I would like to read from Revelation 2:12:
And to the angel of the assembly in Pergamos write:
These things saith He that hath the sharp two-edged sword.
Let us pray together.
Lord, we trust our time to You. We stand on Your side. We commit ourselves to You, and we pray that You would bless Your Word, that it would be in our own hearts and dwell richly as we meditate on these things. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Before reading this letter to the church in Pergamos, I want to mention the setting again, because it has been a while. We have looked at a couple of the churches so far in Revelation 2 and 3.
Revelation 1 through 3 contains a vision of Christ. John the apostle sees Christ, and in the background he sees seven churches—seven golden lampstands. The vision occurs in Revelation 1, and afterwards there are these seven letters. We have been going through these letters and considering what the Lord spoke to them. This morning, it is time to come to Pergamos.
Each church is pictured as a golden lampstand. Each church is a testimony of Christ, shining a light. John sees Christ in all His glory, with a tenfold description and other descriptions in Revelation 1. Behind Him are these seven lampstands shining light; but when they shine, they shine the light of Christ. Each has its own specific light to shine.
These lights are like spotlights, and they contain the very fire of Christ. At the beginning of each letter, we see the flame of that lampstand. Thus, when the letter to Pergamos begins by saying, “These things saith He that hath the sharp two-edged sword,” it identifies the light that this church should shine.
I want to read from the vision of Christ in Revelation 1 to see where this light comes from. In Revelation 1:12, John says:
I turned to see the voice that spake with me.
And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands;
and in the midst of the seven lampstands One like unto a son of man.
One description in Revelation 1:16 says:
And out of His mouth proceeded a sharp two-edged sword.
Remember what we read in Revelation 2:12:
These things saith He that hath the sharp two-edged sword.
This is the light that Pergamos was to shine. As they bore their testimony, the expression of Christ was that He is the sharp two-edged sword going out of His mouth.
I have been using the word Pergamos, and already I have had trouble even with the name. It is because of my translation. In Darby it is Pergamos; in others it is Pergamum or Pergamon. The modern city nearby is Bergama. They are all referring to the same place, so we do not need to get tripped up over the pronunciation.
If you look at the original language, it may end differently in different contexts. These Greek words have unusual endings, as some other languages do. So when I say Pergamos, Pergamon, or Pergamum, we all mean the same thing.
Let us read this letter, keeping in mind its testimony. This morning, I do not want to focus on the historical or prophetic history included in this letter. Certainly, this was a real locality in Asia Minor, in present-day Turkey, and it was a real letter written to them. In retrospect, we may also see periods of church history that resemble this church.
But there is something said at the end of the letter:
He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the assemblies.
There is a message for all the churches. There is something beyond the locality of Pergamos and beyond a particular period of church history. There is something for us today, wherever we live as the churches. If we are open to it, there is an ear to hear and a message to receive.
We want to consider this from the viewpoint of the overcomers. Even the problems in the letter can show us what the testimony should have been, because there were overcomers there. The Lord says, “To him that overcometh,” and then He mentions their rewards.
There were those who carried the flame that Pergamos was meant to carry. So, from the viewpoint of the overcomers, we want to see what this shining light looks like. What does it mean to bear the testimony of the double-edged sword? What would the experience be if we truly bore that testimony from God’s viewpoint and from God’s heart?
Let us read Revelation 2:12-17:
And to the angel of the assembly in Pergamos write:
These things saith He that hath the sharp two-edged sword.
I know where thou dwellest, where the throne of Satan is;
and thou holdest fast My name, and hast not denied My faith,
even in the days in which Antipas was My faithful witness,
who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth.But I have a few things against thee,
because thou hast there some that hold the teaching of Balaam,
who taught Balak to cast a stumbling-block before the children of Israel,
to eat things sacrificed to idols, and to commit fornication.
So hast thou also some that hold the teaching of the Nicolaitans in like manner.
Repent therefore; or else I come to thee quickly,
and I will make war against them with the sword of My mouth.He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the assemblies.
To him that overcometh, to him will I give of the hidden manna;
and I will give him a white stone,
and upon the stone a new name written,
which no one knoweth but he that receiveth it.
