An Appeal to Contend

Now Jude, verse 1:

“Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James,

“To those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ:

“May mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you.

“Beloved, although I was very eager to write to you about our common salvation, I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints. For certain people have crept in unnoticed who long ago were designated for this condemnation, ungodly people, who pervert the grace of our God into sensuality and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.

“Now I want to remind you, although you once fully knew it, that Jesus, who saved a people out of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed those who did not believe. And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day—just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire.

“Yet in like manner these people also, relying on their dreams, defile the flesh, reject authority, and blaspheme the glorious ones. But when the archangel Michael, contending with the devil, was disputing about the body of Moses, he did not presume to pronounce a blasphemous judgment, but said, ‘The Lord rebuke you.’ But these people blaspheme all that they do not understand, and they are destroyed by all that they, like unreasoning animals, understand instinctively. Woe to them! For they walked in the way of Cain and abandoned themselves for the sake of gain to Balaam’s error and perished in Korah’s rebellion. These are hidden reefs at your love feasts, as they feast with you without fear, shepherds feeding themselves; waterless clouds, swept along by winds; fruitless trees in late autumn, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the foam of their own shame; wandering stars, for whom the gloom of utter darkness has been [preserved] forever.

“It was also about these that Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied, saying, ‘Behold, the Lord comes with ten [thousand] of his holy ones, to execute judgment on all and to convict all the ungodly of all their deeds of ungodliness that they have committed in such an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things that ungodly sinners have spoken against him.’ These are grumblers, malcontents, following their own sinful desires; they are loud-mouthed boasters, showing favoritism to gain advantage.

“But you must remember, beloved, the predictions of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ. They said to you, ‘In the last time there will be scoffers, following their own ungodly passions.’ It is these who cause divisions, worldly people, devoid of the Spirit. But you, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh.

“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.”

Thanks be to God for his Word.

A brief prayer. We use our old Anglican prayer:

Father, what we know not, teach us. What we have not, give us. What we are not, make us. For your Son’s sake. Amen.

The little letter of Jude is probably one of the most neglected parts of the entire Bible—not just of the New Testament but, indeed, of the entire Bible. I confess that it has been an area of my own personal neglect. I have never expounded the book of Jude in any way that could be regarded as particularly helpful. I have dipped into it and skipped back out of it relatively quickly.

And yet this evening and tomorrow, I want, at least in measure, to address the opening and at least the conclusion of it, leaving you with the very difficult part in the middle to study on your own. When you’ve been a pastor for a long time, you learn the skill of planned neglect, and you no longer need to lie about it or say, “Oh, I ran out of time.” I will not have run out of time. I will have stopped purposefully, and I will recommence after the bad part is over. That will be tomorrow afternoon. And instead of staying up late at night debating whether football is a worthwhile exercise or not, the more pious and godly among you will, of course, be unraveling the mysteries of the central part of the letter of Jude.

The brief letter is of vital importance always. We don’t make the Bible relevant. The Bible is relevant. It is always relevant; it is always timely. And it is particularly relevant when we are confronted by “scoffers,” identified in verse 18, who follow “their own ungodly passions” and who take great delight in seeking to unsettle and to undermine the faithful as they seek to follow Christ.

We don’t have to be brilliant students of church history to recognize that there have been, even in relatively short periods of time, indications of great declension. And it is not difficult for me to point that out to those of you who are, like me, the beneficiaries of the ministry of Spurgeon. And given that you know much about Spurgeon and much about his time, perhaps you would be prepared to consider the possibility that there are distinct parallels between the conditions of contemporary evangelicalism at this point in early twenty-first century here, at least, in America and the occasion of theological declension that was faced by Spurgeon at the end of the nineteenth century.

It was a period, you will recall, when the authority and the sufficiency of Scripture was being vigorously attacked, when the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement was increasingly ridiculed, and when many who were unconvinced of the foundations of the faith were led astray and lost in the mires of these theological controversies. Instead of the church in large measure holding the line, there was capitulation, there was radical unbelief, and in the course of it all, God was being robbed of his glory and man of his hope.

At that time, Spurgeon wrote a lot. He spoke a lot. I quote from him from the period. He says, “These destroyers of our churches appear to be as content with their work as monkeys with their mischief. That which their fathers would have lamented they rejoice in.” He didn’t have to worry about the political correctness. They would immediately say, “Oh, it’s a dreadful thing to say such an unkind thing about a monkey being mischievous.” People would be more concerned about the issues of the monkey today than they would be at any kind of theological declension. But that’s another matter altogether. He referred to them… He said, “Avowed atheists are not a tenth as dangerous as those preachers who scatter doubt and stab at faith,”[1] pointing out what all of church history reveals: that the great threat to the church in every generation is not the threat that comes from outside, but it is the threat of what is happening on the inside, when those who should know better begin to lose confidence in the authoritative Word of God and in its absolute sufficiency.

And the candor with which both Spurgeon wrote then and Jude wrote even earlier is regarded as inappropriate in many of our circles. I think it’s one of the reasons that Jude is neglected, because there is a pungency to the way in which Jude speaks that owes no deference to our contemporary concerns of political correctness. He describes these people in graphic terms, doesn’t he? I tried to point it out in the way I read: “waterless clouds,” “fruitless trees,” “wild waves,” “wandering stars,” “unreasoning animals,” “loud-mouthed boasters.” Not a nice list! That was the threat. And so he says, “Beware.”

