Several months ago I received a text message from Timothy O’Day, a church planter that we sent to the Salt Lake City area in August of 2015. He wanted me to know that, after a year of laboring, after countless conversations in which he had attempted to share the gospel with unreceptive hearers, after months of sowing seeds and seeing no tangible fruit, he had finally seen a man profess faith in Christ. He was joyful, and I rejoiced with him. In the months since then, Timothy has invested a lot of time into teaching this man what a life of following the true Jesus (as opposed to the false Christ of Mormonism) looks like. As Timothy has come into contact with three other individuals who appear to be true believers but are in great need of discipleship, it looks like the nucleus of a new church has formed. But this week, Tom and I had a Skype conversation with Timothy, in which we learned that the man who had professed faith, over whom we had rejoiced, has now walked away. You see, the Salt Lake City area is a place where following the true Jesus has major social consequences. If you leave the Mormon church, you are in danger of become a social outsider with your peers, you may lose career opportunities, and you may find that family relationships become very difficult, if they are not cut off completely. Timothy said that the man who had professed faith a few months ago finally decided that the life he wanted was more important than Christ.
Obviously, that is disappointing news. But what encouraged me from that conversation with Timothy was seeing that he remains undeterred from his mission. This unfortunate turn of events has not broken him, nor has it diminished in the least his dreams for the work of planting the church in that area. Yes, it’s a setback, but plans are still being formed, and the daily work is still going on for a faithful church planter in Lehi, Utah. And here’s why: Timothy’s expectations have been shaped by the Bible, and so he was prepared for this blow when it came. Think about Jesus’ parables of the kingdom in Matthew 13 and Mark 4. Do you remember the parable of the different kinds of soil? The seed, which represents the Word of God, sometimes falls on shallow, rocky soil, where it can spring up quickly, but without any ability to put down deep roots, it withers and dies under the heat of the sun. And so it is for some who hear the word: though they receive it joyfully at first, the moment they see that it may cost them to follow Jesus, they turn and run. Jesus himself told us that it would be this way, and we would be foolish not to expect it to happen and prepare ourselves for it. I am thankful that Timothy was prepared by expectations shaped by Scripture, and because he was prepared, he is pressing on as he always has before.
The text we have before us today contains a vision that Daniel received, and I believe it was a vision of something Daniel wasn’t prepared to hear. That seems to be the reason why, according to verse 27, Daniel was overcome by what he had seen, even to the point of making himself sick for days. Remember that Daniel was a man who lived most of his life with two realities before him: the exile and the prophetic promises. Daniel was a young man when he was taken from Jerusalem to Babylon in the first wave of Jewish exiles. He lived through the period in which God’s people lost their land, king, and temple. Most of his life was lived under the rule of pagan kings. And yet, at the same time he was a man who knew what the prophets had foretold about a coming day when God would bring Israel back into the land, raise up the Messiah from the line of David, and restore the kingdom of Israel in glory. He would have assumed that the coming end of the exile period (which Jeremiah had foretold would be seventy years) would also be the beginning of the age of the Messiah. And yet, here he receives a vision that indicates that, after the Babylonian exile, history will go on for a lot longer period than he previously thought, and it would include much more intense suffering for the people of Israel. Even though Daniel couldn’t fully understand this vision, my guess is that it is what he could understand about it that left him appalled, and even ill, at what he saw. He was taken off guard by a vision of a future he did not expect, even though it was a future that ultimately has a happy ending for Israel.
In the Lord’s grace to us, we do not have to be taken off guard by what Daniel saw or by what it means for our lives as disciples of Jesus. Instead, think of this passage as one more witness among a host of biblical witnesses to the fact that faithfulness to our God in this world will bring suffering our way. In fact, the particular kind of suffering we see in this passage is persecution, or the direct targeting of God’s people because of their faithfulness to God. If we walk through life assuming that the path of discipleship is always a pleasant and enjoyable path, we are setting ourselves up for failure. Instead, we must calibrate our expectations to what we know God has foretold us about the cost of following Jesus in this world. I would summarize the main point of the passage for our lives in this way: We must be prepared to endure suffering and opposition from the powers of this world with certainty that God will deliver us at his appointed time. Faulty expectations will not serve us well. May the Bible shape our expectations, and in doing so may it prepare us to face whatever may lie ahead for us in a culture that is turning against us.
