February 5, 1984
From Paul’s prayer in Colossians 1, Alistair Begg shows us an example of Christian psychology and gracious tact. As believers, we must not allow ourselves to be trapped in a mindset of superficial optimism, devastating pessimism, or unnatural avoidism. Instead, we can learn from Paul to be encouragingly realistic. The apostle didn’t let difficulties get him down; rather, He always gave thanks to God—in this case, for the faith, hope, love, and fruit of the Colossian believers.
Sermon Transcript: Print
Father, we pray that our hearts may be increasingly knit together this morning as a result of you speaking to us through your Holy Word. Take the scales from our eyes, and unstop our ears, and stir in our so-often indifferent hearts we pray. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.
Colossians chapter 1. We concluded last time by noting that Paul’s purpose in writing to the Christians in Colossae was to tackle a problem—a problem that he doesn’t state in so many words but a problem which was extremely significant, in that it was threatening the stability of the believers in Colossae. To put it in more graphic terms, Paul was tackling a two-headed monster. And on the one hand (or on the one head, to continue the picture), there was the issue of doctrinal confusion—the issue of doctrinal confusion so easily caused by, as he mentions it in 2:8, the subtle inroads of “hollow and deceptive philosophy.” That, if you like, is the thing that he combats in the one respect, and then, on the other head, he tackles the whole area of moral carelessness—hence the very clear teaching that is found primarily in the third chapter of his letter.
It’s interesting to note that doctrinal confusion and moral carelessness almost inevitably go hand in hand. I don’t want to delay on it here this morning, but oftentimes you will discover that first there is a move doctrinally from truth; then there is an adjustment of our moral behavior. But interestingly, at least as often as that if not more frequently, it happens the other way around: that there is a moral breakdown which in turn leads to a readjustment of doctrine, so that I fail, I run counter to what God’s Word teaches concerning how I ought to live, and then I begin to change things in relation to the character of God in order to allow me to remain the way I am, being unprepared to admit the fact that I am wrong.
Now, the way in which Paul begins his letter—and I’m thinking now of verses 3 and following, which is the center of our study this morning—provides us with something of a measure of the mighty apostle. He is confronted by an issue which is far-reaching in its implications, but he begins by being encouragingly realistic. He is encouragingly realistic.
In doing so, he rejects an optimism that is born of superficiality—like the man who fell out of a twenty-four-story building, and as he passed the eleventh floor, he was heard to shout, “So far, so good!” That man has only a superficial perception of what’s going on. Disaster awaits him in very, very short time.
He also, in being encouragingly realistic, rejects a pessimism that is preoccupied with the negative. Hold on to this, will you? Because the reaction of leadership is very often to become superficially optimistic or to become so preoccupied with the negative that they become devastatingly pessimistic—like the thirty-year-old minister who played golf regularly with a member of his congregation, a man who was about thirty years his senior. And the older man used to give the fellow a very good beating on the golf course regularly. And the minister had grown very tired of coming up the fairway and eventually putting the flag back in the hole and saying to his parishioner, “It’s your hole.” And at the end of the day, the parishioner said to him, he said, “You know,” he said, “you really ought not to be so gloomy.” He said, “At the end of it all, you’ll probably win at the finish.” He said, “Think about it: you’ll probably be burying me one of these days.” And the minister looked at him, and he said, “Yeah, but it will still be your hole.”
See? He rejects an optimism that is born of superficiality. He rejects a pessimism that is preoccupied with the negative. And you know that you have seen leadership die on account of both of these things.
And thirdly, he rejects an approach which seeks to avoid the issue either on account of fear or on account of laziness. The first play I ever saw was at primary school in Scotland, and it was a little scenario of Pinocchio, where a group of traveling theatrical students were going around the schools trying to introduce us to culture. And I can’t remember hardly anything at all except that this fellow with an amazingly long nose had a part in the little thing where he was supposed to be sweeping the floor of the room in which he’d been left, and he would say something like “Sweep here, sweep there,” and then he would pick up the corner of the carpet and say, “And sweep it under the carpet,” and we used to cheer as it went under the carpet again and again. But of course, the problem with putting things under the carpet is that imperceptibly and gradually, and then tragically, what began as just a very little area has suddenly become something over which people will trip and eventually harm themselves.
