Mark 10:46-52: How Jesus Responded to Determined Faith

INTRODUCTION

As I read the gospels I notice that sometimes the people with the most faith are not always the people who are in Jesus’ circle of friends:

I think of the Roman centurion with the sick servant. Jesus said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith!” (Luke 7:9).

I think of the Canaanite woman with the demon-possessed child. She refused to give up and ended up winning an argument with Jesus (Mark 7:29).

I think of the sinful woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. Jesus said, “Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love,”…And he said to the woman, “Your faith has made you whole; go in peace” (Luke 7:47 and 50).

I think of the thief who died beside Jesus on a cross. He looked at tormented, despised, ridiculed Jesus and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom!” And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:42-43).

I think of the centurion who was in charge of the men who nailed Jesus to his cross, who when he saw how Jesus died, exclaimed, “Truly, this was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39).

The story I will read to you today is about a blind beggar in Jericho.

This story is unusual in that, unlike the other healing stories, we know the name of the one Jesus healed.

He is Bar-timaeus, which means “the son of Timaeus.”

The story happened when Jesus visited Jericho on his way to enter Jerusalem for his last week before his death.

Mark 10:46-52

And they came to Jericho; and as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great multitude, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!”

And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent; but he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”

And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; rise, he is calling you.” And throwing off his mantle, he sprang up and came to Jesus.

And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

And the blind man said to him, “Master, let me receive my sight.”

And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

I. Imagine yourself as one of the disciples. Picture the scene as if you were there. Here is what you see…

Jericho is surrounded by desert. But it is at an oasis, an earthly paradise. The fertility of its soil and its palm-groves and balsam plantations are legendary. It is a beautiful city with an amphitheater and palace surrounded by gardens. An historian calls it “a fairyland of the old world” (Edersheim, Sketches of Jewish Social Life, p61).
But Bartimaeus saw none of these things—for Bartinaeus was blind!

It is a busy time of year, just before the Passover in Jerusalem. The road through the city is full of travelers. It is a good time for beggars to be out. People might be in a generous mood as they set out to go up to Jerusalem to worship at Passover time.

Here’s Bartimaeus bawling out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

People are shouting, “What a nuisance!” But the obnoxious man cries out all the louder.

But look! Jesus is stopping. He seems to welcome the interruption. He is calls the beggar. The beggar’s friends encourage him, and he leaps up, throws aside his coat and blunders through the crowd to Jesus.

Jesus says, “What do you want me to do for you?”

This time Bartimaeus doesn’t ask for money. He just says, “Master, I want to see!”

We don’t read that Jesus reached out to touch him. Jesus just says, “Go your way. Your faith has saved you.”

And immediately he receives his sight—but he doesn’t go his way—he joins right in with Jesus’s disciples as they continue their journey to Jerusalem, 15 miles away. Bartimaeus must have been among the crowd on Palm Sunday, waving his palm branch and shouting, “Hosanna!”

II. Let’s look a little closer at Bartimaeus.

A. Consider Bartimaeus’s plight.

As a blind man, Bartimaeus had no choice but to beg. He couldn’t survive any other way.

There was no social service network in those days, but every Jew knew that one of the most important responsibilities he had was to show mercy to the poor.

But when Jesus came along, he forgot about his need for money and thought only of his hope that Jesus would heal him.

B. Now consider Bartimaeus’ faith.

Bartimaeus didn’t know much, but he acted on what he knew. He shouted and kept shouting. He had to get Jesus’ attention.

He couldn’t come up behind Jesus and touch the hem of his cloak, as one sick woman did. He couldn’t run to Jesus and fall at his feet, as Jairus, the synagogue ruler did. He couldn’t send servants to talk to Jesus as a centurion did.

He had to get Jesus’ attention. And he did what he had to do.

He put his faith to work. He called out and kept calling out. He wouldn’t be quieted.

C. Notice how Jesus made a special point of telling Bartimaeus that his faith had made him well.

Jesus often told those he healed, “Your faith has made you well”—or it can be translated, “Your faith has saved you.”