As you read this letter, imagine one of the branches of a golden lampstand. In the Old Testament lampstand, there were parts besides the flame: flowers, almond-shaped ornaments, and a base. As we go through this letter, we see a reflection of the shining light in every aspect of it.
The flame is clear: it is the sharp two-edged sword. But as we move through the letter, we see something of that sword shining in each part. In the perfect picture of the golden lampstand, we must remove the negative things—the things requiring repentance—and see the true shining that is meant to be there.
The lampstand reflects the light, but at the top is the burning of Christ.
Our first experience of the double-edged sword, even as human beings, is probably the convicting sword. It is the Scripture sword. When we think of the sword, we think of the Word of God. Many of us know verses that describe the written Word of God as a sword.
When I was in Israel, at the checkpoints they would ask me, “Do you have a gun?” because I carried a gun bag. I would pull out my Bible and say, “Yes, this is my weapon. This is my sword.” They would laugh, but it is a sword.
The Scripture itself is described as a sword. Even before you are saved, it comes as a sword. In Luke 2, Mary was told that a sword would pierce her own heart also. There is something that happens through the Word of God, the sword of the Spirit, by which the Holy Spirit does a convicting work.
The Spirit uses His sword, which is the Word of God. Whether it comes from someone’s mouth or whether we are reading it, the Spirit of God uses it to bring light where there is darkness. Suddenly, deep down, we know there is something we ought to do that we are not doing. We know there is something we are doing that we ought not to do. The sword pierces the heart, and conviction comes.
This is our first experience of the sword, but it continues throughout our lives as Christians. In a very real way, the double-edged sword is the Word of God, even the Scriptures. But it is the Word of God as God Himself uses it. It is the sword of the Spirit.
There is darkness, and light comes in to dispel that darkness. Usually, the light comes through the Word of God. It is like a flaming sword. The first sword in the Bible was a flaming sword. Light comes from this sword as it shines.
There is another sword experience needed as a believer. When we first get saved, we obey the Word of God, believe on Jesus, and are saved. But even after that, we continue to obey the Word of God and enter into rest.
Hebrews 3 and 4 speak of the Israelites who did not hearken to the Word of God. They did not obey, and they did not enter into the Lord’s rest. But when believers walk with the Lord, receive the Word, and obey it, we enter into life with Christ and relationship with Him.
We find ourselves consecrated on an altar daily. Romans 12 tells us to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice. We have seen the mercies and compassions of God, and therefore we offer ourselves to Him.
Then we discover that the sword is not only the Scripture sword. It is also the priestly sword. This double-edged sword is the sword of a high priest.
Hebrews 4 gives us the picture of a high priest using His sword. It not only exposes the thoughts and intentions of our hearts, but it divides between soul and spirit. For believers, this is a precious sword that draws us close to Christ.
It can be difficult for us to think of a priestly sword. When we think of an animal being sacrificed, we may think of a butcher. But it is better to think of a surgeon. When we lay on the altar and the dividing work between soul and spirit occurs, we are a living sacrifice. He is not killing us; He is making us mature. He is bringing healing. It is more like a surgeon’s knife.
The high priest’s sword was not very long, but it was skillful. A skilled person knows where everything is. Nothing is left where it should not be. In the same way, a good surgeon cannot be careless. The work is detailed, but the work is for our good.
This sword has a dear meaning for us. We lay on the altar, and the double-edged sword works. It may hurt a little. He may expose something and say, “This is you; this is Christ. Obey the Word and go with Christ.” Yet as we respond, there is increasingly a separation of soul and spirit.
More and more, this becomes an experience we love, because every time the result is that we are closer to Him. We discover more of what is Christ, and we are in His presence more. We begin to know how to commune with Him by choice because we know where that place is.
We recognize conviction as the Lord’s leading. We learn the difference between our emotions and when He is actually leading us spiritually. This work of the sword is not only the Word of God in general; it is our personal and deep experience of the Word of God. It exposes the hidden intentions of the heart.
There is another aspect of the sword: the Lord’s sword is a battle sword. Revelation 19 describes Christ in the final battle of this age. In Revelation 19:11-16, we read:
And I saw the heaven opened; and behold, a white horse,
and He that sat thereon called Faithful and True;
and in righteousness He doth judge and make war.
