This sermon was preached during Annual Council 2025 on Friday, October 10. Elements of oral style have been retained.—Editors.
It is good to be with you again for the second part of our time together, as we continue talking about why we are here, the mission of the church, and why it is that God went through the trouble of starting the Advent movement. Before we dive deeply into the intricacies of our unique message and mission, it can be beneficial if we look at some things honestly and see where the Lord leads.
We already talked about passion—this attitude that manifests itself in a relentless, honest pursuit of who God is and of His mission. We touched briefly on prayer as the key that unlocks godly passion. This morning I want to look squarely at the Source we meet in prayer, the One who brings the change we so desperately need.
The Danger of Inauthentic Faith
To begin, let me make a basic point. If you are a Seventh-day Adventist of any duration, I doubt you will quibble with this: the last days of earth’s history will be marked by inauthenticity, a lack of genuineness. Surely this is part and parcel of the meaning of the last part Revelation 13:11: “He had two horns like a lamb and spoke like a dragon.”
Inauthenticity. A lack of genuineness. Things will not be as they appear. Sadly, this is something in which I have personally participated.
During my first year of ministry as a pastor on the West Coast of the United States, I was employed by the church, but I was not a Seventh-day Adventist. I was a Christian of sorts—an evangelical of the generic kind, I suppose—and I believed that my job as a pastor was to bring grace to the masses because, clearly, Adventism was populated with incorrigible legalists.
Interestingly, I did not grow up in a legalistic environment; this was not a reaction to my upbringing. But somewhere along the line I began ministry not believing much of what the Seventh-day Adventist Church believes.
I remember church members asking me what I then considered ridiculous questions. “Pastor,” they’d say, “what does this mean in the prophecy of the 2,300 days?”
I thought, Two thousand three hundred days? That must be irrelevant to what’s happening today. I thought they were silly questions. I had no answer, and I wasn’t interested in finding one. There were lifestyle teachings in the Adventist Church, based in Scripture, that I didn’t adhere to.
I had a mentor in the church, an older gentleman. About a year into my ministry this particular topic came up. How it did not come up prior to this, I don’t know. He had been my mentor for about three years, and we had talked about many deep, personal things. But we had never talked about this. But somehow it came up in conversation one day. We had a very open relationship, and I spoke freely. I told him I wasn’t a fan of certain teachings and didn’t believe what the church believed.
In these last days God has called us to be real Christians, to be genuine believers in Jesus Christ—the real thing.
After I finished talking, there was a long pause. Those of you who have had mentors know what that means—your mentor is loading. After this pause he said, “Shane, when you stand up on a Sabbath morning to preach as a minister in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, don’t you think it’s reasonable for people to believe that you believe what the church believes? Don’t you think it’s reasonable for them to assume that you will teach what the church teaches?”
Then he paused again. Now it was my turn to be quiet. Finally I said, “Yes, that’s reasonable.”
And then he said, “Well then, Shane, doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”
I paused again, and finally said, “Yes, it does.”
Then he said, “For the sake of your own integrity, don’t you think you ought to decide whether you can believe and teach what the church teaches—or find another line of work?”
After another long pause I said, “Yes.”
That was a turning point in my ministry. I won’t go into all the details—we’ll save that for another time—but suffice it to say that it set me on a biblical journey. I quit ministry for two weeks. I didn’t tell anyone. I just studied—night and day—with nothing but my Bible and a concordance. I studied, and I studied, and I studied, and I studied.
At the end of that time I was utterly convinced of two things. First, that God was very patient to have someone like me doing what I was doing so wrongheadedly and hypocritically taking a paycheck from a church in which I did not believe. How patient He was with me. Second, that the Seventh-day Adventist Church is the remnant of God, called for this particular time in history. And I was honored to be part of it.
All that time in my first year of ministry, I had thought my job was to call out legalistic hypocrites. It turned out that the hypocrite was me. The inauthenticity—that was me.
Ladies and gentlemen, one of the greatest threats to the church is hypocrisy among its leaders. If you survey anyone, people will say they do not like hypocrites—even if they are one. Even hypocrites say they hate it. I’ve had to face that personally, and it’s not the only time.
