It is wonderful to be here with you. This is the only place I know where I can wear a Hawaiian shirt in February.
I bring you greetings from Julia. Julia is back home doing fine. She is a realtor now, so there is no business going on. She is just hanging out. We are getting ready to move to another apartment in the city. You know, things are always in flux—probably with your life too.
As I was thinking about what to share, some things came together for me, actually for the first time. So I am sharing some things that I have never quite shared before, because I have never really tried to tackle or look at the inside—the heart—of the prophecy of Malachi, which is where we will be sharing this weekend.
I would like for us to open by looking at two very similar scenarios, just to get us started. The first is in Revelation 3, at the church of Philadelphia; then we will look at Malachi 3.
Revelation 3, beginning in verse 7:
And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write:
He Who is holy, Who is true, Who has the key of David,
Who opens and no one will shut,
and Who shuts and no one opens, says this:I know your deeds.
Behold, I have put before you an open door which no one can shut,
because you have a little power,
and have kept My word,
and have not denied My name.Behold, I will cause those of the synagogue of Satan,
who say that they are Jews and are not, but lie—
I will make them come and bow down at your feet,
and make them know that I have loved you.Because you have kept the word of My perseverance,
I also will keep you from the hour of trial,
that hour which is about to come upon the whole world,
to test those who dwell on the earth.I am coming quickly;
hold fast what you have,
so that no one will take your crown.He who overcomes, I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God,
and he will not go out from it anymore;
and I will write on him the name of My God,
and the name of the city of My God, the new Jerusalem,
which comes down out of heaven from My God,
and My new name.He who has an ear,
let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.
Then, if you will go back to Malachi—the last book in the Old Testament—we want to look at a section beginning in Malachi 3:16 and continuing into chapter 4.
Then those who feared the Lord spoke to one another,
and the Lord gave attention and heard it,
and a book of remembrance was written before Him
for those who fear the Lord and who esteem His name.“They will be Mine,” says the Lord of hosts,
“on the day that I prepare My own possession,
and I will spare them as a man spares his own son who serves him.”So you will again distinguish between the righteous and the wicked,
between one who serves God and one who does not serve Him.“For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace;
and all the arrogant and every evildoer will be chaff;
and the day that is coming will set them ablaze,” says the Lord of hosts,
“so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.“But for you who fear My name,
the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings;
and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall.
You will tread down the wicked,
for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet
on the day which I am preparing,” says the Lord of hosts.
Our Father, we thank You for Your precious Word. We ask that You would make it relevant to us by the working of Your Spirit, deep in our hearts. We depend upon You, Lord—both speaker and hearers—that You might be alive in our midst throughout the weekend.
We come and touch Your Word now, and ask that Your Spirit would further touch Your Word and bring it forth like rivers of living water, that it might go forth, do its work, and come back bearing fruit. We commit this time to You in Jesus’ precious name. Amen.
These two scenes—in Revelation at Philadelphia, and in Malachi at Jerusalem—are scenes that I believe are becoming more and more familiar to all of us as the end of the age draws near.
There are four ingredients that you sense in these opening scenes.
The first thing is an ever-increasing and pervasive darkness. In Philadelphia, they have to abide in an oppressive environment called the synagogue of Satan. People call themselves Jews and are not, but they persecute everything the believers do. They are maligned on every hand. It is a very, very difficult environment.
Do not think that the city of brotherly love is just all peachy, creamy, huggy, nice time. They are having a real tough time, and the Lord tells them to hold on because there is darkness there—real darkness.
Of course, here in Jerusalem, this little group is also in the midst of a dark time. The Persians still run the place. They come and demand more taxes; every once in a while, somebody’s army comes by, some governor steals all their crops, and they are hassled all the time.
There is a sense of a world darkening around them. It affects the saints. There is no doubt about it.
But wonderfully, secondly, we see this precious little group of people, kind of huddled together. Here in Malachi, they are speaking to one another, and it is obviously about the Lord. They are fellowshipping and speaking of Him.
The Bible has a very interesting phrase: “The Lord gave attention and heard it.” The word used is the Hebrew word for what happens when a mule flicks his ears up.
It is as if the Lord is looking around upon the earth and says, “Oh, there is this little group, and they are talking about Me. They are talking about how they should pray and what they should do.” The Lord’s ears go, “Ding!” He says to some angel, “Write these names down in the book of remembrance. I am remembering this. These folks love Me in spite of the darkness, in spite of the sense of being a minority. They are huddled, for sure, but they are talking about Me. They are praying about Me. Put their names down. One day, when the tough times come, I am going to spare them, because they are Mine. These are the ones I am looking for.”
