Faithful Unto Death

Introduction: A Faith Worth Dying For

Today is a special Sunday. All across the world, churches are gathering for something unique. Today we remember the Christian martyrs—those men, women, and even children who have given their lives rather than deny Jesus. Today we also lift up in prayer the countless believers who are persecuted, imprisoned, threatened, or displaced simply because they bear the name of Christ.

I want you to think about this for a moment. While we sit here in safety, people are huddling in secret house churches. Others are worshiping in burned-out buildings. Some are gathering without knowing if they will make it home alive. For them, following Jesus is not a casual belief or a cultural tradition. It is a costly allegiance.

And I know what happens in our minds sometimes. We think, That’s so far away. That’s something you read in missionary newsletters or church history books. Those stories belong in the first centuries of Christianity when the apostles were thrown in prison and believers were fed to lions.

But friends, martyrdom isn’t just a story from the past. It’s not just a chapter in history. It’s happening right now.

Just a couple of weeks ago—on June 13, 2025—one of the deadliest attacks in recent memory took place in Nigeria. Christians who had already been driven from their villages by violence were taking shelter in Yelewata, Benue State, hoping for safety. In the middle of the night, Islamist militants surrounded their camp. Witnesses say they shouted “Allahu Akhbar”—“God is great”—as they set fire to the buildings and began slaughtering families as they slept. According to Aid to the Church in Need, up to 200 of our brothers and sisters in Christ were killed. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Ordinary believers who refused to renounce the gospel.

Let that sink in. This isn’t ancient Rome. This isn’t the Middle Ages. This happened in our own lifetime, while we were checking our phones and going about our week. Real people died because they belonged to Jesus.

We can’t just shrug this off and say, “Well, thank God I live in America—this has nothing to do with me.” No, these are our brothers and sisters. They were bought with the same blood of the same Lamb of God who saved us. Scripture says that when one member of the body suffers, the whole body suffers with it. We’re not separate little groups scattered around the world—we are one body in Christ. Their pain is our pain. Their story is our story. They are our family too.

So how do we respond to that? How do we live in a world where faith sometimes costs everything?

That’s why our passage from Revelation matters so much this morning. Because Revelation isn’t a puzzle to satisfy our curiosity or a prediction chart to hang on the wall. It’s a survival manual. It’s God’s gift to the church when the pressure is too much and the darkness seems to be winning.

It’s the cry of the martyrs under the altar in Revelation 6: “How long, O Lord?” It’s the fierce declaration that the Lamb has conquered the dragon, the beast, and every empire that dares to stand against God’s kingdom. And it’s the promise that no act of faithfulness is ever wasted—that there is victory on the other side of suffering.

So let’s open our hearts today. Let’s listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches—not just in ancient Asia Minor, but right here, right now. Because the martyrs’ story isn’t over. Their cry is our cry. And by God’s grace, their victory is ours too—if we have the courage to stand firm.

1. The Cry of the Martyrs (Revelation 6:9–11)

Let’s slow down and really picture this moment in Revelation 6. The Lamb—Jesus—is opening the scroll that reveals God’s plan for judgment and redemption. And when He breaks the fifth seal, John sees something unexpected. Not a terrifying beast or a blazing trumpet, but something deeply human and deeply moving.

He sees souls—souls under the altar. These are the men and women who were killed “for the Word of God and for the witness they had borne.” In other words, these are the martyrs. People who would not let go of the gospel, even when it cost them everything.

Think of Stephen, the first martyr, who looked up and saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God as the stones crushed him. Picture James the apostle, beheaded for proclaiming that Jesus is Lord. Think of Antipas (AN-ti-pus) of Pergamum, mentioned right here in Revelation as a “faithful witness,” killed because he refused to worship Caesar.

Polycarp, the elderly bishop of Smyrna who said, “Eighty and six years have I served Him, and He has done me no wrong,” before the flames took him. Think of Perpetua and Felicity, young mothers in Carthage (KAR-thuhj) who stood firm in the arena rather than deny their Lord. Remember Jan Hus, singing hymns as he was burned for preaching the gospel.

Fast forward to Jim Elliot and Nate Saint, who laid down their lives in the jungles of Ecuador to bring the good news to the Waodani tribe. Or Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was hanged by the Nazis because he refused to stop preaching Christ.

And don’t forget Asia Bibi in Pakistan, imprisoned for years for her testimony. Or the 21 Coptic Christians in Libya, lined up on the beach in orange jumpsuits, who whispered “Jesus” as their lives were taken. And think of those Nigerian believers—mothers, fathers, and children—who were murdered just weeks ago because they belonged to Jesus.