But I also want to say to you: Beware, too, if you find this kind of thing appealing—if, when I begin to read these descriptive phrases, you find your hackles beginning to rise, the adrenaline beginning to pump. Because Jude, when it is not neglected, is often seized upon as a happy hunting ground for those who are by nature bombastic, pugilistic, and contentious—in other words, individuals who are always spoiling for a fight; individuals who are increasingly antagonistic, they are belligerent, they are combative, and they are generally disagreeable. (Apart from that, they’re really quite nice!)

Jude is not writing out of a spirit of condemnation. He is writing out of a spirit of consternation.

On one of my earliest—in fact, on my earliest visit to these fair shores, 1972, when I was twenty years old, I ran into this for the first time. I had never heard much of the phraseology that I encountered when I arrived. I had been at a church in Michigan, and they found out that I was professing faith in Jesus. And so, at that period in time, they felt that it would be very beneficial if I would prepare to stand before the church in an evening service and give a reason for the hope that I had.[2] And so, in the terminology of the time, I was asked to “give my testimony.” And so I did. It was a long walk from where I was sitting up to where I was supposed to be—a long enough time for everybody to identify how tight my jeans were and how long my hair was. I looked like—not as good, but I looked along the lines of James Taylor on the earliest albums, where he’s wearing that blue denim shirt. I stood up, and I gave my testimony, and as I went back to my seat, the minister stood up, and he said, “There you are, folks! Even someone who looks like that can be a Christian.” I remember thinking how warm and endearing that was.

Later on in the same visit, he described—this same individual introduced me to a whole new terminology when he defined the theological and sociological environment in which they were ministering as “going to hell in a handbasket.” It was more like “Going to heyl in a hanbasket.” I wasn’t sure it was the English language to begin with, but when I finally deciphered it, I realized what was being said. What I found most disconcerting was the fact that he seemed to be very happy about it. It didn’t seem to cause him pain. I don’t want to discredit him; that’s the way it came across.

That is not how the book of Jude comes across. Jude is not writing out of a spirit of condemnation. He is writing out of a spirit of consternation. The circumstances that he addresses dismay him, they create dread within him, and they create a sense of urgency that demands his attention. And when you stand back from Jude, if you were to endeavor just to rewrite it for yourself in contemporary terms so that you could convey, perhaps, to a younger person what is the gist of what Jude is saying, it might read something like this in précised form, in summarized form: “I’m writing like this not because I want to but because I must. And because I love you and long to see you kept and keeping on, let me remind you of these sad and powerful examples from history that make my point. And remember: We were told to expect this kind of thing. So keep your chins up. Stay steady. Be gracious. Save others. Rest in God. He has everything under control.”

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.” Do you want to do the “Na, na, na, na”?[3]

So, to the text. And as I say to you, this will not be Jenkyn on Jude, nor will I try and emulate the man in my community who took four years to expound these twenty-five verses. I can’t imagine what that must have been like—for his wife.

A Warm Greeting

First of all, then, let us notice that it begins with a warm greeting. With a warm greeting. Don’t let’s miss the winsomeness and the tenderness that so often is missed by moving almost directly to the third verse and to the verb “contend.” Some of us, that’s all we know about Jude; it’s just that “contend.” And so, since we like to be contentious, we don’t want to waste much time with the pleasantries with which he begins: “Let’s get right back to the heart of it all.” But no, that would be a real mistake.

The name Judas here—the name Jude is really Judas. Most of the Bibles abbreviate it, so as no one is confused or confuses him with Judas Iscariot. He grew up in Nazareth in the home life of Jesus, his brother, growing up in the same home as Jesus, but like the rest of his family, he did not come to believe in Jesus until after the resurrection.

Christopher Green, commenting on that, says, “No-one is too privileged to be exempt from the need to be converted.”[4] It’s a quite staggering thought, isn’t it, when you think of the phrase “He came [to] his own, and his own received him not,”[5] and you think about that in relationship to the Jewish people in particular? But you think about him living in his own home, and those who are his immediate family believing that he’s crazy and mad and seeking to intervene so many times.[6] Well, here is this individual.

For Jude, the family connection does not come foremost. If we had been writing this—if I had been Jude, I would have written, “Jude, the very special brother of Jesus.” “Jude, Jesus’ favorite brother.” Right? No. “Jude, a servant,” a doulos, “of Jesus Christ”—so that the issue of his salvation was more significant than the filial relationship that he enjoyed within his family. The wonder of salvation was such that that is that which he leads with. So he identifies himself first as a servant of Jesus and then, in turn, as a brother of James. It’s a wonderful picture, isn’t it? And it’s helpful just in passing to recognize the humility that is there in it.

He identifies himself by means of three verbs. That is, he identifies those to whom he writes by three verbs. Incidentally, I think as you read Jude, if he’d been around, he would have called his ministry “Three Marks.” (I know this will get back, but that’s okay. Mark is my friend.) But he would not have extended it to nine. He’s a fan of triplets. His favorite group would have been Three Dog Night or Peter, Paul, and Mary. There’s no doubt about it. And he uses these triplets all the time.

And here you have it: “To those…” “To those who are,” first of all, “called.” “Called.” From eternity, God’s purpose: to call out a people that are his very own;[7] to call them, as we thought this morning, out of the dominion of darkness; to transfer them into the kingdom of his dearly beloved Son.[8] And Jude is writing to these individuals, to those who recognize that God is a seeking God, that God has pursued them, that the story of the Bible is not the story of man out there looking for God, as the media prints it out to be, but rather is of a God who is seeking to save those who are lost. They are called.