Could we not say the same thing about Philadelphia? Weak, sensing their weakness, but hanging on to the Word. I almost picture somebody with Parkinson’s, holding on to their Bible. They just will not let it go. They are still holding on to promises, even though those promises have not come to pass. They are still waiting patiently, even though the promises seem so unfulfilled.
There is something about Philadelphia that is really precious. Meanwhile, they are hugging one another. I think the Lord says, “Hey, hey—look at them. Write them down. Remember them.”
The third thing you cannot see, but it is very much there when you read these passages, is an unseen observer: God Himself, more full of mercy than any of those little bands could possibly believe.
He is watching, taking notes, remembering the deeds done. There is God, full of mercy.
The book of Malachi seems like a really tough book. When you read it on the surface, it is pretty abrasive stuff. But underneath it is this unseen God, this unseen observer, Who is watching: “Who has a heart? Who is talking about Me? Who gets in that huddle and really loves Me and perseveres? I remember them.”
These people in Malachi are just a little remnant. Nothing is going well. True, they are in Jerusalem. True, they have a temple. But they are not getting rich. It is not prosperous. Things are grim. They are getting hassle from the governors around them—the whole bit. But the unseen God is watching.
There is a key verse in Malachi that we should underline: Malachi 3:6.
“For I, the Lord, do not change; therefore you, O sons of Jacob, are not consumed.”
This is the reality of the situation. I do not think most saints today realize the condition we are really in, or the darkness surrounding us. We have an enemy who would like to chew us up, and the world would love to press us down to squishes. If it were not for this merciful Lord Who does not change, there is no good reason why we should not be consumed. Could I be honest with you?
Yet this is the stabilizing factor in the whole dark scenario. Here is God saying, “I do not change. I was merciful yesterday; I am merciful today. I am not going to change, so you are not going to be consumed, Jacob.”
How many times did Jacob deserve to be consumed during his lifetime? Hello, rascal. But it is that God—He never wearies of being merciful. “You are not going to be consumed because I am Who I am. I do not change. I made My decision. Everybody wants to take you out. I do not want to take you out. That is why you are alive.”
That is our situation. Anybody here think they are standing by their own abilities, gifts, or resolve? Well, we will face the facts this weekend by looking in the book of Malachi.
The fourth factor is that in both pictures we see glory coming very soon. In Malachi, as you noticed in Malachi 4:2, the sun of righteousness will burst forth in glory—meaning Christ, in His first coming, but even looking toward His second coming.
In Revelation, He is not called the sun of righteousness, but He is the morning star. At the darkest time of the night, the morning star can be seen, and glory is just around the corner.
What comes out of glory? Vindication and blessing for those who have been faithful, and judgment for those who have not. Judgment is not God just being nasty and getting back at people. It is God’s holy glory that shines and basically crisps everything undeserving.
When God shows up in glory, everything iniquitous is done away. The darkness is here, but the glory is very soon coming. Are we watching until the morning star rises in our hearts?
That little band in Philadelphia is doing that. The little bunch in Malachi is waiting for the sun of righteousness. “We have been dumped on all the time, but when the sun of righteousness shows up, everything will be vindicated.” What a wonderful hope.
When introducing the book of Malachi, we know it is famous for two reasons. One is because preachers love to talk about tithing. It has the tithing verses in it. Any good preacher who is making a lot of money preaches from Malachi all the time: “Test Me,” the Lord said. “Come on, give Me that money, and I will show you what I can do.” So the preachers say, and they pass it around one more time.
But for those of you who are deeper students, like you and me, it is not the tithing part—which we do not do anyway. Its significance is that it is the final word of the Old Testament. It promises John the Baptist will come, and it prefigures the opening of the New Testament when John the Baptist steps on the scene.
In one sense, Malachi connects the two Testaments. It has that little section about the end, then four hundred years of silence, and then John the Baptist steps on the scene and God starts speaking again.
But although I have read Malachi a number of times, I could not quite hook up with its significance personally. It is scary when you listen to it in an outward way. What I never saw, perhaps in a more wonderful way, is the connection between the remnant of the Old Testament and the overcomer of the New Testament.
This helps me understand what the overcomer is like in the New Testament, especially in Revelation 2 and 3. There is a very real connection between Malachi and Revelation 2 and 3. They are both at the end of the age. There are actually seven communications in both of them.
Here is the important part: Malachi is a message to the overcomers—to the remnant.
So, when we read Malachi, let us not say, “Malachi has a lot of fire for backslidden Christians.” It is not for them. Or, “It is for supposed Christians robbing the Lord.” No, it is for the remnant.
Forget the ten lost tribes of Israel. This is not for them. In one sense, they are lost in the world. Those ten tribes went out in 722 BC under the Assyrian army, and they have never been found. They are out there drifting in the world, making their money. Do not even know where they are.
