Category: Kingdom Discipleship

From the Series: Ordinary Saints: Lessons from the Ante-Nicene Church

_{Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version®.}
^{Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.}

The Christian is not called to live in fear of Satan, but neither are we told to ignore him. Scripture repeatedly calls believers to sobriety, watchfulness, discernment, and resistance. Peter warns, “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5:8, NKJV). Paul likewise tells us to “put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6:11, NKJV).

The word wiles reminds us that spiritual warfare frequently involves strategy and deception. Satan is an adversary who schemes. Paul even speaks of not being ignorant of his devices (2 Corinthians 2:11). Yet God has not left His children defenseless or uninformed. Scripture exposes the character of our adversary, identifies many of his methods, and repeatedly directs us toward the truth and sufficiency of God.

Satan is already a defeated enemy whose final judgment is certain. Through His death, Christ destroyed “him who had the power of death, that is, the devil” (Hebrews 2:14, NKJV), and Revelation tells us that Satan will ultimately be cast into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:10). Yet until that judgment is carried out, he remains active and dangerous. We therefore neither underestimate him nor become preoccupied with him. Our attention belongs to Christ, while Scripture teaches us how to recognize and resist the enemy’s schemes.

Deception appears from the opening chapters of Scripture. When the serpent approached Eve, his attack began with God’s Word: “Has God indeed said…?” (Genesis 3:1, NKJV). He questioned what God had spoken, contradicted God’s warning, and portrayed God as withholding something desirable from Adam and Eve. The pattern is revealing. Satan did not need to force Eve to disobey physically. He sought to distort her understanding of God and His Word so that sin would appear desirable. Jesus later described the devil plainly: “When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it” (John 8:44, NKJV). His lies may take many forms. God cannot forgive you. You will never be free from this sin. God’s commands are keeping something good from you. Obedience isn’t worth the cost. God has forgotten you. What God has clearly called sin isn’t really that serious. Sometimes the most dangerous deception contains enough truth to sound convincing. We see this when Satan tempted Jesus in the wilderness.

Satan even quoted Scripture (Matthew 4:6). The problem was not that the words he cited weren’t found in Scripture; the problem was his misuse of them. This is why merely hearing a Bible verse is not sufficient evidence that someone’s teaching is true. Scripture must be understood faithfully and in context. Jesus answered the temptations with God’s Word: “It is written” (Matthew 4:4, 7, 10, NKJV). This does not mean that Scripture is a magical formula that we recite at Satan. Jesus knew the Father’s Word, understood it rightly, trusted it, and obeyed it. The answer to deception is truth believed and obeyed. When a thought contradicts what God has revealed, we do not need to negotiate with it. We bring it under the authority of God’s Word.

Satan is also identified as an accuser. Revelation calls him “the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our God day and night” (Revelation 12:10, NKJV). Accusation can be especially destructive when it takes something true—our actual sin—and uses it to drive us away from the very Savior to whom we should run. This is where we must distinguish conviction from condemnation. The Holy Spirit truly convicts concerning sin (John 16:8). God does not minimize our wrongdoing. When we sin, we are called to confess it, turn from it, and walk again in obedience. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9, NKJV). But conviction directs us toward repentance and restoration. Condemning accusation seeks to leave us staring at ourselves as though Christ’s sacrifice were insufficient. The answer is not, I haven’t sinned. The answer is, Christ has paid for my sin. Paul declares, “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1, NKJV). Later in that same chapter, he asks, “Who shall bring a charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen” (Romans 8:33–34, NKJV). That is a profoundly different response from trying to defend ourselves.

Our confidence rests in Christ. Revelation 12:11 says of the saints, “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.” Their victory rests first upon what the Lamb has accomplished. When the enemy points toward forgiven sin, the believer can agree about the seriousness of sin without accepting condemnation. Yes, I sinned. Yes, my sin deserved judgment. And yes, Jesus Christ shed His blood for sinners, died, rose again, and has justified the one who believes in Him. The Gospel does not teach us to pretend the accusation has no factual basis. It gives us a greater truth about the debt Christ has already paid.

Not every spiritual danger announces itself as obvious evil. Some distractions are legitimate things occupying an illegitimate place. Work can distract us. Entertainment can distract us. Money can distract us. Family responsibilities can distract us. News, politics, social media, possessions, hobbies, worries, and ambitions can consume our attention. Even religious activity can become so consuming that activity for Christ begins replacing fellowship with Christ. Often, the first step to overcoming distraction is to pause and invite honest reflection. Ask yourself: What is occupying my mind most these days? Is there anything I regularly put before time with Christ? Simple habits can help us refocus: set aside a specific time each day for prayer and Scripture reading, turn off devices for a few moments to be quiet before God, or schedule regular periods to step back and examine what is taking first place in our lives. Even taking a moment throughout the day to ask, “Am I looking to Christ right now?” can help redirect our attention. These small practices train our hearts to return to Him amid daily distractions.