Jesus wanted Bartimaeus—and everyone standing around—to know that it is by faith that we lay hold on the power of God.

Jesus often told those he healed, “Your faith has saved you.”

When Bartimaeus’s eyes were healed, his soul was healed too. He was now a follower of Jesus, a child of God.

D. We see Bartimaeus’ devotion to Jesus.

Bartimaeus joyfully followed Jesus on the way. Bartimaeus evidently became a well-known disciple of Jesus. Otherwise, why would his name be recorded with the story?

Mark was probably written about 30 years after the events it records, but even 30 years later that name stands out.

I think that Bartimaeus followed Jesus, not only into Jerusalem—but to the very end.

And after the resurrection, Bartimaeus must have been one of that company of believers that formed the community of faith that changed the world.

CONCLUSION

The story of Bartimaeus teaches us what salvation means.

Spiritually we are blind. We don’t know where we are going, and we don’t know how to get there. Jesus gives us sight. He is the light of the world.

Faith is the hand that reaches out to God to take the gift.

Bartimaeus believed in Jesus, he loved Jesus, and he intended to obey Jesus.

Let me read you an account in which a young blind woman describes her excitement when an operation gave her vision. This is an account from a book by a woman named Sheila Hocken from her book: Emma and I. (Emma was her seeing eye dog.) Miss Hocken writes:

“Then the bandages were off, and I still did not know the result, because I had my eyes shut tight. I heard Sister saying, ‘Come on, Sheila. Open your eyes. The bandages are off.’

“I gripped the armrests even harder and opened my eyes. What happened then was that I was suddenly hit—physically struck—by brilliance, like an immense electric shock into my brain and through my entire body.  This utterly unimaginable, incandescent brightness flooded my being like a shock wave. There was a white in front of me, a dazzling white that I could hardly bear to take in, a vivid blue that I had never thought possible. It was fantastic, marvelous, incredible.

“It was like the beginning of the world. I turned and looked the other way and there were greens, lots of different greens, different shades, all quite unbelievable, and at the same time there flooded in sound, the sound of voices asking, ‘Can you see; can you see?’

“But I just so overwhelmed and spellbound by the sensation that had seized every inch of me—as if the sun itself had burst into my brain and body and scattered ever molten particle of its light and color—that it took me some time to say anything. I looked back at the blue and said, “Oh, it’s blue; it’s so beautiful.”

When we read that we think of what it means to be a Christian.

 Before salvation we were blind. We were groping in the dark. We didn’t know where we were going. We were afraid. Life was dreary. Death was fearful.

But when Jesus came into our life, and light flooded in.

Now we know why we are here. We know where we are going. We know that the future is bright.

We know that when we walk through the “valley of the shadow of death” the Good Shepherd will be with me. He will hold our hand and lead us into the Eternal City, the New Jerusalem, where night is no more, and where every tear will be wiped away, and neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more, but we will be forever with Jesus.

Then we will enter into the joy of the Lord.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now I’m found,

was blind but now I see.

2 Timothy 1:15-18: Onesiphorus: a Friend in Need

INTRODUCTION

Just a few weeks ago I finished reading the journals of John Wesley. John Wesley lived in the time of George Washington. Wesley was trained for the ministry at Oxford. He was a preacher who could draw crowds of thousands almost everywhere he went.

He spent most of his life riding his horse to various towns and villages in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland.

The churches would not hold the crowds that wanted to hear him, so he preached in the fields to as many as 10,000 people at a time. He preached 800 sermons a year, sometimes as many as four messages a day—at different places. Typically, he preached his first message at 5 o’clock in the morning.

Thousands of people came to Christ through his preaching. His faithfulness to God made a big difference in the world. He founded the Methodist Church, which now consists of millions of people all over the world.

I finished another book a few weeks ago about another man of God. His name was Jean-Baptiste-Marie Vianney. He is usually known as the Curé of Ars. (In France, a Curé is a parish priest.

Jean Vianney was a peasant lad who grew up in France working on the family farm. From an early age he was in earnest about the things of God. At his first communion he declared his ambition to become a priest. He had little education and no great aptitude for studies. He never could master Latin. But his devotion to God was so outstanding that he was ordained a priest anyway.

