A Greater Righteousness (19)

The Sermon on the Mount • Sermon • Submitted • Presented • 43:45
0 ratings
· 2 views"Do not lead us into temptation" (Matthew 6:13). Does God put us in the fire? James says God tempts no one, but testing and temptation can feel the same. What separates them is intent: Satan brings the flame to consume, and the Father allows it to refine. From Jesus in the wilderness to the fourth man in Daniel's furnace, God doesn't always keep us out of the fire, but He walks through it with us. The furnace refines. The Father remains.
Files
Notes
Transcript
Handout
Greeting
Download BoS ...
intro video to play at the beginning of the service
1st teaching video to add to next week’s presentation
Announce text: Matthew 6:9-13
Key Text: Matthew 6:9-13
Introduction
ME — Orientation
“Help! Save me! Help! Save me!”
The cry for help was barely noticeable amidst the conversations taking place in our kitchen, but someone heard it, and hushing the crowd, emphatically instructed everyone, “Listen!”
“Help! Save me! Help! Save me!”
That time, everyone heard it! Though the cry seemed distant, we could make out enough of the voice to recognize who it belonged to. It was my baby brother—who was probably about 4 or 5 years old at the time—who was crying for help.
How could this be? Wasn’t he just here a few minutes ago? Yet, the sound was coming from somewhere outside. A sense of dread settled over the group, and in a panicked state matching the desperate cries of the one in trouble, we urgently split off in different directions on a rescue mission unsure of what we would discover.
Have you ever been in a situation like that? Can you relate? The fear? The panic? The anxiety? Maybe you were on the other end, and you were the one needing urgent help.
Some of us went out the back door, others went out the side door, and others began searching the house—just in case.
Well, it didn’t take long to discover where my little brother was and what the source of his despair was about.
He went upstairs into my parents’ bedroom, opened the door to the back porch, and that’s where he was stuck. You see, the porch had about a 4–5 inch drop when you crossed the threshold. And it had a slatted fence of sorts around the side and back with just enough space for his head to fit through. Those who went out the kitchen door onto the porch directly beneath quickly realized the sound was above them. They walked down the steps, out into the yard, turned around and looked—and the panic they were feeling turned to laughter at the comedic sight before them. Tiny hands on either spindle beside him, head poking through the slat, on his knees, still crying out, “Help! Save me! Help! Save me!”
The dilemma he faced that struck fear in his little heart was that when he stepped out onto the porch, he was too short to reach the door handle on the other side because of the 4-inch drop. He was stuck. Stranded. No way of escape on his own. He couldn’t “save” himself. He needed someone else to “rescue” him.
That wasn’t his problem, however. You see, the problem was that none of us were allowed into mom and dad’s bedroom. It was their sanctuary. They kept secrets in there—birthday presents, Christmas presents—that we were not allowed to know about. They had given us each instructions—a warning—that we were not allowed to enter their bedroom without permission.
On one rare occasion, when we were all in their bedroom—probably to cool off, because it was the only room in the house with A/C—I remember them giving my brother a stern warning as he approached that door: he was not allowed to go onto the porch—EVER!
Yet on this occasion, the temptation was simply too great. He took advantage of the moment. When everyone was distracted in conversation and not paying attention to him, he disappeared, went upstairs, made his way into mom and dad’s bedroom, proceeded out the back door—and was trapped!
A favorite quote of my mom and dad’s just popped into my head: “Be sure your sin will find you out!” King James language we were fluent in as kids, so allow me to translate: “Don’t sneak around trying to get away with something you’re not supposed to do, because you will get caught!” Somehow, mom always had that intuition to know when we were up to no good.
I don’t remember if my brother was ever disciplined for that infraction—somehow, I doubt it. He never had to eat any vegetables he didn’t like, either—while I, as the oldest, paved the way by getting the timer set on me after everyone else left the table, because I still refused to eat those awful carrots that always made me wretch. Not that I have unresolved issues or anything.
No, I’m sure it was one of those moments when, as a parent, you make a decision knowing the event was traumatic enough to teach the lesson better than any spanking ever could.
