A Kingdom that Cannot be Shaken

Introduction

There has been one driving theme throughout the book of Hebrews, and that is that you find an anchor for your faith. As I’ve told you each week, these people the writer are in a storm of doubt, and they re struggling, because faith is difficult, persecution is severe; temptations are acute; they’ve got unanswered questions and unanswered prayers.

So many of you have come up to me in this series and said, “This is me. Believing is hard.” The book of Hebrews is for you.

Scholars think that Hebrews was originally delivered as one sermon (you think I preach long!), and chapter 12 was kind of like the crescendo; the conclusion of the sermon; when he starts bringing it home—making the application points.

In the text that was read earlier you heard this image of “searching for a city;” “searching for a Kingdom.” It’s an image the writer uses repeatedly in these final chapters. He’s using that as a metaphor for what we are all doing with our lives.

A city, to these people, represented a place of safety, permanence and prosperity.

Remember that the deeply embedded in the Hebrew memory was their experience as nomads wandering for years in the wilderness after they left Egypt. They had left Egypt in search of a promised land—a city that would belong to them, where they could settle and raise their kids in peace and prosperity and dwell forever. Throughout the Old Testament, all their hopes centered on “Jeru-salem,” or literally, “the city of peace.”

In a sense, the writer says, we are all searching for a city like that, aren’t we? We want safety; we want permanence; a place of fulfillment and prosperity. Isn’t that why you are working so hard to get the degree or to get the job; isn’t that why you are saving your money; trying to ensure your kids have all they need; isn’t that why you want to get married and have a family? You want a “city,” a Jeru-salem, a permanent place of peace.”

Maybe that doesn’t connect to you... you’re like, “I hate the city. Traffic. Noise. People. I want a mountain cabin with a dog where my kids grow up and build little cabins around mine and I sit out on a porch and think about how quiet it is.

Well, in a way, that’s kind of like your own little city, with only people that are related to you. A place of security, peace, and fulfillment.

So he does 3 things in this last chapter. He asks you to consider what your city is and whether it is shakable; shows you the results of Jesus being your city; and then warns you about some very small things that can destroy your city.

God Will Shake What Cannot Stand

Hebrews 12:26 NASB95

And His voice shook the earth then, but now He has promised, saying, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth, but also the heaven.”

Let me start with a simple question that has eternal consequences: What is your primary source of security and permanence? What do you cling to when everything else is falling apart? Is it your job, your family, your health, your bank account, or your own abilities? The Bible teaches us that everything built on the wrong foundation will one day be shaken—and only what is grounded in Christ will remain.

Each of you has chosen a course of life that you think will make you happy and that will provide you with the peace and permanence and prosperity you crave.

The invitation of Hebrews is to make God your primary source of these things. That He may be your primary security.

Now, when we talk about "shaking," you might think of something exciting—like shaking up a Mountain Dew bottle just before handing it to your younger sibling and running away. But that’s not the kind of shaking Hebrews is describing. This isn’t about carbonated energy—it’s about catastrophic evaluation.

There are two types of shaking in this world:

The kind that stirs up excitement—like a concert or a fireworks show.

The kind that causes destruction—like an earthquake, where only what is firmly grounded survives.

Hebrews 12 is describing the second kind.

Modern-Day Shaking

We don’t have to imagine what this kind of shaking looks like—we’ve seen it. Think back to the 2008 stock market crash. It wasn’t just numbers on a screen falling. It was lives unraveling. There were CEOs, hedge fund managers, and banking executives—people with everything the world says brings stability—who ended their lives when their empires collapsed.

One executive at Freddie Mac hung himself in his basement. A French investment manager, having lost $1.4 billion of clients’ funds, ended his life in his office. A Danish banker took his life in the wardrobe of a $750-a-night London suite. These were men who had built their identities, hopes, and security on finances, influence, and worldly success. But when the shaking came, they collapsed with it.

And we’re not exempt. Maybe your “shaking” didn’t come in the form of a stock market collapse. Maybe it was the moment the doctor walked in and said, “It’s cancer.” Or when your spouse said, “I’m leaving.” Or when the company said, “We’re downsizing.”

Every one of us faces some form of shaking. Why? Because God is lovingly trying to show us that we’ve built our lives on the wrong foundation.

The ultimate “shaking” is death.