His bishop assigned him to the tiny town of Ars, population 230.

On his way to Ars, he lost his way. He asked a shepherd boy whom he met and the boy accompanied him to the little town. When they arrived he said, “Thank you for showing me the way to Ars; I will show you the way to heaven.”

He found Ars to be a godless town. The people would much rather dance and drink than go to church.

But Jean-Baptiste loved his people. He established a home for orphan girls. He preached sermons.

But the best work the Curé of Ars did was in the confessional. As he listened to the people confess their sins, he led them to Jesus. The culture of the town changed.

“Why do you weep so much, Father,” said a sinner kneeling by his side.

“Ah, my friend. I weep because you do not weep enough.”

Some said that what most deeply impressed them was to see the man of God weeping for their sins.

As the years went on it is estimated that 20,000 pilgrims came to his church each year and lined up, some waiting all day for a few minutes in the confessional with Father Vanney. In the winter he spent about 11 hours a day in the confessional. In the summer it was 16 hours.

Trains made special stops to bring pilgrims to Ars. Numbers of them went home changed people.

He saw miracles done. This humble man is remembered today as a great saint.

When I consider the lives of people like John Wesley or the Curé of Ars, I feel humbled, knowing how little I have achieved for God in my long life.

But I take heart from knowing that most of God’s work in our world isn’t accomplished by the John Wesleys or the Jean Vianneys. Most of God’s work in our world is accomplished by ordinary believers like you and me.

I. In the first chapter of 2 Timothy, we read just a few lines about an ordinary Christian named Onesiphorus, who, by being faithful in a small way, made a big difference.

Here is what St. Paul wrote about Onesiphorus:

You are aware that all who are in Asia turned away from me, and among them Phygelus (fie-GEL-us) and Hermogenes (her-MAH-gen-ees). May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus (ah-nay-SIF-o-rus), for he often refreshed me; he was not ashamed of my chains, but when he arrived in Rome, he searched for me eagerly and found me—may the Lord grant him to find mercy from the Lord on that Day—and you well know all the service he rendered at Ephesus (2 Timothy 1:15-18).

A. This was the last letter Paul wrote. He knew he would die soon. He wrote this letter from prison.

He must have been discouraged. In his letter he writes that all his friends in Asia have forsaken him.

(What was called “Asia” in Paul’s day was the western end of the peninsula that is now called Turkey. It included many cities where Paul had preached and founded churches.)

Among the cities of Asia was Ephesus, the city in which Onesiphorus lived. Paul had proclaimed the gospel and served the believers there, nurturing them in the faith, and constantly praying for them. He supported himself by the work of his hands—he made tents. They were his children in Christ.

But now, Paul writes, they had turned away from him. No doubt he still had friends in those towns who remembered him and loved him—like Onesiphorus. But many had turned away and no longer owned their debt to him as their father in Christ.

Were they ashamed of him because he was now in prison?

Had they found more interesting preachers?

They owed Paul everything but now that he was in trouble, they had forgotten him.

B. We don’t know the details about the prison where Paul was kept, but we know enough about ancient prisons to know that they were dreary places.

Often they dug out of solid rock and were underground. Prisoners, their guards and their provisions were lowered through an opening the size of a manhole.

If there was any light, it came from a torch or oil lamp. A prison was called a “house of darkness.” There was no proper latrine; it was a stinking place.

In this prison Paul mentions that he was chained.

People weren’t sentenced for specific lengths of time as they are nowadays. Prisons were there for two purposes.

The first was to keep prisoners until their trials—in one of Paul’s previous imprisonments, he was kept in prison for two years, awaiting trial.

The second purpose of prisons was to keep prisoners until they were executed.

In this case, it appears that Paul was awaiting execution, because he writes at the end of his letter, “The time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. For now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge will give me on that day…”

Prisoners depended on family or friends to provide them with clothing, blankets, food and water. Friends would also provide bedding straw and clean away the human waste.

II. This was where Onesiphorus came in.

A. All that we know about Onesiphorus is in this one sentence and in another at the end of the letter where Paul instructs Timothy to “greet the household of Onesiphorus.”