They clung to the truth of God’s Word, and they spoke of Jesus without shame, even when the world told them to shut up—or else. And John sees them in Revelation 6.

John sees them in heaven, not forgotten, not cast aside, but gathered under the altar of God. That’s significant. In the Old Testament, the altar is where sacrifices were made. So these martyrs are being presented not as victims, but as living sacrifices—holy and acceptable to God. Their deaths weren’t meaningless. They were worship.

But the souls of these martyrs are not silent. They cry out with a loud voice:

“How long, O Lord, holy and true, before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”

Now, this may sound harsh to our ears at first. Are they asking for revenge? Are they crying out in bitterness? No. This isn’t a selfish or vengeful plea—it’s a longing for justice. It’s a deep, groaning prayer that the Lamb would make all things right. That evil would not have the last word. That those who shed innocent blood would be held accountable.

And the Lord answers—not with immediate judgment, but with something more tender:

“They were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer…”

The white robe is the robe of victory, of righteousness. It’s God’s way of saying, “You are mine. You have conquered.” And then comes the instruction to rest—to wait. Why? Because the story’s not over. More witnesses will come. More faithfulness. More suffering. And then, in God’s perfect time, justice will roll down like waters.

What does this tell us?

It tells us that God sees. He hears the cry of His people. No act of faithfulness is ever forgotten. No martyr ever dies unnoticed. Every drop of blood shed in faith is precious to Him.

And maybe that’s exactly what we need to hear today. Because the pressure is real, even for us who live in relative safety. It may not be the threat of death, but it can still be the quiet pressure to compromise, to blend in, to keep silent when the truth costs us something. It can be the loneliness of holding fast when everyone else lets go.

Yet the call is the same: Wait a little longer. Keep trusting. Keep witnessing. Keep going.

Because in Revelation, martyrdom isn’t defeat—it’s victory. It’s not shame—it’s a crown. The world may call them foolish or forgotten, but heaven calls them honored.

So here’s the invitation for us today:

Will we join that great cloud of witnesses in our own generation?

Will we live as people who believe the Lamb is worthy?

Will we be willing to wait a little longer and hold fast, trusting that God’s justice and God’s reward are certain?

2. The Power of the Martyrs (Revelation 12:11)

If Revelation 6 shows us the cry of the martyrs, then Revelation 12 shows us their conquering. It’s one of the most profound chapters in the Bible because it lifts the veil and lets us see what’s really going on behind the scenes. It’s not just about kings and empires, protests and politics—this is a cosmic war.

In Revelation 12, we’re introduced to a dragon. And not just any dragon—this is Satan, the great enemy of God and His people. He’s furious. He’s been defeated in heaven by the death and resurrection of Jesus , and he’s been cast down to earth, and now he’s raging. But he’s not raging at random. He’s focused. His fury is aimed at the people of God—those “who keep the commandments of God and hold to the testimony of Jesus.”

But here’s the question: in a world where evil is real and the dragon is fierce, how do God’s people overcome?

And the answer is stunning. Listen again to verse 11:

“And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death.”

Let that sink in.

We conquer Satan not with swords or strategy. Not with force or fame. Not by overpowering our enemies, but by following the Lamb.

The blood of the Lamb—Jesus’ death on the cross—is the decisive weapon in this battle. That’s where the dragon was truly defeated. The cross looked like a loss, but it was the ultimate victory. Jesus didn’t destroy evil by becoming more powerful in the world’s eyes—He destroyed evil by laying down His life.

But the martyrs aren’t just saved by that blood—they bear witness to it. They speak it. They live it. They proclaim it, even when their lives are on the line. That’s what “the word of their testimony” means—they won’t stop speaking the truth of the gospel.

And here’s the most radical part: “they loved not their lives even unto death.” That’s not just poetic—it’s practical. These believers faced the worst that the world could throw at them—violence, rejection, imprisonment, even death—and still, they chose Christ. They stood firm.

This is how the early church changed the world. Not by winning debates, but by bearing witness. Not by grasping for power, but by laying down their lives in love. The Roman Empire couldn’t stop them. Why? Because you can’t defeat someone who has already died with Christ and now lives in His resurrection.

Tertullian, one of the early church fathers, famously said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.” And he was right. When the church is faithful in suffering, the world sees something it can’t explain—a love stronger than fear, a hope that outlasts the grave.

And friends, in our world—where power is prized and fear is constant—this kind of witness is desperately needed. We are not here to crush our enemies or to retreat into safe corners of comfort. We are here to follow the Lamb wherever He goes. To speak the truth in love, even when it costs us. To live in a way that says with every word and every action, “Jesus is worth everything.”