And His eyes are a flame of fire,
and upon His head are many diadems;
and He hath a name written, which no one knoweth but He Himself.And He is arrayed in a garment sprinkled with blood:
and His name is called The Word of God.
And the armies which are in heaven followed Him upon white horses,
clothed in fine linen, white and pure.
And out of His mouth proceedeth a sharp sword,
that with it He should smite the nations:
and He shall rule them with a rod of iron.
And He treadeth the winepress of the fierceness of the wrath of God, the Almighty.
And He hath on His garment and on His thigh a name written,
KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.
As the battle unfolds, the sword comes from His mouth. He speaks the Word, and the armies are slain. It is strange for us to picture a sword coming from His mouth physically. Spiritual things do not always match up with physical pictures. But spiritually, we understand it: the sword is the Word of God coming out of His mouth.
It does a piercing work. It is double-edged. It cuts between soul and spirit. Yet in this battle, it separates body and soul. His spiritual Word affects the physical realm because the spiritual is stronger than the physical.
This is the battle sword. We do not want to be on the edge of that sword. Yet the letter to Pergamos contains a warning:
Repent therefore; or else I come to thee quickly, and I will make war against them with the sword of My mouth.
If believers reject the work of Christ as High Priest, reject the surgeon’s knife that would heal them, or refuse to respond to the convicting work of Scripture, they may experience what they should not experience: the edge of the sword. There is judgment even for believers. That is the warning.
For believers, however, the testimony of the double-edged sword means we should experience the handle of the battle sword. Ephesians 6 tells us to put on the whole armor of God, and part of that armor is the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.
As the sword has worked in us—pierced our hearts, divided soul from spirit, and taught us to walk with the Lord—we rise up and discover that there is a sword in our hand and, in a sense, a sword in our mouth.
The Word of God becomes effective in our fight against God’s enemies. It is not merely Scripture memorized in our minds. It is the experience of Scripture and the obedience to Scripture that has been worked into us. Then we can use the sword of the Spirit.
The Word becomes our battle sword. The Word is within us, and our testimony shines back Christ. The sword pierced us, we responded, and we shine more of Christ. Yet we also bear the double-edged sword.
It is not our sword. It is the sword of the Spirit. We do not hold it with selfish hands. By God’s grace, we walk with Him. The Holy Spirit brings a Scripture to our hearts, and we use it—not merely from a database of memorization, saying, “I know a verse that matches that.”
If we use Bible verses merely in the flesh, we will poke each other’s eyes out. But the real battle sword is used by the Holy Spirit at the right time and in the right moment. It is not simply that we have an answer; it is that we have a word from God.
It may be an unexpected word. We may know the answer to a question, but as we look to the Lord, He gives us a different word—something that pierces through and is effective in the battle.
We must tremble when we bear this sword, because we do not wield it in our own strength. If we do, it becomes something else; it becomes a snake. But if it is the sword of the Lord, it is effective, double-edged, and truly becomes our battle sword.
Another aspect of the sword may not make sense at first: the sword is also a defensive wall.
Remember Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Adam was meant to guard the garden. They were to protect it. The Lord commanded them to guard the garden and maintain its defense. But when the attack came, they failed to use the sword.
The enemy twisted the words of God. He asked, “Did God really say this?” If Eve had been fully equipped by the Word of God—if the Word had not only been remembered but had been worked into her heart, meditated upon, experienced, and owned—she could have answered clearly.
She could have said, “Silly snake, that is not what God said. We heard from God. He gave us all these trees for food, and He gave us the tree of life. He only told us not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”
But instead, the Word was twisted and the wrong answer was given.
They failed in their defense, and they were put out of the Garden of Eden. Then a wall arose, with cherubim and a flashing, flaming sword guarding the way to the tree of life.
This is the first wall of the city of God, the paradise of God. The sword keeps out corruption. Sin had entered the world, bringing thorns, difficulty, death, and corruption. But no one could enter the garden and bring that corruption to the tree of life. The sword blocked the way.
In Nehemiah, the people were building the wall of Jerusalem. Those around them wanted to join them, but they refused that union. As they built, they also held swords. They were building a wall, but they had to defend it from evil.