We gather that Onesiphorus had been a friend and helper of Paul back in Ephesus.

When he found out that Paul was in prison, Onesiphorus was not ashamed of Paul’s chains.

So Onesiphorus left his family and made the journey to Rome. It was a sea journey of 100s of miles and would have taken weeks.

And when he arrived in Rome he didn’t know where to find Paul. He “eagerly searched” for him.

And when he found him in his prison, he served Paul in what ways he could. He “refreshed” Paul.

I like that word “refreshed.” Onesiphorus came to give new strength to Paul. His visits invigorated him. The hours dragged on in that dark cell. How refreshed Paul must have felt when he saw his friend from far away, who had taken the time to come to him.

I can imagine some of the ways Onesiphorus’s would have cheered Paul.

He brought him food and drink, clean clothes, blankets, books to read and a lamp to read them by, and writing paper for letters. He cleaned up and carried away refuse.

He prayed with him, learned from him, and offered him companionship.

(Incidentally, Onesiphorus wasn’t the only one who helped Paul in prison. At the end of his letter Paul mentions others from the church in Rome who also helped him.)

APPLICATION

God knows we have limitations. He doesn’t expect of us what we can’t do. Once while on vacation in New England, we visited a little graveyard beside a church in New Hampshire. We noticed a tombstone. Under the name of the departed one was written: “She done all she could.”

God knows our limitations. He has uses for mediocre people as well as for the brilliant, the beautiful, and the ones with magnetic personalities.

700 years ago a rabbi named Sosya lay dying.

His disciples were exclaiming about how wonderful his life had been:

“You have lived an exemplary life. You have led us out of the wilderness like Moses. You have judged us wisely like Solomon.”

Said Sosya, “When I meet God, he won’t ask, ‘Have you been Moses,’ or ‘Have you been Solomon?’ He will ask, ‘Have you been Sosya?’”

Years ago a Sunday school teacher invited a boy named Dwight to Sunday school.

That boy responded to God’s call, gave himself to Jesus, and grew up to be a great evangelist.

He was Dwight Moody. Thousands of people came to Christ because of that great man.

But maybe he would never have come to God if it weren’t for that Sunday school teacher.

Maybe as you look back over your life, you don’t see any great accomplishments. Maybe you were pretty ordinary, but you were faithful. You did what you could.

You cared for a family, served God in a workplace, taught Sunday school, sang in a choir, visited the sick, brought food for the potluck…

You were a good neighbor, offered hospitality in your house, helped someone in need, encouraged someone who was downhearted…

You still do what you can, even if you are limited now because of your circumstances.

You do what you can to cheer your friend who is downhearted, pray for those who suffer, give as you are able to God’s work, attend these church services, and let others know that you love Jesus.

I have a friend who lives in assisted living who writes letters of encouragement members of her church—just to encourage them. It is a ministry for her.

Who do you know that needs refreshing?

You refresh me with your smiles and your interest in the things of God.

As we look back over our lives, let’s thank God we have had the privilege of serving God by serving others.

Some of you, when you get to heaven, may wonder if you deserve to be there, and God will surprise you by saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

“The smallest work done for Jesus lasts forever whether anyone remembers it or not.”

1 Corinthians 6:19-20: Bought with a Price

INTRODUCTON

When I was in Japan, I visited the ancient cities of Nara and Kyoto. These two cities are the places to go to see beautiful architecture and gardens. Neither Kyoto or Nara had any strategic importance, so they were never bombed during the war, and their cultural beauties were left intact.

The most amazing sights in those cities were the Buddhist temples. One of them, the “Golden Pavilion” is entirely covered with gold. Some of the other temples are just as handsome. Some of these temples are over a thousand years old, and even though they are made of wood, they are still perfect.

The shape of the buildings from the curving tiled roofs to the stately pillars and the tasteful plantings of trees and shrubs evoke a feeling of tranquility. Some are surrounded by water. They are all in settings of great natural beauty.

