left behind, but now one of the Canaanite locals has started pleading for help.  We’ve talked before about how the Jews had nothing to do with Samaritans.  How much more did they shun the Canaanites!  These were the people they were supposed to have destroyed 1500 years ago.  This woman’s very existence is a reminder to the disciples of their ancestors’ failure to obey God.

However, even though this woman is not a Jew, she uses Jewish language as she approaches Jesus.  She calls Him the Son of David and appeals to Him to cast a demon out of her daughter..  I hope I’m not spoilering anybody here, but one of the most important lessons of this story is that anybody can seek the Lord.  Make no mistake:  2000 years ago, this woman was the lowest of the low, yet she comes to Jesus and calls on His name.  So too today, whoever you are, whatever your background, whatever you’ve done, call on the Lord, and He’ll listen.  His compassion is the same for everyone.

Next, we’re treated to a display of THE WOMAN’S PERSISTENCE.  Matthew 15:23-25 tells the tale.  Jesus starts off by giving her the silent treatment.  This should strike us as strange.  Isn’t this the One who said, “Come unto Me, all you who labor?”  Interestingly, though, neither here nor at any other point in this story does Jesus tell her that He’s not going to help her.  He’s not giving her any encouragement, but He’s not shutting her down either.

This, I think, tells us something important about prayer.  Sometimes God says “Yes,” sometimes God says “No,” but sometimes God says “Not yet,” and waits to see what we will do with that.  Why this is, I don’t know.  Maybe He wants us to grow through our trials before He rescues us.  Maybe He wants to see the proof of our faith.  However, I do know that whenever we don’t immediately get the answer we want, we should keep praying.

Notice, though, that the disciples have no compunction about getting rid of the Canaanite woman.  They tell Jesus to send her away so that she’ll leave them alone.  Their motivations are obvious.  In addition to being a woman and a Canaanite, she’s filling their quiet retreat with obnoxiousness.  She’s about as welcome as a work email in the middle of a two-week vacation! 

The lesson here for us, I think, is that we need to beware of discouraging those who are seeking Jesus.  We can do this in any number of ways.  We can glare at the woman who visits our assembly in a miniskirt or the man who comes in with a Diet Coke.  We can icily inform the visitor that they are sitting in our pew.  We can tell our friend who is asking us about our church that they wouldn’t like it where we go.  We need to be careful, brethren!  A tiny action may have eternal significance.

Notice, though, the response that Jesus gives to the disciples.  He makes a statement that appears forbidding but still leaves a crack for the woman to squeeze through if she wants.  Yes, Jesus was sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, but that still leaves open the possibility that He might help a sheep who isn’t from that house.

The final act of the story is about BREAD FOR DOGS.  It unfolds in Matthew 15:25-28.  Despite this apparently indifferent treatment from Jesus, the woman is not deterred.  She kneels before Him and pleads for His help. 

For the first time, Jesus directly addresses her.  Again, He still doesn’t straight-out say no, but His words are crushing nonetheless.  Piggybacking off His comment about being sent to the Jews only, He says that it isn’t right to take the bread meant for the children and give it to the dogs instead.  As if being a woman and a Canaanite weren’t bad enough, now she’s a dog!  She’s not even human anymore!

However, the woman takes that on the chin and counterpunches.  Until she gets that final, definitive “No,” she’s going to keep hammering.  Indeed, her counterargument is a good one.  Dogs might not get the bread, but they get the crumbs, and if Jesus is willing to give her crumbs, she’s willing to be a dog.

Before this combination of humility and refusing to quit, Jesus concedes the point, or, rather, He does what He had intended to do all along.  He casts the demon out of her daughter before she gets home.  Even a Canaanite woman can find help and healing in Jesus!

Really, this story gives us all we need to know about seeking the Lord.  It boils down to two simple rules:  be humble, and don’t give up.  Be humble.  Recognize that God is in heaven, and you are on earth.  Admit that you have to follow His word rather than your own bright ideas. 

Then, don’t give up.  Seek Him passionately, relentlessly, every waking hour.  Come after God like a bill collector.  If you do, He will honor your faith, and He will lead you to blessing.