Jesus’ words to Martha illustrate the danger. Martha was serving—hardly an inherently sinful activity. Yet Jesus told her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed” (Luke 10:41–42, NKJV). Mary had chosen to sit at Jesus’ feet and hear His Word. The problem wasn’t service. It was displacement. Something good had become so consuming that something more important was being neglected. Jesus also warned His disciples, “But take heed to yourselves, lest your hearts be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness, and cares of this life, and that Day come on you unexpectedly” (Luke 21:34, NKJV). Notice that cares of this life appear alongside more obvious dangers.

A believer does not have to abandon Christ verbally to become spiritually distracted. The heart can gradually become occupied with so many other concerns that prayer becomes hurried, Scripture becomes occasional, obedience becomes secondary, and eternal things become increasingly distant from daily thought. Yet restoration is always possible. If you realize that your focus has shifted, take a simple first step by turning again to prayer or opening God’s Word. Returning to Christ in these small ways can begin to renew your fellowship with Him and bring your attention back to what matters most. That is why distraction can be difficult to recognize. We may still be doing good things. The question is whether those things are drawing our attention away from the One who must remain first.

There is another danger in studying spiritual warfare: we can become more fascinated with Satan than occupied with Christ. Scripture never encourages that. James gives a beautifully ordered command: “Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:7–8, NKJV). Notice what comes first. Our primary calling is not to chase demons, investigate every possible spiritual influence, or interpret every difficulty as a direct satanic attack. We belong to God. We draw near to Him. We walk in His truth. We put on His armor. We remain watchful. And when the enemy must be resisted, we resist him while remaining steadfast in the faith. Peter says exactly that after warning about the roaring lion: “Resist him, steadfast in the faith” (1 Peter 5:9, NKJV). The focus remains faithfulness to God.

Discernment also means recognizing that Satan is not responsible for every temptation we experience. Scripture identifies other enemies. James tells us, “But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed” (James 1:14, NKJV). First John warns about “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life” belonging to the world (1 John 2:16, NKJV). The devil can exploit sinful desires, circumstances, cultural pressures, false teaching, fear, and deception, but Scripture never permits us to blame Satan for choices arising from our own hearts. This matters because effective spiritual warfare includes taking responsibility for our own sin. Honest self-examination can help us discern the source of temptation. For example, we might ask: Am I being drawn toward something by my own desires or by external pressure and circumstances? Am I rationalizing sin, or is there a clear spiritual attack that contradicts what God has said? Prayerfully reflecting on these questions can foster spiritual growth and discernment, helping us recognize when to resist the enemy and when to address what is arising from within our hearts. Sometimes the correct response is to resist the devil. Sometimes it is to flee temptation. Sometimes it is to confess sin. Sometimes it is to stop feeding the flesh. Sometimes it is simply to return our attention to Christ. Wisdom learns the difference.

We do not defeat deception by becoming cleverer than Satan. We stand in truth. We do not answer accusation by establishing our own righteousness. We rest in Christ’s finished work and walk in repentance. We do not overcome distraction merely by becoming more disciplined or productive. We deliberately return our attention and affection to the Lord. And we do not overcome spiritual opposition through our own strength. Paul says, “Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might” (Ephesians 6:10, NKJV). That is where our confidence belongs. Satan schemes, but God has given us truth. Satan accuses, but Christ intercedes. Satan tempts and distracts, but the Spirit enables us to walk according to God’s will. The enemy is real. His schemes are real. But the believer does not need to live frightened, obsessed, or defeated. We need to be sober. We need to be watchful. We need to know the truth. And above all, we need to remain close to Christ.

Prayer:

Father, thank You for not leaving me defenseless against deception. Help me recognize what is false and measure every thought and teaching by Your Word. When I sin, lead me quickly to confession and repentance rather than condemnation and despair. When the cares of this life begin pulling my attention away from You, turn my heart back to Christ. Teach me to submit to You, resist the devil, stand firm in the faith, and walk by Your Spirit. Guard my mind, strengthen my faith, and help me remain watchful without becoming fearful. Keep my eyes fixed upon Jesus and make me faithful to Your truth. In Jesus’ name, amen.

From the Series: Ordinary Saints: Lessons from the Ante-Nicene Church

_{Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version®.}
^{Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.}

The Christian life is lived in the light of an approaching day.