I heard great gongs rung—deep resonant sounds that made me shiver. I saw a priest kneeling and clapping his hands together—I suppose to get the god’s attention. Worshipers visited the temples—wearing their most beautiful kimonos.

Inside the temples were row after row of graceful golden idols. When we think of idols, we may think of something ugly, but these were beautiful. I could understand that Buddhism must meet some deep human need. One Japanese man told me, “We Japanese have Buddhism in every drop of our blood.”

Many peoples throughout history have built temples for their gods to live in. We saw the ruins of pagan temples in Rome. A few have been kept in repair for use as Christian churches.

The Temple in Jerusalem in Jesus’s time was glorious. Travelers marveled at the whiteness of its limestone walls, the gold embellishments, and the beauty of its rituals. The Jews loved their Temple.

We can read in the psalms of the longings of Israelites in foreign lands for the experience of meeting God face-to-face in their Temple. Listen to this from Psalm 84:

How lovely is thy dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!

My soul longs, yea, faints for the courts of the Lord;

my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.

Even the sparrow finds a home,

and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young,

at thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in thy house, ever singing thy praise!

Ancient writers tell us that the Jerusalem Temple was the most beautiful building in the world. Situated atop Mt. Zion, its gleaming white stone looked from a distance like a snowcap, and the gold shone so brightly in the sunlight that it dazzled one’s eyes.

The Jerusalem Temple was more than a building. A vast courtyard, paved with marble, surrounded the Temple building itself. And the courtyard was itself surrounded by porches with colonnades. Hundreds of people would gather day after day to pray and worship, to watch the priests offer their sacrifices, and to hear the chants of the Levites. They heard music of harps and lyres and trumpets and cymbals. Under the colonnades the rabbis offered instruction. Jesus himself taught there.

We who are Christians don’t have temples. We have churches and cathedrals of breathtaking beauty—holy places where one feels oneself to be in God’s presence in a special way. But churches are not temples. Churches are not dwelling places for God.

When St. Stephen was accused of speaking against the Jews’ beloved Temple in Jerusalem, he reminded his accusers that according to the prophet Isaiah, the Most High does not dwell in houses made with hands. God said to his people, “Heaven is my throne, and earth my footstool. What house will you build for me?”

So why don’t we Christians have temples? Jesus loved the Temple in Jerusalem. The apostles began their Pentecost preaching in the Temple. It was important to them. But they knew it was temporary.

Something new would finally take the place of the Temple.

God’s people would become the Temple in which God would dwell in his world.

Let me read you something St. Paul wrote in his first letter to the Christians in the Greek city of Corinth: “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”

Our purpose this afternoon is to talk about how we are Temples of the Holy Spirit.

I. Corinth was one of the most important cities in Greece. St. Paul visited Corinth and established a church there.

A. But the church had problems, and St. Paul’s purpose in writing his letter was to correct some of their problems.

The idea had taken hold among some of the Christians that because Christ had saved their souls, they could do what they wanted with their bodies.

Their thinking was like this: if my soul is the part of me that is eternal, and my body will soon be discarded, then I can do with my body what I wish.

So some of the believers were actually visiting idols, getting drunk, and having sex with prostitutes!

B. But St. Paul insisted that God is not only interested in our “souls.”

When we take Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we belong to God, body and soul. So that is why he wrote them: “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”

II. Let’s consider this truth: our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. Even though we don’t make the mistakes some of the Corinthian Christians made, the idea that our bodies are God’s temple should influence all we do.

A. Earlier in the letter, Paul told the believers that the church, as the family of God, is itself is God’s Temple because God dwells in her (1 Corinthians 3:16). Now he tells them that each of them individually is a Temple of God’s Spirit.

A building of stone or wood can represent the dwelling of God. It may be, and was, a place where people could feel close to God—as if they were in his house.

But the Temple of stone is only a symbol of the truest dwelling of God. It can only represent God’s house.

According to the New Testament, God most truly lives in his people—in you and me and all who belong to him, trust in him, and live lives that honor him.

In a building of wood or stone, we can imagine only a bit of what God is. But in humans, God can reveal himself more perfectly—not perhaps his beauty and grandeur, but his love and wisdom and power and goodness.

