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July 21, 2024: Message: For the Love of God | Scripture: Nehemiah 1:5-11 | Speaker: Pastor Stephen Choy
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Introduction
If able, please stand as I read to you from Nehemiah 1:5-11. TWoL: 5 And I said, “O LORD God of heaven, the great and awesome God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, 6 let your ear be attentive and your eyes open, to hear the prayer of your servant that I now pray before you day and night for the people of Israel your servants, confessing the sins of the people of Israel, which we have sinned against you. Even I and my father’s house have sinned. 7 We have acted very corruptly against you and have not kept the commandments, the statutes, and the rules that you commanded your servant Moses. 8 Remember the word that you commanded your servant Moses, saying, ‘If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the peoples, 9 but if you return to me and keep my commandments and do them, though your outcasts are in the uttermost parts of heaven, from there I will gather them and bring them to the place that I have chosen, to make my name dwell there.’ 10 They are your servants and your people, whom you have redeemed by your great power and by your strong hand. 11 O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of your servant, and to the prayer of your servants who delight to fear your name, and give success to your servant today, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man.” Now I was cupbearer to the king.
One of my favourite movies is The Incredibles done by Pixar back in 2004, and it starts with a montage of different superheroes being asked if they have secret, real identities when they aren’t fighting crime, to which they all answer, “of course.” But as the movie progresses, and as the world becomes increasingly hostile to superhero intervention, we find that the superheroes seem to be more engaged and interactive when they’re wearing their masks than when they’re living their normal, real lives in the world.
This is most evident in the life of the main character, Bob Parr, who was once Mr. Incredible—the strongest man alive. Now, we see him sitting behind a desk, unable to cope with the monotony and day-to-day responsibilities not only of his job but of being a father, a husband, and a friend. So, he begins actively seeking his salvation and self-importance from his boring, unimportant life in the spectacular—in his special gifts and abilities—risking life and limb—risking even those whom he loves.
But then, after Mr. Incredible is captured by the villain, given the impression that the villain has killed his family, and then finding out with great relief that his family is still alive, there’s this climatic scene where the family comes face-to-face with the enemy, and Bob—Mr. Incredible—tells his superhero wife and kids to stay behind. And his wife refuses, yelling at him, “what is this to you, play time?” “No.” “Is it so that you can be Mr. Incredible again?” “No.” “Then what, what is it?” “I’m not…” “Not what” “I’m not strong enough!” “Not strong enough? That’s what this is to you, some kind of workout?” And in exasperation, Bob blurts out, “I can’t lose you again! I can’t … I’m not strong enough.”
And what we’re meant to come to grips with is questioning how a person deals with the hardship, uncertainties, and struggles in one’s life? Do you look to yourself? Do you look at your accomplishments, your pedigree, your abilities? Or is it okay to find your strength and help in something—someone else? In the world of the Incredibles, Bob Parr was the most important, capable person, and yet what the movie teaches us is that a hero isn’t found in one’s self-importance or extraordinary capabilities, but in how willing they are to lay down the extraordinary and their self-importance—to lay yourself down—and see the help and strength that can come from others.
Nehemiah faces a similar question in his life. Hardship is before him, and he must decide—in what or in whom he find his security and hope? Unlike two weeks ago, where very little about Nehemiah was revealed to us, we find out more about him this week—that he’s a pretty important person in the Persian Empire. And yet, his overwhelming burden and desire as he finds out about Israel’s struggle, and as he considers confronting Artaxerxes about it, isn’t to think of his own significance, but to dedicate himself to the love, plans, and will of his God.
This is what we’re to learn from our passage this week. Nehemiah is a man desperately in love with God, and we’re to feel that as he prays—to know that no matter who he thinks he is—and no matter who we think we are, when things aren’t going our way, if we separate ourselves from God, all that other stuff doesn’t matter. We’re to dedicate ourselves to God regardless of who we are because God is to be our security, our help, our hope. Nehemiah exemplifies what this means for us in these verses—what it means to dedicate ourselves to God, and he begins by telling us that no matter who we are, dedicate yourselves …
1) To His Greatness
Nehemiah’s context takes place nearly ten years after the events of Ezra 10 and Israel’s repentance from their marriage to foreign women. It’s between then and now that the Jews have started rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem with the temple having been finished in Ezra 6. This wall was meant to provide not only protection for the Jews and the practice of their religion but also to signify the true return of the people of God from which the Messiah and the new covenant, as prophesied, would come.
But, as we’re told in Ezra 4, Artaxerxes is misled by the Samaritans who play on the Persian king’s paranoia of rebelling factions, and the king tells the Jews not only to stop their building, but he allows the Samaritans to go in with force and level the city. And news of this breaks Nehemiah—who, although living 1000 miles away, cares for Israel deeply and believes in the prophecies that a Messiah is coming from the Davidic city. So, in our text, he turns to God for help as he intends to go before Artaxerxes and plead with him to change his mind.
