Sept. 8, 2024: Message: Walking In Christ, Part 2 | Scripture: Nehemiah 4:15-23 | Speaker: Pastor Stephen Choy
Worship Songs: A Mighty Fortress | The Lord is My Salvation | Take My Life
Full Manuscript
Introduction
If able, please stand as I read to you from Nehemiah 4:15-23. TWoL: 15 When our enemies heard that it was known to us and that God had frustrated their plan, we all returned to the wall, each to his work. 16 From that day on, half of my servants worked on construction, and half held the spears, shields, bows, and coats of mail. And the leaders stood behind the whole house of Judah, 17 who were building on the wall. Those who carried burdens were loaded in such a way that each labored on the work with one hand and held his weapon with the other. 18 And each of the builders had his sword strapped at his side while he built. The man who sounded the trumpet was beside me. 19 And I said to the nobles and to the officials and to the rest of the people, “The work is great and widely spread, and we are separated on the wall, far from one another. 20 In the place where you hear the sound of the trumpet, rally to us there. Our God will fight for us.”
21 So we labored at the work, and half of them held the spears from the break of dawn until the stars came out. 22 I also said to the people at that time, “Let every man and his servant pass the night within Jerusalem, that they may be a guard for us by night and may labor by day.” 23 So neither I nor my brothers nor my servants nor the men of the guard who followed me, none of us took off our clothes; each kept his weapon at his right hand.
We started a mini-series in Nehemiah 4-6 last week by asking, “What is the Christian life like?” And we answered that question by saying that the Christian life expects fearful opposition. Yet in the face of that opposition, followers of Christ overcome by remembering the Lord and fighting for his church.
Truly, fearful opposition is insignificant to the Christian because God makes us useful for the fight. And yet, what we read this week is the other side of the coin. This week, we learn about how we can go on in the fight—how we can watch and work in the face of overwhelming adversity—because our God fights for us. It’s not just that he has done the incredible in the past and made us able, but that he is still doing it in the present, and this is meant to fuel us to greater heights and to take greater risks in the task that we’ve been given.
We’re meant to watch and work with our God who fights for us, and I’m going to, once again, use the component parts of our proposition as our main outline points, only I’m going to go backwards. The proposition is watch and work with our God who fights for us, so I’m going to start with recognizing our God who fights—for us, then how our recognition of his fighting enables us to return to the work, and how, even as we return to the work, we’re to remain watchful and vigilant within the walls of God’s ultimate protection.
That’s what I want us to see from our passage this morning. We ask, “What is the Christian life like?” It is watching and working with our God who fights for us. Let’s consider, then, in reverse order what this means by, first, recognizing our God fights …
1) Recognize Our God Fights (for Us)
Verse 15a reads: Our enemies heard that it [their plan] was known to us and that God had frustrated their plan. I know I spoke about God’s sovereignty last week, but we’ve got to do it again this week, and every week as the text requires it because it’s so easy for us to forget—that he is, indeed, absolutely sovereign over all things.
What, though, does this mean? To what extent is God sovereign—to what extent does he exert his authority, his control, and his presence over all things? If you have your bibles, turn with me to Daniel 4:34-35. I chose this passage because it is close in context to Nehemiah’s time and the events in Babylon just after the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile of Israel. I wanted to show that even over this country that stood in absolute defiance against God’s people—even over them, God reveals the supremacy of his sovereignty.
In this passage, we find Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, looking out at his kingdom prior to Babylon’s defeat at the hands of Cyrus and the Persians. He’s filled with pride in what he sees, and he venerates himself in Daniel 4:30, saying: “Is not this great Babylon, which I have built by my mighty power as a royal residence and for the glory of my majesty?”
And as he says this, what happens? The sovereign God of the universe cuts him off, and responds, “O King Nebuchadnezzar, to you it is spoken: The kingdom has departed from you”—and God takes the kingdom from Nebuchadnezzar, and he drives the king from his throne, confuses his mind, and makes him like a beast of the field to eat the grass like an ox.
And after seven years, Nebuchadnezzar comes out of his fantastical experience, and he gives us the final words that are recorded as having been spoken of him. They’re not words of arrogance or vainglory. No, this is what he says in Daniel 4:34-35: “I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honoured him who lives forever, for his dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom endures from generation to generation; all the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing, and he does according to his will among the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth; and none can stay his hand or say to him, ‘What have you done?’”