They had a sword in one hand and a building tool in the other. Not necessarily literally every moment, of course; they had people armed and people building. But both things were taking place. One hand was building, and the other was ready to fight.
In the same way, we are still building the walls of the city of God. The New Jerusalem is not fully built. The measurements in Revelation describe a city of enormous proportions—something like fourteen hundred miles. Whether we understand every measurement literally or not, the point is clear: nothing is getting through that wall.
Yet the wall is not merely defensive. On the other side of the wall is a living, joyful city. There is something pure within the church. There is something worth guarding, worth defending, and worth losing some earthly pleasures for. There is life, joy, and fullness within the city of God.
The name Pergamos may possibly carry the idea of a union with a tower. Some suggest that it comes from words related to a tower and union. If so, it brings the Tower of Babel to mind.
The Tower of Babel represents the world coming together apart from God. It is the world system. Thus, Pergamos may picture the marriage of the church and the world—the attempt to unite the Tower of Babel with the house of God.
This is what the enemy tries to do. In Nehemiah’s time, those who were not God’s people said, “We will help you build your walls. We have skills, materials, and able bodies.” It sounded useful. They were good builders.
But the people of God discerned something. They refused the mixture and took up their swords. The enemy’s attack was an attempt to unite the world and the church, to build something together. It was an attempt to unite the Tower of Babel with the New Jerusalem.
This same temptation exists today in the building of the spiritual church of God. It is easy to allow the concepts of the Tower of Babel into the purity of the New Jerusalem. We see something good in the world and want to apply it directly to the church.
We say, “This practice worked in my business. Let us try it here.” No one may be able to say it is a sin, but it may not be the building work of the Lord Jesus. It is not “I will build My church.” Instead, it becomes the union of the church and the world.
That is not to be the testimony. The flame of this church is the double-edged sword. It is a defensive wall. It works inwardly, but it also blocks what should not enter.
The Lord says:
I know where thou dwellest, where the throne of Satan is;
and thou holdest fast My name, and hast not denied My faith,
even in the days in which Antipas was My faithful witness,
who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth.
Speaking spiritually, all the churches dwell in this world. The Lord said in John 17 that His people are in the world but not of the world. He did not pray for us to be taken out of the world.
Yet this world is where Satan’s throne is. Satan is called the god of this world, the ruler of this world, and the prince of the power of the air. He does not own the earth, but he has formed a world system, beginning with Babel.
We are in the midst of this system. We are not called to go away and live by ourselves; we should be among people. But we are not to be of the world.
Pergamos had a good testimony in this: they held fast the Lord’s name and did not deny His faith. The Lord points to Antipas as an example. Antipas was His faithful witness, slain among them.
We do not know much about Antipas historically, but his name is often understood to mean “against all.” He stood against the current, against the waves of the world, and for the Lord’s name alone. He paid for that testimony with his life.
If he had denied the name of Christ, he might not have been slain. If he had broadened the faith—allowing many gods, another way of salvation, or merely good moral teachings without the true gospel—he might have been accepted. But he stood for Christ alone and for the pure, simple faith of Christ.
The world wants to give us another name. It wants something more specific than simply Christ, a label that makes us a little different from Christ. But Antipas stood only for Christ. He paid the price for that testimony, and a testimony purchased at such a cost is not laid down lightly.
Because their testimony concerning Christ’s name was strong, the world’s attack against Pergamos was more subtle. It was a religious attack. It was not necessarily an attempt to pull them completely away from Christ or make them ashamed to call themselves believers.
Instead, the attack was to mix worldly things with godly things: hold onto what is of God, but add a little of the world. That is a tricky attack. The union of the church and the world brings both together.
The Lord says, “I have a few things against thee.” One of them is that they held the teaching of Balaam.
Balaam, in the book of Numbers, was a prophet of God. He knew something of God. When he spoke in the Lord’s name, his words could truly be the Lord’s words. The king knew Balaam’s prophecies had power, so he wanted to hire him to curse Israel.
The king offered Balaam many rewards. Balaam prayed, “Is this all right, God?” God said no. Then it happened again, and again. Eventually, God said, “Go ahead.”
But the problem was the question Balaam was asking.