Paul writes, “The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light” (Romans 13:12). That command comes in a passage about how believers are to live because we understand the time. We are no longer to walk as though we belong to the darkness from which Christ saved us. We are to awaken, cast aside the works associated with darkness, and live openly as those who belong to the coming day. What does this look like in everyday life? Casting off the works of darkness may mean turning away from dishonesty at work, refusing to indulge in gossip, or choosing not to harbor resentment. It can be as practical as severing habits or situations that lead to temptation, or being intentional about the company we keep. Conversely, putting on Christ might look like extending forgiveness where it is difficult, seeking opportunities to encourage someone, or responding to frustration with patience and grace. Paul makes the meaning even clearer two verses later: “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts” (Romans 13:14). The armor of light, then, is not merely something we carry into occasional spiritual battles. It describes a life lived in Christ, a life that refuses to make provision for the flesh and instead walks according to the new identity and calling we have received in Him.

To “put on” Christ does not mean that Christ is absent until we perform a daily ritual. Those who have believed in Him already belong to Him. Paul tells believers, “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Galatians 3:27). Yet Scripture also calls believers to live consistently with what God has made them in Christ. Paul uses similar language in Colossians 3. We are to put off anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy language, and lying, and to put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering, forgiveness, and above all love (Colossians 3:8–14). The imagery is wonderfully practical. You would not deliberately put dirty clothing back on after being given something clean.

In the same way, believers are not to return to the works of their former life willingly. We have been called out of darkness and into light. So we are to dress accordingly. Romans 13 speaks of the armor of light, while Ephesians 6 gives us Paul’s fullest description of the armor God provides for spiritual warfare. “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6:11). Notice whose armor it is. It is the armor of God. Our ability to stand does not come from personal toughness, intelligence, determination, or spiritual bravado. Paul begins by saying, “Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might” (Ephesians 6:10). And the enemy is correctly identified: “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). People are not the enemy. Our warfare is spiritual; therefore, God provides spiritual armor.

Truth fastens everything together. Righteousness protects the believer as a breastplate. The preparation of the gospel of peace gives firm footing. Faith becomes a shield by which “you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one” (Ephesians 6:16, NKJV). Salvation guards us like a helmet. And God gives us “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:17). Then Paul immediately turns to prayer: “praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit” (Ephesians 6:18). Prayer is not technically identified as another piece of armor in Paul’s list. Rather, prayer surrounds the believer’s entire stand. We remain watchful, dependent upon God, and persistent in prayer for all the saints.

Something easily missed in Ephesians 6 is the repetition of one little word: Stand. “…that you may be able to stand…” (verse 11). “…that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand” (verse 13). “Stand therefore…” (verse 14). The picture is not of Christians frantically searching for Satan or trying to prove how powerful they are. God commands us to remain faithful. When deception comes, stand in truth. When temptation comes, stand in righteousness. When accusations and doubts come like flaming arrows, raise the shield of faith. When the battle presses against the mind, remember the salvation God has provided. When falsehood confronts truth, take up the Word of God. And through it all, pray. The armor is given so that God’s people are not swept away when the evil day comes.

This brings us back to Romans 13. Putting on the armor of light cannot be separated from putting off darkness. Paul does not tell us to wear God’s armor while maintaining comfortable arrangements with sin. He says: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts” (Romans 13:14). “Provision” is important. Sin frequently gains ground before the moment of temptation because provision has already been made for it. Something has been retained, arranged, entertained, hidden, or left conveniently accessible. Paul says not to supply the flesh with what it needs. That does not mean believers become sinless. The conflict between flesh and Spirit remains real (Galatians 5:16–17). But we are no longer obligated to obey the flesh. We belong to Christ. Therefore, we walk in the light.

Reflection: Where in your life have you made space, however small, for the desires of the flesh? Are there patterns, habits, or choices that leave temptation within easy reach? What would it look like for you to remove those provisions and walk more fully in the light? The armor of light also fits a much larger theme running through the New Testament. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life” (John 8:12). Paul tells believers, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light” (Ephesians 5:8). Peter says God “called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). And John writes, “if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another” (1 John 1:7). This is therefore larger than a metaphor about warfare. The armor of light belongs to an entire way of life. We have been brought into the light through Christ. We are commanded to walk in that light. God equips us to stand against spiritual opposition as we do so. And we live with the expectation that the present darkness will not last forever. “The night is far spent, the day is at hand.” That is why we cast off darkness. That is why we put on the armor of light. That is why we make no provision for the flesh. And that is why, when the battle comes, we stand. We are not dressing ourselves in our own strength. We are putting on the Lord Jesus Christ.