Secondly, they are loved, or “beloved in God.” What a wonderful, wonderful picture that is! We ended earlier this afternoon with John 3:16 ringing in our ears, didn’t we? “God so loved the world, that he gave his only [begotten] Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have [everlasting] life”—that “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world” through him “might be saved.” “He did not”—as we sang at Sunday school in Scotland—

He did not come to judge the world.
He did not come to blame.
He did not only come to seek.
It was to save he came.

And when we call him Savior, …
Then we call him by his name.[9]

And these individuals are “called” and “beloved [of] God the Father.” Later on, he’s going to encourage them to keep themselves in God’s love.

But for now—and here’s the third verb—he reminds them that they are “kept for Jesus Christ,” or perhaps “kept by Jesus Christ.” Remember Jesus, in his High Priestly Prayer, addresses his Father, and he says to them, “Father, keep them in your name.”[10] “Keep them in your name.”

Do you ever waken up in the morning and say to yourself, number one, “Hey, I’m alive”? That’s a good start to the day. But do you lie in your bed and ponder that you’re spiritually alive, that you’re still in the race, that you’re still on the horse, that you’re still in the fight? Given what you know about your miserable self, about the proneness of our hearts to wander, about the insidious insinuations of the Evil One and the temptations to all kinds of things, why are we still here? Because we are kept by Jesus, and we are kept for Jesus.

And so, before he warns his readers, he provides warm encouragement by means of these verbs. Pastorally, let’s not miss that: Before he warns, he encourages. This is not a psychological mechanism on his part. This is a statement of truth. “I am writing,” he says, “to you who have been called by God, who are beloved by God, who are kept by Jesus, who are kept for Jesus.”

And then he prays for them, and his brief prayer provides us with another triplet: “May”—first of all—“mercy…” “Mercy” that he’s going to come back to in verses 21 and 22, isn’t he? “Keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life”—mercy that is discovered in Christ. Verse 22: “And have mercy on those who doubt”—mercy that is displayed to those who are outside of Christ. “May mercy…” “Mercy”! How much of evangelical Christianity is known in our secular world as being merciful? Merciful, whereby individuals are not granted what they deserve. “May mercy…”

Secondly: “peace.” “Peace.” Remember, he’s talking about peace in the context of “gloomy darkness”—verse 6—and “eternal fire”—verse 7. These individuals needed to know peace. They needed to know shalom. They needed to be assured of the fact that not only were they brought to an understanding of what it means to have peace with God, but they were able to live with the peace of God ruling in their hearts. Philippians 4, right? The word there is the same word that we’d use for an umpire, so that the peace of God is umpiring, exercising its jurisdiction over all the things that threaten to undo them and to unsettle them—all of this that is going on around them, all of this fierce antagonism, this dreadful devolution of conviction.

“I’m praying for you,” he says. “I’m praying for mercy and for peace and for love”—for “love” to “be multiplied to you.” “Multiplied to you”—the generosity of God that adds to us not simply by addition but by multiplication. “Oh, the love of my Redeemer, never failing, come what may.”[11]

A Necessary Appeal

Now, I take time on that little warm greeting because it is important to do. And from there into verse 3, we move from a warm greeting into what we will refer to as a necessary appeal. As a necessary appeal.

Instead of writing about salvation in general, something that he tells us he had been keen to do… “I was very eager to write to you about our common salvation”—to remind them, presumably, that they have been saved, as we learned in Sunday school, from sin’s penalty, that we are being saved from sin’s power, that one day we will be saved from sin’s presence, to assure them of these things—instead of that, “I have found it necessary to write in a different way, to appeal to you.”

Now, I want us to get under the burden of a sort of necessary response despite a spirit of reluctance. Again, you don’t have this picture of Jude—at least I don’t have the picture of Jude—you know, just can’t wait to get up in the morning and just lay it down on everybody. Years ago in Scotland, I went to play golf. (Again, you can tell I have a besetting sin.) And I went to play golf with a minister friend who was a wee bit older than me. And as we were out playing golf together, he was asking me what I was preaching on, and we were doing the usual ministerial thing. And I asked him what he was preaching on in the evening. And with a really strong Scottish accent, he said, “I’m just giving them the points. I’m just giving them the points.”

Well, I was really pretty naive at that point in my early twenties, and I didn’t know what “the points” were, you know? So I said, “Oh! What points are they?”

He said, “What do you mean? The five points! I’m giving them the five points.”

So I went home. I told my wife. She said, “How was it?”

I said, “It was good.” I said, ‘Yeah, golf was good.” I said, “Mr. X is leaving his church.”

She said, “He is?”

I said, “Oh, yeah. For sure.”

She said, “He told you that?”

I said, “No, he didn’t tell me that.”

“Well then, how do you know he’s leaving?”

I said, “Trust me. He’s leaving.” He was gone within six months.

Now, that’s not a comment on whether you want to preach the five points of Calvinism or not, but it was about tone. It was about spirit. Do you bring your people together on Sunday night and just beat the living daylights out of them? “I was just giving them the points.”

So Jude’s going, “I’m just going to give you a wee bit of contention. Come on, you contenders! Let’s all contend!” No! “I really was going to write to you something entirely different, but I found it necessary…” J. B. Phillips paraphrases it, “I feel compelled to make my letter to you an earnest appeal.”[12] There is a compulsion that arises in him, a compulsion that is a Spirit-endued compulsion that is in response to the context and his concern for those who are under his care, those for whom he has just prayed, that they might know mercy and that they might know the love of God and that they might understand that they are loved of God and that they are kept and that they’re secure in his grace. “Now,” he says, “here’s the circumstance that we’re facing.”