WE — Identification
You know, that’s a funny story, but aren’t we often a lot like my younger brother in that context? We know we shouldn’t do something, but the temptation is just too great—we give in to the temptation, sin takes root, and we’re trapped, often feeling the guilt and shame that accompanies the after-the-fact emotions that we wrestle with—the conviction of the intimate knowledge of our sin.
Sometimes, it might be a one-time sin, while at other times, we find ourselves trapped feeling like there is no way of escape from our sin. We just know it will happen again, and we feel powerless to stop it.
And I suspect some of us are sitting on that porch this morning. A door you keep opening even though you’ve been warned about it. A screen you keep unlocking at 11:30 at night. A temper, a bottle, a bank account, a habit—something you have named and confessed and buried, and it keeps climbing back up the stairs. And you’re on your knees with your hands on the spindles praying the only prayer you’ve got left: “Help. Save me.”
And for some of you it isn’t sin at all. It’s just fire. A diagnosis. A layoff. A marriage that’s gone quiet. A kid who won’t come home. You didn’t sneak out onto any porch—you were just living your life and the door shut behind you anyway.
So here’s the question I want to put in front of us, and I want to ask it honestly: Does God put us out there? Is He the one who set this up? Because there is a line in the prayer we pray in this room that sure sounds like He might. Let’s not tiptoe around it. Let’s see how Jesus addressed this and what He was actually saying while He was teaching His disciples to pray.
Announce text again: Matthew 6:9-13
Scripture Reading
Scripture Reading
9 “Pray, then, in this way: ‘Our Father who is in heaven, Hallowed be Your name.
10 ‘Your kingdom come. Your will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.
11 ‘Give us this day our daily bread.
12 ‘And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 ‘And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.’
Prayer for added blessing to the reading of the Word
◆ PRAYER
“Father, we have prayed this line so many times we can say it in our sleep. Wake us up to it this morning. Some of us are in the fire right now and we are asking You to put it out. Before You answer that, would You show us what You are doing in it? Holy Spirit, do what only You can do—take these words off the page and put them in our hearts. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Message
Message
The title for today’s message is Refined By Fire: The Strength of Faith Tested. We’re going to dive into several passages this morning, and you can see them listed in your bulletin along with the bottom line up front: Each trial we encounter is a step towards becoming who God desires us to be, proving that our struggles serve a greater purpose in our spiritual formation and the testimony of God's faithfulness in our lives.
Now, you can take that statement home with you and chew on it this week, but here is a creative, re-imagined version that might help it sink in a little better. Six words, and I’m going to say them a lot this morning:
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
The furnace refines—that’s what the fire is for. The Father remains—that’s who is in it with you. Hold on to both halves, because if you drop either one you end up with a God who is cruel or a God who is absent, and He is neither.
I really appreciate how Holy Spirit has been speaking to me lately. The last few weeks, as I read the next verse we are going to cover, He immediately brings to mind a corresponding example—or in this case, examples—to drive home what the Father is saying to us.
GOD — Illumination
1. Two Little Words: “In” and “Into”
Before we get into that, look at the words Jesus is using here, because this whole petition turns on a preposition. “Do not lead us into temptation.” Into. Not in. Into.
Years ago I was out hiking Paria Canyon with a couple of buddies. We were following a stream down through the narrows, and the guys up ahead of me kept calling back: “Come on—go a little further. It’s really cool over there.” So I did what you do when your friends say it’s cool over there. And a few steps later the streambed I was walking in quit acting like a streambed and started acting like quicksand.
Now listen to two different sentences you could use to describe that afternoon. My buddies led me into that mess. And when I was stuck in it, somebody had to lead me out of it. Led into. Led in. Two prepositions. Two completely different stories. One is being walked into a trap. The other is being walked through one.
◆ DELIVERY NOTE — fill in your own detail here (who was with you, how deep, how you got out). Keep it short—90 seconds max. The payoff is the preposition, not the adventure.
Here’s the thing: both sentences were true that day. And I think both of them are true of the wilderness.