Now, I mention that this morning because it is vitally relevant in any church. It’s relevant for those who are involved in leadership at all and therefore for those who follow. Paul does not overlook nor avoid the dangers threatening the fellowship, but nor is he pressed down by majoring on the minors. The devil’s strategy is to get us always playing in a minor key. One of the great demands of leadership is to learn how to reject his inroads there. Instead of either of those two alternatives, before tackling the troubles, as it were—before dealing with the problems—Paul, in so many words, embraces the fellowship at Colossae. He puts his arms around them, as it were, by beginning with thanksgiving. And as he is thankful, he writes to them that he is convinced of the work of God’s grace that is in their lives and of the many evidences that are present as he reads it, having heard from Epaphras.
Now, I want to say that in this, he provides an example of Christian psychology and of gracious tact which ought to be a lesson to every parent, to every teacher, to every counselor, to every elder, to every pastor. Do not allow yourself to be trapped in the mindset of superficial optimism nor of a devastating pessimism nor, to make my own word, an unnatural avoidism. But rather, learn from Paul here to be encouragingly realistic.
There will always be people who love to come and tell you, “Oh, it’s dreadful. Oh, it’s terrible.” There will be always the people who are always saying, “Oh, everything’s fantastic!” And somewhere in between those two extremes you will usually encounter reality. And that is as much a word to my heart as it to anybody’s heart today.
Now, as we turn, then, to focus on the reasons for thanksgiving—which is the heading that we’re taking this morning—in giving reasons for thanksgiving, he’s answering the why question: Why be thankful? But he also makes clear the answer to the when question and the who question.
I.e.: When is he being thankful? Well, you’ll notice the little word “always”—verse 3.[1] His thanksgiving, then, is not merely a temporary feeling of gratitude. Rather, it is marked by constancy. He says, “We always thank God.” And in that, he is an example of that which he urges upon others. You go through Paul’s letters, and you will find again and again that he urges upon his readers thanksgiving in their prayers. If you like, a prayer without thanksgiving is like a bird without wings. And Paul again and again urges his leadership to thankfulness: “Be thankful. Learn to be thankful in all circumstances. No matter how bad it is, learn to be thankful to God.” It would be a strange thing if, having urged his readers to that, he himself lived in a denial of it. And, of course, he doesn’t. And so, he is the embodiment of that which he urges upon others—which, again, is a great test of leadership.
He is also in no doubt as to whom the thanks is due. When is he thanking? He’s always thanking. And to whom is he giving thanks? He is not giving thanks, ultimately, to Epaphras. He is not giving thanks to himself. For no matter what part he or Epaphras or others may have played in the spiritual pilgrimage of the church at Colossae, Paul knows that God is worthy of all the glory, for he it is who is ultimately responsible for any spiritual advance in his children. And it takes someone with the wisdom and insight of Paul to make that clear.
There was a man in England—he’s now in glory—called Tom Rees, a great friend of Billy Graham. He used to have rallies at the Westminster Hall in London and did an amazing work amongst young people. There still is a place where you may go for vacation called Hildenborough Hall in the Otford Hills in Kent—a beautiful place. His wife, Jean Rees, wrote a book entitled Danger, Saints at Work! in which she had a number of chapters called “How Not to…”—things like “How Not to Sing a Solo,” “How Not to Uplift the Offering,” “How Not to Give Your Testimony.” And she parodies the young man who says, in giving his testimony, “I was going along the road, and all of a sudden, I met Mr. Philpott. And if it hadn’t been for Mr. Philpott, I don’t know where I would have been today. Because, you see, it was Mr. Philpott who took me to the church. And actually, it was Mr. Philpott who finally led me to the Lord. And you know, Mr. Philpott has been at the very heart of my progress.”[2] And already there is one word that is lodged in your mind, and what is the word? It’s “Mr. Philpott.” And Paul is concerned for the readership at Colossae that together, as he says, “I thank God,” they say, “And we thank God, too, Paul, for those whom God has been pleased to use. But ultimately, we’ll give him all the glory, for he alone is worthy.”
