Expedient Religion | Sunday, October 6, 2024

Good morning, Cross Connection Church. You can have a seat if you will. We're going to get into the Scriptures in just a moment, so if you have a Bible, you might want to take that out. If you don't have a Bible, you can raise your hand, and one of our ushers will give you one.

I was sending a message to a group of friends of mine, a pastor's group, this morning to wish one of my friends a happy birthday. My friend David Guzik's birthday is today, and he responded back, saying, "The only thing I want for Christmas or for my birthday is for the Dodgers to win again tonight." I normally would not pray against someone getting their birthday wish, but in this case, I sure hope not.

So, good morning! We are going to be in the Book of Judges this morning, which is the seventh book of the Bible. If you take out your Bibles, open to Judges. Judges chapter 17 is where we are.

You know, there are certain things in life that you recognize as you look back on them after a number of years. Those events or circumstances can end up being somewhat formative for you in your life, shaping the way you think. Maybe it was something of a crossroads for you. Just those words, Judges chapter 17, bring to mind something for me that was relatively formative.

It was actually about 25 years ago now that a friend of mine gave me an audio file—not a cassette, but an MP3 file. It was for a message from Judges chapter 17, delivered about 60 years ago, in 1963 or 1964, I believe. It was at a Bible conference in upstate New York where a former missionary and then pastor preached to a group of people this message from Judges chapter 17 called "Ten Shekels and a Shirt."

A friend of mine gave me the audio file of this message probably at the end of 1999 or maybe the beginning of 2000. I didn't realize it at the time, but after I had listened to this message over and over again—so much that I could almost quote it from beginning to end, much like I can with the words from "Top Gun"—the words of this message are fresh in my mind. I had not listened to it for...

Probably 20 years ago, last Sunday, knowing that we would be in Judges chapter 17 this morning, I brought it up on my phone. I went on a walk Sunday afternoon last week and listened to the message again. I could anticipate everything that the man was about to say because it was still fresh in my mind. Looking back on it now, over many years, I realize that that message ended up being formative. From my perspective, it fundamentally changed my view on many different aspects of my life as a follower of God, as a Christian, and as a servant of God. It is a convicting message, and more on that in a moment.

We just finished a four-week series here at the church in Judges chapters 13-16, talking about Samson, the man who was strong but had weak character. I'm going to keep that theme, even though last Sunday we saw the death of Samson in Judges chapter 16. We will maintain that theme, even though we are not talking about Samson any longer, because in these last five chapters of the Book of Judges, we find a number of other individuals who also have weak character.

What we find in Judges chapters 17-21 is a striking, sobering, and sad story about Israel during this period in their history, some 3,200 years ago. The reason this is such a sad and sobering passage of Scripture, especially with some of the stories that occur in this section, is that you look at it and wonder how something like this could happen among the people who are called the people of God. These are the individuals who were in a covenant relationship with the one true God. You think that should at least influence their lives so that they might have high moral standing or good character. Yet, when you look at what happens in this section, you just wonder what on Earth is happening with these people.

You might ask how it could be. Well, this period of Israel's history is characterized by what becomes a repeated refrain here in this section. We find it for the first time in verse 6 of Judges 17. If you have your Bibles open, look at the end of Judges 17:6. It says, "In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in their own eyes." The same thing is repeated in Judges 18:1: "In those days there was no king in Israel." Then again in Judges...

Chapter 19, verse one states, "In those days there was no king in Israel." Those are powerful, heavy words. In those days, there was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes. This is the period of Israel's history leading up to the point where they would go to the last judge of the nation, Samuel, and say to him, "We want a king to rule over us like all the other nations."

At this point in Israel's history, there was no king by design. God intended that He would be their ruler, their king, and their authority. They would not need an earthly king; they would be directed by His law and His commandments. They would have judges, rulers, and leaders in their areas, both small and large, to help direct them and lead them in the way they ought to walk before God. These leaders were meant to remind them of what God had told them to do, so they would walk in righteousness before Him.

However, when you follow the story of their history, you realize that this did not happen at all. In those days, there was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes. Those words illustrate the spirit of the age in Israel 3,200 years ago. If you think about it, those days also illustrate the spirit of our time. In our day, there is no single ruling moral standard that people agree upon, especially in Western postmodern culture. As a result, everyone does what is right in his own eyes.