One of the unexpected side-effects of my diagnosis has been that these days, I find that I have much more in common with our oldest members.  I share with them the knowledge that our time on earth is short, which naturally draws our thoughts to our eternal destination.  I was discussing the subject with an older sister a week or two ago, and her comment about the judgment was, “I don’t know if I’m good enough.”  She was worried about how she was going to fare.

To put this statement in its context, a couple of minutes later, she told me with complete sincerity that if she could take my ALS on herself, she would.  This is a woman with such love in her heart that she is literally willing to die in the place of a brother in Christ, and she’s concerned about whether she’s a sheep or a goat!

To be frank, I regard this as an indictment of myself and my preaching brethren.  I fear that we spend so much time trying to convince backsliders of their danger that we unwittingly plant seeds of doubt in the hearts of the most faithful.  However well-intentioned, that’s not declaring the whole counsel of God!  I want to change that at least a little bit this morning by considering the Scriptural testimony concerning the assurance of our salvation.

In particular, I want to look at three bases of our confidence, the first of which is THE PROMISE OF GOD.  Let’s read about one of His greatest promises in Hebrews 8:10-12.  Before I delve into that passage, though, there’s something else we need to explore.  Every passage that I will cite this morning is about God, and there’s a reason for that.  If our salvation were about us and our actions, we would have cause for concern, but our salvation isn’t about us.  It’s about God and the power of His grace.  We are uncertain, but the salvation of God is certain, and it’s certain in part because of His promise.

This whole text is surely one of the most beautiful and uplifting passages in the Bible, but I want to focus on two promises that God makes in it.  First, He tells us that He will be our God, and we will be His people.  Without this promise, it would be the height of arrogance for any of us to claim to belong to God.  How could people as imperfect as all of us are have any part in His perfection?  Quite simply, we belong to Him because He has said so.  Despite all that we have done, He is not ashamed to be called our God.

The second promise, in v. 12, is if anything even more important.  There, God promises that He will forgive our transgressions and forget our sins.  This is a costly promise!  It cost God the most precious thing He had.  However, God was faithful to His word and made our salvation possible through the lifeblood of His Son.  The power of that sacrifice was so great that to God, it is as though our sins never happened.  Every faithful Christian is “good enough” because in the eyes of God, only the good works are left.

Second, we can be assured of our salvation because of THE POWER OF GOD.  Look at the words of the Lord in John 10:27-29.  Sad to say, I’m afraid that brotherhood preachers spend more time explaining this passage away in order to defeat Calvinism than they do explaining it in order to comfort the saints.  Today, though, let’s go through it without using the C-word.

Notice first of all that v. 27 defines the subjects of the rest of the text.  It’s not about everybody.  It’s about the sheep, those who know Jesus’ voice and follow Him.  That means that all of us can take a very simple test to find out whether the rest applies to us.  All we have to do is to ask ourselves honestly, “Do I know the voice of Jesus?  Do I follow where He leads?”  If the answer to those questions is “Yes,” we are His sheep.

If we are indeed the sheep of the Good Shepherd, that’s a consequential thing to be!  Pay attention to what Jesus reveals about His sheep.  He will grant them eternal life, they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of His hand.  There are lions and wolves out there, but none of them are stronger than Jesus, and even if they were, absolutely nobody is stronger than the Father!

This means, then, that our salvation is not about being “good enough”.  It’s not about getting all of the sin out of our lives by ourselves.  It’s about hearing and following our Shepherd.  Yes, we should hate sin and strive to avoid sinning, but we should not wring our hands and worry about losing our souls every time we have an unkind thought.  That’s why we have a Shepherd—to protect us!  I know me, and I don’t trust me at all.  However, I also know Jesus, and I do trust Him.  Because of His power, His sheep can know perfect comfort and perfect peace.

Finally, we can be confident in our salvation because of THE LOVE OF GOD.  Let’s conclude our reading this morning with Romans 8:35-39.  To be honest, brethren, I feel a little bit like I’ve assembled a dessert buffet of a sermon because these passages are so enjoyable to study.  What an amazing text this is!  It tells us that the love of God is literally the most powerful force in the universe.  There is nothing that can separate us from it.