In particular, I want to identify three expectations that we should have regarding what it means for us to follow Jesus in this world. The first expectation is this:
We will suffer persecution.
Daniel sees a vision in verses 1-14, and then that vision is interpreted for him in verses 15-26. Daniel saw this vision during the third year reign of Belshazzar (around 550 BC), while Babylon was still the world’s dominant power. And yet, in the vision, Daniel appears in Susa, a city 220 miles east of Babylon. Susa was not very significant in the year 550 BC, but it would eventually become a major city in the coming Medo-Persian Empire. The location of the vision, then, gives us a major hint that it concerns an empire that will arise after the Babylonian Empire has fallen and the exile of the people of Judah has, therefore, been ended.
On the banks of the Ulai Canal that ran beside the city of Susa, Daniel saw a vision that revealed the future to him, a vision with three central figures: a ram, a goat, and a little horn. First on the scene was a two-horned ram, so powerful that no other beast could stand before it, and it was butting toward the west, north, and south. We learn later that this ram is the combined kingdom of the Medes and the Persians, with its two horns one representing each.
But then, out of nowhere appears the second major figure: a male goat dashes in from the west, so quickly that it doesn’t even touch the ground. This goat has one conspicuous horn between its eyes, and in its fury charges at the ram, breaks its horns to pieces, throws it to the ground, and tramples it. The interpretation given in verse 21 is very straightforward: a new kingdom, the Greek Empire, would arise to challenge Persia. The single horn between the goat’s eyes symbolizes the Greek emperor Alexander the Great, who conquered, in a period of only about 13 years, a territory that stretched from Greece to India. However, at the young age of 32 and at the height of his power, Alexander suddenly died of an illness. The horn was broken. The Greek Empire was divided up among four of Alexander’s generals, so it fragmented toward the four winds of heaven, symbolized by the four horns that arise in place of the one horn. Out of one of these smaller empires there arose the third major figure in this vision: a little horn that became great. In the Seleucid Empire that arose in Syria as one of the four remnants of Alexander’s Greek Empire, the eighth king was a man known as Antiochus IV, who called himself Antiochus Epiphanes, a name that referred to himself as a manifestation of a god.
The little horn, Antiochus, is the main focus of this vision, so we should note in particular what this vision says he would do. He is pictured as expanding his influence both horizontally and vertically. Horizontally, verse 9 says the little horn “grew exceedingly great toward the south, toward the east, and toward the glorious land [Israel].” Antiochus ruled over his own small empire. And then vertically, verse 10 says of the little horn, “It grew great, even to the host of heaven. And some of the host and some of the stars it threw to the ground and trampled on them.”
What does a vision of a little horn throwing some of the stars of heaven to the ground and trampling them mean? I will say more about this later, but the short answer at this point is that Antiochus would be a king who attacked God’s faithful people. Daniel 12:3 pictures the faithful in Israel shining like the stars, and I think the primary referent of the “host of heaven” here is the faithful people of God whom Antiochus would attack. So what did he actually do? When he had political control of Judea and was particularly enraged at the people who resisted his totalitarian impulses, Antiochus outlawed practices of Jewish devotion, including circumcision. He sought to impose paganism on the people of Israel and to exterminate observance of the Mosaic Law. With his political power he trampled over those who refused to comply, killing thousands of faithful Jews. If he would have had his way, Israel would have ceased to exist with any distinct identity among the pagan nations of the world.