The man who preached that message 60 years ago was Paris Reidhead. His message, titled "Ten Shekels and a Shirt," addressed the ruling philosophy of our day, which he identified as pragmatism. He spoke about what he called utilitarian religion, expedient Christianity, and a useful God. In his message, he called out what had become a humanistic bent in our theology, reducing everything in our mindset to this: the end of all being is the happiness of man. Everything exists to make us happy, and the challenge with that is that we...

We can take that thought process, which is pervasive in our culture and has been for a very long time, and see how it finds its way into the church and the gospel. The gospel becomes an appeal to people, saying, "Come to Jesus so that you can be happy." This is the problem with the way we preach the gospel today. The message essentially becomes that God reigns in heaven to make man happy.

There is a challenge with this perspective. As we study the Scriptures, from Genesis to Revelation, we see that the message of God reveals a reality: a byproduct of salvation, a result of the gospel, is joy, peace, hope, and a greater level of satisfaction. There is some minor truth in the idea that one of the results of the gospel and our receiving it is that it transforms our perspective, allowing us to experience joy. In fact, Peter talks about a joy inexpressible.

However, the danger arises when we tweak this idea to suggest that God exists in heaven solely to make man happy. We can start to relate to God in that way, but the reality is quite the opposite. We exist in this world to serve and bring Him glory. This is what the Reformers stated in the Westminster Shorter Catechism: "What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." One of the results of glorifying God is enjoyment, but we often make the point of salvation and the point of the gospel our pleasure, joy, and happiness.

Thus, the end of all being becomes the happiness of man. This sort of thinking is not just pervasive in our culture; it also infiltrates our Christian lives and affects the way we perceive things. The difficulty with this concept is that it is so pernicious because there are aspects of it that are essentially true. I would call this an evil lie.

All lies are morally wrong, but certain kinds of lies carry an added level of evil. What kind of lie would that be? It is the lie that is 95% true but just slightly off, to the point that it becomes devastating and dangerous. It seems so true and so right, yet this through line is so dangerous that it...

Destroys everything. It's that kind of lie that was presented to Eve by the serpent in Genesis chapter 3. When the serpent came to Eve and said, "Has God said, 'You shall not eat of all the trees in the garden?'" she replied, "Well, we may eat of all the trees in the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the midst of the garden, we shall not eat of it, nor shall we touch it, lest we die."

Then the serpent, seizing upon that minor change she made—"nor shall we touch it"—said, "You shall not surely die, for God knows that in the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened, and you shall know good from evil, and you shall be like God." There is so much of what the serpent says that seems to be right and true, but it is a devastating and dangerous lie.

There are these lies that are evil, similar to what Satan, the devil, tempted Christ with in Matthew chapter 4. The temptation of Jesus presents three temptations that use Scripture. They are using the Bible, but they are out of context or just a minor degree off, and they become incredibly dangerous.

Happiness, enjoyment, joy, and satisfaction are a byproduct of the Gospel; they are a result of being saved. We are most satisfied, most content, and most happy, I believe, when we are living fully in Christ. I think that is true, and I think you can support that with Scripture. However, God does not redeem us to make us happy. That's not His point. His aim is not just to make us happy, but there is a way in which we have spun the presentation of the message where it is a man-centered gospel and not a Christocentric gospel. This is devastatingly dangerous because, in some ways, it creates what we might call stony ground hearers.

What is a stony ground hearer? If you ever study through the teachings of Jesus, you'll come to His parables. His most famous parable is called the Parable of the Sower. The sower went out to sow seed, and the seed is the Word of God. The soil represents the hearts of men, as Jesus says. He explains that some of the seed was scattered on ground that didn't have any depth of earth. It sprang up quickly; the heart, which is the soil, received the Word of God and sprang up quickly, but it did not bring forth any fruit. Why? Because the sun came and burned it out, and it became stony.

Ground here and what is the sun? Jesus says, "Well, the sun is difficulty and trials." It may be that you've met a person, or maybe you even have a person in your family, who says something like this: "I tried that Christianity thing; it didn't work for me." I've heard that more times than I can count. They say, "I tried that Jesus thing; it didn't work for me."

What were they given? They were given a message that says, "Come to Jesus so that you can be happy." Paris Reidhead says we present the gospel in a way that it's like we'll put some springs on your wagon and make it a little bit better. We'll put some sugar in the bitter coffee so that it's a little bit better along the way. That's the way in which we can spin the message.