Walking in the light was never meant to be a solitary effort. God gives us the gift of community so that we can encourage and support each other as we seek to live out this calling. As we pray for one another, confess our struggles, and offer accountability and encouragement, we help each other remain steadfast. When someone stumbles, we can help restore them gently, reminding one another of the grace and truth found in Christ. Together, we grow in the light, strengthening not only our personal walk but the whole body of Christ. Let us, then, look for ways to pray for each other, bear one another’s burdens, and stand firm together.

From the Series: Ordinary Saints: Lessons from the Ante-Nicene Church

Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

You know exactly what you should do. The words are already forming in your mind—the sharp response that would put someone in their place. Part of you wants to say them. Perhaps they are even deserved. Then comes the check. Don’t. Be patient. Forgive. Speak with grace. For a few seconds, an entire battle seems to take place where no one else can see it. Or perhaps your struggle looks different. You know you should turn away from something, yet desire pulls you toward it. You know you should forgive, but resentment feels strangely satisfying. You intend to pray, yet almost anything suddenly seems more interesting. You want to respond humbly, but pride begins constructing its defense. Sometimes the most difficult battlefield in the Christian life is not somewhere outside us. It is within. Paul describes that conflict plainly: “For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another” (Galatians 5:17). Those words are reassuring in one sense because Scripture does not pretend that following Christ removes temptation or makes obedience effortless. But they are also a warning. Something within fallen humanity still wants what God forbids. Paul calls it the flesh. By “flesh,” Paul does not simply mean the physical body. Scripture does not teach that the human body itself is evil.

The Christian life is not the rehabilitation of fallen human nature through religious discipline. It is life in Christ, lived through the power of the Holy Spirit. That does not make obedience passive. Walking is something we do. Throughout the New Testament, believers are commanded to flee sin, resist temptation, renew their minds, put away sinful practices, pursue righteousness, pray, remain watchful, and obey Christ. Grace does not eliminate effort. It changes its source. We no longer attempt to conquer sin as though everything depended on human willpower. God Himself is at work within His people. Paul told the Philippians: “For it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13). That truth becomes particularly important after failure.

Sometimes Christians imagine that mature believers eventually reach a point where temptation becomes almost irrelevant. Then when an old desire suddenly reappears—or when anger, lust, pride, envy, fear, or selfishness rises unexpectedly—we wonder what has gone wrong. Scripture gives us a more realistic picture. The Christian has entered a genuinely new life, but the Spirit’s presence does not mean the flesh has stopped opposing Him. Galatians 5 assumes conflict. Yet it does not assume defeat. That distinction matters. Paul had already told these believers: “And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Galatians 5:24). Similarly, Romans 6 tells us that “our old man was crucified with Him” so that “we should no longer be slaves of sin” (Romans 6:6). Paul’s language is stronger than simply telling Christians to try harder against their old habits. A change of mastery has occurred. Sin may tempt us. Sin may deceive us. We may even stumble into sin. But sin no longer possesses the legitimate claim over us that it once did. Paul therefore tells believers: “Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body, that you should obey it in its lusts” (Romans 6:12). Notice that he does not say sin is absent. He says do not let it reign. That makes the Christian battle neither hopeless nor trivial. We are fighting an enemy whose dominion has been broken but whose desires must still be resisted.

The Christians of the Ante-Nicene centuries knew that battle well. It is easy to imagine them only in their most dramatic moments—standing before governors, refusing to deny Christ, enduring persecution, or facing martyrdom. Still, most of their Christian lives were not lived in arenas. They were lived in homes. Markets. Workshops. Marriages. Congregations. Friendships. And there, just like us, they faced the quieter temptations of ordinary human life. Their surviving writings repeatedly address anger, sexual temptation, greed, jealousy, pride, dishonesty, resentment, worldly ambition, and division among Christians. The frequency of those warnings tells us something important. The early Christians were not naturally holier human beings. They had the same fallen human tendencies we do. A second-century Christian could leave a gathering where Scripture had been read and still become angry with a spouse. A merchant who confessed Christ could still be tempted to dishonesty when money was involved. A believer could suffer persecution courageously and still wrestle with pride. A congregation could proclaim Christ faithfully and still experience jealousy or division within its own fellowship. They needed the transforming work of the Holy Spirit every bit as much as we do. And that makes their story far more useful than turning them into spiritual heroes. The battlefield has not fundamentally changed. Our circumstances have.