And it’s in these final words from a Babylonian, pagan, blasphemous king that we learn the extent of God’s sovereignty. Five things, he tells us: firstly, that God is the Most High who lives and has dominion forever—his sovereignty is an everlasting sovereignty. Then, secondly, we’re told that we are accounted as nothing because he does according to his will. We can’t resist him—his sovereignty is an irresistible sovereignty. Thirdly, not only does God do according to his will, but he does it throughout the heavens and the earth—his sovereignty is a universal sovereignty. Fourthly, none can stay his hand—his sovereignty is a decidedly successful or triumphant sovereignty. And fifthly, none can say, “What have you done?” Why? Because his sovereignty is a righteous, holy sovereignty for what he does is always perfect and set apart.
Why is it so important for us to know these things? It’s so that we might be reminded time-and-again that our lives are not our own, and so that we might recognize and acknowledge the one to whom our lives belong. Nehemiah 4:15a is so interesting because it seems to be completely out of step with the verses preceding it. Just look at verse 13. As Nehemiah learns about the threat of Sanballat and Tobiah and their friends, he says, “So in the lowest parts of the space behind the wall, in open places, I stationed the people by their clans, with their swords, their spears, and their bows.”
Nehemiah should be saying, “I frustrated the enemy’s plans,” but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he says, “God frustrated their plan.” God did it, not Nehemiah. God gets the credit, not Nehemiah. Why? Because Nehemiah knows theologically, historically, and personally: God is sovereign.
And this has a couple of very significant implications for us. The first is to force us to look inward and to question how often we mistakenly seek our own praise. If we’re honest, each of us are a lot less like Nehemiah and a lot more like Nebuchadnezzar. We are hungry for praise, because we think our things are ours—the product of our hands—our hard work.
Don’t think so? Just look at how you spend your money, your time, and your attention. How much of it do you give back to God, to his kingdom, to his church in true acknowledgment and recognition of him—or to those who need it? How often is your posture joyful in your giving? Perhaps a good way to gauge the kind of joy that you have in your giving is by contrasting it with the joy that comes to you when you spend money, time, or attention on yourself.
Can you say that you give of yourself with the same exuberance and relief as when you go on vacation—when you get to that hotel, see those pretty sights, take a dip in that pool, or put your feet in the sand? Or can you say you find the same exhilaration in your giving as when you’re eating your favourite meal at your favourite restaurant? Or how about when you finally get that thing you’ve been wanting to buy for so long—does your anticipation in your giving to God the glory and praise that he is due match the feeling when you treat yourself?
See, the problem isn’t just that we’re withholding from God the things that belong to God—things that he’s given us, first, to steward. It’s that, truly, when we examine our hearts, we find that the first sin is that we withhold ourselves from him, because at our own corrupted root, we want to be our own gods—to have our own praise. We want to belong to ourselves. And Nehemiah teaches us that despite being, perhaps, the greatest leader of Israel since David and Solomon, he doesn’t go the way of David in pridefully counting his people, and he doesn’t emulate Solomon by satisfying himself in stuff or in sensual pleasure. Nehemiah does incredible things, and yet, his praise, at the end of the day—his recognition—his surrender—goes to God because he knows God is sovereign—because he knows God is God, and we are not.
God, alone, provides for what we need, and he, alone, has fought for us with far more grace than we deserve, because what we deserve, at the very least, is to be humbled and turned into mindless oxen who graze on the field for the rest of eternity. And yet, instead of fighting for us in a way that we deserved, he fought for us by crucifying his own Son as the means to conquer the sinfulness of our hearts. He, not us, deserves our praise. He deserves all our recognition. He deserves not just what we have, but who we are.
And yet, the second implication to all this is that it forces us to look outward and to question how much we need to give proper recognition and praise to our sovereign God. We need it. He doesn’t only deserve our praise, but we need to do it for our own sakes.
I was always a lazy kid in elementary school, but I was good at making friends who weren’t so lazy. And one such friend I remember getting paired up with in the fourth or fifth grade to do a group project. I remember going to his house to do that project, but all I wanted to do was play games since I didn’t have playstations or gameboys like he did, and that’s what I did. I played while he sat diligently and did the work—all of it, and he turned it in without me having looked at the finished product once.
And I remember the day we got the project back. We had received one of the highest grades in our class, and my parents found out about this, and they were so surprised—not knowing I had a project like this to do, and they asked me when I did it and what I had learned. And when my answers had nothing to do with the project, I had to come clean. I told them I did nothing. And I remember them looking sorrowfully at me and saying, “you need to apologize to your friend, and you need to tell your teacher.”
So, after I did the first thing, I went to do the second, and I remember the kindness of my friend, but my teacher’s reaction will always stand as that thing that was most unexpected. I remember her looking at me and saying that she was disappointed but that the grade would stand because this was a group project. She hoped I’d learned my lesson and that I’d be more diligent in the future, but the results were tied to this other person—this other person who carried me to an A as I sat and played video games.
