Please forgive my references to personal struggles, but I must tell you of some recent troubles we've endured to share with you the lessons learned from it all. My family and I have just gone through the most severe testing of our lives.
I stood in the middle of Times Square in New York city, watching the mad parade of sinners flaunting their wickedness, and my spiritual blood began to boil. It was just after midnight and the sin–crowd was coming up out of the subways, converging on Times Square and 42nd Street from all over the city.
We have declared war on suicide, and already we have witnessed many great victories. A few months ago, in a newsletter, I told how God promped me to preach about suicide in every crusade we conduct.
When God first prompted me to speak out on the subject of suicide, I was incredulous. I argued, "How can I preach on such a morbid subject in city-wide crusades? Only a small percentage of the audience would relate to such a message! People might think I was making too much of the problem."
I’m not used to writing messages on this subject, and you may be surprised by this one. I prepared it with great reservations; it took me far beyond my comfort zone, even though I’m dedicated to preaching the whole counsel of God. Right now I’m compelled to speak because of something I see happening in our culture. I’ve grown convinced that America now stands on the brink of one the most extreme judgments it has ever faced. And in this bleak hour God has something to say to his church that may begin to turn the tide.
When Christians hear the phrase “Upper Room,” one of two biblical scenarios comes to mind. For charismatics and Pentecostals, the predominant sequence happens in Acts 1 and 2. In Chapter 1, the disciples gathered in the upper room of a house, and “with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers” (Acts 1:14, ESV). Then, in Chapter 2, things get really dramatic.
Most of us would like the ability to do certain things in life that we can’t do. I’m talking about things that are not just hard but impossible. I think of my garage as an impossible mess, but I have the ability to clean it. I don’t need faith in God to do that task.
The opening chapter of Hebrews repeats a truth every Christian knows but that few of us actually grasp: “Jesus is greater.” The writer is so focused on this theme he doesn’t take time to offer a greeting. He doesn’t give his readers any instructions, as some epistles do. Instead, he has one thing on his mind: “Jesus is greater!” He is enamored, thrilled and overcome with Christ.
"He sent from above, he took me, he drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them which hated me: for they were too strong for me. They prevented me in the day of my calamity: but the Lord was my stay. He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me" (Psalm 18:16–19, my italics).
When I began working on this message, the Wall Street Journal reported that the entire world had come under a great cloud of fear. People in all nations are now paralyzed by world events. Immediately, my thoughts turned to our parishioners at Times Square Church. They show no such fear. Instead, while we all have a great soberness about these times, we also have a deep, abiding joy.
We don’t hear many sermons on heaven these days. That may seem strange, since it is every Christian’s joy to ponder being with the Lord for all eternity. The promise of heaven is at the very core of the gospel we preach.
Yet there is a reason why we don’t hear much on this joyful subject. The fact is, the Bible doesn’t say much about what heaven is like. Jesus never sat down with his disciples and explained the glory and majesty of heaven. He did say to the thief on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise,” but he didn’t say what it would be like.