So let’s make this personal.

When was the last time you risked your reputation to stand up for Christ?

When was the last time you sacrificed comfort to obey Him?

When was the last time you shared your faith knowing it could be awkward or costly?

This is what it means to conquer the dragon—not by our strength, but by clinging to the blood of the Lamb, by the word of our testimony, and by holding our lives loosely because we know our real treasure is with Him.

That’s the power of the martyrs. And it’s meant to be the power of the church today—right here, in our city, in our generation—if we will have the courage to live like them.

3. The Beast and the Endurance of the Saints (Revelation 13:7–10)

Let’s be honest—everything we’ve said so far about victory through the Lamb and the power of testimony is inspiring. But we also have to face the hard truth: it’s not easy. Following Jesus in a world that’s opposed to Him is costly. And Revelation doesn’t hide that. In fact, it prepares us for it.

When we come to Revelation 13, we meet a terrifying figure—the Beast. This beast represents worldly powers and empires that oppose God. It’s political. It’s spiritual. It’s cultural. The Beast isn’t just one ruler or one government—it’s every system that demands your allegiance and tries to silence your witness. And Revelation says this Beast is allowed “to make war on the saints and to conquer them.”

That’s hard to hear.

It means that, at times, it will look like the church is losing. Christians will suffer. Some will die. And the powers of the world will appear to triumph. It’ll look like evil is winning. And let’s be real—sometimes, it feels that way. Whether it’s government oppression in another country or cultural rejection here at home, there are moments when we wonder, “Is it worth it?”

But then comes this word from God, and it’s not a battle plan. It’s a calling:

“Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints.” (Revelation 13:10)

That’s it. Endurance. Faith. Hold on. Don’t compromise. Don’t give in. Don’t bow the knee to the Beast. In the words of Paul, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind…” (Romans 12:2).

It reminds me of what Paul says in Galatians: “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” Revelation is echoing that same charge. Faithfulness is our weapon. Steadfastness is our strategy.

Now, here’s the thing. For some Christians—especially those in places like North Korea, or Nigeria—faithfulness might mean martyrdom. It might mean actual death.

But for most of us, faithfulness looks like something else. It looks like staying true to Jesus in a culture that wants you to compromise. It’s showing up with integrity at work. It’s loving your spouse when it’s hard. It’s forgiving that person who wounded you. It’s raising your kids to know Jesus, even when the world tells them otherwise.

Faithfulness means not losing heart. Not selling out. Not softening the gospel just to be liked. It means living with your eyes fixed on Jesus, day after day, year after year—a long obedience in the same direction.

And here’s the beautiful twist: the world may call that weakness. The world may look at you and say, “You’re missing out. You’re too rigid. You’re out of step.” But Revelation says the exact opposite.

Revelation says that’s victory.

Because endurance is not passive. It’s powerful. In a world obsessed with strength and success, endurance says, “I belong to the Lamb. I may suffer, but I will not give in.”

4. The Blessing of the Martyrs (Revelation 14:12–13)

By the time we get to Revelation 14, we’ve seen a lot. Seals have been opened. Beasts have risen. Battles have begun. And through it all, one refrain keeps coming back—almost like a heartbeat echoing through the book: “Here is a call for the endurance of the saints.”

We heard it in chapter 13, and we hear it again here in 14:12:

“Here is a call for the endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and their faith in Jesus.”

Let’s not rush past that. If Revelation has a soundtrack, endurance is the recurring chorus. Because God knows the path of faith isn’t easy. It requires staying power. And the people who endure aren’t superhuman. They’re ordinary believers who cling to Jesus—day in and day out—even when it’s hard.

Then, in verse 13, something remarkable happens. John hears a voice from heaven—God’s own voice speaking comfort into the chaos. Listen to these words:

“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.”

That sounds backwards, doesn’t it? Blessed are the dead? That’s not how the world sees it. The world says, “Blessed are the successful, the strong, the ones who live long and avoid pain.” But Revelation says no. Blessed are those who die in the Lord. Why? Because in Christ, death isn’t a curse—it’s a doorway.

And then the Spirit adds,

“Yes, says the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them.”

That’s the promise. Rest and reward.

Let’s pause on that word rest. These saints—these martyrs—have carried a heavy burden. They’ve lived in faith, suffered for truth, borne the name of Jesus in a hostile world. And now, finally, they rest. Not just in peace—but in glory. In the presence of God. In the company of the Lamb.