“Who then…” “What then”—the word is neuter, actually (1 Corinthians 3)—“what then is Paul? What then is Apollos? Merely folks by whom the Word of God came to you. They may plant, and they may water, but only God can make things grow.”[3] And from that perspective, Paul then utters his thanksgiving.
Well, I’ve outlined five things in an attempt to summarize these verses, 3–8. He thanks God… You’ll find them on the outline if you care to use it. He thanks God first of all for the faith they embrace.
This is the first of three elements which are proper evidences of the work of God in the soul of man. And Paul does not think of these as being natural to us but rather as an indication of the supernatural activity of God’s Spirit in our lives. And when we find ourselves embracing faith and we think it back, we think it back to God. No matter who may have been used or instrumental in the inception of it, when we think it back, we think it back to God himself.
One of the hymns we almost sung this morning is “I know not why God’s wondrous grace to me has been made known.” And it contains that verse which says,
I know not how this saving faith
To me he did impart,
Nor how believing in his Word
Wrought peace within my heart.[4]
And I know not, either, this morning. Do you find yourself saying, “Lord Jesus, why me?” as you look around your office, as you return to your school, as you move amongst your friends? The mystery of God’s activity in our lives.
Now, this faith that they embrace is something more than merely being able to say, “I believe in God.” Today, people speak very loosely about faith, and yet the New Testament doesn’t know that kind of vagueness. The faith of which the New Testament speaks is a faith of which Jesus is both the author and the perfecter—Hebrews 12:2—so that when we say, “I believe in God,” it is ultimately irrelevant in terms of living faith, unless we’re able to say, “I believe in the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and my belief in God has come to a vital awareness on account of the fact that I enjoy a relationship with Jesus.”
You see, faith, again, in the New Testament is always spoken of in terms of this personal, living relationship. And that runs counter to the notion of faith which many hold today. People often say to another person or of another person, “I wish I had his faith.” We’ve all heard people say that, as if faith were a commodity or it were a characteristic, in the same way as we might say, “I wish I had his red hair,” or “I wish I had her complexion.” But faith is not that! Faith is a living relationship with Jesus Christ. The faith that they embrace is a faith which, if you like, has also embraced them. So we’re not talking today about some vague belief in a superbeing. The New Testament is not speaking of a God way up there who doesn’t care. But when Paul writes to them and says, “I’m thankful because of the faith you embraced,” he understands it in these terms.
Secondly, “the love you exhibit.” We’re still in the fourth verse: “because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and … the love you have for all the saints.”
The same grace and power which brings a believer into a relationship with Christ in heaven also brings him into a relationship with his people on earth. “Living in faith and living in love” ought to be an accurate description of the true believer. Faith devoid of love will eventually be nothing more than a metallic orthodoxy, and love minus faith will degenerate into mere sentimentality. And so, in the New Testament Scriptures, again, we have the underpinning of these two things: faith and love—the vertical dimension in terms of my relationship with God in Christ, the horizontal dimension in terms of the love which fills my heart and issues out to my brothers and sisters in Jesus.
Now, once again, the origin of this love is found in God. The apostle John expresses it quite wonderfully in 1 John and in chapter 4. I just want to read a verse or two from there. One John 4, from verse 7: “Dear friends, let us love one another.” How? Why?
