Tag: Revelation

The God Who Saves, Even in Judgment

As we read through Revelation, particularly chapters 7 to 10, we are swept into the grandeur of God’s final plans for humanity and creation. These chapters depict a world groaning under divine judgment—earthquakes, plagues, cosmic upheaval. Yet, woven into this vivid tapestry of destruction is an astonishing truth: even as God dismantles the earth, His desire is still to save.

In Revelation 7, God pauses judgment to seal His servants, protecting them as a testimony to His faithfulness. Later, amidst devastating trumpets and plagues, the cries for repentance echo implicitly. God does not unleash judgment in cold indifference; He does so as a last call to a world entrenched in rebellion. It’s breathtaking to consider that His wrath is tempered by mercy, and His justice is infused with grace.

The heart of God is consistent throughout Scripture. In Ezekiel 33:11, God declares, “I take no delight in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.” The apostle Peter echoes this in 2 Peter 3:9, reminding us that God’s delay in judgment stems from His desire for all to come to repentance. Revelation amplifies this same divine longing, even as judgment unfolds.

What does this mean for us? It’s a call to marvel at the depths of God’s mercy. Even in our personal moments of rebellion or indifference, God extends His hand. His desire is not destruction but redemption. If God’s heart remains open to a rebellious world, how much more should ours burn with urgency to share the Gospel? His mercy invites us to partner with Him in proclaiming the good news, knowing that time is short.

In the tension between judgment and salvation, we see the immeasurable love of a God who does not give up on His creation. That love is still extended today—to you, to me, and to a world He longs to save.

Losing My Religion

Revelation 3:1-6 delivers a stark warning to the church in Sardis. Though they had a reputation for being alive, they were spiritually dead. Jesus exhorts them to wake up, strengthen what remains, and repent—or risk losing what little they have left. This passage, among others, raises an age-old question: Can salvation be lost? Christians have debated this for centuries, and while it isn’t an essential issue of faith, understanding it can shape how we live as followers of Christ.

The two most common views on this issue are Eternal Security and Conditional Security.

Eternal Security teaches that once someone is truly saved, their salvation is secure forever. Proponents point to John 10:28-29 (“no one will snatch them out of my hand”) and Romans 8:38-39 (“nothing can separate us from the love of God”) as proof that God’s promises cannot be thwarted. The strength of this view lies in its confidence in God’s faithfulness. However, it struggles to reconcile the many warnings in Scripture about falling away (James 1:13-15, Hebrews 6:4-6, Revelation 3:5). Critics argue it can lead to complacency, downplaying human responsibility in maintaining faith.

Conditional Security, on the other hand, emphasizes the believer’s responsibility to continue in faith. This view teaches that salvation can be lost if the believer does not work to maintain good standing in their relationship with Christ. This view cites passages like Hebrews 10:26-27 and 2 Peter 2:20-22. Its strength lies in its recognition of free will and the relational nature of salvation. However, it can create anxiety for believers, leaving them unsure of their standing with God and overly focused on their performance rather than His grace.

Where do I land? Somewhere in between. I believe salvation cannot be stolen or accidentally lost, as Eternal Security affirms, but I also see the clear biblical teaching that believers can willfully reject God. I have labelled my view Covenantal Security.

Covenantal Security holds that salvation is relational and covenantal, much like a marriage. God is absolutely faithful and keeps His promises, but He chooses not to override our will. If we choose to break the covenant, He honours that choice. Ephesians 1:13 describes believers as being “sealed with the promised Holy Spirit.” This seal is not like a bank vault that locks down its contents, but rather like the seal on an envelope, signalling that the contents are under the ownership and protection of the seal-er, Christ in this case. Yet such a seal, by nature, can indeed be broken—but not by accident, and not by external forces. Only the one sealed can choose to break it, and only then through deliberate rejection. This view balances the assurance of Eternal Security with the accountability of Conditional Security. It also explains why Scripture warns us so seriously about falling away while also offering immense assurance to those who abide in Christ (John 15:4-6).

Both Eternal Security and Conditional Security, while helpful frameworks, fall short of fully integrating the breadth of biblical teaching. Eternal Security rightly emphasizes God’s sovereignty but tends to neglect the relational, covenantal nature of salvation. Conditional Security captures the importance of human responsibility but can err toward insecurity and legalism. Covenantal Security bridges this divide, affirming God’s faithfulness and our free will without falling into extremes.