The verb Jesus uses is eisphérō—to bring into, to carry into. It’s entry language. Some translations soften it—the New Living Translation says “don’t let us yield to temptation”—and honestly, the early church softened it too; Cyprian and Augustine both reworded it to “do not permit us to be led.” Because the plain reading makes us squirm.
Now hold that next to Matthew 4:1:
1 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
Different verb—anagō, to lead up—same direction. Into.
And the noun is identical in both verses: peirasmos. And Beloved, peirasmos will not sit still in English. It can mean temptation—a pull toward evil. And it can mean testing—a trial designed to prove something is strong. Same word. Two opposite intentions. So the question isn’t just what is happening to me. The question is who is doing it, and what is He after.
2. Tested, Not Tempted: God Is Not the Tempter
So what did Jesus mean? Is He saying God is responsible for temptation? Let’s look at another Scripture to answer this question. James 1:13–14:
13 Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil, and He Himself does not tempt anyone.
14 But each one is tempted when he is carried away and enticed by his own lust.
That settles it. God is not standing in the shadows of your life baiting a hook. James says the bait is already in you—it’s your own desire that carries you away, the same way my brother’s own curiosity carried him up those stairs. Nobody made him open that door.
So Jesus is not teaching us to pray against His own Father. Then what is He teaching us? Here’s the distinction, and I want you to write this one down. Testing and temptation wear the exact same clothes. What separates them is not the heat. What separates them is the intent.
Your adversary the devil, Peter says, “prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” That’s the intent behind temptation. Devour. Destroy. He is not curious about your character—he is hunting for your collapse.
But our God—who never tempts anyone—takes the very thing the enemy intends for harm and puts it to work for good. He allows it. Not to break you, but to reveal what’s in you, so you can see it and let Him heal it. And here’s the part that stops me cold: sometimes He appears to invite it. Job chapter one—who brings up Job’s name? Satan doesn’t. God does. “Have you considered My servant Job?”
Same fire. Two purposes. Satan brings the flame to consume you. The Father allows the flame to conform you. That’s why one Greek word carries both meanings—because from the inside, on the day it’s happening, a test and a temptation feel identical. You cannot tell them apart by how hot it is. You can only tell them apart by whose voice you’re listening to while you’re in it.
And hear me—testing is not punishment. It’s part of the sanctifying work God is doing in you, which means even your failures are progress, because a failure exposes something you didn’t know was still there. God is not surprised by what the fire reveals. He already knew. The fire wasn’t for His information. It was for yours.
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
3. He Prays This From Experience (Matthew 4:1–11)
I don’t know about you, but when I read that phrase, I am reminded of something we have briefly touched on in this series—the story of Jesus being led into the wilderness. And don’t you think that was on Jesus’ mind when He taught His disciples this prayer?
Ask the obvious question: who led Him out there? It wasn’t the evil one. Matthew says the Spirit did it. Mark uses a verb so strong it means the Spirit drove Him out there. The Holy Spirit walked Jesus into the ring.
And notice the timing. This is immediately after His baptism, where the heavens open and the Father says, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased.” Then—forty days, no food, and a voice starts in on Him: “If You are the Son of God… If You are the Son of God…” The enemy always attacks the last thing God said about you.
And what did Jesus reach for? Not a debate. Not a miracle. Three words, three times: “It is written.” Every verse He quoted came out of Deuteronomy—the book about a people who spent forty years in a wilderness and failed the very same tests. Israel had forty years and folded. Jesus had forty days and did not.
So when this same Jesus sits down on a hillside and says, “Pray this: do not lead us into temptation”—He isn’t reading it off a card. He’s remembering. He knows what a wilderness costs.
He isn’t contradicting Scripture or short-circuiting a work the Father wants to do in us. He is instructing the disciples to pray they are not led into the kind of temptation that is beyond what they are capable of enduring. He knows the wilderness, and He knows them. He knows the spirit is willing and the flesh is weak—He will say those exact words to these exact men in a garden, on the worst night of their lives, right before He says it one more time: “Keep watching and praying that you may not enter into temptation.”