For love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. …
… If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.[5]
Now, will you notice back, then, in Colossians the obligation of love? Its origin is with God: “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us.”[6] And the obligation of love is there in that little three-letter word “all”: “because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and the love you have for all the saints”—not for some of the saints, not for the saints I like, not for the saints in the same economic strata, not for the saints who share the same interests as me, not for the saints with whom I find it easy to be comfortable, but for all the saints.
And incidentally, for those of you who’ve come from a tradition where there are only one or two saints and you bow down before them, the New Testament does not speak of saints in that way but uses the word as a kind of interchange for “believer,” for “those who are in Christ.” So in other words, for “saints,” read “fellow Christians.” So the love they exhibit, says Paul, is the love for all their fellow Christians.
Now, when we think about that for just a moment and when we think about living life in society, we realize that society knows something of the love of family life, and society is well aware of the links of common interest, but this dimension is something of which society knows absolutely nothing, for it is spiritual, and it is supernatural. If you like, God has called us, in Christ, to be naturally supernatural. And this kind of love amongst God’s people, friends, is supernatural. For by our nature, we conform to the modes of society around us, don’t we? It’s by our very nature that we respond to things in that way. And God understands that, but he doesn’t excuse it. I think it was Stott who said the fellowship of the saints is “not a series of loosely related cliques, but an all-embracing and self-abnegating [communion].”[7]
Now, here we are this morning: the Chapel. And God speaks to us about the faith we embrace, and he calls us to the love we must exhibit. Friends, if that love is not in my heart, if that love is not shed abroad amongst us, then we live in a very negation of that which Jesus Christ said was fundamental to the place in which his Spirit dwells. And we may use that as the test, far more than any other test, of the reality of God’s presence amongst his people. Again, Stott said love is not to be the victim of our emotions but to be the servant of our wills.[8]
And that puts it in perspective, because by nature we say, “I don’t love him or her, because I don’t find them attractive. I don’t love being with them, because they don’t think the same way as I do.” Do you remember what Jesus said? Do you remember, he turned, and he said, “If you love those that love you, what reward have you? Don’t the publicans and sinners love people just like that?”[9] In other words: Isn’t it exactly what we expect to find when we walk out the doors? So when people walk in the doors, what are they supposed to find? A faith that is embraced and a love that is exhibited, a love that is found—and we daren’t turn to it as time rolls on—encapsulated in 1 Corinthians 13. If we want to test the measure of our love, then we may test it there.
As we move on, one final question: Is it really that important that we exhibit this kind of love? Well, the answer is it certainly is, and it’s without question. One of the things that has come home to me afresh this week is, again, back in 1 John 4:12, where John says, “No one has ever seen God.” So God is invisible, right? Then comes the word “but”: “but if we love each other, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” In other words, the invisible God becomes visible in society when our love is made perfect amongst one another. Now, will you ask the Holy Spirit to minister this to your heart today? Jesus said, “By this will all men know that you are my disciples, that you have love for one another.”[10] Well, it can’t be labored any further.
Third point, as you turn over the page: he thanks God not only for their faith and for their love but, completing the triad which is so familiar in the New Testament, he then thanks God for the hope which they experience.
Now, at first reading—and perhaps at second and third reading, too—we might have expected that this hope would have been referred to as emerging from their faith. But in point of fact, Paul reverses that here, and we discover that the reverse is actually true, the implication being that the Christian’s hope is the motive power behind his faith and his love. It is because I have a hope that will surely endure after the passing of time; It is because there is still that dimension to my life which as yet is unrealized, unfulfilled, in Jesus; it is because I look forward to “a land that is fairer than day,” and that “by faith [I will] see it afar”;[11] it is because that hope grips my heart that it then becomes the springboard for my faith and the springboard for my love. So, you see, when there is not that hope written in our hearts, then any approach towards faith or towards love becomes less than what God intends it to be.