“I felt I had to,”[13] the NIV translates it; and here in the ESV, “I found it necessary.” In other words, he’s not giving them a suggestion to consider. He is making an appeal for them to take a stand for the gospel. “I determined that it is absolutely necessary for me to say to you folks that it is imperative, given the climate in which we’re living, that you take a stand for these things.” It’s in concurrence with Paul to the Philippians again. Remember, he says, “And I’m delighted, when I think of you, that I am discovering the fact that I can pray for you that you will be standing firm in one spirit with one mind, striving side by side for the faith of the gospel and not frightened by anything in your opponents.”[14] What an amazing picture! The Philippian context—masterful use of metaphor on the part of the writer, Paul himself. They were living in a Roman garrison town. They were familiar with all the soldiers. They understood that the soldiers banded together to make sure that everything was under control. And he says, “And I want to think of you in the same way. I want to think of you standing side by side, as if you just formed one gigantic body, living for the gospel, extending the gospel, being prepared to stand up and not afraid by anything thrown at you by your opponents.”

Loved ones, don’t we have the best news in the entire world? Why are we on the back foot? Why are we on the back foot? Are we going to bow down before the God of science? No. There’s nothing there. No, side by side—standing side by side.

This morning in the Wall Street Journal, there’s a lovely piece on the fact that, I think it’s tomorrow, they’re going to install a bust of Winston Churchill in the Capitol Building.[15] Fantastic! I wish I could be there. I wish we could all go. Maybe we’ll all go. It would be wonderful to see, wouldn’t it? And if you read the article—which I know you all will now, because you’re an intelligent group—you will discover that as it recounts the conversation between Roosevelt and Harry Hopkins and Churchill, that when they met together on the ship, they had the prayers, they had the reading of Scripture, and then what an amazing picture you have in your mind as it records the fact that Roosevelt and Churchill together joined in the singing of

Onward, Christian soldiers,
Marching [unto] war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before.[16]

There’s little to tell us that Churchill paid any deference at all to the cross of Jesus. But what a different world! Can you imagine Obama and Yeltsin getting together for a little talk, and someone says, “Hey, why don’t we sing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers?’” Yeah. You got it perfectly.

Now, on what basis, then, are they going to do this? That they’re going to contend for the faith, not faith. The definite article is important: “I found it necessary to … [appeal] to you to contend for the faith”—“the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints.” Now, clearly, they did not at this point have the entire closed canon of Scripture. But by this point, they knew they had received the truth about Jesus and about salvation—the salvation that was found “in Christ alone,”[17] as we’ve been singing. And that message had been delivered by apostolic authority to the saints. And in the oral form, as it had been passed on, these people were now in no doubt as to what was being mentioned when they were asked and urged to contend for the faith—in other words, to contend for the gospel that had saved them.

Jude is referring to the things we believe rather than the fact that we believe them—the objective facts that provide the foundation for what we do. As we’ve sung tonight, again, we have reinforced the fact that, as Luther said, in large measure, our Christian life is outside of us. It is outside of us. We are sufficiently convinced that we’re not saved as a result of anything done by us, but nor are we saved as a result of anything done in us. We are saved as a result of something done for us.

Don’t we have the best news in the entire world? Why are we on the back foot?

And when somebody asks you why it is you believe that you are going to heaven, if you answer in the first person, you’re probably wrong. The answer is in the third person. The answer to that question does not begin “Because I did this,” but the answer is “Because he did that.” “The dying thief rejoiced to see [the] fountain in his day.” The fountain was flowing beside him. “And there may I, though vile as he, wash all my sins away.”[18] It came across clearly in our song, didn’t it?

And this faith is not to be diluted. It is not to be distorted. It is not to be contaminated. It is not to be monkeyed with, to use Spurgeon’s terminology. Because this gospel, this faith, has been delivered to the saints. The gospel has come by special delivery from God. We have signed for it, and it is ours to preserve and to proclaim.

I’ve a message from the Lord, hallelujah!
This message unto you [I bring];
’Tis recorded in his Word, hallelujah!
It[’s] [a message] that you “look and live.”[19]

That’s the message that Spurgeon himself heard, wasn’t it? “Look! Look! Look, young man!”[20] And he looked, his blind eyes set free.

This message is to be proclaimed, and it is to be proclaimed clearly and wisely and sensitively and authoritatively. And it is the conviction that what God has said, he has said with nothing to be added; that what God has done, he has done with nothing else needed that underpins us. That’s why we only have two sacraments, isn’t it? We don’t have seven or nine or any measure. No.

And really, our churches should be marked by this kind of austerity, so that we have a table, and we have a pulpit—so that on the pulpit, we have a Bible which reminds us that God has spoken once and for all time and given it to us here in the authority of Scripture, and we have a table on which the elements are laid, reminding us that he has made one sacrifice for sin—that “when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice … he sat down at the right hand of God.”[21]

Now, I say to you again: There is nothing new in the context in which we find ourselves. Listen to Spurgeon again: “I have always considered,” says Spurgeon, “with Luther and Calvin, that the sum and substance of the gospel lies in that word Substitution,—Christ standing in the [place] of man. … I deserve to be lost for ever; the only reason why I should not be damned is [this], that Christ was punished in my [place], and there is no [reason] to execute a sentence twice for sin.”[22]

Chuck Smith, the founder of the Calvary Chapel movement, died a few weeks ago. His memorial service was on Sunday in Los Angeles, I believe. Some of you may have followed that movement. I’m not sure that many have. I have, because as a child of the ’60s, I was intrigued when the news spilled back across the Atlantic Ocean of this character who was breaking the bounds of evangelical propriety by making it accessible to those who did not look like your standard potential Christians. And as a result of the simplicity of what was said and the clarity of what was said, many people became Christians during that period of time.