The Jews are the remnant that went back. These are the people the Lord is talking to—namely, you and me. Not somebody out there, not somebody who goes to the Catholic church, not somebody still in some kind of system in Babylon. These are people who came out of all that.
Who is the remnant? The remnant—or the overcomer, as it is called in the New Testament—is a principle seen throughout the Bible.
When God brought the children of Israel out of Egypt and they came to Mount Sinai, God said, “I am going to make the whole nation a kingdom of priests.” But because they worshiped the golden calf, the Levites became the priests. The Levites represent a remnant of what was supposed to be all Israel. Israel did not step up into its calling, so the Levites stepped into the calling the others defaulted on.
Or think of Gideon’s three hundred faithful ones, after the 31,900 went home. That is the principle: those whom God uses on behalf of everybody.
Or think of the seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to Baal. Elijah was complaining, and God said, “Do not forget the seven thousand other people like yourself.” They represented something precious to God, even though all Israel had fallen after Baal. God said, “I am standing with that seven thousand, Elijah. You stand with them too.”
Coming closer to Malachi’s history, when the northern and southern kingdoms were divided after Solomon, the ten northern tribes were taken away into captivity. The Assyrians distributed them all over the place—modern Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Syria—and from there they spread out.
The remnant became Judah and Benjamin, along with the Levites. Judah and Benjamin stood together as a remnant, representing those faithful to God, to His temple, to the sacrifices, and to the feasts, when the other tribes had divided and gone away.
But this remnant could not remain faithful. Judah began to serve idols and deteriorated spiritually to the point that, despite several revivals under good kings, Nebuchadnezzar eventually came and took them away to Babylon.
Now we come to the remnant in Malachi. It began when King Cyrus made the decree that anyone who wanted to go back could go back to build God’s temple.
Who went back? By this time, they say there were two million Jews. There was a large population of Jews in Babylon and Persia when Cyrus took over. But Ezra 1 helps us see who came back.
Then the heads of fathers’ households of Judah and Benjamin,
and the priests and the Levites, arose,
even everyone whose spirit God had stirred
to go up and rebuild the house of the Lord which is in Jerusalem.
This is the remnant. They did not all arise. The ones who arose were those whose spirits God had stirred.
There were fifty thousand who got stirred up. How come God did not stir them all up? He was certainly able to do that. Well, it is one of those great mysteries. Somehow, fifty thousand were willing. When God stirred them, they were willing. This is the strange thing of free will and predestination, but there you have it.
Some were patriots. They went back because they loved Israel. They had hung their harps on the willow tree, and now they could take them down and go back. Others were real worshipers. They felt the burden of their sins because there was no sacrifice, and they wanted to build the temple so there could be sacrifice and atonement.
There were all kinds of reasons people went back to Jerusalem, but one thing we know: they did not go back to make money. They did not go back for success. They left everything. They sacrificed their lives.
As a matter of fact, this is a testimony of first love. They loved the Lord so much that they gave up everything.
There were a whole bunch of Levites who went into captivity. Do you know how many came out with Zerubbabel when he took the remnant back to build the temple? Seventy-four. It is in the record: seventy-four Levites.
The other fifty thousand were Judah and Benjamin, with some priests. What was the matter with the Levites? When they were in the promised land, they had no inheritance. But in Babylon, they had an inheritance. They had their little shop, selling religious curios or whatever they were doing—selling sneakers. They had a business going in Babylon. They had their own house. They had an inheritance.
Now they had to leave their inheritance to go back to no inheritance, and not only that, but to go back to this sorry land completely devastated. “Who, me?” And no Levites except seventy-four went back.
It is incredible when you think about it. But God stirred up the hearts of seventy-four Levites and fifty thousand people, and they had a first-love revival.
The first thing they did was build an altar and sacrifice. Imagine everybody going home, dividing up their relative scale: “Okay, Charlie, good luck to you. Here are six sheep and two goats.” They get back to Jerusalem, build an altar, and they all start sacrificing. How much supply did they have? How many sheep, goats, and oxen did they have to sacrifice? They just about burned them all off. They gave everything.
They were afraid to build anything more because they were so weak. But finally, Zerubbabel said, “It is time to lay the foundations.” So they laid the foundation of the temple. They had an altar outside, and now they had the foundation. They had a big picnic and said, “Hooray! The testimony is restored.”
The enemy heard about it and began sending out bulletins. The next thing you know, the powers that be told them to stop working. What does any good overcoming remnant do when it hears something like that from the world? They stop building.
We find out that it was not by Zerubbabel’s might or strength that the temple would be built. He got as far as the foundation, and he got stopped. They waited twenty years. Well, they did not wait exactly. They started building their own houses. They had a housing-market revival.