Now, when Paul wrote to the church at Corinth, he pointed out the ultimate futility of a life which is not dominated by the Christian’s hope. First Corinthians 15:12 and following—I think I’m reading verse 19 here—he says, “If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.” ’Cause here we are, living life according to the guidelines of Scripture. Here we are, turning our back on the dishonest gain which is open to so many. Here we are, turning away from that which, in terms of relationships, appears to be so attractive to so many. And in it all, we’re saying that there is that which is ours in Christ that yet awaits us. Paul says if it doesn’t await us, our faith is futile, and really, we’re without hope at all.
Now, part of the problem in dealing with this word “hope” lies in the fact that we so often read the word in the sense in which it is commonly used in society today, and that is in terms of a kind of a vague optimism, like “I hope it doesn’t rain” or “I hope it won’t have snowed a lot before we get out of church.” In other words, there is no assurance or certainty concerning it. It is a vague desire.
Now, when the New Testament uses the word “hope,” it doesn’t use it in that vague sense. Hope in the New Testament is a confident assurance and expectancy of the many blessings that are still awaiting believers in the life of the world to come. That is why in the words of committal—certainly at home; I don’t know how it is here—but around a graveside at home, the minister will say as he commits the body to the ground, he says, “in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”[12] And the man in the street says, “How can you have a sure and certain hope? If it’s a hope, it can’t be sure and certain; and if it’s sure and certain, it can’t be a hope.” Well, the New Testament answers that, because hope in the New Testament is sure, and it is certain.
It is a hope which is given by God, and therefore, Paul reminds the Colossians that it doesn’t depend upon their ability to maintain an optimistic face in the changing circumstances of life. Hope for the believer rests in the unchanging character of God. “How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, is laid for your faith in his excellent Word!”[13] So when I find myself wavering in hope, I need to be back in the Word.
When Peter wrote his first letter, he begins it right there. He reminds them that they have been born again. Do you remember what he says? That through the mercy of God “he has given us [a] new birth into a living hope.” And then he goes on to say that we have an inheritance which is “kept in heaven” for us.[14] The word “kept” there is a word of assurance, like if you phone up and book a seat on a train—I don’t know how it is here, but at least at home—they will keep it for you. At least, hopefully they will keep it for you. And even the measure of uncertainty there is a helpful contrast to the fact that when God says, “I’ll keep it for you,” he’ll keep it for you.
And the same phraseology is used in Colossians 1:5: “the hope that is stored up for you in heaven.” It’s interesting that the same word there in Colossians 1:5 is the word that is used of the man who is given one talent, and he wrapped it securely in a napkin. Do you remember that? It’s the same word that is used. He wrapped it up, and he kept it safe, waiting for his master to return.[15] Well, here says Paul to the Colossians, “Your hope lies in this: that now that you’re in Christ, God has a great inheritance for you, and he has wrapped it up, and he has kept it safe.”
It’s a kind of missing dimension in much of our proclamation and reading today, isn’t it? Many studies on faith—many books on faith and on love—but not too many on hope. And yet it is a vital reminder in our Christian lives of the fact that God has for us still more and more—that for the Christian, the best is yet to be. No matter how good it is, it’s always going to be better.
People say to me, “Well, what’ll heaven be like?” I don’t really know. I read the descriptions, and I wonder too. But I just have a very simple faith which says that if God can make it this good down here, where there is sin and all this mess, then it’ll be unbelievable when we see him in heaven and we’re made like him.[16]
This summer, when we went to London to see if they would allow us into America—at least four of us—we spent the day, having done our business, at Covent Garden. And there were all kinds of traveling players and musicians that operate on the cobbled stones there in the area of the old market, and we enjoyed sitting together and watching. And out came a juggler. And he first of all began juggling with—I think it was oranges. And he responded greatly to the children’s applause and to their shouting for more. And you could see in his eyes that there was that kind of recognition: “Boy, if they think it’s good with oranges, wait till they see me when I start on the knives.” In other words, he was saying, “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” And that’s what Paul is saying here: “Believer, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”
“The faith that you embrace, the love that you exhibit, the hope that you experience.” And as a link to our second-to-last point, let me remind you that this hope is not the experience, is not a product, of their fertile imagination, but it stems from “the word of truth” that they’ve heard. Will you notice that? “The hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth.” In this, Paul again gives to us the measure of the man. From whom have they heard “the word of truth”? From Epaphras. No great mighty apostle. Just Epaphras. And you see, these false teachers would have been very prone, in selling them the notion that there was something more, to begin to suggest that what they got from Epaphras was not the whole deal but that when they got the apostolic message, that that would top it off. And Paul says to them, “What you’ve heard from Epaphras is what I would have said if I’d been with you physically. We are proclaiming the same thing. We are proclaiming the word of truth.”