So this prayer is a confession. For the disciples, it’s a grown man admitting he is not as strong as he thinks or tells people he is, and it’s the same for us. That’s not weak faith—that’s honest faith.
And one more thing you can’t miss. Luke ends the wilderness account like this: “When the devil had finished every temptation, he left Him until an opportune time.” Until. He came back through Judas. He came back through the crowd at the cross yelling the same line—“If You are the Son of God, come down.” Satan doesn’t retire. He reschedules. Which is why this is a daily prayer—Jesus put it in the same breath as daily bread for a reason.
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
4. The Fourth Man (Daniel 3:16–18, 25–27)
Now let me take you to a furnace. Babylon. A ninety-foot statue, an orchestra, and one command: when the music plays, everybody bows. Three Hebrew young men don’t bow. The king gives them one more chance, and here is what they say:
17 “If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will deliver us out of your hand, O king.
18 “But even if He does not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.”
Three statements. He is able. He will. But even if He does not. Beloved, that third sentence is where faith actually lives. Anybody can trust God for a rescue they’ve already been promised. “But even if He does not” is faith with no exit strategy.
So the king heats the furnace seven times hotter—he’s so angry he kills his own soldiers doing it—and in they go, tied up, fully clothed. And then Nebuchadnezzar leaps to his feet:
25 He said, “Look! I see four men loosed and walking about in the midst of the fire without harm, and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods!”
Now catch what God did not do. He did not talk the king out of it. He did not cool the furnace. He did not unlock the door at the last second. And yet—nothing burned. Nothing except one thing.
They went in bound. The king sees them loosed. The only thing that fire consumed was the rope.
And when they came out, verse 27:
show v. and skip to line after it
27 ... the fire had no effect on the bodies of these men nor was the hair of their head singed, nor were their trousers damaged, nor had the smell of fire even come upon them.
the fire had no effect on their bodies, not a hair on their heads was singed, their clothes weren’t damaged, and—I love this detail—they didn’t even smell like smoke.
God did not deliver them from the fire. He delivered them in it, and then out of it. That is the pattern all through your Bible. Daniel wasn’t kept out of the lions’ den; he was kept safe inside of it. Paul wasn’t kept out of the prison; he sang in it at midnight. Isaiah 43:2:
2 “... When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you.
Not around it. Through it. He doesn’t promise to put out the flame. He promises something better—Immanuel. God with us.
He is the fourth man in the fire. He is in the dark shadows of the lion’s den. He is in the stale, smelly prison cell. He is walking right there with you.
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
5. “But Deliver Us”
Which brings us to the second half of verse 13—and this is what Jesus actually teaches us to pray for: “but deliver us from evil”—or better, from the evil one.
Deliver is a rescue word. It means we don’t need a little assistance in this fight; we need to be hauled out by somebody else. It’s an admission that if I go up against the evil one on my own strength, I lose. Every time. And notice how Jesus prays it for us in John 17: “I do not ask You to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one.” Not our evacuation. Our preservation. Paul says the same thing:
13 No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.
Read the last words again. So that you will be able to endure it. The way of escape isn’t always a door out of the room. Sometimes the way of escape is the strength to still be standing there in the morning.
And here is what Holy Spirit put on my heart this week. He promised He would never leave us or forsake us. So He doesn’t just provide the way of escape—He is the way of escape. He is the way out because He is the One who walks it with you.
This is the Egypt template, Beloved. God delivered Israel from Pharaoh—but He did it by walking them into a sea. How many times did God deliver the children of Israel? How many times did He deliver their fathers? How many times has He delivered you? Most of you could stand up right now and testify about a fire you were sure would finish you. It didn’t. He was in it.
One warning before we move on, and this one steps on my toes. The most natural thing in the world when the heat comes up is to look for the exit. But if you bail the second the pressure is applied, you forfeit everything God designed in it for you. You don’t get the crown by dodging the trial. You get it by refusing to sin your way out of it.
So, pj … What’s the point?
Conclusion
Conclusion
◆ DELIVERY NOTE — drop your volume here. Slow. This is the hinge of the whole message.