God redeemed you and me not just to make us happy, although it is true that a byproduct of the gospel, the result of receiving Christ Jesus, is enjoyment. He redeemed us because He is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us. He redeemed us because He is full of grace. By grace, we are saved. Paul said in Ephesians 2:4, "Why did He redeem us? Why does He redeem us?"

He redeems us because we are dead in our trespasses and sins and in desperate need of a Savior, or else we are going to experience hellfire, judgment, and punishment for our sin. He saved us by His grace through faith, and that not of ourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.

As a result of His salvation, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. He saved us because we had no hope and were without God in this world, far from God. But now, in Christ, we have peace, hope, and joy inexpressible. However, the peace, joy, and enjoyment of being saved are results of salvation, but that's not salvation's primary purpose. That's not the focus of salvation.

Now, Judges chapter 17 is not necessarily focusing on these specific things here, but the last five chapters of the Book of Judges present a series of situations in which the people of God, Israel, are effectively God's people in name only. They are not really walking in righteousness before God.

A right relationship with God can sometimes devolve into mere religious ritual and expression. People may do all the right things at the right times and in the right ways, but there is a challenge in religion: it can lead us into a routine of following rote rituals. We may expect a certain outcome, thinking that if we do this, this, this, and this, then this is what will happen. This is essentially what Israel was doing at this point in their history, and it is a pattern we can fall into as well.

Perhaps some of you have experienced this. I grew up in the Episcopal Church, which means that if you take me to an Episcopal or even a Catholic church today, I know all the proper responses, like saying "and also with you." I am familiar with the rituals: when to stand, sit, kneel, and make the sign of the cross. While these practices are not necessarily bad, there is a tendency to think that if we just perform these rituals, attend mass or church at the appropriate times of the year, observe Lent and Advent, and go through all these motions, everything will work out perfectly.

At that time, God's people in Israel were living in a similar manner. Their association with God was in title only; they were God's chosen people, yet they had rejected His rule and authority in their daily lives. God's rule and authority no longer governed their actions. Why? Because there was no king in Israel, and therefore everyone did what was right in his own eyes. As a result, the opening of the Book of Judges, which we looked at at the beginning of the year in Judges chapter 2, states that they did evil in the sight of the Lord.

Without the rule or authority of God in their lives, they acted according to their own judgment, leading to actions that were evil in the sight of the Lord. Their relationship with God had become purely religious, and their religious rituals were merely a means to get ahead in life. Their faith had become utilitarian, expedient, and pragmatic. Judges chapters 17 and 18 illustrate this perfectly. If you have your Bible open, look at Judges chapter 17.

There was a man from the mountains of Ephraim whose name was Micah. He said to his mother, "The 1,100 shekels of silver that were taken from you, and on which you put a curse, even saying it in my ears, here the silver is with me. I took it." His mother said, "May you be blessed by the Lord, my son."

So he returned the 1,100 shekels of silver to his mother. She said, "I had wholly dedicated the silver from my hand to the Lord for my son to make a carved image and a molded image. Now therefore, I will return it back to you." He returned the silver to his mother, and she took 200 shekels of silver and gave them to the silversmith. The silversmith made it into a carved image, an idol, a molded image, and they were in the household of Micah.

The man Micah had a shrine. He made an ephod, which is the outer robe that a priest would wear when performing his priestly duties in the Tabernacle. He made an ephod and a household of idols, creating a little temple on his property. He consecrated one of his sons, who became his priest.

In those days, there was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes. The basic story structure is simple. There is this man Micah who appears out of nowhere in Judges chapter 17. We have no information about him other than that he lived in the mountains of Ephraim, which is the northernmost part of the nation of Israel today, right on the border of Lebanon and Syria, a region that is kind of in the news today.

At this point in Israel's history, if you were going to serve God or worship God, you would have to travel a significant distance down to a place called Shiloh, which was in the mountains of Judah. This was pretty far from the mountains of Ephraim. In Shiloh was the Tabernacle, the Ark of the Covenant, and the Levites, the priests who would be able to lead the people in worship.

You can see the challenge. You didn't have a car at that point in time, and you didn't really have a chariot either. Living very far away, the walking distance was probably a three-day journey just to get there. It made the whole worshiping God thing quite difficult. It would be so much easier if one didn't have to jump through all those hoops and do all those things.