In these last days God has called us to be real Christians, to be genuine believers in Jesus Christ—the real thing. If that is to be our reality, if we are to overcome the disease of the end-times, there is but one cure. That will be our focus this morning.
Called to Battle
In Ephesians 6:10-18 Paul is speaking to the church plant in Ephesus. There are so many things that we could pull from this brief passage of Scripture, but let’s go up to 10,000 feet for a moment and look at this text.
This is soldier imagery being applied to the Christian faith. Paul had intimate knowledge of the soldiery of the Roman Empire. He had encountered soldiers on more than one occasion; he knew what this was about. And he used this imagery intentionally. In other words, this is the imagery of war.
This means that if you are a Christian—if you are a Seventh-day Adventist Christian—you are called to go to war.
Is this not part of the paradox of the Christian life? Even as we enjoy great peace in Jesus, even as we bask in the fulfillment of His great love for us and in the relationships of those in the church around us, we are nonetheless at the same time involved in a battle with the forces of evil. Not a battle with guns or bombs or fighter planes, but a much more serious one—a spiritual battle.
It is possible to be spiritually dead but to look spiritually good. It is entirely possible to look the part of a good Christian but to not actually be one.
Paul makes this crystal clear: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (verse 12, NIV).
We are at war.
And did you notice how Paul phrased it? He said, “Our struggle is not against . . .” Our struggle—plural. Not my struggle, or your struggle in the singular, but our struggle.
In other words, we are not called to be soldiers who primarily fight alone. Now, it’s true that there will be times when it’s just us and God against the forces of evil. That is true. But as the Bible abundantly declares, God’s people are to be united—a cohesive, integrated, working body, working together, fighting not among themselves (God forbid), but for Christ and in harmony with one another and with Him. We are to be Christian soldiers, fully outfitted for both offense and defense, with Christ as our commander, working together, fighting together, as one mighty, vast army.
Now, a simple question: Is it an honor to fight in the Lord’s army?
Yes, it is.
Think of where we have come from. Think of the way we used to be: what a mess life was without Jesus. So yes, it is an incredible distinction, an amazing elevation from our pathetic, sinful situation, to fight in the Lord’s army. What a blessedness, what a joy, what a privilege.
And, oh, what a problem!
Why? It’s a problem because sometimes those of us who are in the Lord’s army, even those of us who are leaders in the Lord’s army, are not yet ready to fight. And that’s a problem.
Let’s take a look at one of the most famous descriptions of God’s mighty, vast army, and let’s see what the Lord has to say about this.
The Illusion of Retirement
“The hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; and it was full of bones. Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry. And He said to me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ ” (Eze. 37:1-3).
Can these bones live?
It turns out that that’s a very good question—not merely because God asked it, but because of the context as well. If we were to read further, we would find in verse 9 that it refers to those dry bones as having previously belonged to those who were slain.
Let that sink in. This is not a cemetery that Ezekiel is in. This is a battlefield. These people didn’t die of old age; they were killed.
And the distinction here between a cemetery and a battlefield is extremely significant.
In the context of Ezekiel 37 the bones here represent God’s army of the day—the Jewish nation. In other words, there was a time when they were vibrant in their faith, mighty warriors for God, both physically and spiritually.
We could think back to the time the children of Israel took the land of Canaan and entered the Promised Land. That was a high point. Or to the reign of King David or portions of King Solomon’s reign. Surely these were times of great elevation. They were indeed mighty warriors for God.
But something happened.
Time out for just a moment. Can you think back to when you were a mighty warrior for God?
Now, to be clear, maybe you are a mighty warrior for God right now. And if so, praise the Lord. Praise the Lord! Keep going. But if you’re not, or if you’re not sure whether you are or not, think back to when you were. Think back to when you were vibrant in your faith, deeply authentic in your relationship with Christ, when you were on fire for God. When you were someone God could send on any errand, any assignment—a soldier completely at the disposal of Jesus Christ.
In fact, let’s do a little thought experiment here, just in the quietness of your own mind.
The Holy Spirit is the antidote to hypocrisy and a lack of authenticity in us and in the church.
Have you ever stopped to consider—say, on a scale of 1 to 10—how much of a threat the devil considers you to be to his kingdom today? Ten means you are an eminent threat; 1 means you’re essentially on his side. One a scale of 1 to 10, where would you fall? When you get up in the morning, does the devil tremble and grow afraid, or does he yawn and go back to sleep?