Suddenly, the housing situation got really good. They were paneling their houses—forget outhouses, now they had plumbing. They were fixing things up. Meanwhile, the house of God was only a foundation, getting cracked and ruined. The altar had one sacrifice a week. Things deteriorated pretty badly.
But then they had another revival.
This remnant we are going to look at in Malachi had been a remnant for a hundred years. What do you think their story was? Super saints? Powerful?
Out of first love, they laid the foundation, offered altar sacrifices, and then kind of fell away for a while. But who raised them up to build the temple? The prophets.
Haggai and Zechariah said, “Have you noticed that your salary is leaking out of your pockets? Have you noticed the inflation and the problems you are having? God says it is time to stop building your houses and build My house.”
They said, “Yeah, yeah,” and they began to build. They had a prophetic-word revival. Praise God, they built the temple and offered sacrifice at a great celebration.
Now the remnant was on the right track, right? Well, they still had a problem. They were back in the promised land. They had the temple and sacrifices. They were saved and worshiping God, singing good gospel hymns. But they had a problem.
This is where having no Levites comes back to bite you. The Levites are the ones who bring a word of sanctification. They were a motley group of people—saved, but not sanctified.
Thank God for the Ezra revival. Ezra went back to the temple-built Jerusalem, still half in ruins. Who did he go with? Two thousand Levites.
They were the first scribes, who later became Pharisees, which we will look at next time. These scribes went back and began to teach the people the law. The people had no idea of the holiness of God. They were offering sacrifices—praise God, we are saved—but they did not know the sanctification necessary to be beautified as saints of the Lord.
They began to hear the Word. They began to cry in the square: “Oh my goodness, what have we been doing?” They began repenting and crying. There was a sanctification revival.
Then they fell away again. The enemy began attacking them because they had no walls, no defense, and no city. They had a temple, but they were being harassed and beaten night and day.
Finally, a report came back to Nehemiah after seventy years of return: the situation in Jerusalem was grim. The saints were impoverished. The Levites had scattered to make ends meet. They were plowing their own fields, and Jerusalem was getting deserted again. There were no walls, and the enemy was attacking.
They needed a Nehemiah revival.
Nehemiah came back and looked over the situation. “We have got to build.” They had a body-of-Christ revival. The body stood together along the wall with a shovel and a spear. They worked together. You could see the body functioning, and the body began to build a wall.
That was what they needed: the testimony of the walls built up, the security of the body, all ministering together. It could not be done by Zerubbabel. It could not be done by Ezra alone. It could not be done by Nehemiah alone. We all have to stand on our section of the wall.
Everybody served by the grace of God, and the walls were built. The testimony was there. The body could be seen.
And they lived happily ever after. No, that is not what happened. They fell down again.
Nehemiah had to go back to Susa, where he had business as the cupbearer. After a while, he decided to go check on the saints because he loved to worship in Jerusalem. They had the temple, the walls, and things going. But when he got back, he said, “Oh my goodness, what has happened here? They have fallen down again?”
What is the matter with this remnant? Is it a remnant of super saints, able to plow through, weary but pursuing? No.
In Nehemiah 13, we come to the point where Malachi belongs. Although we do not know much about Malachi, it was obviously written during this period of Nehemiah’s second visit to Jerusalem because it takes up the four issues found in Nehemiah 13.
First, they had defiled the temple by making apartments for Tobiah and his relatives—Tobiah being their enemy from Samaria. One of the priests had married a Samaritan, so to make peace he made a room in the temple into an apartment.
When Nehemiah came back, he said, “What is going on in here?” He kicked the priest and all that stuff out and said, “Put the wheat back in there. Do not defile the temple.”
Second, Nehemiah saw that the Levites were out in the fields because the saints had not brought in the tithes. He said, “Wait a minute. What are you doing? You have got to tithe. The Levites need something to eat.”
Third, on the Sabbath day, people were working. He said, “No, no, no. You cannot have people working. I am closing the gates now.”
Fourth, he found that, despite the admonitions of Ezra and Nehemiah, the people were marrying unbelievers—Samaritans and Moabites—and becoming unequally yoked. It was ruining the testimony.
At this point, Malachi becomes relevant. What is the testimony of this remnant over a hundred years? They did not have the strength of heart to remain faithful to first love. They had fickle hearts that fell away, became distracted by building their own homes, became discouraged and went to their own fields instead of serving as Levites.
The fact of the matter is, overcomers—the remnant—are just normal people. Normal people with their ups and downs. But normal people with their ups and downs whom the Lord loves, and whom He continues to regather by His mercy. He revives them again.
Ezra knelt down after those men had come back, and the people were touched. Ezra said, “O God, thank You. Just give us a little reviving now—a little reviving in the temple of God. Just give us this reviving. We need it.”
The remnant went up and down over those hundred years. They did not go consistently strong. I have yet to find a group that has. If there is an overcomer group, I have never seen them. I have seen groups that thought they were overcomers, and of course we know by that that they were not.