And here’s why Nehemiah records verse 15a as he does. It’s because, even at our best— even if we gave our all to every project and campaign—when we compare ourselves to God, we aren’t only reduced to nothing, but we’re worse. We’re the lazy kid sitting there playing video games while he’s securing for us the perfect grade. He’s the one sending his Son to die for our sin upon a cross so that we don’t fall into hell. See, we need to recognize that God fights for us because we cannot fight for ourselves. We’re desperate. He’s omnipotent. We’re sinful. He’s righteous. We’re hollow. He’s holy. We’re dependent. He’s sovereign.
The Christian life is recognizing that we can’t have too much of God—that he can’t do too much for us. It’s about giving him what he deserves and seeking from him what we desperately need, only the thing that sets Christians apart from all other religions is that he gives us what we need, even when we did not give him what he deserves. He fights for us when we crucified his Son. He gave us joy. He took our wrath.
The Christian life is recognizing with our whole lives that God fights—that he fights for us. He fights to save us from our opposition. He fights to save us from our incompetence. He fights to save us from our sin, and because he is sovereign, he is infinitely, irresistibly, universally, righteously triumphant, even when we fail. There is none like our God. Give him the recognition he is due and do this, secondly, by returning to the work.
2) Return to the Work
This is what takes place from verses 15b-20. The Israelites see that their enemies aren’t yet attacking because God has fought and orchestrated all things to redeem his people from their imminent, sure, and obvious destruction. So, then what do they do with this divine intervention that’s given them new life? What is the redeemed Christian’s life like? It is a life that returns to the work.
Redemption is meant to do this to us. The author uses words of absolute genius here: “from that day on.” Redemption is supposed to merit and warrant a “from that day on” in our lives—an understanding that something pivotal and foundational has shifted, changed, transformed, motivated, moved us from what was to what now is. In salvation from our sin, our reality is redefined.
And I wanted to use the title for this point, ‘return to the work,’ not to sound mundane or to make you anxious as you think of returning to your jobs after the weekend. I’m not simply saying return to work—I’m saying return to THE work. Because before this point—before God intervened—prior to this day, you were made for something.
You were made to build and enjoy the kingdom of God—this was the work you were made to do—the work Adam was given in the garden. But before that day of God’s sovereign grace in your life, for some reason, let’s call it sin, your perspective was likely that kingdom building came secondary, tertiary, or, maybe, not even at all in its importance. Prior to that day, this work—this thing called building up the body of God—it was something that we got to decide what we wanted to give to it—how much we might benefit it.
Yet, I hope this is what happened when that day came for you. I hope it went from I get to give myself as much as I feel comfortable giving—to I get to give myself—all of myself—for the sake of him who gave all of himself for me. I get to do this work—the work—because God is doing a work in me that I want him to never stop doing. He has given me the full enjoyment and promise of his triumphant sovereignty so that I might enjoy coming back—so that I might gladly return to do what he made me to do—to share in the task of making a home—of building this place—with my God.
Is this not what we see happening with Israel? Threat lingers. The opposition has not disappeared. Yet, God has done the remarkable, and Israel responds not in despondency but with a kind of hunger for the work—sword in one hand and brick in the other—half in full coats of armour and half wearing labouerer’s clothing. Each adjusting their plans to the circumstances of their lives—to this shift that’s resulted because of God’s fighting on their behalf, yet none of them compromising, disobeying, or delaying in the effort.
And not only are they increasing in their zeal, but it also seems like they’re wiling to stretch themselves as far as possible to address all the issues associated with the work. They don’t all just stay in one place doing the same thing. No, they see the need wherever it may be, and they go to it according to their gifts and usefulness. They spread out.
How is it that they might do this successfully? How do they stretch themselves in the work without falling apart? They trust each other. Remember, those who have been outfitted for battle aren’t professional soldiers. Some of them were perfumers, merchants, goldsmiths, farmers. Yet, regardless of what they were before that day, they were now Jews called to protect their brothers and sisters, and that meant those doing construction had to trust that these makeshift soldiers would be able to guard them from any sudden attack by the enemy. And vice versa, these soldiers had to trust that those building would do an adequate job—that God wouldn’t be displeased by what they did.
The only way that they might return to the work in an effective, lasting way was if they trusted each other—if they put their lives in each others’ hands—because this was, from both the soldiers and labourers point of view, a matter of life and death. A relationship that went farther than simply saying, “I trust you,” but that actually and actively sought the well-being of their brothers and sisters—the labourer had to work for the sake of the soldier and the solder for the sake of the labourer.
This is what trust is. It’s not just passive belief that someone will do something, but that they are actively doing that which will be for your good. It’s that assurance and confidence that my life and my hope are safe because there’s someone watching out, specifically, for me in ways that I can’t watch out for myself.