But then notice what verses 11-12 tell us: “It became great, even as great as the Prince of the host. And the regular burnt offering was taken away from him, and the place of his sanctuary was overthrown. And a host will be given over to it together with the regular burnt offering because of transgression, and it will throw truth to the ground, and it will act and prosper.” Not only would Antiochus expand his small empire, and not only would he trample faithful Israelites to the ground, but he would also raise his fist directly against God. Antiochus set up a military garrison near the Temple Mount in Jerusalem to take control of the temple, where he eliminated the practice of daily sacrifices and then committed the “transgression that makes desolate” (v. 13) by setting up an altar to Zeus and sacrificing a pig, an unclean animal according to the Mosaic Law, on it. If you thought Belshazzar defied God by using the holy vessels from the temple at a party, Antiochus’s act was far, far worse. Moreover, he “threw truth to the ground” (v. 12) by ordering any and all copies of the Old Testament books of Moses that could be found to be burned. Historians today don’t put Antiochus on the same level as other figures from history such as Nebuchadnezzar, Alexander, or Julius Caesar. His empire was much smaller, and his influence much less. And yet, theologically speaking, Antiochus appears to be unrivaled in the ancient world in his open defiance of the God of Israel.
So now that you have a sense of who the little horn represents, let’s take a step back and remember that there was a little horn mentioned also in chapter 7, the vision of the four beasts. When I preached on chapter 7, I argued that the little horn that arises among the ten horns on the fourth beast represents an end-times figure, the consummate expression of human rebellion against God whom the New Testament calls “the man of lawlessness” (2 Thess. 2:3) or the “antichrist” (1 John 2:18). We have another little horn here in chapter 8, but here it represents, not the antichrist, but a figure we know from history: Antiochus IV. Why are both figures represented by a little horn? I think it is because history moves in patterns. Yes, there will be one final antichrist figure, but prior to that time there are many “little horns” who arise, oppress God’s people for a time, and then go to destruction. Even though Antiochus is unusual in some sense, in another sense he is one particularly sharp representative of what is always happening in this world as the powers of this age, often concentrated in the state, oppose God and oppress his people. And the reason that is a constant reality is because our allegiance to Christ in this world is a direct challenge to the power of Satan, whom 2 Cor. 4:4 calls “the god of this world.” We live in enemy occupied territory. In Genesis 3:15, God told the serpent that there would be war between the serpent’s offspring and the woman’s offspring, and throughout history that will always be the case until Christ delivers us.
We have seen that war playing out in recent years in our culture, specifically with respect to the new sexual orthodoxy that has been threatening our ability to live freely according to our convictions. But in recent months, there have been several reports of good news on that front. I’ll mention three. First, this summer there was a bill being considered in the California state legislature that basically would have prevented any colleges that receive state funding for tuition from operating as Christian colleges with a Christian code of conduct. So think of Biola University, a strong Christian school near Los Angeles that has been there since 1908. This summer I was beginning to wonder if, due to this bill, Biola’s days or numbered or if it might be forced to relocate to another state. But after a public outcry, the sponsor of that bill amended it to leave major religious liberty protections in place for Christian colleges in California. Second, also from this summer, the Iowa Civil Rights Commission hinted that they might try to force churches, in at least some public gatherings, to comply with the new transgender bathroom orthodoxy, but a judge has now shot that down in a decision that clearly recognizes the freedom of churches to operate according to their convictions. And third, over a year ago, Aaron and Melissa Klein, the owners of Sweet Cakes bakery in Oregon, were fined $135,000 for their principled refusal to use their business in the celebration of a same-sex wedding. However, the official for the state of Oregon who imposed that ridiculous fine on them, Brad Avakian, recently ran for the office of Oregon’s secretary of state (a higher office than he now holds for the Oregon Bureau of Labor and Industries). And the people of Oregon—Oregon!—chose a Republican instead, which seems like a rejection of the kind of heavy-handedness that Mr. Avakian represents. So there are many reasons to be thank God that religious liberty is still alive in America. But with all of that said, let me say this: don’t let these and other stories lull you into a false expectation that you won’t suffer for following Jesus. Don’t let the recent good news obscure the fact that we still live in a culture with deep currents of thought that are opposed to the truth for which we stand about the nature of humanity, about the nature of male and female, and about the gospel that is pictured by in the union of one man and one woman in marriage. If persecution comes for us and catches us flat-footed, it will knock us over, and we will abandon our commitment to truth at the first sign of pressure. Jesus told us the path of discipleship is the path of carrying your cross, your own tool of execution. Prepare yourself.