I imagine that when the apostle Paul got up yet another day, the devil groaned, “Ah, he’s up again. Oh, no! What’s he going to write today?”
Scale of 1 to 10 . . . where would you be?
If it turns out that you are not much of a threat to Satan’s kingdom, but you once were, then you must ask yourself the question: What happened? How did I get into this condition?
Here is where the hard part of Ezekiel’s vision begins. Good news is coming, make no mistake— but the hard part comes first.
Too often the places in the world where Adventism is languishing and asleep are not spiritual cemeteries where tried and true warriors simply died off, but rather they are corpse-infested battlefields. Far too many of us are not spiritually dead because we died of old age, but rather because we allowed ourselves to be spiritually killed by the enemy.
This is an unsavory thought.
We much prefer the idea that we died spiritually of natural causes rather than admit that the enemy has gained the victory over us. In fact, in my experience many church members and church leaders who are spiritually dead or spiritually ill would like to think that, instead of having been killed by the enemy, they have instead made the generous decision to—spiritually speaking—retire.
For some, this retirement is simply the result of a prolonged cynicism that they have allowed to grow and fester in their souls. They came into the church as leaders, for instance, and they saw that there was some hypocrisy there. Over the years they allowed this to make them cynical. And because the church provided them some helpful things, such as a paycheck, they decided not to leave it physically, just spiritually. And hypocrisy took root.
On the other hand, others who unwittingly spiritually retire into hypocrisy do so not because of cynicism but rather because of a desire to relax for a little bit, to bask in the glory of days past and to relish how powerful in battle they used to be.
After all, we sometimes think we deserve it. We have fought hard. Let’s rest for just a bit, recoup some energy. We’ll fight again another day, but for now, let’s just take it spiritually easy.
And let’s not forget about the spoils of war that need to be taken care of. We’ve got big institutions—hospitals, schools, and church buildings—all prizes that we fought hard to win in days gone by, and they’re doing a great work today. Surely their maintenance, rather than going to war and advancing God’s cause, is the primary order of the day.
And what about the other supposed perks of peacetime?
How often have former spiritual soldiers and leaders aimlessly lounged on the beaches of social media, sipping on mindless clicks and likes for hours at a time? Hollywood, for its part, stands ready to sedate us with an immoral atmosphere for hours on end—just the swipe of a finger away.
Fanatical devotion to sports, sometimes even among workers in the church, gives the illusion of being “on the battlefield” without the inconvenience of actually fighting in the actual war to which Christ has actually called us.
A thousand distractions of pleasure and romance, of earthly dreams, and of cares and concerns, all call our names incessantly throughout any given day. And so common is this misdirected, inauthentic, hypocritical reality that in too many of our churches we call it normal.
It becomes normal, for instance, to have enemies we do not love—both inside and outside the church. It becomes normal to not have regular time with Jesus each day in prayer and Bible study. It becomes normal to not share our faith or to lead others to share theirs with people who are not ready for Christ to come. It becomes normal for us to not care for the poor, the hungry, or the wayward. It becomes normal to have sin in our lives—sins that we know are wrong, but there they are.
And sometimes, almost like a child whistling in the dark while walking past a tombstone in the cemetery, we try to strike a bold stance. We look in the mirror and say to ourselves something like “Oh, come on. I’m not really out of the fight. I’m just taking a break. I’m still the real deal. I’m just retired from the fight, but just for a moment. That’s it. I’m just retired for a while.”
But hear it, and hear it well: that diagnosis—I’m just retired—is impossible.
Such an optimistic assessment simply cannot be accurate, because God’s Word is clear: no Christian warrior can, spiritually speaking, just retire. For as long as blood is flowing through their veins, the only way to get out of God’s army is to be killed by the enemy.
Do you follow me? Do you understand?
Until that last trumpet sounds at the Second Coming, we will be at war. The devil will be gunning for us the entire time. We will be at war. The only way to get out of the Lord’s army—as long as there is blood flowing through our veins—is to be killed by the enemy.