I know some groups that thought they were Philadelphia, but as soon as they call themselves Philadelphia, they are no longer Philadelphia. As soon as you become self-conscious that “we are the remnant and the overcomers,” you have lost it.
The true remnant is aware of its weakness, aware of its proneness to wander: “Lord, I feel it.”
The spiritual darkness around them affects them. I wish it were not true. I wish we had a group in New York City that did not care where it was and would not be affected by New York City. But the only people in New York City not affected by New York City are in Bellevue Hospital, for those who do not have all their oars in the water.
The darkness of the world is oppressive. The darkness of the enemy is wearying. And the saints are affected.
Many people could say that at some point in their lives they had first love and a real heart for the Lord. But take a remnant over a hundred years—are they still abiding faithful? Are they that remnant that began in the unity of the Spirit and is now attaining to the unity of the faith? What a high calling that is. Do you know anybody getting there?
There were those in the early days who continued steadfastly in the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread, and prayers. They could not have enough of one another. They got together all the time. After a hundred years, are they still in that kind of thing?
This remnant is indeed weak. The Lord, once again in the book of Malachi, is speaking to His people with no desire other than to recover them and bring a little reviving as they wait for His coming.
The Lord comes to them, and in a most unique way He speaks. Malachi is unique among the prophets because the way the Lord speaks is different from the rest of the Old Testament. And in the way God speaks, He speaks with great, great mercy.
Under normal circumstances in the Old Testament economy, when the saints began to fall away, the Lord would send a prophet who would speak the Word of the Lord and say, “Repent.” The people would hear the Word and repent. That is the normal condition.
But what happens when the people get into real spiritual darkness? The Lord has to resort to another method, and He usually does.
It is the same in the New Testament. The apostle Paul wrote letters to seven different churches during his ministry. He simply wrote the truth, and people were edified by the truth. But by the book of Revelation, Jesus has to speak directly to His people.
The words of Paul, Peter, and John are wonderful and true, but the Lord has to speak firsthand to His children. At the end of the Old Testament dispensation, the Lord also comes in Malachi and speaks firsthand to His children, to His remnant. They are no longer listening to the prophecies. They are no longer repenting. He comes and speaks to them.
He uses the method we might call dialogue. Notice Malachi 1:2:
“I have loved you,” says the Lord.
But you say, “How have You loved us?”
Then in Malachi 1:6:
“A son honors his father, and a servant his master.
Then if I am a father, where is My honor?
And if I am a master, where is My respect?” says the Lord of hosts to you, O priests who despise My name.
But you say, “How have we despised Your name?”
In Malachi 2:10:
“Do we not all have one Father? Has not one God created us?
Why do we deal treacherously each against his brother so as to profane the covenant of our fathers?”
Yet they say in Malachi 2:14, “For what reason?”
Then Malachi 2:17:
“You have wearied the Lord with your words.”
Yet you say, “How have we wearied Him?”
In Malachi 3:7:
“From the days of your fathers you have turned aside from My statutes and have not kept them. Return to Me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord of hosts.
But you say, “How shall we return?”
Then in Malachi 3:8:
“Will a man rob God? Yet you have robbed Me.”
But you say, “How have we robbed You?”
And in Malachi 3:13:
“Your words have been arrogant against Me,” says the Lord.
Yet you say, “What have we spoken against You arrogantly?”
Do you see something going on there? What do you see?
You see that the saints—the remnant—are in such darkness that they do not even see where they are. The Lord says, “I have loved you,” and they say, “How?” He says, “You are speaking harsh words against Me,” and they say, “What?” He says, “Repent and turn to Me, and I will turn to you,” and they say, “How? What do we need to repent of?”
This is the greatest tragedy among Christians: such darkness that we do not see where we are.
I think the two most crucial things that unlock the book of Malachi are these: to understand the spirit behind the questioning of the people, and to understand the spirit of the Lord in His answers.
This is where most Bible commentators, at least the ones I have read, miss what is going on. Many say these people are in rebellion. Outwardly, you can make a case for it. “I have loved you.” “How have You loved us?” They seem arrogant, rebellious, argumentative—perhaps offended by the Lord.
No, no, no. To say that means you do not know the remnant.
They gave their hearts to the Lord. They are captured. They are sold out. But now they are in darkness. You must see that.
What is the problem with this remnant? Do not think it is rebellion. We know many Christians who are rebellious, but we are talking about the remnant. What does God do when the remnant comes into such darkness that it does not see itself?
“You have robbed God.” “How have we robbed You?”
“You have despised My name.” “How have we despised Your name?”
What is the problem? Can you see it?