And I remember watching a documentary of the period and seeing some of the folks who had become involved in the music industry, people like the 2nd Chapter of Acts and so on. And I remember they were interviewing them and asking them how they had come to faith in Jesus Christ. And one of the sisters in the 2nd Chapter of Acts had been essentially just a hippie in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco. And someone, in the course of street evangelism, had encountered this girl in the street and had begun to share with her who Jesus was and why he had come and what he had done and had said to her, “You know, it is possible for you to be born again.” And the girl said, “Born again? You mean I can get a second chance? You mean I can get a redo?” “Oh, yes,” said the person. “He wipes the record clean and clear. He comes to invade your life and to change you.” And as they dialogued on that, the truth of it dawned on this girl’s heart, and she was wonderfully converted.

And for all these subsequent years—she’s now a lady probably pushing seventy—she’s able to testify to the transforming power of the faith that is rooted in the fact that nobody sought to tell her that Jesus would make a really nice life coach; that Jesus would add to the sum of her total happiness; that Jesus was the real thing, like a Diet Pepsi; but that Jesus was a Savior and a Lord and a Friend.

And here we are today, and the panorama of the world that you and I inhabit is one that challenges at the very threshold, at the very pivotal points of these things. The hymnody that we have been singing since I’ve been here is largely unacceptable in many of the supposedly evangelical circles. Our good friends were recently asked to include “In Christ Alone” in one of the new hymnbooks, and they would be delighted to have it in the hymnbook, they said, provided they remove the line “The wrath of God is satisfied.”[23] “We will gladly put you in our hymnbook as long as you get rid of that stuff.” Mercifully, they said, “No, we would rather not be in your hymnbook than get rid of, as you put it, ‘that stuff.’”

Virtually any view can be entertained and tolerated, just as long as it doesn’t enter into the essence of “the faith … once … delivered to the saints.” Are you brave enough for this? Many of you have got a lot more in front of you than you’ve got behind you. I’ve got more behind me than I’ve got in front of me. I won’t be around for the end of this battle, I don’t think. Are you prepared for this? Are you prepared to stand side by side for the gospel—nothing more than the gospel, nothing less than the gospel, but the gospel, the very essence of that which Jude says, “I was going to write to you in a more generic way, but I felt that I had to urge you in relationship to these things”?

I mentioned Churchill earlier. I’m sorry; it’s just a Churchill thing that’s going on in my head right now. But Churchill died in 1965. It was on TV in England, in Scotland. I know, because I went to my friend’s house in order to see it. We didn’t have a television. It was a black-and-white; there was no color. And I remember the solemn procession as the funeral unfolded. And then I remember the singing of that great hymn by Bunyan:

Who would true valor see,
Let him come hither;
One [there] will constant be
Come wind, come weather.

And then that great second verse that begins, “Hobgoblin nor foul fiend [shall] daunt his spirit.” And we’re getting close to Halloween, so it’s a good reminder, isn’t it? No, there’ll be no hobgoblins and no foul fiends that will daunt his spirit.

He knows he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies [flee] away;
He’ll [care] not what men say;
He’ll labor night and day
To be a pilgrim.[24]

Interestingly, in Thatcher’s funeral, she had the same hymn. No surprise! She loved Churchill. And Thatcher was the Iron Lady who said, if you just set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing. That’s where so many of our pulpits are.

Now, I concur with what’s been said earlier. There is a reason why people don’t like preaching: because there’s so much lousy preaching. Let’s just be honest about it. The person is so backward in coming forward that it’s virtually impossible to understand what he’s on about: “Well, I don’t want to offend you. I wouldn’t like anyone to feel that I was saying what I’m not really saying. But on the other hand, what I’m saying is if I wasn’t saying that, I could be saying this. And then, if you think about that in relationship to that and put them together, you know, you have a fried egg. And therefore, let me tell you what we’re doing.” And the people are going, “I don’t know what the world this is about! Say something! Just say something!” Right? It’s tragic!

“How’s your minister?”

“He’s a very nice man.”

“I don’t care! I’m asking: Can he preach?”

We have an astronaut here, apparently. I’m excited to meet him. But, I mean, you can’t just send anybody up to outer space ’cause he’s a nice man.

“I’d like to go to outer space.”

“Are you a nice man?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead! Why don’t you go right ahead? Go to outer space. Let me know how it is.”

They wheel you on that thing. You’re going in for cardiothoracic surgery. You want a nice man? Or you want a surgeon? Exactly!

“He’s a very nice man.”

“Yeah, but how is he on the old…”

“Well, he’s not very good at that, but he’s a nice man.”

Our churches are dying with nice men. You got to be like me. Don’t be a nice man. Be like me—a not nice man!