You’ll notice that the gospel came to them first of all as a “word.” In other words, it came to them by preaching and teaching, which called for a listening and an understanding response. Preaching today “is in the shadows. The world does not believe in it.”[17] Proclamation is out, and dialogue is in—drama, music, films, all kinds of things. And yet, however good they may be, they will not ever take the place of this strange means which God has ordained for his Word being set forward. They may supplement, but you show me any church that has opted for all of that minus preaching and teaching, and I’ll show you a church that will eventually be going nowhere fast.
What was proclaimed was the truth, therefore beyond human invention and imagination. And you’ll notice the exclusivism of Christianity again this morning: “the word of truth.” Unlike other religious persuasions, which are relative and are prepared to say, “It may be true for you but not for me,” the Christian faith is absolute, saying that in Christ there is truth for all.
Now, what had happened in Colossae was also happening over the whole world. And that brings us to verse 6 and to our second-last point: “the growth you encounter.”
Paul stresses at the beginning of verse 6 its universal application, pointing to the fact that it had been diffusing throughout the empire. It was worldwide in its scope. The universal application of the gospel he balances with its individual application. In other words, he says, “It’s going throughout the cosmos.” That’s the word that’s used in Greek. He says, “It’s going universally, throughout the cosmos, but it has come to you individually in Colossae.”
And Herbert Carson, who writes the little Tyndale commentary on Colossians, says this:
Let them hold on to the individual aspect of the coming of the gospel, and they will avoid the religious vagueness which fails to see the need for a personal meeting with God. Let them hold on to the universal aspect, and they will avoid the tendency to defeatism to which a religious minority is so prone.[18]
Boy, I wish I could write one paragraph just like that! To the little group who feel dispirited and alone he says, “Listen, the Word is having tremendous effect throughout the whole empire in the known world.” Let that encourage you. But don’t let it be lost out there. Realize what it is doing amongst you also.
He points out that the spontaneous expansion of the church is a result of the power of God through the message of salvation. You see, it is the gospel that is producing fruit and growing. The words of a man may linger for a while and eventually be nothing, but the Word of God is living, and it’s active,[19] and therefore, it has inherent power to bear fruit when it falls into divinely prepared soil. Do you want me to say that again to you, Sunday school teacher? The Word of God has inherent power to bring forth fruit as it is placed in divinely prepared soil.
Did you listen to the radio as you drove along this morning? Just cut into it and heard again the story of Dwight L. Moody—how his Sunday school teacher went to him in the back of the shoe shop in Boston when he was seventeen years of age, and in a break in the day, he shared with him Christ, and he discovered that Moody’s heart had been divinely prepared for the reception of the Word, and he put his faith in Christ.
The growth that they’ve encountered, then, is intensive, bearing fruit within them as individuals; and it is extensive, as through changed lives it is touching the lives of many more.
And finally, in verse 7 and verse 8, he thanks God for the ministry that they enjoy—the ministry of this man Epaphras, whom he refers to as a “fellow servant.”