In normal circumstances, the Lord could say, “You have left your first love,” and they would repent just by hearing the words. Now the Lord says, “I have loved you,” and they say, “You have? How could there be such darkness?”
Some say the remnant has a bad attitude. On the surface, you could make a case for that. There is a lot of preaching today that says, “Change your attitude.” It is almost like Old Testament preaching.
You can change your attitude for a moment. If somebody says, “If you knew how much Jesus loves you, you would not be like that,” people may say, “Oh yeah, that is right,” and break for ten seconds.
But you do not change your attitude merely by changing your attitude. Have you ever told your kid, “Change your attitude”? Right. As soon as they get saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost, maybe.
Attitude is a byproduct of some kind of thinking. It is the lies you understand that cause the attitude. It is the truth you understand that causes the attitude. Something deeper has to happen for attitude to change.
The problem is not simply an attitude. There is something deeper.
Their hearts are in denial of where they really are.
There is something about saints who love the Lord. They learn the words. They learn the stance to take. They have bluff and bravado.
There was nobody tougher than the Jews at making statements of love for God: “With my whole heart, I love God,” and so on. Once you learn the verbiage, sing the songs, pray the prayers, and learn how to do that stuff, you can come to the place where your heart is in denial.
When darkness comes upon the saints, their hearts can come into denial. They keep saying words, but the words are no longer true.
The Lord has to come and read the remnant its heart, because they do not believe it. Then He has to explain what is going on in their heart. One thing we know about God: when He tells you what is in your heart, that is what is in your heart, even if you want to deny it.
He tells them seven things about what is in their hearts, and they deny every one of them. “What? We serve You. We sacrifice. We are losing money in this deal. How could You possibly say that?”
God says, “Let Me tell you what is in your heart—deeper than the words you are hiding behind.”
This is the problem with the remnant: they are in denial. The only way the Lord can bring them back to recovery is to get them to see what is wrong. Once the heart sees the truth, it can repent and get right.
It is like the church of Laodicea. The Lord says, “You are lukewarm. You are neither hot nor cold. I will spit you out of My mouth.” They say, “What are You talking about? We are rich and increased with goods. We have need of nothing.”
There is a church in darkness. They do not even see it. The Lord says, “I advise you to buy gold, new garments, and eye salve, because I am telling you: you are blind.”
They are in denial. They think they are doing good. Unless they buy that eye salve, they will never see. They will be fooled and deceived into some kind of mockery.
What is really going on underneath this remnant in denial? The Lord knows their hearts are in trouble. They have questions such as:
“Lord, I gave myself to You. Why have You been so tough on me?”
“Lord, why have I lived my whole life and deprived myself of the basic creature comforts that everybody in the world is enjoying? Is it worth it?”
Those are the questions deep in the heart.
No saint in the Old Testament or New Testament would admit it openly. We know it would be wrong to say, “Jesus, how have You loved me?” Nobody would say that publicly.
If I handed out a survey asking, “Anybody have a problem with Jesus’ love?” everyone would answer, “No, no. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”
But all the time there are questions: “Has it really been worth it? Did I go the right way with my life? What has happened? All these years, all this giving—here I am, still in trouble, still in poverty, still being harassed.”
These are the questions going through the minds of this remnant. The world rubs our noses in the shallow comforts of earth and says, “Look. If you just went my way, look what you would have. Look what you have instead.”
The heart will not make it on its own. I do not care what kind of heart you have for the Lord—it will not make it on its own unless the Lord stirs your heart to see the truth. Your heart grows cold, and you do not even know it.
Our hearts are deceitful. They can be absolutely cold toward the Lord, while all our lip service and even our actions try to convey a different story.
Oh, how the Lord wants reality. He knows He has to pry our hearts open, because we are such a bunch of people in denial. Those who love the Lord just cannot face the truth.
So what is God’s feeling in all this? Some of the words are strong: “The sun of righteousness will come to the temple and destroy all the works of wickedness. Why are you robbing God?” We might say God is angry.
But if you read the Word, you see a God Who is hurt.
He is hurt.
For those who have raised children: you raised your child for twenty years or more. You took care of them, took them to Little League games, read Bible stories, prayed, took them to the hospital, laid with them all night when they were sick. Then at twenty years old, they say, “You never loved me, Dad.”
How do you even answer that? Have you ever experienced that? How do you begin to go into it?
The Lord is hurt. Every one of these answers hurts Him. Yet He reveals the answers Himself.
This is the deepest revelation I understand about all of this. The Lord saw that the remnant was living in such darkness that they could not humble their own hearts. Do you know what the Lord is doing? He is humiliating Himself.
I hope you know the mercy of God. He is willing to humiliate Himself.
He says, “I am a Father. I deserve respect. But you say, ‘How have we disrespected You?’ So I will humiliate Myself. I will come down to your level and talk to you.