No, we can be kind, and we can be gracious, but we’ve got to be clear. Contemporary evangelicalism stands like the armies of Israel, confronted by Goliath, waiting in every town and valley and state of the nation for a shepherd boy to stand up and say, “He is defying the armies of the living God. I’ll take care of him.”[25]

“You’ll take care of him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re going to take care of him, then we’re going to have to get you kitted out.”

What a pathetic picture that is, huh? Little David there with Saul’s armor, clunking around in the family room, trying it out: “No, try a little more!

“Okay. Wait a minute. I don’t think…”

“No, let me try it this way.”

“No, no, no. Nah, I’m not going to wear that. No.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll just do what I usually do. I’ll just kill him with a stone.”[26]

“What, you mean like ‘One little word shall fell him’? Have you been reading Luther again?”

One little word shall fell him.

That word [for] all [the] earthly powers
No thanks to them abideth.[27]

No, it’s terrific, isn’t it? And we’re going to cloak our cowardice in the ill-fitting garments of correctness? We’re going to be cowards so that everyone will know how correct we are? Or are we going to tell the truth?

Do you want to tell the truth about human sexuality? Do you want to tell the truth about the exclusivity of Jesus Christ? Do you want to tell the truth about the issues of pluralism? Do you want to tell people what tolerance really means as defined in the Oxford English Dictionary? Or do you want to just…

Yeah, you understand. We face it every Sunday, don’t we? And Sunday keeps coming around. That’s the trouble. It goes Sunday, Monday, Sunday. Who started that? What happened to Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday? It just goes Sunday, Monday, Sunday! How did it be Sunday again? I said to my wife, “It can’t be Sunday again.” She said, “It’s Sunday again.”

We can be kind, and we can be gracious, but we’ve got to be clear.

You say, “Well, get back to the text.”

Why is the appeal so necessary? Verse 4 tells us: “For certain people have crept in unnoticed.” “Unnoticed”! They don’t come in wearing a big sign. No, they come in “unnoticed.” They don’t come in wearing baseball hats that say, you know, “Sensuality” on the front and “Heresy” on the back. “I’m here for a little sensuality, and if you’d like a little heresy, I have that for you as well.” “Oh, come in! Yeah. We have a faculty position for you.”

No, they come in “unnoticed.” “Unnoticed.” They carry Bibles. They use the same language. You have to be skillful. You have to be discerning. You have to be prepared to adjudicate on the strength of the direction of Scripture. That’s how crucial it is. “Certain people have crept in.” They’re already in! It’s not that they’re going to come. They’re there. They have “crept in unnoticed.” How did they get in “unnoticed”? The people were asleep!

Now, every so often—and this happened to me not so long ago: I was somewhere, and I didn’t like where I was, and I was supposed to stay for another night and go home in the morning, and I found out that there was a way to do it differently, and I got a flight at a very strange hour, and I got back into Cleveland at an ungodly hour in the morning. I thought, “This is so exciting. I’m going to be able to creep in and surprise my wife with my homecoming. She’s going to be so thrilled to see me!” And so I went in very carefully and closed everything down and opened the door, and it went Wah-oh! Wah-oh! Wah-oh! Wah-oh! And I realized, “Oh, my wife set the alarm. That’s brilliant.”

And then it just was not what I had intended. She appeared over the landing going, “Oh, it’s you. Goodness gracious!”

I said, “Yeah. Thanks for the welcome. I was looking forward to seeing you as well.”

But she did the right thing. She didn’t want anybody creeping in unnoticed. She set the alarm! That’s what you do: You set the alarm.

That’s why we do interviews for church membership. That’s why it matters. Not just “Come one, come all. Do you have a faith? Do you have a spiritual journey?” “Have you been converted? Were you aware of the fact that once you were without God and without hope in the world?[28] Tell me. Tell me: How did that change? When did God add you to his family?”

So he says, “You need to realize that this is so important because they have crept in unnoticed. They were designated for this condemnation.” They mustn’t be unsettled by this fact. God hasn’t been taken by surprise.

He doesn’t name them. It’s interesting, isn’t it? Presumably, there would have been identifiable characters, but he just refers to them as “certain people.” I think that’s quite helpful. Because it is a reminder to us that there are always people like this in every generation, and they are all marked by the same stuff. You will notice that “certain people have crept in unnoticed.” Who are they? What are they? They are “ungodly people.” They are “ungodly people.” They’re the kind of people who would have been prepared to use Bible terms, probably well-received at the equivalent of Christian conferences, but they couldn’t be taken at face value.

And Jude then provides two identifying features of their godless opposition. What is it? Well, they “pervert the grace of our God into sensuality.” That’s the first thing. Now, don’t misunderstand me: I love all this emphasis on grace. How could you not if you have a Bible? But there is… I’ve lived long enough to observe this on a number of occasions: the pendulum swings. It doesn’t often settle in the middle. And the vociferous reaction to a real or an imagined legalism holds tremendous potential for a virulent form of antinomianism. It is not the grace of God that tells a Christian young person he can sleep with his girlfriend. It is not the grace of God that allows us to tolerate that which is just a blatant form of sensuality. The Word of God to us was great challenge as pastors throughout the day, wasn’t it, in both addresses, zeroing into our own hearts to watch our own lives lest we distort the grace of God, giving ourselves a free pass to walk on paths which are denied to us, to pursue pursuits which are off-limits for us—and all under the guise of the grace of God!