This is true despite all the trials that Christians can face.  For Paul and the rest of our brethren in the first century, affliction, distress, persecution, and all the rest weren’t horrible hypotheticals.  Those things were real problems that they had to deal with.  In fact, v. 36, is a quotation from Psalm 44.  All through that Psalm, the Israelites complain that they’re being defeated in battle even though they are righteous.  Paul’s rejoinder is that all of those problems aren’t a defeat.  They may look like it in worldly terms, but in reality, every Christian who endures is more than a conqueror because of the love of Jesus.

Let’s make this real.  Since my diagnosis, I’ve had I don’t know how many people tell me how sorry they are that I have to face this.  You know what?  I’m not sorry.  I know I’ve got a hard, ugly few years ahead of me, but even though ALS can take away the use of my limbs, my voice, my mind, and my life, it cannot separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.  I will not die a victim.  I will die a conqueror.

I don’t know what problems you have going on in your life.  I’d imagine that some of you are dealing with some pretty heavy stuff.  However, whatever it is, it can’t separate you from the love of God either.  Because of that love, we can be certain that He will be with us through every day of our lives, and through all of eternity, we will be with Him.

Recently, I attended this year’s Truth Lectures, which had as their theme eschatology, the study of the end times.  Many of the lectures addressed preterism, the belief that the prophecies of the Bible all already have happened.  In particular, preterists claim that the prophecies about the final judgment, the resurrection of the dead, and the dissolution of the physical universe were fulfilled (in a figurative sense) during the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70.

I believe that preterists are correct to recognize the importance of the first-century destruction of the temple and the downfall of the Jewish nation.  In many ways, the ministry of Jesus is a last-ditch effort to turn the Jews aside from their destructive course.  Their refusal to listen to Him (and the consequences of that refusal) reverberates throughout the New Testament.  When we try to make everything in the Bible about us instead of its original first-century recipients, we fall into error.

However, it is equally erroneous to assume that all the climactic events of spiritual history already have occurred.  Often, the falsity of false teaching becomes most evident not in the teaching itself, but in its ripple effects.  In the case of preterism, I believe the biggest problems it creates arise through its denial of a general, bodily resurrection of the dead. 

Among other serious difficulties, denial of the resurrection of the body casts doubt on the resurrection of Christ.  As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:13, “If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised.”  Preterists argue that the general resurrection of 1 Corinthians 15 is the figurative union of Jew and Gentile Christians in 70 AD.  Before we accept this interpretation, however, we must reckon with Paul’s use of “not even”.  This indicates that the resurrection of Christ is the most prominent example of a larger class, as in, “If no gymnasts can land that jump, then not even Simone Biles can.” 

“Not even” allows for two interpretations.  Either the larger class of resurrections is literal, and the resurrection of Jesus is literal along with it, or the larger class of resurrections is figurative, and the resurrection of Jesus is figurative along with it.  It does not, however, permit a mixed figurative/literal reading. 

Let’s suppose for a moment that the first part of v. 13 is about the figurative, invisible, unprovable union of Jew and Gentile in the church in AD 70.  If it didn’t happen, how does that in any way undermine the bodily resurrection of Jesus in AD 30?  A bodily resurrection can’t be a “not even” for a figurative class.

Therefore, in arguing for a figurative general resurrection, preterists imply that the resurrection of Christ also was figurative, a fatal problem for Christianity.  As per Romans 1:4, the [bodily] resurrection of Jesus declares Him to be the Son of God with power.  By contrast, the “resurrection” of Jesus only in the visions, dreams, and fond imaginings of His followers is useless as a proof of His divinity.  If that’s all the evidence we have, none of us should be Christians.

Preterists do well when they call us to consider the New Testament in its first-century context, but they err disastrously when they undermine the central conviction of Christianity.  If the dead are not raised, not even Christ is raised, and if Christ is not raised, our faith is vain, we are still in our sins, and of all people we are most to be pitied.  Don’t take my word for it.  Take the Holy Spirit’s.