So we must be honest with what God’s Word says. And I say these next words as someone who has had to say them to himself: Randomly declaring peace in a time of war is not retirement but treason. Making friends with the enemy while the war with that enemy is still raging is not faithfulness but treachery. Acting as though there is no more battle when the battle is still raging all around us is not Christlikeness but cowardice and defeat.
And when the enemy’s weapons of complacency and cynicism, the cares of this world, workaholism, coasting on yesterday’s victories, sinful habits, and good old-fashioned earthly fear have landed us in hypocrisy and slain us, we are beyond retiring. We are indeed spiritually dead.
And again, dear brother and dear sister, I ask—just in the quietness of your own mind—is that you?
If this is you, if you find yourself in this spiritually necrotic condition, then you need to know something. Listen clearly, please. You may be spiritually ill or spiritually dead, but God is most certainly alive. And He loves you with an undying love. Your love for Him may have grown cold, but His love for you has not. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8).
Jesus would have given His life for you if you were the only person on the planet. That’s how much Jesus loves you. And He still lives today. He is not done with you yet.
And if you are willing to cry out to Him and plead that question, “Can these bones live?” then God, in His mercy, can heartily answer, “Yes, they can.”
And I know this because my Bible tells me so.
Can These Bones Live?
“And He said to me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’
“So I answered, ‘O Lord God, You know.’
“Again He said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, “O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! Thus says the Lord God to these bones: ‘Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live. I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Lord.’ ” ’
“So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone. Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them” (Eze. 37:3-8).
Sometimes we’re glad there are no pictures in the Bible. There are certain passages we’re very glad were not graphically depicted. This is not one of those times. I would love to have been there. In the Old Testament this is in my top 10. If I could simply snap my fingers and be transported, I would want to go there.
Randomly declaring peace in a time of war is not retirement but treason. Making friends with the enemy while the war with that enemy is still raging is not faithfulness but treachery.
Can you imagine it? With all of our medical technology today, we could never do it. The word of God speaks through Ezekiel, and bone comes to bone. Rattling across the valley, everything comes together. God is in His sandbox again, forming. All of these people are perfect in their form—and they’re just as dead as they were before. Oh, they may look a little prettier, but they’re still just a bunch of corpses. And we must ask, Why?
Why does God here stop short of bringing these corpses to life?
Because He is trying to make a profoundly important point with His people, with His soldiers, with His mighty, vast army.
“Also He said to me, ‘Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, “Thus says the Lord God: ‘Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.’ ” ’ So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath came into them, and they lived, and stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.
“Then He said to me, ‘Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They indeed say, “Our bones are dry, our hope is lost, and we ourselves are cut off!” Therefore prophesy and say to them, “Thus says the Lord God: ‘Behold, O My people, I will open your graves and cause you to come up from your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O My people, and brought you up from your graves.I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it,’ says the Lord.” ’ ” (verses 9-14).
The reason God stopped short at first of bringing those corpses back to life is that He wants to teach us a very important lesson. And here it is: We must never mistake the appearance of spiritual life for the reality of spiritual life. We must never mistake the likeness of Christianity for the actual transforming work of the Holy Spirit of God.
Let’s make sure we understand this. Prior to verse 9 the people in this valley in Ezekiel’s vision looked perfect. God Himself has formed them—He’s not going to leave broken bones inside. These are perfectly formed human beings, but they were still just a pile of corpses, meaning, obviously, that something more was still needed for this resurrection to be complete.
This reminds me of a story. On Wednesday night I told you about a success; let me now tell you about the opposite.
Years ago, in the previous millennium, I was in college at Walla Walla and decided to try out for the varsity basketball team—at that time it was Walla Walla College, now Walla Walla University. On the day of the tryouts I went down to the gymnasium. Coach Tim Windemuth was there—a very godly man—and he explained what was to happen for the tryouts to take place. He explained there would first be some smaller drills. Individual coaches would walk around and see how your shooting was with the basketball, etc. Then there would be some more, maybe three-on-three types of tests. And then he would divide all of the young men by fives, as basketball takes five persons for a team. It would be a scrimmage game. They would start five young men against five young men and run for a few minutes; then the coach would whistle, and five guys would go out, and another five would come on and play.
Well, I was nervous. I went through the first parts of the tryout and did OK. Then came time for the scrimmage. Every guy there knew this was where your chances were going to be made or broken. Because if you can play well in a gamelike situation, the coaches will pay attention. If you can’t, see you later.