Balaam missed the heart of God. The double-edged sword never worked deeply in him. He could speak the words of God, but the Word of God did not strike him personally. He lost his own testimony that way.
When we ask, “Lord, is it okay for me to do this?” we may already be entering Balaam’s path. A better question is, “Lord, what is on Your heart for me to do?” That is another realm entirely. We want to share His heart, not merely learn what is allowed.
Balaam did not want to go against his conscience. He wanted to be a prophet of God. He wanted to do what was technically right or permitted. It is like doing taxes: we want to do what is allowed, but some people are very skilled at finding loopholes.
A good accountant understands the spirit of the law and says, “Come on, you need to pay taxes.” But Balaam’s way looks for the loophole. “It does not quite say in the Bible that I cannot do this. I know I cannot do that, but perhaps I can do this.”
Eventually Balaam said, “God said I could go. I have peace in my heart.” That can be one of the most dangerous things we say. If we have worn down our conscience by repeatedly asking for what our emotions or our will already desire, eventually we may silence the warning within us. Then we say, “I have peace about it.”
But it may not be the peace of God that passeth all understanding. It may be our own hushed peace. We have deceived ourselves.
Balaam was on the wrong side of the sword. The sword that should have been his battle sword stood against him as he travelled on his donkey. An angel stood in the way with a drawn sword. Then came the story of the donkey speaking to him.
The Word of God came through the donkey, but Balaam was on the edge of the sword because he had missed the Lord’s heart. When the priestly sword works in us, and when the Scripture sword becomes our own conviction, we are on the right side of the sword: we hold the handle.
Balaam continued speaking the right words, but he did not share the heart of God. It is like receiving a voicemail that has been transformed into text. The words may be correct, but you cannot hear the tears behind them or the urgency in the speaker’s voice.
A person may say, “Can you come home soon?” The text alone does not reveal whether they are crying, fearful, or angry. You have the words, but not the heart.
Balaam was like a recording. He repeated the words correctly. But a true prophet, like Jeremiah, received the Word of God as a fire within. It became his own, and he could not hold it in. When Jeremiah proclaimed judgment, he proclaimed it with the Lord’s heart—with tears, because the Lord loved the people.
Jonah, on the other hand, did not like the people of Nineveh. He went and repeated the message, “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown,” but he did not share the heart of God.
Balaam would have loved to be in Moses’ position when God said, “Step aside; I will destroy Israel.” He might have said, “Thy will be done.” Many of us speak that way: “I just want the Lord’s will.” It sounds noble, but we need to go higher and gain the Lord’s heart.
Moses interceded for Israel. He recognized that they deserved judgment, yet he knew the Lord’s heart toward His people. When the Word works in us, we share the Lord’s heart.
Balaam’s teaching became a doctrine: “This is okay to do. It is not sinful. Is it okay?” Things began to creep in.
Balaam found a loophole. He could not curse Israel, but he could tell Balak something about God. He told him that God is holy, and if Israel mixed with idolatry and fornication, God’s protection would be removed.
He found a way around his own conscience. He may have reasoned, “It is a good thing to tell people about the things of God.” But Balak used this knowledge to trap Israel.
Israel became mixed with the world, and twenty-four thousand died in the plague. It was a terrible result from one man’s corruption and one man’s doctrine that had eaten away at his conscience.
Balaam was a prophet for profit. He would prophesy for money. He wanted the things of the world and used his God-given gift for worldly purposes.
Another doctrine had entered: the teaching of the Nicolaitans. We mentioned with Ephesus that the works of the Nicolaitans involved wanting to be first. It is victory over the common people—the desire to occupy the highest place.
Even the disciples struggled with this: “Who will be greatest among us?” But the Lord taught them that His way is to serve at the lowest place and not to seek position. That is the way of Christ.
The way of the world is to rise to the top. In business, people want to climb higher and become the boss. In the corporate world, people want to be the best and have others beneath them. This is worldly teaching. It is the temptation of the pride of life.
Third John speaks of someone who loved to have the preeminence. This is the way of the Nicolaitans.
When it becomes a teaching, it is deeply damaging because it affects the conscience. It may creep into the churches through ideas of leadership: “We need a president in this church. Who is the prime minister? Who is the CEO?”