The Parable of the Rich Fool

In Luke 12, Jesus tells the story of a man who, by worldly standards, was doing great. Business was booming. His barns were overflowing. His only problem? Storage! That’s like your bank calling and saying, “We don’t have room for your deposits.” (Wouldn’t that be a pleasant change from those “you’re overdrawn” alerts?)

But just as he finishes building his bigger barns, God speaks: “You fool! This very night your soul is required of you.”(Luke 12:20, NASB 1995). All his stuff, his plans, his success—none of it could secure his soul. In that moment, only one thing mattered: was his life built on something eternal?

Fire That Purifies

Hebrews 12:29 says, “For our God is a consuming fire.” That doesn’t mean He’s out to destroy us, but rather to refine us—like gold purified in the fire. Paul echoes this in 1 Corinthians 3:13: “Each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work.”

A wise saying I learned from my father goes like this: “Only one life, ’twill soon be past; only what’s done for Christ will last.” That truth is like a spiritual GPS recalculating our route toward eternity. If everything else is temporary, then only one day truly matters—the final day. Are you ready for it?

Shaken Now, Saved Later

Some of you are going through this shaking right now.

Your marriage is hanging by a thread.

Your finances just took a nosedive.

Your body is failing.

Your children are running from God.

You’re asking, “Why is this happening to me?” And the answer may not be punishment—it may be mercy.

I spoke with a professional athlete once whose entire career ended with one injury. He asked me, “Why would God let that happen?” I said, “What’s worse—a lost career or a lost eternity?” If God had to take away his platform to get his attention, then He didn’t curse him. He loved him.

Illustration: The Kindness of Collapse

Imagine a man building a house on sand. You see the storm coming. What’s more loving—to let him continue unaware or to yell, “Your foundation is faulty!” That’s what God does. He shakes now, so you won’t fall later.

Church, God is shaking this world. And He’s shaking some of you. But if the shaking leads you to Jesus—the only unshakeable foundation—then praise God for it!

Hebrews 12:27 (NASB 1995) says this shaking exists “so that those things which cannot be shaken may remain.” There is only one thing in the universe that won’t be shaken—Jesus Christ and His Kingdom. Everything else is wood, hay, and straw.

You can build your life on your own efforts, comfort, or applause—or you can build on Christ. But just know—only one of those will stand when the shaking comes.

Jesus is the Real, Lasting City

(Hebrews 12:22–24)

Let’s be honest. When you read the middle section of Hebrews 12—about smoky mountains, trembling Moses, and people dropping dead if they touched the wrong thing—it feels like the author took a left turn into a fire-and-brimstone tourist brochure. You almost expect Smokey the Bear to step out and say, “Only YOU can prevent divine incineration.”

But this isn't a tangent. The writer is contrasting two mountains—Mount Sinai and Mount Zion—to show us something critical: that Jesus is not just a Savior; He’s a city. He’s the unshakeable city. And that changes everything.

Two Mountains, Two Messages

Let’s go back in time to Exodus 19. Israel had just come out of Egypt, and they’re journeying toward the Promised Land—a place of permanence, prosperity, and peace. They arrive at Mount Sinai and BAM! God shows up. But this isn’t a casual pop-in. We’re talking smoke, fire, thunder, lightning, and what I assume was the original surround sound. And God’s message is loud and clear: “Don’t come any closer!”

In fact, He says, “Put a fence around this mountain, and if anything—man, woman, child, goat, or golden retriever—crosses the line, they’re toast.” And this wasn’t poetic language. Even Moses, God’s chosen leader, trembled with fear (Hebrews 12:21).

Why all the drama? Because it was God’s way of saying: “You cannot approach Me in your sin. My holiness is like the sun, and your sin is like tissue paper. One touch, and you're gone.”

Now, let’s pause for a moment.

That image—of people living in fear, of tiptoeing near the presence of God—is how many still live. They walk through life constantly wondering, Have I done enough? Is God pleased with me? What if I’m not good enough?

Even if you don’t consider yourself religious, you’re still climbing a mountain. You’re seeking something transcendent—something that gives you worth and makes you feel safe. It’s why we chase relationships, success, money, admiration... whatever seems like the “city” that can finally give us peace.

G.K. Chesterton once said, “Every man who knocks on the door of a brothel is looking for God.” In other words, we’re all looking for a security that can’t be shaken and a joy that fully satisfies.