And the way Nehemiah begins his prayer, like nearly every prayer in the Bible, is theologically. He begins with a description and reminder to himself of who God is, saying, “O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God.” Now, for those of us who either aren’t reading closely, or who are simply used to descriptions of God in Scripture like this, we may glance past Nehemiah’s initial words and not give them a second thought. But when we slow down, we must realize that what he says here is quite astounding.
I think of so many family friends growing up, something devastating would happen to someone that they loved—someone very dear to them—and I can’t even count the number of times I’d hear the words from them, “I don’t know how to go to God right now because I’m just so angry or distressed or frustrated with him. Why would he do or allow something like this? Why would he let bad things happen to good people?”
Nehemiah was in a very similar situation. He could have said the same words as my friends. He knew the plight of the Jews. He knew they came from exile. He knew that they had suffered in their return. He knew about their repentance and casting off foreign wives and children. Yet, here, they were suffering, again, while doing something that God wanted them to do. If there’s someone who was in a position to say, “I’m angry with God. Why would he allow this to happen?” it would be Nehemiah. But that’s not what he says.
No, his first inclination isn’t to describe God as some uncaring, unjust, incapable god. Rather, his first words are you are the [definite article] great and awesome God. Jerusalem is being burned to the ground. His friends and family are suffering, perhaps even being killed by idol worshippers. The situation is bleak, and yet Nehemiah’s first words aren’t to complain or to focus on his suffering but to acknowledge God above all and the type of God that he is: that he is great and that he is awesome.
The word awesome, here, is really the word fear used in the passive—the God who is great and is greatly to be feared. Why is he to be feared? Well, we’re given two reasons. First, it’s because he is the [definite article] God! He needs nothing. He is intimidated by nothing. He is the intimidator. He is the great One who stands over everyone. He is the Lord God of heaven, and there is none like him. He stands alone in greatness and fearsomeness.
But secondly, he is great and greatly to be feared because he is the God who keeps, infallibly, unfailingly, and eternally, covenant and steadfast love for those who love him and keep his commandments. Now, some people read this passage, and they skip its depth and jump instantly to what it isn’t focusing on, namely, they jump to the thought that this passage proves God only keeps covenant and loves those who are faithful—that the covenant of God, at least in the Old Testament, was a works-based covenant—that you’ve got to do good to get good. They see this in the language, “God keeps those who love him and keep his commandments.” It sounds like a relationship of reciprocity.
But those who love him and keep his commandments aren’t the point of the passage. The simple truth is that those who God protects are those who do love him and do keep his commandments. That’s just a fact. If you pay attention to the subject and the verbs—the statement is focused on God. It’s focused on why he is great and greatly to be feared. It’s focused on his greatness and awesomeness as the one who keeps covenant and love for those who belong, definitively, to him—to those who display their likeness of him—those who can be set apart from the masses of a sinful world because he has marked them out as his possession. He stands alone as their great and awesome defender, provider, and keeper.
And just so that we are clear, how his people love and keep are not how he loves and keeps. The word for love used of those who love him is the normal word for love (אהב), but the word used to describe the love of God is the covenant word חסד. These are two very different words. אהב is described as a love much like loyalty to someone who has been good to us—loyalty to someone worthy of natural devotion and affection.
But חסד is a much harder word to translate—steadfast love doesn’t do it justice. Because its range of meaning includes more than a simple devotion and affection, and it’s use in the Bible is overwhelmingly one-sided as something that God possesses for his people. One commentator puts it this way: “Hesed [wraps itself up in] all the positive attributes of God: love, covenant faithfulness, [righteousness], [glory], [hope], mercy, [compassion,] grace, kindness, loyalty—in short, acts of devotion and loving-kindness that go beyond the requirements of mere duty”—that require the sacrificial giving of oneself.
Thus, why is God so great and greatly to be feared? Because he gives himself so entirely to us that nothing can separate us from him. Nothing. If you belong to him. If he has set his love on you. Then the whole world—the whole universe—can implode upon itself, but he will still keep you. Nehemiah means to remind us, when something doesn’t go our way, it’s so that we might come back to the fact that God is the something—the someone—the definite article that has gone our way. That in himself we’re meant to hope and have a confidence for things far greater than what our circumstances suggest—that he is great and greatly to be feared because nothing can strip his steadfast חסד from us.