And here’s the thing, I don’t think that any of the Jews before that day thought that their other brothers or sisters would have been fully trustworthy in this way. But the difference between a life where God is absent and where he is present is this: our trust isn’t now just in another person—a person as weak, feable, and selfish as I am. No, that trust will inevitably be betrayed. Our trust, however, is in people who possess the hand of God upon them. Our trust isn’t in people, but in a God who is with his people to save them and sustain them.
And we know, in fact, he hasn’t forsaken us—just like he didn’t forsake the Israelites, because he doesn’t leave them to simply trust in one another. No, he gives them, in their midst, a trumpeter who stood close and would sound his trumpet to warn all the people of impending danger at the command and voice of Nehemiah.
This is the difference between those who merely go to work and those who return to the work. It’s not only that these Israelites are called to put their lives on the line for just anybody. No, they put their lives on the line for those who are listening and following the steadfast call of Nehemiah. It is because Nehemiah is there, and the trumpet in his midst, ready to summon his people to himself, that they can go on in the work—not just building or protecting but building and protecting in confidence, in trust, in resolute joy.
And what happens when the people of God are building his kingdom and trusting in one another through their Nehemiah? God shows up! Isn’t it so interesting that Nehemiah’s command for them to go to the trumpet isn’t so that they might fight—but so that they might witness how God will—future tense—fight for them. Not only has God already fought for them in their initial deliverance, but when they remain in God’s confidence, carrying out their responsibilities in God’s work, there, in that place, God continues to be.
God is always near to those who walk not in fearfulness or anxious distrust, but to those who are faithful to him and to his people because of how he has been faithful to them. He never forsakes those whom he loves and who love him, and we know we love him if we build his kingdom and serve his church—trusting one another as we trust our Saviour. Return, then, to the work as Christians who, from that day, have received a new life, a new perspective, a new attitude towards this place and towards each other, and do it because God fights for us.
3) Remain on Watch Within the Walls
Then, lastly, as he fights, and as we return to the work, don’t give up—don’t lose hope—remain vigilant in the watch. Verse 22 shows us the cost of being with God—that enemies will always surround us—they will always want to consume us. And in the case of Nehemiah and the building of Jerusalem, several men came from cities outside of the walls. It would have been common for them to return to their homes at night, be with their families, provide their help, put their children to sleep.
But there are times, when the threat is so great that we must wait and watch for the completion of things—for the full security of God’s promises to be finally restored—before going out. There are times where we must sacrifice what we think we want because to pursue those things would mean not only risking our own safety but the safety of those whom we’ve covenanted to protect. Sometimes what we need to do is to stay within the walls that God hasn’t just called us to build and defend for his glory but are there, also, for our good.
There will be times where it seems the call to go out and satisfy your sin is so strong and your reasons to refuse giving into that sin so feeble and trite. There will be times where you feel like the work of the church and the trusting of God’s people is too much to bear, so you permit yourself the thought of doing something that, in your mind, will cost very little, but that the devil will use to take much.
The Christian life is hard. It requires a lot from you, but we’re to know it is better to give up a little—that which you don’t even need and has no true benefit to you—than to lose it all. It is better to lose the little that you think you deserve than to reject all that God has predestined, by grace, to give you.
And you may think that such a vigilance—such a watch over your life—is an impossible thing to keep up, but that is why he gives you leaders—that is why he gives you examples in your life to follow. I imagine that many of these men who were volunteering their time for the wall were grumbling or sorrowful that they couldn’t leave the city, and Nehemiah hears them, so what does he do? He sets the example. Neither him nor his brothers nor servants nor men of the guard—none of them stop watching. None of them stop guarding. None of them lose vigilance. They did this for the sake of their people.
And, church, I’m going to tell you now that I’m no Nehemiah. Yes, you should follow me, and you should follow the other leaders of our church, but we won’t be perfect. We will falter, and yet, I hope you know what I’m going to say next, because where Nehemiah sets an example of sacrifice with his own men, Christ sets an example for us in the cross with his own life. He has accomplished the impossible for us by suffering our sin, and he, now, intercedes for us as our conqueror and sustainer.
When you lose hope—when you think your vigilance and watch has come to an end—look to the cross where our Lord died so that you might never go astray—so that you might be encouraged to run the race because he who began a good work in you shall bring it to completion on that day of Jesus Christ. He has not forsaken you. He is always steadfast in his faithfulness. He is always for us in the fight. Watch, then, dear Christian, and work with our God who fights for us through His Son, our Lord, and our Saviour. To him be the glory, honour, power, and dominion, forever.
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