So we must expect that we will suffer persecution. A second expectation we must have is this:
The nations that belong to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) have agreed to operate by a principle known as “collective defense.” That principle means that an attack on one nation is considered an attack on all, so that all nations rally to the defense of any one member nation who is under attack. There seems to be a similar principle of collective defense in this passage: an attack on God’s faithful people is an attack on Heaven itself.
I draw this conclusion based on several observations in the text. One is that in verse 10, the little horn is pictured as throwing the stars of heaven to the ground and trampling on them. Earlier I mentioned that I believe these stars represent God’s faithful people, but why picture them as stars in the heavens? I think it is in part because there are angelic powers in Heaven who identify with God’s people, and thus an attack on God’s people is also an attack on them. This reading seems to be confirmed in chapter 10 when the angel Michael is identified as the prince of Israel.
Another subtle point in the text comes in verse 13. Here Daniel sees a “holy one,” an angel, who hears the voice of another holy one who says, “For how long is the vision concerning the regular burnt offering, the transgression that makes desolate, and the giving over of the sanctuary and host to be trampled underfoot?” That question “how long?” appears repeatedly in the Psalms as a cry of lament. Here the angelic question seems to echo a form of lament in the Psalms, indicating that Heaven longs for the deliverance of God’s people because an assault on them is an assault on Heaven.
And one final observation that shows that we do not suffer alone is verse 25, about the little horn: “By his cunning he shall make deceit prosper under his hand, and in his own mind he shall become great. Without warning he shall destroy many. And he shall even rise up against the Prince of princes.” Of course, the Prince of princes is God himself. It is not just the holy angels he opposes when he attacks God’s people; it is God himself.
In the New Testament, we see that Jesus identifies closely with his suffering people. In the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25, Jesus tells the sheep on his right hand that they are welcome to enter his kingdom because when he was hungry, they gave him food, when he was thirsty, they gave him drink, when he was naked, they clothed him, when he was in prison, they visited him, etc. But not remembering ever encountering Jesus personally in their lives, the sheep say, “When did we see you and do these things?” Jesus’ response is, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” Who are Jesus’ “brothers” in this text? I have heard that verse referenced numerous times as a statement about how we should treat the poor. And while I am all for helping the poor (there are other places in the Bible we could go to see that), I have to say that I am very confident that is not what Jesus is referring to in Matthew 25. When he speaks of “the least of these my brothers,” he is not speaking of the poor in general; he is speaking about his followers (in Matthew often identified as his “brothers”) who are in need. So his point, then, is that the way you treat even the least of his followers is how you treat him, because Jesus identifies himself closely with his people, especially when they suffer. And so we see in the ninth chapter of the book of Acts, when Saul of Tarsus, a persecutor of the church, is on his way to Damascus with authorization to haul Christians off to jail, the risen Christ meets him on the road and asks him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”
We hold to a very high view of God’s sovereignty. We see it taught from Genesis to Revelation, that God is sovereign over all things. Amen and amen. But one thing we must make sure we guard against is a tendency to let one biblical truth diminish in our minds and hearts another biblical truth. One way we who uphold God’s sovereignty might be tempted to that error could be by letting our vision of God’s sovereignty cause us to think of him as a distant, unfeeling monarch, far removed from our sufferings. But that is simply not biblical.
The truth is, God does not ask us to endure anything that he himself has not already faced. Jesus told us we would have to take up our crosses in order to follow him, but that is only because he was the first one to take up the cross. And hanging on it, clothed in our humanity, Jesus Christ brought death itself into God’s own experience. God does not remain aloof from our sufferings, unable to identify with us in it. On the contrary, in the humanity he had taken on for that purpose, God the Son suffered more than any human being ever has or ever will. The words of the condemned man, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” were spoken on the cross so that we would never have to utter them. For God’s promise to us is “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5), no matter what kind of suffering we endure.