So here's the situation: Micah's mother had 1,100 shekels of silver, which is a lot.

Of silver, it's about $60,000 by today's evaluation. It's kind of fascinating because in the previous chapter, there was this woman named Delilah. She was given 1,100 shekels of silver by a group of Philistines who enticed her to seduce Samson to kill him. So, there's a funny connection here. There have been some rabbis and some Christians who think that there might be a connection, suggesting that this guy Micah could be the son of Samson. It's probably not, but there is this interesting connection.

Micah's mom had 1,100 shekels of silver, and one day it goes missing. She's pretty upset about this, so she puts a curse on it. She says, "Damn the one who took this money." That's literally what she said. Don't write me an email about how you shouldn't say that in church; no, that's what she did. She cursed whoever took the money.

At some point down the road, Micah sheepishly goes to his mother and says, "Mom, you know that 1,100 shekels of silver that went missing?" She responds, "Oh yes, damn that person." He continues, "Well, I took it. The silver is with me. I want to give it back to you." She replies, "Oh, bless your heart, my son." Then she says, "You know, I had wholly dedicated that 1,100 shekels of silver to God. I had made it what the Hebrew calls Corban; I had dedicated it to God. But here's what I did: I dedicated it to God so that you could make an idol, so that we could worship God."

There's some weird thinking going on here because they are breaking some of the commandments. Like the first three commandments: "You shall have no other gods before me," God said. "You shall not make for yourself any carved image of any likeness or bow down and worship it." Number three: "You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." One of the ways to take God's name in vain is to worship an idol as if it were God. They are breaking three commandments right off the bat here, not to mention Micah has broken that other challenging commandment: "You shall not steal," or maybe that tenth one: "You shall not covet," or perhaps that fifth one: "You shall honor your father and mother." They are just on a string here of breaking the covenants of God.

But she said, "I had wholly dedicated that to the Lord so that we could make an idol and worship God." You may wonder how this could happen. Well, remember the context: in those days, there was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes.

I had all this extra silver, and I figured it would be a good thing to serve God with it. It seems like a noble thing to do. I got $60,000 in silver, and I'm going to commit it to God to serve Him. So, I'm going to break the first, second, and third commandments, and we're going to make an idol to bow down and worship it.

Point number one, if you're taking notes this morning: human-centered religion seeks to serve God by human-centered means for human-centered ends. As we're going to see as we go through this text, we are really good at justifying our wrong motivations or wrong actions. Sometimes, the ends justify the means.

Micah returned the silver to his mother, and then his mother took 200 shekels of silver and gave them to a silversmith. The silversmith carved it into a molded image, and they were in the house of Micah. It is incredible sometimes the way in which we can justify things in the name of God. We're going to worship God, so we're going to create an idol. There seems to be some sort of disconnect going on here in this passage.

What we have is perfect utilitarian religion. In perfect utilitarian fashion, Micah now has a kind of replica of the temple and a replica of the clothing that a priest would wear in serving in the temple, but he doesn't have a priest. This is a real problem. What's he going to do? He has the right clothes and the right things, but if only he had a priest. He thinks, "Well, I have a son," so he ordained and consecrated one of his sons, probably his firstborn son, to be his own personal private priest.

You have to figure the utilitarian thinking: Jerusalem is a three-day journey. It's a long time to get down to Shiloh. That's a lot of work, and I don't know if I really want to go to all those lengths to actually do that because that actually requires something of me. It would be far easier if I had my own temple at my own house, my own ephod, and my own priest. If I just had all those things, then everything would be awesome.

But human-centered religion seeks to serve God by human-centered means for human-centered ends. What made Micah think he could do this? There was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes. You can justify it: it's so far away, it's such a hard thing, and everybody else is doing it.

Point number two: what is right in our eyes is not always righteous before God.

God, now this whole scenario with Micah, his mom, and his son, whom he ordained as a priest, might seem really strange and foreign to us. It’s 3,200 years ago in a different culture and a different place. How does this translate to 2024? What does this have to do with me?

I would suggest to you that the same sort of thing, in principle, or the same nature of a thing, happens in our time and our place. You might ask, how does that work? It could go something like this, and maybe you've had a conversation like this before. I certainly have, especially with people who are not really churchgoers. They say, "Some people need that church thing; I don't need that church thing. I connect with God in my own way, on my own time, in my own house." Or they might say, "I connect with God out in nature. I don't need that church thing. I don't need to jump through all those hoops that are prescribed by God in the Scriptures. I do my own thing."