So we get out there, and I’m on with my five. We’re playing against a team that has a young man whose name was Tracy. I still remember it to this day, and you’ll see why in just a moment. I didn’t recognize Tracy; I’d never seen him before. I thought that he must be a new student, that he just got here, and he’s come down to try out for the team. I didn’t think anything more of it. Until, at one point in the scrimmage, Tracy had the ball, and he was close to the net. He went up for a shot, and I timed my defense perfectly. I sailed up through the air and blocked his shot. I hit it backward. And in my mind, I’m thinking, Oh, the coach must be loving this. He’s writing this down: Did you see that? Perfect timing.
In a flash Tracy pivots, catches the ball that I had just blocked, dribbles once around me to the other side of the hoop, lays it up, and gets two points. I had just gone from hero to zero very fast. Oh, man. OK, I’ve got to pick it up. Got to pick up the pace here.
So we continue the game. Another time Tracy is coming, and I’m playing center. He’s coming down the middle toward his basket. I think, OK, now it’s time for a little revenge. I’m going to stop him this time. I assume a defensive stance in front of him. He stops about two feet beyond the free-throw line. I think, I’ve got him. He’s got to pass. There’s no way he’s going to score. I’m crouched and—I kid you not; this is a true story—he had the ball in two hands, and he jumped over the top of me.
Now, he didn’t jump over my head. That would have made me melt and slink off the court. But he jumped over my shoulder. With two feet he jumps over my shoulder and two-hand dunks the basketball, hangs from the rim a little bit as guys do, and keeps on going.
Strangely enough, I didn’t make the team.
And here’s the thing: if you had looked at me in the lineup with all the other guys, I looked like a good basketball player. I had the right clothes on, the right shoes, the right socks (in those days socks were important), and the right jersey. I’m reasonably tall, reasonably strong—Yeah, this guy’s a standout, right? But when it came to facing opposition like Tracy, it was as though I had concrete in my boots, Velcro on the bottom of my shoes. It was as if I were a corpse.
The Spirit That Brings Life
Ladies and gentlemen, news flash. It is possible to be spiritually dead but to look spiritually good. It is entirely possible to look the part of a good Christian but to not actually be one.
Now, to be fair, I have it on good authority that this phenomenon has never happened to anyone in this room except me, OK? I asked security when I got here, “Are there any hypocrites in the house?”
He said, “No, our hypocrite meter has not gone off all morning. So we’re all OK.”
But I have heard that there are leaders in the church who can argue theology impressively in front of their denominational supervisors; who can say the right words in spiritual conversations; who can bring the right foods to church gatherings; who can dress like an Adventist, sound like an Adventist, smell like an Adventist—I don’t know what that smell is, but they smell like an Adventist. There are some who can have the act down and sometimes even impress themselves to the point where they are tempted to declare, “Wow, I really am the real thing. How proud God must be of me.”
But the Word of God comes thundering back. Without the Spirit of the living God filling and leading and transforming our lives, we are just a good-looking, finely tuned, sharply dressed, perma-grin, spiritually dead corpse.
And in that condition, if we step onto the field of battle and face opposition the likes of the devil, he will jump right over the top of us and defeat us, and we will fail.
That is why I praise the Lord that this does not have to be our reality. Because the Holy Spirit, the one for whom there is no substitute, has been promised to us, just as He was so powerfully promised to Ezekiel.
God has promised us this blessing that will bring all other blessings in its train (Spirit of Prophecy tells us), the outpouring of the former and the latter rains of the Holy Spirit. God is now ready and waiting to give His receptive people this blessing. And it will come to pass.
I say it again: It will come to pass.
There are scoffers, believe you me. We have heard them both inside and outside of the church. They do not think there is hope for this particular body of Christ. They say it’s too far gone—too many hypocrites, too many pretenders, too much dead wood, too much inner squabbling for revival and reformation to ever take place. But skeptics were certainly around in Ezekiel’s day, and this is what God had to say to them.
“And the word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘Son of man, what is this proverb that you people have about the land of Israel, which says, “The days are prolonged, and every vision fails”?