That’s what these people were doing: They were ungodly, and they perverted the grace of God into sensuality. You see how easily it is done? You think about the legalism that said, “You can’t go to movies.” That was legalism, apparently. Wouldn’t you love to go back to those days now? In some measure, yes. Why? Oh, think of all the garbage that’s filled your mind since. Think of all the mental images that you would be totally embarrassed to have had Jesus Christ sitting beside you in the theater. And think of all the times we justified it as “Well, we’re really just trying to, you know, investigate and spoil the Egyptians. Just doing a little research. Yes, yes.” Really? I had to fight to get to go to a movie. Finally, my parents finally let me go to a movie when I was fifteen. Guess what I went to see? The Ten Commandments. That’s right. And with an amazing amount of arm twisting, I finally got them to relent one more time, for The Sound of Music.

If Jesus Christ is Lord (and he is), then the believer has no freedom to believe anything other than what Jesus taught.

“Oh,” you say, “now I know why you’re as messed up as you are, Begg.” Well, you may think I’m messed up, but I’m thankful for those days. I agree with my brother this afternoon. Sure, it’s a wonderful story when we are able to tell of all the things that God has saved us out of. It’s an equally wonderful story to be able to tell of all the things that God has saved us from. And to be able to raise our children and our grandchildren within the framework and context of God-fearing righteousness is a matter of great joy and a privilege beyond measure.

I met my wife forty-five years ago last Sunday. When she was thirteen years old, I was sixteen, in England. And I wrote her a note last Sunday morning before I left for church, and I said, “Think about it: If God had not saved your mom and dad and saved my mom and dad, neither of us would have been in that suburban London church on that particular Sunday.” “O how the grace of God amazes me.”[29] We dare not—we dare not—toy with any temptation to do what these characters have done: to “pervert the grace of our God into sensuality.”

Can I quote you—and I’ll stop soon (I see the clock)—can I quote you Ralph Davis on the whole notion of the law? And this is what he writes. This is in his commentary on 1 Kings. He says,

I know some Christians have allergic reactions when [they are] told they[’re] subject to [God]’s moral law in Exodus 20. This, they fear, is legalism and an effort at salvation by works. But that fear misunderstands the function of the ten commandments. The law … comes in the context of grace …. Yahweh lays down [the] pattern in … Exodus: he delivers his people …, then he demands …; he works his redemption before he sets down his requirements. He first sets Israel free and then tells them how that freedom is to be enjoyed and maintained. Glad obedience to [God]’s moral law is simply our “logical” act of worship.[30]

Now, we’re going to have to think this out, aren’t we? Because the opposition of the ungodly is not only revealed in the sensuality but also in the heresy, whereby they “deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.” In other words, they refuse to acknowledge him as Lord and Master. The problem is both moral and theological, and it will always be moral and theological.

I referred earlier to the hymnbook, but before the hymnbook, there were others who were challenging the notion of singing those songs. And one of the large churches in the North had a pastor there who’s no longer there, who was absolutely committed to making sure that we would rid our terminology of any of that notion of penal substitutionary atonement. That was his theological concern. It’s no surprise that subsequently, his moral posture has followed his theological declension.

If Jesus Christ is Lord (and he is), then the believer has no freedom to believe anything other than what Jesus taught. That’s why when Paul says in Philippians 2 that one day, “at the name of Jesus every knee [will] bow … and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,”[31] that’s not an expression of devotion. That’s an understanding of who and what he is. The word that he uses there is the word that is translated in the Septuagint time and time and time again for Yahweh. He’s saying, “Everybody will finally declare that Jesus Christ is actually who he claimed to be—that he is the Lord of Glory, that he is the King of Kings. And therefore,” he says, “since Jesus Christ is Lord, we don’t have a freedom to redefine anything that he has made clear, and we have no freedom to behave contrary to his commands.”

And in pastoral ministry, we know this to be the case. We counsel with people all the time. Either they’re going to bring their morality into conformity to the truth of God’s Word, or they will seek to reimagine God’s Word to accommodate their morality.

A Chilling Reminder

Well, finally, just a word: A chilling reminder then follows, doesn’t it? Verse 5: It begins, “Now I want to remind you…” “I want to remind you, although you once fully knew it…” “You once fully knew it.” Some problem has taken place here. They don’t really fully know it anymore. Somehow or another, it’s beginning to leak on them. They’re just not holding the line in the same way.

I bet none of you learned this poem at school, unless you’re British:

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot;
I can think of no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Put up your hand if you memorized that as a boy in elementary school—or a girl. One person? Two people? British, right? No? Strange education in America! I didn’t think you cared, but I’m gratified to discover that there is some inkling of British history that has filtered its way into life here.

1605, Guy Fawkes, a Catholic, was involved in a major plot to blow up the Protestant-controlled Houses of Parliament. He was thwarted and met a sorry end. And every year on the fifth of November, we gather. But that was 350 years before I actually became a schoolboy and they taught that to me at school. Why do I have to “remember, remember the fifth of November”? Because if you forget history, the possibility is that you might repeat it.

“I intend,” says Peter, “to remind you always of these things so that after my departure, you may be able to bring them to mind.”[32] Our ministry is a ministry of reminder in large measure, isn’t it? Not a ministry of innovation. Everyone’s chasing around for the latest thing. We’ve got to remind ourselves and remind one another. And so he says, “I need to remind you…” “I want to remind you, although you once fully knew it…”

And then he gives another three things. Let me summarize this, and I’ll stop, and then it’s over to you for homework. (I like to assign homework—especially the hard parts.) If you consider this later on, you will discover that he goes first of all to the people of Israel who died in the wilderness on account of their unbelief. That’s a chilling reminder. Then he goes to the angels of heaven. Dissatisfied with their appointed role, they rebelled and attempted to be free; they found themselves in chains. Then he reminds them of the cities of the plain—a beautiful place that should have been a reason for them to bless and honor God. Instead, they became proud. They rebelled against God’s natural order—from which it is both necessary and possible to be saved. And so his warning is clear.