Again, that’s a measure of the mighty apostle. There is no greater encouragement for a young man who looks up to someone in the faith, who maybe has the privilege of sharing something in ministry with him, to be referred to as “my colleague.” And so often, as men get supposedly big, they get shored away from their colleagues, and they’ve forgotten the mark of greatness in Paul here when he says, “You know Epaphras?” He doesn’t just say, “Epaphras, the teacher.” He says, “Epaphras, our dear fellow servant.” What does that say to you? It says he values Epaphras’s ministry. He values Epaphras’s fellowship. He values the privilege of being a partner with him in the gospel—a “fellow servant” and “a faithful minister.”
Epaphras has clearly been conscientious as a teacher. As you notice the words that are used to describe the response to the gospel, we can see the ministry that he’d exercised. You’ll notice it said that “you heard it from Epaphras, and you understood it, and you learned it.” In other words, he had a teaching ministry. And what did he teach them about? He taught them about God’s grace in all its truth.
There is no one word that is a better summary of what the gospel is about than that word “grace.” It is the essence of the gospel. And as Epaphras taught them of grace, they came to see that no man can make a claim on God, however sincere or faithful he may think himself to be. As he taught them of grace, they learned that the heart of the gospel is not ultimately our commitment to Jesus Christ but is God’s commitment and mercy to us in Christ—that the very essence of the story of the gospel is not the striving of men to make Jesus Lord but is the story of Christ, in his sheer goodness and mercy, undertaking for his own sake to make us his servants. And that is all the difference in the world between a man-centered gospel and a God-centered gospel. It begins with grace.
And God has come to us in Christ even as he came to the Colossian Christians. And Epaphras had shared the good news with them, and he then in turn, in verse 8, had shared the good news of them. And what was the good news of them? It was of their “love in the Spirit.” What a lovely thing for a pastor to be able to leave his congregation and to be able to go far from it and, when he is asked, “Could you tell me the hallmark of the life of your flock?” to be able to say, “Well, it’s not without its problems. But let me tell you what it is: when I think of the church in Colossae, I think of their love in the Spirit.”
May it be, my dear friends here this morning, that there may be no greater statement of that which God may ever choose to do amongst us than that: that we may be able to go out from here and say, “In God’s goodness, I can tell you of their love in the Spirit.”
Shall we stand together for prayer?
If you have your bulletin, I’ve printed there the words of the benediction. I’d like us to say it together. I’ve printed them because I fear that we don’t all know them. I hope that very quickly, we’ll be able to say these words spontaneously, without any reference to a page, and even in the turning to them that that may not be detrimental to their meaning:
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God our Father and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all evermore. Amen.
[1] Colossians 1:3 (NIV 1978). Scripture quotations in this transcript are from the 1978 edition of the NIV unless otherwise indicated.
[2] Jean A. Rees, Danger, Saints at Work! (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1965), 41. Paraphrased.
[3] 1 Corinthians 3:5–6 (paraphrased).
[4] Daniel Webster Whittle, “I Know Not Why God’s Wonderous Grace” (1883).
[5] 1 John 4:7–8, 20–21 (NIV 1978).
[6] 1 John 4:10 (KJV).
[7] Herbert M. Carson, The Epistles of Paul to the Colossians and Philemon: An Introduction and Commentary, The Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (1960; repr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 31.
[8] John R. W. Stott, “The Threefold Duty of the Christian (John 15),” in John R. W. Stott et al., Christ the Liberator (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1971), 59.
[9] Matthew 5:46; Luke 6:32 (paraphrased).
[10] John 13:35 (paraphrased).
[11] Sanford Fillmore Bennett, “In the Sweet By and By” (1868).
[12] The Book of Common Prayer.
[13] “How Firm a Foundation” (1787).
[14] 1 Peter 1:3–4 (NIV 1978).
[15] See Luke 19:20.
[16] See 1 John 3:2.
[17] W. E. Sangster, The Craft of Sermon Construction (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1951), 11.
[18] Carson, Colossians and Philemon, 33.
[19] See Hebrews 4:12.
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