The flesh is remarkably adaptable. Give it first-century Rome, and it will find opportunities for sin. Give it twenty-first-century technology, and it will find new ones. Today temptation can arrive through a screen carried in our pocket. Envy can be cultivated by scrolling through carefully curated images of other people’s lives. Anger can be broadcast instantly. Lust can be privately fed. Pride can measure itself through attention and approval. Selfish ambition can even disguise itself as ministry. The tools change. The human heart does not. Neither does God’s answer. “Walk in the Spirit.” What does that look like when the battle becomes practical? Sometimes it happens in seconds. Someone insults you. The flesh immediately prepares retaliation. But the Spirit has already taught you through Scripture:” “Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth” (Ephesians 4:29). Now there is a choice. Someone wounds you. The flesh rehearses the offense and begins building resentment. But Scripture says, “forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). Again, there is a choice. Temptation appears on a screen. The flesh says, look. But God’s Word says, “Flee sexual immorality” (1 Corinthians 6:18).

Sometimes walking by the Spirit means closing the screen. Leaving the room. Holding your tongue. Making the apology. Refusing the dishonest opportunity. Changing the conversation. Confessing the sin. Asking another believer for prayer. Doing the obedient thing before the flesh has time to negotiate. These moments can seem small. But discipleship is built from thousands of them. And something begins happening over time. Paul contrasts the works of the flesh with something entirely different: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). Fruit grows. Usually slowly. Often quietly. A person who once exploded in anger begins learning patience. Someone controlled by bitterness begins forgiving.

Prayer

Father, thank You for giving Your Spirit to those who belong to Christ. Teach me to recognize the desires of the flesh without excusing them and to walk by Your Spirit rather than relying upon my own strength. When temptation comes, bring Your Word to my remembrance and give me grace to obey quickly. When I stumble, lead me to confession and repentance rather than concealment or despair. Produce in me the fruit that only Your Spirit can grow, so that the life of Christ becomes increasingly visible in the way I think, speak, and live. In Jesus’ name, amen.

From the Series: Ordinary Saints: Lessons from the Ante-Nicene Church

Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Announcements can change everything in an instant. A room may be quiet. People may be resting. The hours may have passed uneventfully. Then a voice breaks the silence, and suddenly everyone is moving. Jesus placed such a moment at the center of His parable of the ten virgins. Ten young women had gone out with their lamps to await the bridegroom. Five had prepared wisely, bringing additional oil. Five had not. But the bridegroom did not arrive when they expected. He was delayed. Eventually, Jesus tells us, “they all slumbered and slept” (Matthew 25:5). Then, in the darkness, everything changed. “And at midnight a cry was heard: ‘Behold, the bridegroom is coming; go out to meet him!’” (Matthew 25:6). The cry awakened everyone. All ten virgins arose. All ten trimmed their lamps. All ten had been waiting for the same bridegroom. But only five were ready. That distinction takes us to the heart of Jesus’ warning. The problem with the foolish virgins was not that they had fallen asleep. The wise virgins slept too. Nor were the wise virgins saved by somehow predicting the precise moment of the bridegroom’s arrival. They could not. What distinguished them was that they had prepared for his coming before the cry was heard. When the decisive moment arrived, preparation could no longer be postponed. The foolish said to the wise, “Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out” (Matthew 25:8). But the wise could not supply what the others had failed to bring. While the foolish went to obtain oil, the bridegroom arrived. Jesus continues: “And those who were ready went in with him to the wedding; and the door was shut” (Matthew 25:10). The words are sobering precisely because the opportunity to prepare had existed for so long. Until suddenly, it didn’t.

Jesus then gives His own interpretation: “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour in which the Son of Man is coming” (Matthew 25:13). This is where the parable speaks directly into every generation of the Church. Jesus did not tell His disciples to determine the hour. He told them they would not know it. The appropriate response to uncertainty about the timing of His return is therefore not speculation but readiness. That distinction is particularly important whenever Christians become intensely interested in prophecy. Wars, political upheaval, technological developments, natural disasters, cultural changes, and events involving Israel can easily lead believers to examine every headline for evidence that the final countdown has begun. Jesus calls His people to something both simpler and more demanding. Be ready before the cry comes. That does not mean Christ’s return should feel distant or unimportant—quite the opposite. The New Testament repeatedly teaches believers to live in expectation of Him. Paul told Christians in Rome: “And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed” (Romans 13:11). Paul was not announcing that Matthew’s midnight cry had begun. He was calling Christians to recognize the significance of the age they already lived in. Christ had come. Christ had died. Christ had risen. Christ had ascended. And Christ would come again. Therefore, believers were to live differently. Paul immediately explains what awakening looks like: casting off “the works of darkness,” putting on “the armor of light,” walking properly, refusing sinful indulgence, and “put[ting] on the Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 13:12–14).