And here’s the phrase I want us to hold onto: “their deeds follow them.”

Nothing done for Christ is wasted. Nothing. Not one word spoken in love. Not one act of sacrifice. Not one prayer, one tear, one quiet, faithful decision to do the right thing when it would have been easier to compromise. It all matters. It all lasts.

We live in a world where most of what we do gets forgotten. You write an email—it’s buried in a day. You do a good deed—it gets overlooked. But Revelation says something different. What you do for Jesus follows you. It echoes into eternity.

That’s good news not just for martyrs—but for moms. For teachers. For students. For tired Christians who wonder if any of it makes a difference.

It does.

The world may not notice. But the Lamb sees. And one day, when you stand before Him, He will say, “Well done.”

That’s the blessing of the martyrs. That’s the blessing of the faithful. That’s the blessing of those who die in the Lord.

5. The Victory of the Lamb (Revelation 21:4–7)

We’ve walked through a lot this morning—visions of suffering, courage, endurance, and sacrifice. And now, we come to the end of the story. Revelation 21. The final chapter of history. The curtain rises not on another battle, but on a new creation. And what we see here isn’t fear—it’s fulfillment.

Listen to these words—some of the most tender and hope-filled verses in all of Scripture:

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (21:4)

This is what the martyrs were crying out for in chapter 6. Remember 6? “How long, O Lord, before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” And God told them to rest a little longer…

Revelation 21 is what they were told to wait for under the altar. This is what the suffering church has clung to for more than 2,000 years—the hope that one day, the Lamb will return and make all things new.

And did you catch the intimacy in that verse? “He will wipe away every tear.” Not just “tears will be gone,” but He will wipe them away—personally, gently, lovingly. That’s our Savior. That’s our Shepherd. The Lamb who was slain is also the King who comforts.

Verse 7 gives us the promise:

“The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son.”

This is the inheritance: God Himself. Eternal life. Unshakable joy. And who receives it? The one who conquers.

But remember—conquering in Revelation doesn’t look like domination. It’s not about being strong in the world’s eyes. It’s not about winning arguments or gaining cultural influence. To conquer, in the eyes of heaven, according to Revelation, is to remain faithful. It means holding on to Jesus when it would be easier to let go. It means continuing to believe, to hope, to endure—even through suffering, even through silence, even through death.

That’s the call.

The church isn’t called to comfort. It’s called to courage. It’s not called to blend in. It’s called to stand out—graciously, faithfully, sacrificially. And here’s the hard truth: if we truly follow the Lamb, the world may treat us like it treated Him. That’s what Jesus explained in John 15:18-21:

“If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you: A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. But all these things they will do to you on account of my name, because they do not know him who sent me.”

But Revelation also tells us: the Lamb wins.

That’s the message of Revelation. That’s the power of the gospel. That’s the hope of the martyrs—and it’s our hope too. Every tear will be wiped away. Every injustice will be answered. Every faithful saint will be raised in glory.

So here’s the question: what will we do with this? Because we are part of this story. This is our story.

Will we live like people who believe it? Will we pray for the persecuted church—not just with pity, but with solidarity? Will we honor their witness by refusing to compromise our own?

And will we say with our lives: Jesus is worth it?

Because He is.

“Be faithful unto death,” Jesus says, “and I will give you the crown of life.” (Revelation 2:10)

So let’s follow the Lamb. Let’s endure with the saints. Let’s live for the Kingdom that cannot be shaken.

And when the world asks, “Where is your hope?”—we will say, “It’s in the Lamb who was slain, who now reigns, and who is coming again.”

Transition to the Lord’s Supper

As we come now to the Lord’s Table, we come as people who share in this story—people who have been called to follow the Lamb wherever He goes.

This meal is a remembrance of His sacrifice, the sacrifice that conquered sin and death. It’s also a foretaste of the feast we will share with Him when every tear is wiped away and all things are made new.

So if you belong to Jesus—if you have trusted Him as Savior and Lord—come and be nourished. Come in faith, come in hope, and come with courage. For here at this table, we proclaim that Jesus is worth it, and we remember that the Lamb who was slain is also the King who reigns forever.

Come, and feed on Christ by faith.

Prayer [Call the elders]

Gracious Father, we thank You for the gift of this table, where the body and blood of Your Son are given for us. As we eat this bread and drink this cup, strengthen us to follow the Lamb with faith and courage. May His sacrifice shape our lives, His grace sustain our hearts, and His victory anchor our hope. Unite us with all Your saints—past, present, and future—until that day when we feast with Christ in glory. In His name we pray, Amen.