Maybe you've met that person. But here's the other challenge: sometimes that person was a churchgoer. In fact, in the post-COVID world that we live in today, I have found that this is more pronounced among Christians than ever before. I had a conversation just yesterday afternoon with a gentleman. I asked him, "So, do you go to church?" He said, "Yeah, we're members of fill-in-the-blank Church," a well-known church in our area. I asked, "Do you go there regularly?" He replied, "Not so much. After COVID, we do church in our own way, in our own home, so I don't really need to do that sort of thing." It becomes a utilitarian, pragmatic sort of thing.

But it doesn't stop there. Look at what happens in Judges 17:7. Now there was a young man, a new individual put into the storyline. There was a young man from Bethlehem in Judah, right down in the hills of Judah, a three-day journey from the hills of Ephraim where Shiloh and the Tabernacle are located. This young man from Bethlehem in Judah was of the family of Judah, and he was a Levite. Wait a minute! Judah, the hills of Bethlehem, that's where the Tabernacle is at Shiloh, and the Levites are the priests—they're the Priestly tribe.

So, there was a man from Bethlehem in Judah, a Levite, and he was staying there. He departed from the city of Bethlehem in Judah to stay wherever he could find a place. He was looking for a place, and then he came to the mountains of Ephraim, to the house of Micah. As he journeyed, Micah said to him, "Where do you come from?" He replied, "I’m a Levite of Bethlehem in Judah."

I'm on my way to find a place to stay. I'm just looking for a place now. Social welfare 3,200 years ago in Israel was not the greatest, unless you were a Levite. If you were a Levite 3,200 years ago in Israel, you had a place to live provided for you by the nation. You had an income and a job given to you because you served in the Tabernacle.

This guy had it all set, but he looked at his cards and thought, "I think I could do better if I went out on my own." He believed that if he found a place to dwell, he could do a lot better for himself than just living in one of these standard nation-provided homes in one of the cities for the Levites and doing work at the Tabernacle. So, he went out to find a place and came to the mountains of Ephraim to Micah's house. He told Micah, "I am a Levite from Bethlehem, Judah. I'm on my way to find a place."

In verse 10, Micah said to him, "Dwell with me and be a father and a priest to me. I will give you ten shekels of silver per year and a suit of clothing. I'll give you ten shekels and a shirt." That's where that title comes from. Micah also promised to provide sustenance. The Levite went in and was content to dwell with the man. The young man became like one of Micah's sons to him. Micah consecrated the Levite, and the young man became his priest and lived in the house of Micah.

Then Micah said, "Here's the kicker." In verse 13, he declared, "Now I know that the Lord will do me good because I have a Levite as my priest." Oh, the plot thickens! Another wrinkle in Micah's story: Micah stole $60,000 worth of silver from his mom. His mom cursed the silver, but he finally had a change of heart and said, "Hey, you know I took the silver." She responded, "Oh, I had wholly dedicated it to the Lord, and I'm going to give it to you. We're going to make our own place of worship."

So, they made an idol and a replica of the temple. They had an ephod, and he set up his son to be a priest. But that's a problem because his son is not a Levite. Then one day, a Levite shows up who is looking for a place. Micah has a place and needs a priest. Micah thinks, "This is the greatest opportunity ever! What awesome fortune we have here! You're a Levite, I need a Levite. You're looking for a place, I have a place. You should be my own personal live-in priest, my own Levite. You come stay with me, I'll give you room and board and an income of ten shekels of silver per year."

Too bad it's better than you're making down there in Shiloh. You should be my live-in priest and come here. This is a spectacular opportunity. Let's make a deal. The Levite was content with the proposal; he was happy with it.

What is Micah's response? He believes he is doing all the things, checking all the boxes, and now he knows that the Lord will do him good because he has a Levite. He finally found the final piece of his puzzle to make everything better. In his message, Paris Rehead says this: Micah wants to have a little chapel, a priest, prayer, and devotion because he knows the Lord will do him good.

However, this is selfishness, and it is sin because it is not in line with what God had called him to do. Point number three: self-centered worship is selfishness and sin. It makes sense; it's pragmatic, utilitarian, and expedient. Micah thinks, "I don't have to go all the way down to Shiloh, a three-day journey, and leave everything here." But it's outside of what God had called him to, so it is therefore sin.