So one day, you may lose a job, a promotion, a business, or a career because you cannot call good what God calls evil. You may experience a broken relationship within your family over your allegiance to Christ (or maybe you already have). It may even happen, as it did to a county clerk in Kentucky, that men with guns might take you away from your family and put you in a jail cell because you have chosen to take a stand on principled disobedience rather than compromise the truth. And when that day comes, whatever form it takes, I want you to know this: you do not suffer alone. God and the holy angels are there with you, and if you’re honest with yourself, what more do you actually need?
So we must expect that we will suffer persecution, but that we will not suffer alone. Here is now a third expectation we must hold:
The God who is with us in our sufferings is also the God who will deliver us from our sufferings in the end. And we can be assured of his deliverance because we know that he controls history. Scholars have debated for decades when the book of Daniel was actually written. More liberal scholars give it a later date, the second century BC (the 100’s). Conservative scholars typically date it earlier, in the sixth century BC (the 500’s). I want to make what I feel is a very shrewd observation here: verse 1 says, “In the third year of the reign of King Belshazzar.” That phrase leads me to conclude that this vision came to Daniel in the third year of the reign of King Belshazzar, which is also presumably the time that it was written down. That would be around the year 550 BC. And yet, this vision foretells events that would come to pass in the intervening centuries all the way up to the 160’s BC. Daniel is given a vision of events that were, from his perspective, still four-hundred years away. And they came to pass exactly as he foresaw.
So think about this question: how is God able to foretell the future? Is it simply because he has a different perspective than we do? Is it like we are down on the street watching a parade, so we can only see what is in front of us, but God is up on the top floor of a tall building, able to see the whole parade at once? Well, there is some truth in that illustration, but I think we have to say much more than that. God’s ability to foretell the future is not merely owing to a different perspective. It is ultimately because of a difference in power. God knows and foretells the future, not because he can see it all as a passive bystander, but because he is the one who has planned it and will bring it to pass according to his plan, down to the most minute detail. God knows the future because he knows himself, and knowing himself, he knows his own plans. And what he has decreed will surely come to pass. No power on earth can rival the power of God to accomplish all that he has purposed, including the deliverance of his people.
After Daniel saw the vision, verse 15 tells us that he saw someone standing in front of him who looked like a man. And then he heard a voice coming from between the banks of the Ulai canal, presumably the voice of God, telling this man (whom we know is the angel Gabriel) to make Daniel understand the vision. Gabriel tells Daniel in verse 17 that “the vision is for the time of the end.” On a first reading, that sounds like this vision pertains to the end of the world, but if you look more closely at the context, you’ll see that is not what Gabriel is referring to. Verse 19 specifies: “Behold, I will make known to you what shall be at the latter end of the indignation, for it refers to the appointed time of the end.” This is the context in which to understand “the end,” that is, the latter period of time of “the indignation.” The word “indignation” refers to wrath, so the question is, whose wrath is this? Some argue that it refers to the wrath of Antiochus against Israel. That’s a possible reading. Others say it’s God’s wrath against the pagan nations that oppress God’s people. That also seems possible. But I understand it to mean God’s indignation against Israel that began with the Babylonian exile. Even though Jews would be allowed to return to their land in the 530’s BC, the period of God’s indignation against them did not end. The exile, in a sense, continued, for they remained under pagan rule for centuries to come before the Messiah appeared to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. And so Gabriel tells Daniel that this vision of the little horn pertains to the latter period of time of the indignation, or the part of the story when the exile is nearing its end. That means it is near the time when God will come to his people to deliver them.
So notice in the text that the rise of the little horn is not owing to the little horn’s own power. Verse 24 reads, “His power shall be great—but not by his own power.” Well, whose power is it? One commentator I read said it was likely a reference to Satan’s power, and he based that argument on the fact that Antiochus prefigures the antichrist, and the antichrist arises by the power of Satan, according to several passages in the New Testament. But I am not persuaded that that is what Daniel 8:24 means. Satan is not mentioned anywhere in this context, but the book of Daniel is full of references to God raising up human kings according to his will. For this reason, I think verse 24 means that Antiochus will have great power because God grants it to him. And what God gives, God can certainly take away.