And this ought to move us—deeply so. It ought to move us into loving him. It ought to move us into not only keeping his commands but desiring to keep his commands, even when it’s inconvenient to do so. It ought to move us to worship him, even when the world offers us no hope because he is great and greatly to be feared in how he keeps us. Here’s what we learn in verse 5: it’s that no matter who we are—no matter who we think we are, we ought to be those who are fastidiously committed and contented in his greatness because none can compare or contend with him and his steadfastness towards us.
This is what is meant to gird you up as you pray. As you are suffering—as you are weeping and wailing in the throes of injustice—you are to remember above all that God is great and greatly to be feared as the One who is unrelenting in his passion and pursuit for us. Therefore, dedicate yourself to his greatness for he has displayed that greatness to bring you to and keep you for himself.
2) To His Forgiveness
And then, after you have remembered the greatness and awesomeness of your God, before you give yourself over to those complaints in your suffering, take some time to remember who you are. Dedicate yourself to his forgiveness because no matter what you are or think you are in this life, there is one irrefutable truth above all the world’s definitions of you or all your own definitions of yourself, and it is that you are a sinner.
Here's how we know Nehemiah doesn’t mean to say in verse 5 that God only does good for those who are or do good for him because in verses 6 and 7, Nehemiah makes it very clear that he and his people don’t do good. While God has faithfully kept his covenant and love for his people, his people have been unfaithful in return, and notice, Nehemiah isn’t giving specifics here. There’s no mention of another specific sin they’ve committed. So, it’s likely that what Nehemiah is confessing regarding his and Israel’s sin is their general disposition—what they are at their core and not just single instances of sin.
As far as we know, Israel hasn’t been particularly rebellious between Ezra’s leaving and Nehemiah’s introduction. But even though that may be true, Nehemiah knows that none of them are guiltless. Just look at what he says in verse 7: we have acted very corruptly against you and have not kept the commandments, the statutes, and the rules that you commanded your servant Moses. Here, he’s speaking of the broadness and totality of their sin.
On the one hand, they haven’t kept the explicit commandments, statutes, and rules given by Moses—a reference to the whole Law of God—those things written down for people to see with their own eyes or to hear with their ears. Nehemiah says, “we are sinful because there’s no way we’ve followed every part of what’s been written in God’s Word.”
Yet, even if we have, on the other hand, our sin isn’t based only on how well we’ve abided by the letter of the law, but also by its spirit. Sin isn’t simply the product of failing God’s explicit, outward commands, but it’s a product, even more so, of failing his will. By “corrupt” what Nehemiah’s getting at is a disposition of arrogance leading to self-destruction. To be corrupt is to have something fundamentally wrong with the heart. And it’s not just merely wrong or merely corrupt, but the way that Nehemiah words it in the Hebrew is that our actions are couched in very or exceedingly corrupt hearts.
Thus, even if our outer appearance seems to be doing what’s right, such outward displays of righteousness are not enough. Something must be corrected and reoriented inwardly. Or, as verse 5 puts it, it’s not sufficient to merely keep his commandments, but we must also love him and regard him as the God who is great and greatly to be feared. Our problem is we don’t. Even Nehemiah admits his failure in this, which is why here, at the start of his prayer, the thing that he asks for before anything else is that God might forgive him and his people.
Here is a man in the throes of suffering and lamentation—yet because of his theology and anthropology—because he knows who God is in contrast to who we are—he knows the initial thing he needs isn’t to blame God, or to receive an explanation from him, or to require God to rectify the Jews’ situation. Rather, Nehemiah knows that whatever was being done to Israel, they as a nation had done far worse to God. In fact, what was happening to Israel was a reflection and reminder of how they, as a nation, related with their God—how they’d repeatedly and regularly scorned, rebelled, angered, and defamed him. Sin out in the world reflects the rebellion that exists within our own beings.
And this applies to us because in our moments of misery, when it seems like things are bad for us, despite how “good” we think we’ve been, is our inclination to think poorly of God and to seek from him, before anything else, his immediate deliverance—maybe out of self-pity or an unwillingness to suffer? Or, perhaps, is our inclination—should our inclination, in that suffering, be to beg him, first, for forgiveness—forgiveness for all the suffering we’ve caused him—forgiveness for all the ways we’ve personally contributed to the corruption in the world—forgiveness for constantly making it about ourselves?
Is our Christianity about loving and benefiting us, or is it about loving and serving our God—the God who gave himself to us—the God who gave himself up for us—the God who is great and greatly to be feared in his covenant keeping love of us? Make it about him by dedicating yourself to his forgiveness. Then, stop dwelling on your sin and …
3) [Dedicate Yourself] To His Promises
The thing about sin and seeking forgiveness is that it’s meant to shatter us. It’s meant to humble us and show us that we are deeply incapable of pleasing and admiring the greatness and awesomeness of our God. We are totally inept to live up to the standards that God requires of us. And that shattering—that humbling needs to take place, before anything else, so that we might see, second, why we exist. And we exist to receive a far greater hope not in ourselves but in God’s desire to be our salvation—in God’s desire to show his faithfulness—in God’s desire to be greater and more awesome for us than our sinfulness.