I can see why he said, “I would rather have written in a different way.” I can see why many of my young colleagues have decided that probably the best thing to do is just, you know, do, you know, “Six Theories for Child Rearing,” “Seven Points for Balancing Your Budget,” “Laugh Your Way to Success,” “How to Live with Your Wife in Six Easy Evenings.” “Come on back this evening. We’re going to be…” You know. It’s all going to go away, folks. It’s an unsustainable model. It will not last. ’Cause it’s just another form of liberalism.

And I don’t feel triumphalistic. I don’t feel remotely bombastic or… I just feel sad, concerned, and absolutely convinced that the necessity that gave rise to Jude writing as he did is a recurring necessity throughout the ages of the church until finally Christ comes in fulfillment of his plan.

Jenkyn on Jude you should all have in your library. If you can’t sleep at night, you could get it out and have a little look at it, and you’ll be asleep, you know, in relatively short order. But let me finish with a quote from it just to whet your appetite:

Great should be the care of the ministers of Christ to warn the church of approaching evils, especially of seducers. The apostles of Christ foretold the coming of these seducers among the Christians: Paul “warned every one night and day with tears” …. They are watchmen, and it is their duty to give warning of every enemy. They should be unfaithful to your souls, if they should be friends to your adversaries. Their loving and faithful freeness herein creates them many enemies; but they can much more easily endure the wrath of man here for discharging, than the wrath of God hereafter for neglecting their duty. It is better that the lusts of seducers should curse them awhile, than the souls of their people to all eternity. Ministers must defend as well as feed their flock, and keep away poison as well as give them meat; drive away the wolf as well as provide pasture. Cursed be that patience which can see the wolf, and yet say nothing. If the heresies of seducers be damnable, the silence of ministers must needs be so too.[33]

A warm encouragement, a necessary exhortation, and a chilling reminder.

Father, thank you that in and beyond the voice of mere men we encounter you in your Word. Thank you that it is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path.[34] And we take it as from yourself. I pray that you will banish from our recollection anything that is untrue or unhelpful or unkind but that you will fasten in the very forefront of our thinking those convictions which are vital for us in order that we do not fail to watch our own life and doctrine closely,[35] lest we, too, having preached to others, should ourselves become castaways.[36]

Hear our prayers, O God, and let our cry come unto you. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

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[1] C. H. Spurgeon, “Another Word Concerning the Down-Grade,” in The Sword and the Trowel: A Record of Combat with Sin and of Labour for the Lord, vol. 23, 1887 (London: Passamore and Alabaster, 1887), 399.

[2] See 1 Peter 3:15.

[3] Paul McCartney and John Lennon, “Hey Jude” (1968).

[4] Dick Lucas and Christopher Green, The Message of 2 Peter and Jude: The Promise of His Coming, The Bible Speaks Today (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 1995), 167.

[5] John 1:11 (KJV).

[6] See Matthew 12:46–50; Mark 3:20–21, 31–35; Luke 8:19–21; John 7:3–5.

[7] See Titus 2:14.

[8] See Colossians 1:13.

[9] Dora Greenwell, “A Good Confession,” in Songs of Salvation (London, 1874), 27. Paraphrased.

[10] John 17:11 (ESV).

[11] Josh Caterer, “O the Love of My Redeemer” (2007).

[12] Jude 3 (Phillips).

[13] Jude 3 (NIV 1984).

[14] Philippians 1:3, 27–28 (paraphrased).

[15] Dorothy Rabinowitz, “Churchill Is Home Again and Here to Stay,” The Wall Street Journal, October 28, 2013, https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052702304200804579163631669139434.

[16] Sabine Baring-Gould, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” (1864).

[17] Stuart Townend and Keith Getty, “In Christ Alone” (2001).

[18] William Cowper, “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood” (1772).

[19] William Augustine Ogden, “Look and Live” (1887).

[20] The Autobiography of Charles H. Spurgeon, vol. 1, 1834–1854 (Chicago: Fleming H. Revell, 1898), 106. Paraphrased.

[21] Hebrews 10:12 (ESV).

[22] Spurgeon, Autobiography, 113.

[23] Townend and Getty, “In Christ Alone.”

[24] John Bunyan, “He Who Would Valiant Be” (1684).

[25] 1 Samuel 17:26 (paraphrased).

[26] See 1 Samuel 17:38–40.

[27] Martin Luther, trans. Frederic Henry Hedge, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” (1529, 1853).

[28] See Ephesians 2:12.

[29] Emmanuel T. Sibomana, trans. Rosemary Guillebaud, “O How the Grace of God Amazes Me” (1946).

[30] Dale Ralph Davis, 1 Kings: The Wisdom and the Folly (Fearn, Great Britain: Christian Focus, 2002), 83n5.

[31] Philippians 2:10–11 (ESV).

[32] 2 Peter 1:12–15 (paraphrased).

[33] William Jenkyn, An Exposition upon the Epistle of Jude [1839?], 326.

[34] See Psalm 119:105.

[35] See 1 Timothy 4:16.

[36] See 1 Corinthians 9:27.