Biblical wakefulness is profoundly practical. It reaches into the way we speak to people. The things we allow into our minds. The grudges we refuse to release. The compromises we excuse. The way we handle money. The way we behave when nobody is watching. The way we use the time God has given us. The way we love one another. The way we remain faithful when following Christ becomes costly. For the Christians living during the Ante-Nicene centuries, the waiting could feel very long indeed. Imagine being part of a Christian household in the late second century. Perhaps your grandparents had also followed Christ. You had heard the promise of His return since childhood. Believers before you had expected Him. Some had died in faith. Others had suffered persecution. Still the Roman Empire continued around you. Christ had not forgotten His promise. But He had not yet returned. What should Christians do while they waited?

The surviving writings of those centuries show believers repeatedly wrestling with perseverance, holiness, false teaching, suffering, repentance, and the danger of spiritual carelessness. They did not always answer every question correctly, nor did they agree about everything. Their writings must be tested by Scripture just as ours must. But their circumstances make the problem of waiting remarkably relatable. They too had to learn how to follow Christ when His return did not occur according to human expectation. Some lived faithfully. Some compromised. Some became afraid—some needed correction and restoration. Generation after generation eventually faced the same responsibility: Remain faithful to Christ and pass the faith to those who come after you. That may be one of the most important lessons of the midnight cry. You prepare for the unexpected moment by being faithful during the ordinary ones.

A Christian who has walked with Christ faithfully for decades has not wasted those years because Jesus did not return. The parent teaching Scripture to a child is preparing. The believer turning away from secret sin is preparing. The Christian forgiving someone who caused genuine hurt is preparing. The exhausted saint who continues praying is preparing. The employee choosing integrity when dishonesty would be easier is preparing. The believer sharing the gospel with a neighbor is preparing. The congregation encouraging one another to persevere is preparing. Not because these works purchase entrance into the wedding feast. Salvation is God’s gift through Christ. Rather, faithful living belongs to the life of those who are His. There is another sobering truth in Jesus’ parable. Readiness cannot simply be borrowed at the final moment.

The foolish virgins recognized that the wise possessed something they lacked and asked them for oil. But whatever significance we might be tempted to assign specifically to the oil, Jesus does not define it for us. We should therefore resist building doctrines upon an interpretation He did not provide. His larger point, however, is unmistakable. When the bridegroom arrived, each person’s preparedness was revealed. No one else’s faithfulness could substitute for another’s unreadiness. Being surrounded by Christians is not the same as belonging to Christ. Knowing Christians who pray does not replace prayer. Hearing Scripture does not replace responding to Scripture. Having faithful parents does not substitute for personal faith in Christ. Attending a faithful congregation does not make someone faithful merely by proximity. Jesus’ warning ultimately brings the question home to each hearer: Am I ready for Him? That question should produce neither panic nor obsession.

For those who belong to Christ, His return is our hope. Paul called it “the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13). Jesus told His disciples that He was going to prepare a place for them and promised, “I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also” (John 14:3). The Bridegroom’s coming is not bad news for the Bride. It is what she has been waiting for. That changes the emotional character of Christian readiness. We do not watch like frightened servants wondering whether an angry master might catch us unprepared. We wait for Someone we love. We repent because we belong to Him. We pursue holiness because we want to please Him. We serve because He has entrusted work to us. We proclaim the gospel because the invitation remains open. We encourage one another because waiting can become difficult. And when another year passes, and He has not yet come, we do not abandon our hope. We remain faithful. One generation of Christians has done this after another. The apostles waited. The Ante-Nicene believers waited. Christians through centuries of upheaval, persecution, prosperity, reformation, war, revival, disappointment, and ordinary life have waited. Now the responsibility belongs to us. One day, however, waiting will give way to arrival.

There will be no need to wonder whether this event or that headline means the Bridegroom is finally near. The Bridegroom Himself will come. Until then, the midnight cry of Matthew 25 is not ours to manufacture. Our responsibility is to heed the warning Jesus has already given. Watch. Not because we know the hour. Because we don’t. Live faithfully when nothing dramatic seems to be happening. Follow Christ when the waiting feels long. Keep doing what He has commanded. And be ready before the cry comes. For one day the words from Jesus’ parable will point beyond the story to the reality for which His people have waited: The Bridegroom has come.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, teach me to wait for You faithfully. Guard me from both spiritual carelessness and fruitless speculation. Help me live according to what You have revealed rather than becoming consumed with what You have not. Search my heart, strengthen my faith, and teach me to obey You in the ordinary moments of life. When the waiting feels long, remind me that Your promise has not changed. May I be found belonging to You, trusting You, and faithfully serving You when You come. Amen.