But what happens when you don’t get the thing you’re climbing toward?

What if you don’t make the grade?

What if you lose the job?

What if your body gets sick?

What if your kids go off the rails?

Your “city” starts to collapse—and with it, your sense of peace, worth, and identity. You live in constant fear. Jealousy. Bitterness. Worry. Self-doubt.

Then Comes Jesus

Hebrews 12:22–24 interrupts this panic with stunning beauty: “But you have come to Mount Zion... to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.”

See, Jesus went to a mountain, too. Mount Calvary. And like Sinai, it was surrounded by darkness, thunder, and shaking. But this time, God didn’t say, “Stand back!” He said, “Come near.”

Why? Because on that mountain, Jesus absorbed the full weight of our sin. Everything that should have made God reject us—He placed on Jesus. And everything about Jesus that is holy, good, and pure—He gives to us.

Think of it this way: Jesus was shaken, so you could be secure. He was consumed, so you could be comforted. He was rejected, so you could be received.

The Blood That Speaks a Better Word

Hebrews 12:24 says Jesus’ blood “speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” Remember Abel? His blood cried out for vengeance (Genesis 4:10). Jesus’ blood cries out for forgiveness. One says, “Justice!” The other says, “Grace.”

The gospel gives us access to God—not by merit, but by grace. This city, this heavenly Jerusalem, is not earned. It’s given. That’s tough for most of us to grasp. We’re Americans—we earn stuff. We work for it. If you want a reward, you hustle. That’s how we operate—until it comes to salvation.

Jesus flips it upside down. The reward isn’t given because you worked; it’s given because He did.

When Jesus Is Your City...

When Jesus becomes your city—your unshakeable foundation—you finally gain what you’ve been chasing your whole life.

a) Security (Hebrews 12:28)

You receive “a kingdom which cannot be shaken.” That’s because your foundation is now the righteousness of Christ and the promises of God—both of which are eternal. You don’t have to worry about messing it up. You’re not holding onto Jesus; He’s holding onto you.

b) Worship in Awe and Reverence

The text says we worship “in reverence and awe,” which doesn’t mean terror. It’s the kind of fear a child has for a father who’s both mighty and merciful.

I remember when my daughter Kharis was little. We were watching the Olympics, and I asked, “You think Daddy could do that?” Without missing a beat, she said, “Not a chance, Dad.” And just like that, my dreams of becoming a 40-year-old gymnast were shattered.

But here’s the thing: even though she knew I wasn’t a superhero, when the thunder rolled at night, she ran straight to my room and crawled in bed—because she knew she was safe with me. That’s what reverent worship looks like: awe mixed with intimacy.

c) Unbounded Joy

Verse 22 says we come to “innumerable angels in festal gathering.” In other words—a party. Yes, heaven is a party. No diapers, no harps, no floating on clouds. Revelation describes it like the best wedding reception ever, and Jesus’ first miracle was at a party—and He brought the good wine!

You were created for this city—not one built with human hands, but one established in the grace and righteousness of Christ. He is the only city that gives what you truly need: a love that satisfies and a grace that forgives.

As Tim Keller put it, “Jesus is the only God whom, when you find Him, will satisfy you, and when you fail Him, will forgive you.”

The world offers you cities that crumble. Jesus offers one that cannot be shaken.

Erosions of Faith

Hebrews 12:14–17, 25–29)

I want to talk about something today that might not make headlines, but it’s silently pulling the spiritual foundation out from under many believers. No, I’m not talking about some dramatic moral failure or public apostasy. I’m talking about termites. That’s right—termites.

You don’t usually see them. They don’t knock politely and ask permission to eat your house. They just do it—quietly, consistently, and destructively. And by the time you notice the damage? You're holding a $15,000 estimate and wondering how in the world this happened.

The author of Hebrews warns us that the same thing can happen to your faith. Not with a bang, but with a slow spiritual erosion. You’re still going to church, still in the right crowd, maybe even still singing the songs—but your heart is drifting. It’s dulled. Hollow. Like a shell with no soul. That’s the danger.

So the author gives us a few termites to watch out for.

Termite #1: Division (v.14)

“Pursue peace with all men…” (NASB 1995)

Now, let’s be real. Pursuing peace sounds nice in theory—until you meet people. People are complicated. People can be rude. People can make holidays feel like hostage negotiations.