In those days, there was no king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes. Is it much different in our time in the 21st century that we live in? This is a convicting thought. When I listened to that message more than 20 years ago and when I listened to it again last Sunday, it was very convicting. It weighs heavy upon my own heart.

The convicting piece of the puzzle is that I can so easily fall into this expedient, pragmatic sort of view of God, religion, faith, Christianity, and church. It goes something like this: I go to church. I don't just go to church; I serve at the church. I work at the church. I study the Bible, read the Bible, memorize, and teach the Bible. I do all the things.

Oh, and then beyond that, I think I'm an okay husband, I hope, and I'm a pretty good dad, I think. You know what? We are very giving and very hospitable. We have people in our home, and we provide for them. My wife is much better than me, but we try to be really kind. I'm a pretty kind person. I don't lie, I don't cheat, I don't steal, and I try not to do any of those things. I try to do all the right things.

I know the Lord will do me good. I did all the things, but here it goes a step further. I start to say, "I did all the things; you owe me." That's the danger. I did my part, and now you have to do your part. What is that? What is that? I can't quite put my finger on it.

Point number four: self-serving devotion is spiritual harlotry, not worship. What does that mean? Spiritual harlotry is when I do all these devoted, loving things for the payment. I deserve it; you owe me, God. If the motive of my worship, devotion, and love is, "What do I get out of this?" then I am in exactly the same position that the Satan character in Job accused Job of.

There is a great story in the Bible, the Book of Job. Maybe you've read it. There was a man named Job who served God. He was righteous in his generation. He had no idea, but there was a conversation about him between God and this character called the Satan in heaven. God says to this Satan character, "Hey, have you considered my servant Job? He's a righteous man in this generation; he does all the right things."

Satan responds, "Does Job fear you for nothing? Does he serve you for nothing? Have you made a hedge around him, Job 1:10, and his household and all that he has on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But if you stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, he will surely curse you to your face."

What is Satan saying to God? He is saying Job is just a mercenary. He only serves you because you give him good things, and if you took away the good things, he would curse you. He would stop serving you. The only reason he serves you is because you bless him.

God says that you can take everything from him, and he takes everything from Job. However, Job doesn't curse God. Instead, Job's response is amazing. He arose and tore his clothes; he shaved his head, fell on his face to the ground, and worshiped. He said, "Naked I have come into this world, and naked I shall return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." In all this, Job did not curse God; he did not charge God with wrong.

Then there's another conversation. Satan appears before God, and God says, "Hey, have you considered my servant Job? He didn't curse me." Satan replies, "Skin for skin; all that a man has he will give for his life. If you take away his health, he'll curse you." That's a phenomenal statement, and sadly, I think if we honestly assess it, we will recognize it's true of us in our fallen nature. Skin for skin—everything I have, I'll give for my life. Job's health was taken from him, and it's a heavy story.

This confronts us with the question: How do we know if one's devotion is from the right motivation? How do I know if what I'm doing is of the right motivation? I will confess right here from the start that everything I do is not always from the right motivation. I want it to be rightly motivated, but I'm still fallen in my nature. There are ways in which my motivation is not always good. There are times when I have to check my motivation and see if I am doing this for the right reasons. I will boldly confess that the answer is not always yes.

But how do we discover if the motivation is right? I do not like the answer: suffering. I don't like that answer. Maybe that's not the whole answer, but it's at least part of it. I don't like that answer because I don't like to suffer. Can I get an amen? I don't even want you to suffer; we don't want to suffer. But I do know this: I want to be found faithful if I do suffer. I love the way that Paul...

The Apostle in the book of Philippians, chapter 3, speaks about loss. He says in Philippians 3:7, "What things were gained to me, I have counted loss for Christ. Yes, indeed, I count all things as loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things. I count them as trash that I might gain Christ."

What is he saying? He is expressing that he will give up everything in this life to have Him and be found in Him, not having his own righteousness, which is by the law, but that which is through faith in Christ Jesus—the righteousness which is from God by faith. He desires to know Him and the power of His resurrection.

Let me ask you, does anyone here this morning say, "I want to know God in the power of His resurrection?" That sounds good, but it doesn't stop there. He continues, "That I may know Him in the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His suffering, that I may become conformed to His death, if by any means I may attain to the resurrection from the dead."