Jesus knew that a few years after his time the magnificent Jerusalem Temple would be demolished by the Romans, but that God would forever manifest himself in his faithful people.

B. So when St. Paul writes, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you?” he is telling us that there is no part of us that doesn’t belong to God. Everything about our everyday life should reveal God’s presence in the world.

In another part of the same letter, Paul writes, “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (10:31).

God is manifested in our lives, not only in what we don’t do, but also in what we do. Some people are proud to say, “I’ve never hurt anyone.” That’s important, but that’s negative.

It’s not enough to quiet our consciences by avoiding obvious sins. If we love Jesus we must fulfill our calling. And our calling is to glorify God.

The beauty of Jesus must be seen in positive ways—generosity, forgiveness, kindness, helpfulness.

If we are to appear to our world as Dwelling Places of God, we need to be people in which God can be seen and known.

A little girl visited a great cathedral with her father. She looked up at the pictures in the stained glass windows, brilliant as the sun shone through them.

She said to her father, “Who are those people in the windows?”

He answered, “Those are the saints.”

She said, “Oh, I see. Saints are the people the light shines through.”

That’s the idea. God’s people are the people through whom the God’s light shines in a dark world.

C. And now the next part of our reading: “You are not your own; you were bought with a price…”

In those days you could go to the market place and find for sale, not only food and tools and clothes and pots and utensils, but also people—for sale.

If you had the money, you could buy yourself a slave.

It was tough to be a slave. You belonged to the one who bought you—body and soul.

The only way you could escape slavery was to be bought by someone and set free. They called it “redeemed.”

So when St. Paul writes, “You are not your own; you were bought with a price,” he is referring to our redemption.

We are bought with the price of the blood of God’s Son. Jesus gave his life to buy us back from sin and darkness and death and a hopeless future.

Many years ago an assassin rushed into the White House to kill President Truman. One of the White House guards was killed in protecting the president. I remember the report in the newspaper.

A fund was set up to help the slain guard’s children. President Truman, speaking in behalf of the fund said, “You can’t understand just how a man feels when someone else dies for him.”

Well, someone died for you and me—and it wasn’t an accident. God saw us lost and on our way to destruction and he gave his own Son to buy us from death and judgment and give us his own life.

This is what we remember whenever we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, or Communion, or Mass—or whatever you call it in your church—because what happened on the cross is the most important event in the history of the world.

So what is your response?

CONCLUSION

The scripture I just read is especially important to me, because it was through those two verses in 1 Corinthians that I really understood for the first time what it meant to be a Christian.

I had been told all my life: “Believe in the Lord Jesus.” “Trust in the Savior.” “Receive Jesus into your heart,” and “Jesus died for your sins.” But it seemed that what I was required to believe was just a message—a plan of salvation—some truths of theology.

But in 1948, during Christmas vacation in my freshman year at the University of Kansas, I went with some Christian students to a missions conference at the University of Illinois, in Urbana.

As I visited with students from all over the country and listened to our speakers it suddenly dawned on me that being a Christian wasn’t believing things, but being a Christian meant giving myself to God—and living for God every day, in every way.

I realized as I never had before that Jesus wasn’t just a character in a book. Jesus was alive! Jesus was my Friend, my Savior, my Lord!

During that week, I determined to belong to the One who had bought and paid for me with his own life. I would be God’s man. I would live to honor God.

I felt like a new person. My heart was bursting. I had never been so excited. People noticed the difference. Since that time, my greatest desire has been to live out my faith.

I’m not a superstar Christian. I still have lots of faults. I’m the servant who got only the one talent. But I’ve tried to use it for God.

I’ve learned this: no matter how many times you have given yourself to God and dedicated yourself to his service, you have to do it again every day.

Faithfulness is taking one step at a time and never giving up—keeping on to the end of the road.

Don’t you give up either. Keep on keeping on. Live for Jesus until he takes you home to Glory.