“I am the King. I should be giving orders. I should say a word, and you should do it. But I say a word, and you say, ‘Why?’ So I am going to come down to your level. Let us talk. I am the only King Who will ever do this.”
“I will be a human being among you. Go ahead, talk to Me, and I will talk to you. I will humiliate Myself. I will come down from glory. I will make Myself vulnerable. I am hurt by what you are saying, and I will tell you what is going on, if you can see it in your heart.
“Then maybe one day you will respect Me. You have no respect for Me—should I stand up, push you around, knock you down, and show you that I deserve respect? No. I will come down to your level. I will be among you. I will show you that I am hurt. I will explain to you why I say these things. Hopefully, some ray of light will shine, and you will stop being in denial.”
There is our Lord, our merciful God.
Let us look at the first one, and then we are through for today. In Malachi 1:2:
“I have loved you,” says the Lord.
But you say, “How have You loved me?”
How can the Lord explain such a history? Here is what the Lord says:
“Was not Esau Jacob’s brother?” declares the Lord.
“Yet I have loved Jacob; but I have hated Esau.”
That is how much I have loved you.
I do not think they understood that. Of course, the remnant could make its case. They could say, “How have You loved me? Let us see now, Lord. I used to live in a nice little cottage in Bethlehem. Then the Babylonians came, destroyed my cottage, and took me away. I lost my wife on the journey to Babylon. We were in exile for seventy years. I came back penniless. I built Your temple. I am still starving out in Bethlehem.”
According to Malachi, they had locust infestations and drought. “Now I am poor. I have been around a hundred years—my family and I, back from Babylon—and frankly, I do not know how You have loved me.”
Plus, there is the stigma of being the chosen one. “There is a target on my back. Esau has no target on his back. He walks around and does whatever he wants; he is a prince. Everywhere I go, I get hassled because I am Your chosen one. I have Your name on me, and people are dumping on me, not promoting me, testing me—just because I have that name on me.
“So how have You loved me? Thanks a lot for the name.”
Many Jews feel that way deeply: “Why was I ever a Jew? I lost my grandparents. I lost my parents. You tell me being a Jew is a chosen thing?” Many get furious over the Holocaust.
“I returned and gave You my best years. I am an old man now. What have I got to show for it?”
I know many people who have served long and hard and do not have much to show for it.
Then perhaps on top of all that, they say, “Could I be honest with You, Lord? Have You loved me? Frankly, I am sick and tired of the other people in the remnant. A bunch of neurotics, broken people, full of themselves, self-centered, insecure, fearful, critical—me, me, me. I am sick and tired of the remnant. Oh, I love You, God.”
Do you see the little denial trick? You love God; you just hate the people.
So I guess they could make their case, could they not? But we know something right away: if God says, “I have loved you,” and you have first love, you say, “Lord, I know,” and you break down and repent.
When you say, “How have You loved me?” first love is missing. Could we at least be honest about our hearts? I cannot talk about everybody here; I am talking about a principle. Our hearts are in denial.
The people would not say these things out loud. If the Lord said, “I have loved you,” they would say, “Oh, and we have loved You.” But secretly in their hearts they are saying, “How have You loved me?” God says, “I do not care what your mouth says anymore. I know what is in your heart.”
How has God loved His people? “Jacob I have loved.” What a faithful history of love for Jacob. Talk about mercy.
In all his scheming years, God protected him. He blessed him when he cursed people. He kept him and delivered him through all his treachery and carnality. Through moments of self-pity, the Lord abode with him through wrestling.
Then Jacob’s children came along—a bunch of scoundrels—and God kept every one of them. When they went out into the world, when Judah married a Canaanite woman, God brought them back. He brought every one of those sons back.
Half of them deserved to be killed. What they did to Joseph was unforgivable. But God kept them. God kept Joseph. God kept the sons who threw Joseph into the pit.
Talk about God’s love. He kept them through jail, famine, and the whole life of Israel. He kept them through the wilderness, Egypt, the time of the judges, Babylon, and captivity.
Not only that, He kept their inheritance when they forfeited it. He kept their inheritance when they squandered it. He kept their inheritance when they did not claim it.
“How have I loved you?” There is so much history in that word: “Jacob I have loved.”
It means even through discipline. God says, “Yes, I took you through discipline. I took you through water, but did you drown? No—but Esau drowned. Every time I disciplined you, I disciplined you to recover you. Do you know what I have spent to recover you?”
“When you went through the fire, did it burn you? No. I sent you to Babylon. My dear children, I did you such a blessing by healing you of idolatry when I sent you to Babylon for seventy years. It took that long to heal your idolatrous hearts. Yet you think I hurt you for seventy years.”
“I did the most beautiful thing that could be done in your life by taking you away from those idols, because you could not do it yourself.”