But the writer says, pursue peace. That means, you go first. Yes, even if you’re the one who was wronged. And that’s hard. Why? Because your pride starts whispering, “Defend yourself! Don’t let them win!” You start protecting your little kingdom—your “city.”

But when you forgive, when you serve, when you lay down your rights for someone else’s good, you stop fighting for your city and start living for Christ’s city.

I once heard a story about a Christian woman in Africa who had been in a land dispute with a neighbor. When missionaries came to share Christ, she said, “How can I tell him about Jesus if I’ve been arguing with him about the land?” So she let it go. Why? Because some things are more important than dirt. Like someone’s eternity.

Termite #2: Worldliness (v.14)

“...and the sanctification without which no one will see the Lord.”

Holiness isn’t just wearing long skirts or throwing away your secular music (though some of you should probably do the second one). Holiness means being set apart. It means you don’t think, talk, or react like the world does—because you belong to someone else.

And worldliness? It’s not always overtly evil. Often, it’s just a slow preoccupation with earthly things—new toys, social media, constant entertainment. Things that aren’t bad in themselves, but become distractions from the God who saved you.

Hebrews says pursue holiness—hunt it down like Jason Bourne on a mission. The Greek word literally means to chase, persecute, or hunt. Holiness isn’t something that just lands in your lap while you binge-watch Netflix. It’s uphill. Like riding a bike. Stop pedaling, and you go backward.

As Spurgeon said:

“You will never gain holiness by standing still... Sin will grow without sowing, but holiness needs cultivation.”

That means you feed your soul. Scripture. Prayer. God-honoring community. Worship. Get in a small group, listen to the Bible in your car, swap one podcast for one passage. I know some of you say, “Well, I’m not a reader.” Then become one. Or at least become a listener. Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly—because without holiness, you will not see the Lord (v.14). That’s not a suggestion. That’s a warning.

Termite #3: Bitterness and Idolatry (v.15)

“See to it that no one comes short of the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springing up causes trouble, and by it many be defiled.”

Bitterness is like spiritual Roundup™—except it kills the wrong plants and lets the weeds flourish. It starts small, underground, but it can spread and poison everyone around you.

Hebrews references Esau here—a man who traded the eternal for a bowl of soup. I mean, who trades a birthright for some lentils? (Lentils, y’all!) But we do the same every time we sell our spiritual inheritance for a few moments of comfort or fleeting pleasure.

Worldly pleasures can become so addictive that they numb you to eternity. One article in Rolling Stone described parties that began on Friday and didn’t end until Monday. And what’s left afterward? Emptiness. Shame. Confusion. That’s the fruit of idolatry—it feels good for a moment but leaves you hollow for a lifetime.

Pascal said it best:

“Immorality can murder your soul by keeping it from thinking about eternity.”

Termite #4: Indifference to the Gospel (v.25)

“See to it that you do not refuse Him who is speaking…”

This is where it gets real.

The author reminds us that when God spoke at Mount Sinai, the people trembled. But now, He has spoken through His Son—Jesus Christ, who died to save us. And the danger isn’t just ignoring a mountain. It’s ignoring a Savior.

When we treat Jesus like background noise—secondary, optional—we’re not just being spiritually lazy. We’re flirting with destruction. God is not passive about your indifference. He sent His Son to be tortured, shredded, disfigured, nailed naked to a cross in broad daylight—for you. And if you treat that casually, what hope is left?

As J.C. Ryle wrote:

“God is serious in observing us—Christ is serious in His death for us—the Spirit is serious in striving with us... why then should we not be serious, too?”

I’m not up here telling jokes. I’m preaching to save lives. Eternity is not a game. Your kids are watching you. Your friends are learning from you. The termites may be silent, but their damage is loud—and lasting.

Conclusion

The greatest threat to your faith may not be a crisis—but a slow drift.

Division eats away your love for others.

Worldliness dulls your passion for God.

Bitterness hardens your heart.

Indifference deafens you to God’s voice.

So check your foundation. What’s eating at you? What’s growing unnoticed in your heart?

The unshakeable city isn’t built on pride, comfort, or ease. It’s built on Jesus. But you’ve got to clear out the termites. You’ve got to pursue holiness like it matters—because it does.