This is what happens to Nehemiah as he’s praying. He says, “Lord, I and your people can’t do anything but sin against you but remember your word! Remember your promise—not our sin! You said that if we sin, you’d scatter us. Well, we sinned, and you scattered us! But you also said, when we repent, you will restore us. God of heaven, if you are faithful in your judgments, we ask that you might also be faithful in your redemption as we repent.” His is a promised-filled hope based not upon his merits but upon the words of God.
This is the gospel is it not? That we were once dead in the trespasses of our sins—hopeless and helpless, but God didn’t leave us in what we merited. No, he gave us the Word of his promise—the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us, lived for us where we fell short, died for us upon a cross, rose for us in victory, intercedes for us as our advocate, and glorifies us as heirs to the throne of heaven.
We aren’t meant to remain in our sinful desperation—we’re meant to possess satisfaction—a satisfaction that comes not from us but wholly from our great and awesome God—the one who keeps his covenant and love for us, even when we could not and did not keep his covenant or love him in return. We are forgiven of our sin through the death of Christ so that through his resurrection we might live in the sure promise of his love. This is how to overcome the world, even when we face tribulation, it’s by trusting in the security of God’s promise, which has been delivered to us, once-and-for-all, through his Word.
When the Lord speaks, his Word never returns to him empty. How incredible is it, then, brothers and sisters, that we are the thing that he’s always intended to return to him—that through the death of Christ, we might receive his inheritance as God’s adopted sons and daughters—no longer as those held captive under the condemnation of the law, but heirs according to promise. Is this not greater assurance for our perseverance through difficulty and hardship than anything else in the world? Are we not in a far better position than Nehemiah whose hope was in the promise of things not yet seen, while ours is in the promise of the cross already fulfilled?
This is what coming face-to-face with God is meant to effect and affect in us. It’s meant to humble us from our condemned, self-importance, and then it’s meant to raise us up in a new confidence that God has been, is, and shall be faithful to himself, which is our greatest good, because he has done the impossible through the gospel, and he has done it in exact accordance with his Word.
4) To His Plan
This is the depth of Nehemiah’s prayer. It is not a complaining prayer. It is not a doubting prayer. It is not a self-righteous prayer. It is a sinner’s prayer that, in the face of insurmountable opposition, submits himself fully and faithfully to the perfect plan of the only great and awesome God. I hope it now goes without saying, but it matters nothing, whatsoever, who you think you are, because unless you have God—unless your life is defined by him and dedicated to him—to his greatness, to his forgiveness, to his promises, to his plan, you are nothing, and yet those who have him, they possess everything.
Nehemiah is praying here because he wants his people to possess everything in God, but he wants to be sure that God makes himself everything to them before anything else. I began by saying that we learn a lot about who Nehemiah is in this passage, and if you read closely, he paints us a very clear picture of what and who he is—only it’s likely not what the original readers would have thought they’d see or hear about him.
See, Nehemiah describes himself at the end of verse 11 as a cupbearer to the king, which means he wasn’t just important and influential—it likely means he was second in the kingdom only to the king. The cupbearer determined what went into the king’s system. He had to check for poison by tasting everything that the king ate or drank, which means he would have been the king’s most trusted friend and advisor. He would hear every royal conversation. He would confide in nearly every royal concern. He would even, likely, have been the first and main counsellor to every major decision that the king had to make. The king’s life depended upon Nehemiah.
And yet, Nehemiah includes this information at the end of verse 11 not to bolster his image but to concede himself to one simple fact: that unless God was the measure of his boast and the wisdom of his plan, none of it mattered. He might have been the cupbearer, influencer and counsellor to the king of Persia, but before God, all he saw in himself was a servant, a sinner, a failure, an outcast, a man in need of redemption, and a man in need of the Lord’s attention. Here is Nehemiah who holds the fate of the world’s most powerful man in the palm of his hand, and yet, that was meaningless to him in comparison to finding his worth in his God.
So, too, might we find our worth in God in ways even greater than Nehemiah because our cupbearer held our lives in his hands, and instead of giving us what we deserved—the poison and the punishment of our sin, he drank the cup of God’s wrath on our behalf and gave us, instead, eternal life—and gave us, instead, his life. No matter who you are, in celebration or tribulation, dedicate yourself to God because he is great and greatly to be feared, and surely, his steadfast love shall keep you forever.
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