Then the worldly structure is given Christian terms: “Who is the pastor? Who is the priest? Who is the minister?” These things merge, and the doctrine of the Nicolaitans enters Christianity.
It was not there in the Scriptures. The Scriptures themselves provide a defense against it. Yet later in church history, such teaching entered through men with noble thoughts and good intentions.
They might say, “It is difficult to make a decision with five of us. If one of us were the elder among the elders—a bishop—then it would be easier. He could have the final say.” It seems practical. It can seem like a good thing.
But the world has merged into the church, and that damages the testimony.
Christ is the Leader. Christ is the Head. He has elders, deacons, and leading ones, but He is always the One above all. He is always the Leader.
When I first came into Christianity, there were small groups and cell groups. One model was called G-12: you gather twelve disciples, and the pastor becomes the leader—almost like Jesus with His twelve disciples. Then each of those twelve finds twelve more, and so on. You build a large pyramid.
It can be impressive. It may work in many countries. But it is the union of the Tower of Babel and the New Jerusalem. It is a complete mixture. It is the doctrine of the Nicolaitans.
People begin to desire their own twelve. They hope to rise another level in the structure. It becomes like selling Avon: a pyramid structure. This teaching can creep into us even if we do not use those names.
But the overcomers do not carry these teachings. The overcomers keep the sword. They use the Scriptures to recognize, “This is not God’s way.” They allow the Scriptures to give them the Lord’s heart.
The Scripture says it is a noble thing to desire oversight, but when that Word works within us, we understand that oversight means shepherding the saints. It means spending ourselves for others. It means loving God’s people.
It is not, “I want this position.” It is, “I love the Lord, and I love His people.” The Word becomes an inward reality: the King serves His people, rather than seeking titles and position.
The Lord tells the overcomers of their reward:
To him that overcometh, to him will I give of the hidden manna.
The rewards are expressions of bearing this testimony. They correspond to the sharp two-edged sword.
Hidden manna is described in the Old Testament. It was placed in the ark of God. In the wilderness, Israel ate bread from heaven that appeared on the ground each day. If they kept it too long outside, it spoiled. It was their daily portion.
But the Lord commanded them to take some manna and place it in the ark as a testimony. This was the hidden manna.
Jesus spoke about manna when people said that Moses gave them manna in the wilderness. He explained that it was the Father who gave them manna. Yet their fathers ate the physical manna and died in the wilderness.
Jesus said that He is the true bread that came down from heaven. He is the real manna. Christ is our portion. But to receive the hidden manna is the way of overcoming.
Joshua and Caleb had actually experienced the manna in the wilderness. When they thought of hidden manna, it was not merely an idea; it was something they had tasted. It spoke of a hidden experience with the Lord.
They did not merely eat physical bread. They let the Word work within them. They hearkened to the Lord’s Word. Hebrews 3 and 4 tell us that others heard the words, kept certain commandments, and even kept the Sabbath, but did not truly enter into rest. They did not receive the Word deeply.
But if we allow the sword of the Spirit to work in us, then the manna becomes our actual food. It becomes life. It carries us through the wilderness of this world while we build the wall, hold the sword, and take our stand against the world’s attacks.
In the end, we can look back and say, “I had manna in those days. I had the life of Christ as my portion.”
The world may tempt us to eat what has been sacrificed to idols. It may say, “There is nothing wrong with this. You have freedom. Why limit yourself? Why not go to the parties and do the things the rest of us do, even the rest of us who are Christians?”
But the overcomer has hidden manna. You have food that they do not know about. You have a deeper experience with the Lord. You have joy and a real taste of honey. You have something hidden, precious, and personal.
Others may look at the manna and say, “What is this bread? I wish I had the onions of Egypt. I wish I had the food of Egypt.” They want to mix the world with the church.
But as you respond to the Word, you know the Lord more deeply. You have life from His Word, and you are nourished. When Jesus was tempted by Satan, He quoted:
Man shall not live by bread alone,
but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
That passage in Deuteronomy is connected with the manna. God taught His people through manna that man does not live by bread alone. This is part of the hidden life and the hidden manna.
The Lord also says:
I will give him a white stone,
and upon the stone a new name written,
which no one knoweth but he that receiveth it.