Colossians 1:7 and 4:12: Epaphras: A Man of Prayer

INRODUCTION

Thomas Boston, who lived in the late 1600s and early 1700s, was a Scottish pastor who was known for his godly leadership and tender-heart. He served in a little country parish in Scotland. He wrote a memoir that has been read ever since by the Christians in Scotland.

In 1699 he wrote in his memoir that he was deeply troubled for the welfare of his people. He writes that in his anxiety he asked a member of his congregation, James Minto, to pray for his people. He described his friend James Minto as “a godly man, a mighty pleader in prayer, though otherwise of very ordinary abilities.”

I wonder, what quality it was in James Minto that convinced his pastor that he was “a mighty pleader in prayer.” Was it because he had heard Minto pray with fervency and urgency? Did he have evidence that Minto obtained remarkable answers to his prayers? Was it that he had learned that Minto spent much time in prayer? I suppose it was all of these.

Today I want to read about a Bible character who was like James Minto, “a mighty pleader in prayer.” His name was Epaphras. I will read to you three short mentions in Paul’s letters to the Colossians and to Philemon in the Bible that tell us all we need to know about Epaphras:

Paul writes his letter to the believers in Colossae from a prison cell somewhere, perhaps in Rome. At the very beginning of his letter Paul tells the believers that he thanks God for them and rejoices that they have been growing in the faith and good works ever since the learned the truth of God from their minister Epaphras. He describes Epaphras as “our beloved fellow servant…a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf” (Colossians 1:7).

And in the last chapter of the same letter he sends along a greeting from Epaphras, who, we learn, is with Paul in the prison. He writes, “Epaphras, who is one of yourselves, a servant of Christ Jesus, greets you, always remembering you earnestly in his prayers, that you may stand mature and fully assured in all the will of God.” The phrase I read—“always remembering you earnestly in his prayers”—is literally, ”He is always wrestling in his prayers on your behalf…” And it is translated that way in newer translations.

Then in his letter to his friend Philemon, which appears to have been sent along with the letter to the Colossians, Paul mentions Epaphras again. He writes, “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends greetings to you.”

Those few words tell us all we know about Epaphras. But they tell us that he was the missionary evangelist who brought the gospel to Colossae. He was a faithful pastor of the church in Colossae. His church responded to his leadership by becoming outstanding for its faith and love.

Epaphras had come to Paul with a report of his people—and perhaps to ask Paul’s advice in dealing with a false teaching in his region.

But while in Rome he had been arrested and was now in prison with Paul.

The greatest thing we know about Epaphras was his remarkable prayer life. Paul writes: “He is always wrestling in his prayers on your behalf…”

I. Let us go in our imagination and watch Epaphras in his prison cell in Rome, thousands of miles away from his home and from his congregation that missed him greatly.

A. One blessing for Epaphras was that one of his companions in prison was the apostle Paul. There were other people there: escaped slaves, thieves, bandits, and maybe other Christians packed into that small, dark room. Archeologists have uncovered ancient prisons, and they were grim places.

Jesus said, “When you pray, go into your room, and close the door…” But that command of our Lord didn’t apply to Epaphras. He didn’t have any room to go into; he didn’t have any privacy. Probably some of the prisoners mocked him when they saw him praying so earnestly. But that didn’t deter him.

B. Epaphras was anxious about his people back in Colossae. They needed him. And that made him pray all the harder. But Epaphras’s anxiety was good kind of anxiety because he turned it into prayer.

Epaphras prayed urgently because the needs of his people were great.

Epaphras prayed when he went to bed. He prayed when he woke up in the middle of the night. He began each day with prayer. He prayed with Paul. Whenever the face of a loved one in Colossae came to mind Epaphras prayed for that person.

Paul watched Epaphras pray. He noticed how earnestly he prayed for his people, and when he wrote his letter to Colossae he told them about how their pastor wrestled for them in his prayers.

C. Epaphras prayed for his friends in his church back in Colossae. They were always in his mind.

He prayed for the parents that they would have wisdom to guide their children.

He prayed for the children that they would grow up strong and good and love Jesus.

He prayed especially for the single mothers and single fathers. There would have been single parents because many people died very young in those days.