From the Series: Ordinary Saints: Lessons from the Ante-Nicene Church

Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Anyone who has ever tried to remove a stubborn stain knows something about the temptation to hide what cannot easily be removed. The stain may be small enough to cover. Turn the fabric a certain way, place something over it, keep people from looking too closely, and perhaps no one will notice. We can approach our spiritual lives much the same way. For example, someone may sense conviction to apologize for sharp words spoken in frustration, but instead choose to avoid the person and pretend nothing happened, hoping the issue will be forgotten. Or perhaps another feels prompted to confess a struggle during a small group, but instead stays silent, not wanting to risk embarrassment. It is easier to conceal sin than confess it. Easier to manage appearances than confront what is happening within the heart. Easier to compare ourselves with someone else than to stand honestly before the searching light of God’s Word. But Christ is doing something far more beautiful with His Church than teaching her how to hide her stains. He is cleansing her.

Paul describes Christ’s love for His Church in extraordinary terms: “Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word” (Ephesians 5:25–26). Then Paul tells us where that work is leading: “That He might present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish” (Ephesians 5:27). Notice who stands at the center of the passage. Christ loved. Christ gave Himself. Christ sanctifies and cleanses. Christ will present the Church to Himself. The beauty of the Bride begins with the work of the Bridegroom. That matters because holiness can easily become distorted into an exhausting attempt to make ourselves acceptable to God. We see what is wrong, try harder, fail again, hide our failure, and eventually begin confusing spiritual appearance with spiritual health. The gospel gives us an entirely different starting point. Christ gave Himself for His Church before she was spotless. He is the One making her holy. Yet His work of sanctification does not make believers passive toward sin. The grace that saves us also teaches us to reject ungodliness and live “soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age” while we look for the appearing of Jesus Christ (Titus 2:11–13).

The apostle John makes the connection between Christ’s return and our present lives particularly clear. After speaking about the day when believers will see Christ as He is, John writes: “And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure” (1 John 3:3). The hope of seeing Christ produces something in the person who loves Him. We begin wanting what He wants. And when His Word exposes something within us that does not belong there, we do not need to hide it. We can repent.

Repentance is sometimes treated as though it belongs primarily at the beginning of the Christian life. We repent and believe the gospel, and certainly repentance is fundamental to our response to Christ. But believers still sin. John wrote to Christians, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). The Christian life therefore does not become a life in which repentance is no longer necessary. It becomes a life in which we increasingly learn where to go when sin is exposed. We return to God. We confess rather than conceal. We agree with Him about our sin rather than defending it. We turn from what is wrong and walk again in obedience to what He has revealed.

Repentance is not only a feeling of regret, but a practical turning back to God. Simple steps can help us respond wholeheartedly when we are convicted of sin. We can pray honestly, name our sin before God, and ask for His forgiveness. Sometimes repentance calls for making amends with someone we have wronged, offering an apology or seeking reconciliation. It can be wise to invite accountability by sharing our struggle with a trusted believer who can pray with us and support us. Setting aside time to read Scripture and reflect on what God is showing us helps keep our hearts open before Him. Repentance is an ongoing invitation to walk in the light.

That is why Christ’s words to the church at Laodicea are both severe and deeply loving: “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. Therefore be zealous and repent” (Revelation 3:19). His rebuke was not evidence that He had ceased caring for them. It was precisely because He loved them that He refused to leave them comfortable in their spiritual condition.

The Christians of the Ante-Nicene era understood the continuing need for repentance, although they did not always express every aspect of it perfectly. Imagine yourself among one of those congregations. Perhaps you had confessed Christ publicly but were now discovering how difficult it was to follow Him in a culture saturated with idolatry. Pagan worship touched civic life, commerce, entertainment, family expectations, and social relationships. Following Christ could force decisions that were neither theoretical nor convenient. And Christians sometimes failed. Some compromised. Some became fearful. Some fell into serious sin. During periods of persecution, some even denied Christ under pressure and later wanted to return to the fellowship of believers. The early Church had to wrestle with very practical questions about sin, repentance, restoration, holiness, and grace. Their writings remind us of something we can easily forget when looking backward through history: these were not stained-glass saints. They were people. They struggled with fear, temptation, pride, sexual sin, division, false teaching, material concerns, and the pressure to conform to the world around them. In other words, they needed Christ’s cleansing just as we do. Their struggles make their calls to holiness more relatable, not less.