Ultimately, the message to Sardis reminds us that salvation is not static. It is not a one-time transaction but an ongoing relationship. Jesus calls the church to wake up and repent, showing that even those who are on the brink of losing everything can return to Him. This isn’t about living in fear but about taking seriously the incredible gift we’ve been given. Love requires both assurance and responsibility, and salvation is the ultimate expression of love.

Whatever view you hold—Eternal Security, Conditional Security, perhaps I have won you to Covenantal Security, or maybe you land somewhere in between these options—let’s agree on this: salvation is God’s work, and He invites us to participate in it. Let’s encourage each other to remain steadfast, abiding in the love and grace of the One who is faithful to the end.

Supernatural Instincts

Our natural instincts often feel like second nature—habits of thought, emotion, and action that seem to spring from within us effortlessly. But in Jude 1:19, we’re reminded of a sobering truth: living by these instincts alone is a hallmark of those who are “devoid of the Spirit.”

When we live solely by what feels natural, we’re living as though God’s Spirit has no say in our lives. We respond to insults with anger, hoard instead of give, and prioritize comfort over calling. These instincts come naturally because they’re the residue of a fallen world. Left unchecked, they lead to division, selfishness, and spiritual barrenness.

But for those of us who are in Christ, the Spirit is at work, transforming us from the inside out. This transformation is not instantaneous—it’s a lifelong process of replacing natural instincts with Spirit-led responses. Anger becomes patience. Fear gives way to trust. Selfishness shifts toward generosity, and pride dissolves into humility. This change isn’t about suppressing who we are but about becoming who we were created to be. When we listen to the Spirit and yield to His leading, He cultivates within us the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, and more. These virtues are not natural—they’re supernatural, evidence of God’s work in our lives.

Take a moment to reflect: Do your responses to life’s challenges align more with natural instincts or with the Spirit’s guidance? The goal is not perfection but progression. As you continue to walk with Jesus, the Spirit works to align your heart with God’s, enabling you to live beyond instinct. This week, ask the Spirit to highlight one natural instinct that needs to be surrendered to His work. Pay attention to situations that trigger that instinct and pray for His strength to respond differently. Over time, you’ll notice the Spirit’s work replacing what’s natural with what’s holy.

Why Isn’t God More Obvious?

It’s a question that people have asked for centuries: If God exists, why isn’t He more obvious? We long for unmistakable signs—something dramatic to shake us out of doubt or unbelief. But this very demand for a sign is addressed by Jesus Himself in both Mark 8:11-13 and Matthew 16:1-4. When the Pharisees approached Jesus, demanding a sign from heaven to prove who He was, His response was blunt: “No sign will be given to you except the sign of Jonah.” Essentially, Jesus was saying that if they couldn’t see what was already in front of them, no further proof would change their minds.

Why, then, does Jesus reject the Pharisees’ request for a sign, and what does that say about us today? First, we have to understand that the Pharisees weren’t looking for evidence out of an earnest desire to believe. They had already seen countless miracles—healings, exorcisms, and even resurrections—but refused to acknowledge the significance of what was happening. The request for a sign wasn’t about seeking truth; it was a way to test or trap Jesus, hoping to discredit Him. Their hearts were hardened, and even the clearest revelation wouldn’t have softened them.

Jesus’ response was not an unwillingness to demonstrate His power but rather a statement that God’s work cannot be reduced to spectacle. He had already shown them who He was through His life and ministry, and yet they remained blind. This is why the “sign of Jonah”—a reference to His future resurrection—was the ultimate sign they would receive. If they couldn’t see the truth in His words and works, not even the resurrection would open their eyes.

This speaks directly to the question of why God isn’t more obvious. In many ways, He is obvious. The beauty and order of creation, the intricacy of the human conscience, the life and death of Jesus, and the power of Scripture are all profound revelations of God. But like the Pharisees, many of us demand something more, not because we lack evidence, but because we struggle with the implications of surrendering to that evidence. The desire for a more “obvious” God often stems from a reluctance to submit to Him.

The issue, then, is not God’s hiddenness but our willingness to see Him. We may claim to seek clarity, but the deeper question is whether we truly want to find Him. As Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matthew 5:8).

In a world filled with distractions, it’s easy to look past the everyday ways that God reveals Himself. We may not get the signs we think we need, but we have something better: the life of Christ, the testimony of Scripture, and the witness of transformed lives.

So, why isn’t God more obvious? Perhaps the better question is: Are we willing to see Him as He has revealed Himself? If we continually ask for more signs without acting on what we’ve already been given, we’re not so different from the Pharisees. And just as Jesus called them to repentance, He calls us to trust what has already been shown—the cross, the resurrection, and His ongoing work in the world.