He prayed for the single women in his congregation who needed husbands and for the single men in his congregation who needed wives, that they would find godly partners.

He prayed for those who were poor or handicapped or sick.

He prayed for those who were drifting from the faith.

He prayed for the believers who were slaves that God would preserve them from bitterness. He prayed for the masters who were Christians that they would be gentle.

He prayed for the rich Christians that they would be generous, and he prayed for the poor Christians that they would trust God.

But most of all, Epaphras prayed, as Paul says, that all would “stand mature and fully assured in everything God wills.”

II. Epaphras prayed hard. The Greek word is agonizamenos, from which we get our word, ”agonizing.” It’s best translated, “wrestling.” Epaphras was “always wrestling in prayer” for them.

A. Epaphras didn’t wrestle in prayer because he thought that God wouldn’t bless his people unless he begged and bullied God into doing what he wanted. Epaphras knew that God loves to answer prayer, but he also knew that God wants us to mean business when we pray.

B. He knew that it takes serious prayer to release God’s power. God is limited by his people’s casual prayers. We read in the gospels that Jesus could do few great works in his home town of Nazareth because of the people’s unbelief.

God’s power is released by believing prayer. God has put his people in charge of some parts of his work.

I heard a famous theologian explain it this way: “When we pray, we line up our will with God’s will, and then God is able to work” (John Polkinghorne, physicist and theologian).

C. Epaphras wrestled in his prayer because he shared in the sufferings of his people. He felt the distress of the believing woman with the unbelieving husband. He felt the distress of the believing slave who was abused by his master.

Sympathy is to feel the hurt in another’s heart, and compassionate prayer is to pray with the same sense of grief that is in the heart of the one for whom we are praying.

CONCLUSION

Let’s let Epaphras teach us how to pray for our loved ones.

Epaphras teaches us to pray compassionately, to share the struggles and joys of those we pray for.

Epaphras teaches us to pray most of all for the spiritual welfare of our loved ones.

Epaphras teaches us to pray passionately. If we can’t feel the urgency of our prayer, let’s just keep praying and make up in frequency what our prayers lack in weight.

A missionary from the Fiji Islands told me that he once heard one of the island believers pray to God: “Lord, make us bulldogs in prayer!” Epaphras was a bulldog in prayer.

When we get to heaven we may find out that the best work we did on earth was our prayers.

When we learn how much our prayers accomplished, we may be sorry we weren’t more diligent in our praying.

My father’s Grandfather Sommerville came from Scotland. He was a coal miner and very poor. I never knew Great Grandfather Sommerville; he died in 1918, long before I was born. But we have stories in our family about him.

Great Grandfather Sommerville had three children: my father, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Maggie.

When Great Grandfather Sommerville was old he lived alternatively with the families of his three children—my father’s family, the family of his Uncle Jim, and the family of his Aunt Maggie.

As a child, my father always enjoyed the months when his Grandpa Sommerville was in their home.

Great Grandpa Sommerville was very hard of hearing. When he prayed, he prayed out loud. He would go upstairs to his room, shut the door, and pray. Because he was so hard of hearing, he didn’t realize how loud he was praying.

My father—as a child—liked to creep up the stairs and listen outside the door of his grandfather’s room to hear his prayers. Because he was so hard of hearing, Great Grandpa Sommerville didn’t know how loud he was talking. One day, listening outside the closed door, my father heard his grandfather scolding the Lord, in no uncertain terms. He said to the Lord, “Now look what you’ve done!” He held the Lord accountable. He talked more freely to the Lord than he did to anyone else.

At Great Grandpa’s funeral, Dad’s Aunt Maggie greeted her brother, my father’s father, with tears in her eyes. She said, “Oh, Willie, who will pray for us now?”

Let’s not forget to pray—especially for our children and loved ones. It will make more difference than we think. Make a list, and pray over that list every day. Pray for your children’s work, for their health, for their marriages, for their families, that they will love and serve God and that they will show their love by serving others.

And let them know that you pray for them.

And pray for all the people you know here at Village Ridge. They are your neighbors, and Jesus told us to love our neighbors as ourselves. One way we love other people is to love them in our prayers.