I can stand here and say that I do not know exactly what this is. I do not know the name, especially because the verse says no one knows it except the one who receives it.
But consider what we read in Revelation 19. When Jesus comes, He has a name that no one knows but Himself. He is called the Word of God, King of kings, and Lord of lords; yet He also bears a mysterious name beyond our full description.
The attack of the world is to give us another name—to define us in some way other than Christ. But the Lord gives a secret name. It is known only by the one who receives it.
I do not know what the white stone is. There are guesses concerning priestly stones and other meanings, but we are all guessing. The stone may be as mysterious as the name.
I think of Peter. His name was changed from Simon to Peter, meaning stone. Peter’s new name described what would happen as the Lord’s grace worked in him. He became a solid stone, reflecting the Rock, who is Christ.
In the same way, as we bear the testimony, walk as overcomers, and shine the light of Christ, a new name is working within us. It is something that describes Christ in us, Christ through us, and us in Christ. It is a special, hidden name.
The Lord has a name for each of us, a name He calls us to grow into. It shows that we have had a hidden life with Him. Jacob’s name was changed to Israel, and that name showed the change in his life.
I believe this hidden new name shows that the overcomer has borne this testimony all the way through.
I have one final thing to say. As we bear this testimony together, my word this morning is an encouragement: this is our testimony. This is what the Spirit says to the churches. If we have an ear to respond to the Word, this can be our testimony.
As the Word works in us, we find ourselves with the battle sword. There is a call to have the sword in our hands, defend the walls of the church, and not let things slip in. We must use the Word of Scripture to do the work of God.
We can yield ourselves to His Word. We can dust off our Scriptures, read them, and hearken to them.
I found a letter in an old library at Halford House in England. I had been told there were some hidden things in the library, so I asked whether I could look around. It was a large, beautiful library, though dusty and with the curtains unopened for a long time.
I found a real letter written by Charles Spurgeon, the prince of preachers, to another minister. He was speaking about corruption from the world trying to enter the church.
Spurgeon called the man to stand and fight with the Word of God, to use the Scriptures and take his stand for truth. He said, in effect, “If you will not draw your sword, at least let it rattle in the scabbard.”
He was blunt. He was saying, “At least let it shake a little bit in there. Quit being a wimp and be a warrior.” I copied that letter, and it has remained with me.
As I meditated on it, I thought: perhaps the call is not merely to let the sword rattle in the scabbard. The call is to unsheathe it, hold it, and wield the sword of God.
For many of us, perhaps our swords have rattled enough. We are disturbed by corruption and by things creeping in. Yet we are afraid to take our stand and allow there to be a defense—a wall that blocks easy corruption and lets the world know that we are different.
It is true: we are different. But we have a joy that the world may not know about. Let the Word of God be our stance. Let it be our weapon in our hands, and let it work within us.
The sword is not meant merely to rattle in its scabbard or to shake in our hearts while we say, “I know this is not what it should be, and I am disturbed.” Through prayer, supplication, and a true stance in the Word of God, let us unsheathe it and hold it in our hands.
Our warrior King leads the way on His white horse with His sword drawn. Those who follow Him in white garments also bear swords. The Lord is the One who wields the sword, but this is our stance. This is our call.
That is why I wanted to sing at the beginning, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” Think of Joshua before Jericho. He saw a Man with a drawn sword, ready for battle, and asked, “Whose side art Thou on? Are You for us or for our adversaries?”
The answer was essentially, “No. Are you on the Lord’s side? I am the captain.”
It is not merely, “Lord, please help me do this.” It is, “We are on Your side, Lord—by Your grace and by Your redemption.”
Let us pray together.
Lord, this is our confession and our testimony by Your grace: You are the One with the sharp double-edged sword. We have had this experience already in our lives, at least initially. Lord, we want to experience more and bear this testimony.
We pray for ourselves, for all of us who are faltering, for all of us who are struggling, and for those who stand at the edge of a decision: Will we build the wall with a sword in our hands or not?
Lord, by Your strengthening and by repentance in our hearts, raise us up to be those who can hold the sword, hold it in our hearts, and truly bear the testimony together with You. We commit this to You in Jesus’ name. Amen.