Oh, how have I loved you? Even in discipline, Babylon was the greatest blessing you ever had. When God takes us to the cross, it absolutely does us in. Yet it is the greatest blessing we know when we come out on the other side and something has been released in our lives.
Yet we say, “How have You loved me?” It is a measure of the darkness.
I do not even hold it against saints anymore when they say this kind of thing, because I am in the same boat. Darkness fills our hearts. It brings denial to us.
God brought the children of Israel back through all that hard time to Jerusalem for a purpose. In God’s plan and heart, He wanted His Son one day to come to a temple, and it had to be built.
If the remnant had not returned and sacrificed to prepare the way for the coming of the Lord, the Lord could not have suddenly come to His temple. If they had not gone back and rebuilt Bethlehem, as we find in Nehemiah, Jesus could not have been born there.
But they did not understand that. All they saw was God’s heavy hand on them. “Man, You have given us a tough go. How have You loved me?”
He says, “Jacob I have loved.”
If they had been in a normal spiritual condition, they would have seen that they had fallen from their first love. They would have repented and had broken hearts. But we need light.
There is a dear brother in Queens, where I fellowship, named Si Ming. He is a Chinese brother who speaks broken English, so I do not get to talk to him too much. But he told me what it was like to grow up during the Cultural Revolution in an underground church in Fuzhou.
The pressure was really on. They could not announce meetings or anything. People just had to show up. He told me about several miraculous things.
But he said, “You know, I went back to Fuzhou recently. Things have changed.”
I said, “What do you mean?”
He said, “Back in those days, when we had our first love, we would just read a Scripture, and whatever it was, we would obey it. But now, when the preacher preaches, he has to explain why people should obey the Word he tells them to obey. The young people say, ‘Why? Why should we do that?’”
“It is the Word of God.”
“So what? Why?”
Now the preachers have to give long-winded sermons explaining why somebody should obey. When they had first love, just say the Word, and they obeyed.
Do you see how darkness sets in? When we start questioning God, there is darkness. Whenever we question God, frankly, there is darkness.
Will we ever see the light again, or will it get darker until the Lord comes? Who can see the light?
I think it only comes when you and I have a real dialogue with God. When we say, “God, this is what You say my heart says, even though I do not think my heart says that,” and begin to talk to Him about it until we discover exactly what our heart really thinks.
When that happens, we are moments away from healing. But otherwise the darkness sets in deeper and deeper.
We gathered together this weekend. We have hearts with issues, even though we do not admit it. Will we see light, or will we dwell in darkness? Oh, do we live in the light? Amen. Or are we in denial?
Our knees have been around for a hundred years. Now our knees hurt too much to get down on our knees. But will we see the light?
Our love is measured love. It is not the love shed abroad in our hearts and out toward others. It is just measured. But we think that is okay.
Just like Malachi, I will have to show you the other questions, because right now you are saying, “Oh, this cannot be about me.” But may the Lord help us this weekend.
It is not that I can convince you, nor can the Word merely convince you. You need to hear the Lord say to you, “This is what is in your heart.” Our hearts are deceitful above all things, and we have a ready answer that comes right out of what we know we should say.
Until we admit where we really are, the remnant cannot be revived. It will just wobble along in lethargy—the lukewarmness of Laodicea, as opposed to Philadelphia’s huddle.
The Lord wants us to be like that little picture in Malachi 3: gathering together, talking about the Lord, fearing the Lord, esteeming His name, and waiting for Him.
Did you notice those little words? Waiting, esteeming, fearing, talking.
The Lord wants that for all His children.
Yes, you are the remnant. You have been around a long time. This is not for backsliders; we are not talking to them. We are talking about people living in a dark age.
Somehow we have to come to the light. The Lord has to speak to us directly now. It is not a question of some Bible preacher convincing you about anything. Oh, may the Lord help us. If He speaks to our hearts, we will know our hearts.
Would you make it a matter of discipline this weekend to read the book of Malachi a few times, just to refresh yourself? Tomorrow we will look at the problem of ministry. We are ministering in a time of darkness, and it tells. Then Sunday evening, we will consider body life in the darkness—all kinds of things going on that we are not even aware of. Believe me, we are that out of it.
May the Lord help us to see.
Lord, we come to You now this evening at the beginning of this time. All I can say is that I join with my dear brothers and sisters to say: one thing we know—You are unchanging, so we are not consumed.
You are a merciful God, so merciful that You are getting down on Your knees and humiliating Yourself before us in order that we might discover what is really in our hearts.
Oh Lord, do not allow us to get doctrinal. Do not allow us to beef up our delusions in denial. Help us to be honest with the living God before Whose Word we stand.
Oh, help us, Lord. We pray in Jesus’ precious name. Amen.