Point number five, and I will try to wrap it up: true devotion seeks God Himself, not His gifts. I want to confess openly that I don't always meet this perfect call to true devotion that seeks God Himself and not His gifts. If our devotion to God is contingent upon His blessings—"I'll serve You as long as You keep up Your end of the deal"—then we are missing the mark.

Now, I know the Lord will do me good because I went to church today, and I even gave. I might even serve, and maybe I'll read my Bible tomorrow. If our faith is purely contingent upon the blessings we receive, then our faith is conditional and self-centered. True worship is characterized by a desire for God Himself and not just what He can provide.

The story of Micah does not end here. We will see more of it next week, as the Levite's devotion to Micah is going to be tested in the next passage. Micah is paying him ten shekels of silver and providing his food. The plot will thicken some more, but for our purposes this week, it all comes down to this heavy question to think about today and throughout this week: What is my motivation? It's not an easy question to answer.

If you ask me why I became a Christian, my mom tells me I was four and a half years old when I came in and told her that I prayed to receive Jesus as my Lord. Why did I do that? I can somewhat remember. I'll tell you why I did it: I didn't want to go to hell. That's not a wholly terrible reason, but if the only reason I serve God today is because I don't want to go to hell, that's not the right motivation.

If you ask me why, during my teenage years, I tried to be faithful to God, I'll tell you what I was thinking in the 1990s as a Christian teenager. Maybe you had this thought too: I want to be faithful. I want to try and do the right things because I don't want to be left behind. Some of you might be wondering what I'm talking about, while others know exactly what I mean because you lived in the '90s. There was a big book series called "Left Behind," and the thought of a teenager was that if I get caught in sin, maybe the trumpet will sound, and I won't get caught up. So, I stayed faithful because I didn't want to be left behind. That should not be my motivation.

Now, if you ask me why, at 19 or 20 years old, I wanted to go into the ministry, I'll be honest enough to confess that there was a part of me that thought I would serve God and reach thousands, even tens of thousands, in great masses through my ministry. There are ways we can twist that to justify it. We're getting back to the heart of worship; it's all about You, Lord. Yet, it's also about us, and if you boil all those things down, it's pretty selfish.

Again, I'm not saying that we will never have the wrong motivation. We will, but hopefully, over time, as we walk with Christ, our motivation changes. I love the way that Paris Reidhead closes his message. He says that Christianity says the end of all being is the glory of God, while humanism says the end of all being is the happiness of man. One was born in hell, the deification of man, and the other was born in heaven, the glorification of God. One is a Levite serving Micah, and the other is the heart that's unworthy, serving the Living God because it's the highest honor.

Universe, I say to you, dear Christian, if you do not know the fullness of the Holy Spirit, come and present your body as a living sacrifice. Let Him fill you so that you can have the purpose for His coming fulfilled in you and bring glory through your life. It's not about what you are going to get out of God; it's about what He is going to get out of you.

Let's be done once and for all with that utilitarian Christianity that makes God a means to an end instead of the glorious end that He is. Let's resign; let's tell Micah we're through. We are no longer going to be his priests for ten shekels and a shirt. Instead, let us come and cast ourselves at the feet of the nail-pierced Son of God and tell Him that we are going to obey Him, love Him, and serve Him as long as we live because He is worthy.

I listened to that message probably three or four dozen times between when I was 20 and 24 years old, and it radically transformed my thinking. I didn't listen to it for 20 years, but I listened to it again last week, and it was convicting. We can fall into a utilitarian, expedient Christianity that's all about me. Oh, Lord, help us! It's a powerful message. If you want to hear it, I posted it on our website. You can find it at CCchurch.com. It’s a powerful message that we, as a culture and as the Christian Church in America today, need to be confronted with.

We serve God ultimately for His glory. The chief end of man is the glorification of God, and as a byproduct, we enjoy Him forever. God help us.

Let's stand and close in prayer. Father God, I thank You for convicting passages like this one here in Judges that confront us with the brokenness of our own nature. When we see those things, we can bring them to You and lay them down at Your feet, saying, "Lord, would You forgive me if there are areas in which my motivation is wrong?" Lord, would You continue to cleanse and purify us? Prune our lives so that we might bear much fruit for Your glory.

I am certain that our culture around us needs to see Your glory revealed in our lives. So, God, would You glorify Yourself in us? We pray this week for we ask it in Jesus' name. And all those that agreed said, "Amen."