Tell them therefore, “Thus says the Lord God: ‘I will lay this proverb to rest, and they shall no more use it as a proverb in Israel.’ But say to them, ‘The days are at hand, and the fulfillment of every vision. For no more shall there be any false vision or flattering divination within the house of Israel. For I am the Lord. I speak, and the word which I speak will come to pass; it will no more be postponed; for in your days, O rebellious house, I will say the word and perform it,’ says the Lord God” ’ ” (Eze. 12:21-25).
And in our day, Ellen White declares this same sentiment. “The descent of the Holy Spirit upon the church is looked forward to as in the future; but it is the privilege of the church to have it now. Seek for it; pray for it; believe for it. We must have it, and Heaven is waiting to bestow it.”[*]
I won’t take the time now to review all the details of receiving the former and the latter rain of the Holy Spirit, but I will remind you of just one thing. The corporate outpouring of the latter rain—the global outpouring of the latter rain—is indeed something that requires more than just one of us to receive, and it is true we may have to wait a little while for it.
But the personal reception, the personal receiving of the former and latter rain of the Spirit—each one of us can begin to receive now, today. You don’t have to wait. If you are listening right now and if you are spiritually ill or spiritually dead, you do not have to wait another day in that condition. Let today be your liberation day. You can come to the Lord. You can come to Christ. Confess your sins. Confess your apathy. You may even want to confess to Him, “Lord, I don’t want to confess to You. I don’t want to be here right now,” but pray when you least want to. Pray at all times.
Come to Him, and be honest with Him. Tell Him where you’re at. If you’re not willing, at least tell Him, “I’m not willing right now for revival, but I am willing to be made willing.” It’s the impossible prayer, but God is the Lord of the impossible. He can transform you.
Ladies and gentlemen, there is no substitute for the Holy Spirit of God. You can fake it for a while if you want to, but the only person you’re fooling is you and maybe a handful of human beings. God is not mocked. He knows.
And, praise the Lord, the Holy Spirit means that we can be closer to Jesus than His disciples were when Jesus was physically present. This is why Jesus said, “It’s better for you that I go away.” Can you imagine that? If you had a choice between listening to me speak this morning or Jesus speaking across town, you would be where Jesus was, and so would I, right? Because what could be better than that? And yet Jesus says it’s better that I go away, because then the Spirit will come, and by His Spirit He can be with every single person on the planet. If all 8 billion today were to say, “Please fill me with the Holy Spirit,” the Holy Spirit would say, “Yes, absolutely, I want to do that,” and we would be closer to Jesus than the air we breathe.
This is your privilege. This is your birthright as a son or daughter of God. And the Holy Spirit is in the business of reviving even after we are convinced there is no hope.
It is time for all of us to take a deep breath of the Spirit of God. Let today be your day. Ask for the filling of His Holy Spirit. Luke 11:11-13 is very clear about receiving the Holy Spirit. It is not difficult; just a willing heart. Just ask for it. You say, “Why? Why does God make us ask? Why doesn’t He just give it to us?” Because we ask for that which we think we need; we do not ask for that which we think we don’t need. An admission of our need is simply us saying, “Lord, please fill me with Your Holy Spirit.”
So every day, at the start of each day, give yourself to the Lord and ask for the former and latter rain of the Holy Spirit to fill you. And over time a transformation—a wholesale transformation—will take place. You see, the Holy Spirit is the antidote to hypocrisy and a lack of authenticity in us and in the church. To receive Him is our greatest need—individually and corporately. Only the Holy Spirit knows our innermost, deepest self. Only the Holy Spirit can convict us where we need to be convicted. And only the Holy Spirit—the Spirit of Jesus Christ Himself—has the power and authority to transform us from spiritually dead hypocrites into mighty warriors for Him.
So let us seek for it. Let us pray for it. Let us believe in it. The finest hour of the church lies just before us. And as we allow the Spirit of Jesus Christ to transform us more and more into His image, throwing off the sin that so easily entangles, fixing our eyes on Jesus—guess what? We will become the best soldier in God’s mighty, vast army that we can be.
May God’s Holy Spirit reign as we move onward in Him.
To read part 1 of this sermon series, click here.
[*]Ellen G. White, Evangelism (Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Pub. Assn., 1946), p. 701.