Although the circumstances surrounding us have changed dramatically, the battle within the human heart has not. Today, we navigate cultural pressures that may look different outwardly, but are strikingly familiar. Social media invites us to curate an image and compare ourselves continually to others. Workplace ethics can pull us toward compromise and silence us when integrity becomes costly. Advertisements and entertainment normalize values that are often out of step with Christ’s teaching. Family expectations, the desire for approval, and the pull of material success can place subtle but significant demands on our loyalty. Like the early Christians, we find ourselves surrounded by beliefs and habits that challenge our calling to live holy lives.

We may not walk past temples dedicated to Roman gods on our way to work, but idolatry still competes for our allegiance. We may not face the same social pressures surrounding pagan festivals, but compromise still knows how to make itself reasonable. Bitterness can still take root. Pride can still disguise itself as righteousness. Lust can still demand secrecy. Money can still become a master. Fear can still silence obedience. And the temptation to protect our reputation can still become stronger than our willingness to confess that something is wrong. This is where God’s Word becomes more than something we read. It searches us.

Jesus prayed to the Father, “Sanctify them by Your truth. Your word is truth” (John 17:17). Scripture exposes what our hearts are remarkably skilled at concealing. It confronts pride with humility, bitterness with forgiveness, sexual immorality with purity, greed with contentment, falsehood with truth, and idolatry with wholehearted devotion to God. But God’s Word does not merely show us the stain and leave us staring helplessly at it. It continually brings us back to Christ. This changes the way we understand purity. Purity is not pretending we never struggle. It is not constructing a spotless Christian image for other people to admire. It is not reaching some spiritual level at which temptation disappears. And it certainly is not earning Christ’s love through increasingly good behavior.

The Bride pursues holiness because the Bridegroom already loved her and gave Himself for her. When we sin, therefore, repentance is not an attempt to persuade an unwilling Savior to receive us again. We come honestly before the One who has already demonstrated His love at the Cross. That honesty can enter the smallest places of everyday life. Perhaps you recognize resentment beginning to settle into your heart after someone hurts you. Instead of feeding it quietly for weeks, you bring it before God and choose the difficult road of forgiveness. Perhaps no one else knows what you have been watching, reading, or entertaining in your thoughts. God’s Word confronts you, and instead of explaining it away, you remove what has been feeding the temptation. Perhaps pride makes an apology difficult. Repentance may mean walking across a room, making a telephone call, or sending a message containing words our flesh hates to say: I was wrong. Please forgive me. Sometimes sanctification happens in moments that look remarkably ordinary. But those moments matter. The Bride is being prepared. And we do not undertake this preparation alone. Christ is sanctifying His Church, the Holy Spirit is at work within believers, and God has given us one another. James tells believers to confess their trespasses to one another and pray for one another (James 5:16). Paul instructs spiritual believers to restore someone overtaken in a trespass “in a spirit of gentleness” (Galatians 6:1).

A healthy church should therefore be a place where holiness is taken seriously without requiring people to pretend they have no struggles. We encourage one another. We pray for one another. We restore gently. We speak truth. We refuse to make peace with sin. And when a brother or sister falls, we do not stand at a distance congratulating ourselves for remaining upright. We remember Paul’s warning: “considering yourself lest you also be tempted” (Galatians 6:1); the goal is restoration. All of this points toward a day when Christ’s sanctifying work in His people will reach its glorious completion. The Bride whom Christ presents to Himself will indeed be “holy and without blemish.” That is not ultimately a testimony to how successfully we cleaned ourselves. It is a testimony to Him. The One who loved His Church gave Himself for her. The One who saved His people continues His work within them. And the One who began that work will not abandon it unfinished.

So while we wait for Christ, we do not hide our stains. We bring them into the light. We confess. We repent. We receive His forgiveness. We submit ourselves to His Word. And by His grace, we get up and continue walking with Him. The Bride is not preparing herself so that the Bridegroom might finally decide she is worthy of His love. She is being prepared because the Bridegroom has already loved her and given Himself for her. And one day, the work that now takes place through countless acts of conviction, repentance, obedience, correction, forgiveness, and growth will reach its appointed end. Christ will present His Church to Himself. Glorious. Holy. Without blemish. And all the glory will belong to Him.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, thank You for loving Your Church and giving Yourself for us. Search my heart through Your Word and show me where I have tolerated what You call me to forsake. Give me humility to confess my sin, grace to repent when You correct me, and strength through Your Spirit to walk in obedience. Continue Your sanctifying work in me and among Your people as we wait for You. May the beauty of Your Church ultimately testify not to our goodness, but to the greatness of the Savior who loved her and gave Himself for her. Amen.