“Until an opportune time.” Remember that line? The opportune time came in a garden.
Jesus takes three men to Gethsemane, tells them to watch and pray that they don’t enter into temptation, walks a stone’s throw away, and prays the prayer He taught us. “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.” That is “deliver us from evil,” prayed by the Son of God, out loud, with His face in the dirt. Luke says He was in agony and His sweat became like drops of blood.
And the Father said no. He said no because there was no other way for us to be delivered. So the Son said, “yet not as I will, but as You will,” got up, and walked into the furnace.
And when He got there—here is the part I cannot get over—there was no fourth man in His fire. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” The One who is always with us was, for those hours, without. He went into that fire alone so that you would never have to walk into yours alone.
That’s why Hebrews says we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. He is not coaching you from the sidelines. He has been in the ring.
And that’s why Peter can call your trial a refining—“the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire.” The silversmith holds the metal in the flame not to ruin it but to bring the impurities up where he can lift them off. And how does he know when it’s finished? When he can see his own face in it.
That is what your Father is doing in your fire. He is not after your destruction. He is after His reflection.
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
YOU — Application
So here’s what I’m asking you to do this week. Not a life-altering decision. Not a vow you’ll break by Thursday. Seven days, three moves. Name it. Arm it. Pray it.
Name it. One thing. Not your whole list—the one you already thought of twice while I was preaching. The door you keep opening. Say it out loud to God today by its actual name, not the polite version of it.
Arm it. Pick one verse that speaks directly to that one thing. Just one. Write it on a card, put it on your bathroom mirror or your dashboard, and have it memorized by Wednesday. Then when the pull comes—and it will, probably before lunch on Monday—do what Jesus did in the wilderness. Say it out loud. “It is written.” The enemy is not impressed by your willpower. He has never once been impressed by mine. He does leave when you open the Book.
Pray it. Every morning this week, before your feet hit the floor, pray Matthew 6:13 out loud and put your one thing in it by name. “Father, do not lead me into ______, but deliver me from the evil one.” Seven mornings. That’s it.
And one piece of ordinary wisdom to go with it: watch and pray means both words. The praying part asks God for strength. The watching part means you quit strolling past the door. You know where your weak points are. Stay out of the neighborhood.
◆ PASTORAL NOTE
Say plainly: if what you are carrying is bigger than a card on a mirror—addiction, abuse, trauma, thoughts of harming yourself—this is not a do-it-yourself project. Invite them to you, to an elder, or to a counselor, and give a next step before they leave the building.
WE — Inspiration
Now lift your eyes for a minute and imagine what this looks like if a whole church does it.
Imagine a Libby First Church of the Nazarene where nobody has to pretend they’re not in a fire. Where “how are you doing?” gets a real answer in the foyer, and the answer doesn’t scare anybody off. Where we quit hiding our furnaces and start walking each other through them—because we finally believe the heat isn’t a sign God left.
Imagine what our kids inherit if they grow up watching their parents get tested and not fold. Not perfect people—people who know where the Book is and how to pray one verse out loud on a hard Monday.
And imagine this valley watching ordinary people walk through layoffs and diagnoses and heartbreak—and come out the other side not even smelling like smoke. Nebuchadnezzar didn’t worship because three men stayed out of the fire. He worshiped because they went in and Somebody was in there with them.
Beloved, the fire is coming. It came for Jesus. It came for Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego. It will come for you and it will come for me. But you are not walking in there alone, and you are not walking in there for nothing.
The furnace refines. The Father remains.
Let’s pray.
Prayer & introspection
invite ushers for Communion
23 For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus in the night in which He was betrayed took bread;
24 and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”
The body of Christ broken (distributed) and given for you.
25 In the same way He took the cup also after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood; do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.”
26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.
The blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ, shed for us. For ...
22 ... without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.
… of our sins.
Closing prayer & benediction
The Lord bless you, and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance on you,
And give you peace.’
Scripture records the following words in v.27:
“So whenever they use my name to bless the Israelites, I will bless them.”
So, receive and go with the blessings of YAHWEH!