And that is exactly what we see in other verses. In verse 14, the angel tells Daniel in response to the other angel’s question “How long?”: “For 2,300 evenings and mornings. Then the sanctuary shall be restored to its rightful state.” Here we come to the climactic point of the vision, for this is the central message for readers of the book of Daniel: the time of the triumph of evil over God’s people is a time that has been limited by God’s power. Often, we see numbers with symbolic meanings in books of the Bible like this one, but I don’t see what the symbolic significance of the number 2,300 might be. It is best, then, in my view, to understand this number literally: the desecration of the temple would last for about 2,300 days.
The reign of terror that Antiochus inflicted on the Jews lasted from about 171 BC (with the murder of the high priest Onias III) to about 164 BC, or approximately 2,300 days. After Antiochus had plundered the temple, cut off the sacrifices, and then dedicated it to the worship of Zeus, his power was broken by a group of faithful Jewish men known as the Maccabees. The Maccabees led a military campaign that eventually won Jewish independence from Antiochus and resulted in the rededication the temple to the worship of the one true God. This event is celebrated by devout Jews every year in a festival known as Hanukkah.
I used to think that Hanukkah was the anti-Christmas. I thought it was the way that Jews had a holiday without having to recognize the birth of Jesus. But as I learned more about it I changed my mind. It is true that most people who celebrate Hanukkah do not celebrate Christmas because they don’t believe that Jesus is the Messiah. But that doesn’t mean Hanukkah itself is bad. It is simply a festival celebrating God’s deliverance of his people and the restoration of temple worship around 160 years before Christ. Jesus himself celebrated Hanukkah, which in the New Testament is called the Feast of Dedication (John 10:22). Hanukkah stands as a testimony to God’s deliverance of his people at his appointed time.
So, what about Antiochus himself? According to the book of 1 Maccabees and the record of the Jewish historian Josephus, Antiochus launched an attack against a Persian city, but was unable to conquer it. Around the same time, he received word that his hold on the Jewish people had been broken. The profound disappointment he faced over these two events broke him, causing him such intense grief that became sick and died in the year 163 BC. Notice verse 25: “By his cunning he shall make deceit prosper under his hand, and in his own mind he shall become great. Without warning he shall destroy many. And he shall even rise up against the Prince of princes, and he shall be broken—but by no human hand.” Exactly as the book of Daniel foretold, Antiochus IV was broken, not in battle, not by conspirators in his court, not by any human hand. The God of Israel, whom he had defied, cut him down.
The same God who delivered the Jewish nation and temple from Antiochus, preserving them for the coming of the promised Messiah about 160 years later, is the God who will deliver us from the powers of this age when our Messiah comes again. During the time of Antiochus there were faithful Jews, and there were those who compromised in order to save themselves. Which group will you belong to when the pressure is applied to us? If you want to be among the faithful, you must prepare yourself now by expecting persecution to come, by cultivating a heart that rests in the love of God for you through your sufferings, and by placing your greatest hopes, not in your present possessions or your future plans, but in the kingdom of Christ that is to come. If that kingdom is more real to you, and thus more valuable to you, than anything this world has to offer, then you will gladly lose whatever you must lose in this world to enter it, like the man who found a treasure hidden in a field, and then covered it back up so that he could immediately go and sell everything he owned to buy that field.
And the bread and cup that we partake of now is a testimony, a foretaste, of that coming kingdom. For this reason, I want to ask you only to partake of it if you are a baptized believer in Christ who is living under Christ’s authority through membership in a local church. If that doesn’t describe you, please let the elements pass by this morning. But here is your opportunity to respond to this word: turn away from sin and embrace Christ through faith. Trust that he died in your place to take away the wrath of God from you, that he was raised on the third day, that he is now at the right hand of God the Father, and that he is coming again one day for his people. If you have suddenly realized this morning that you have no ultimate hope in this world, and no hope before God except in Jesus Christ (and you don’t!), then I plead with you to call out to him in your heart, trusting in him to save you. And then declare that faith through baptism. Or perhaps you are a believer in Christ, but not walking in membership with a local church. I want you to know that the one institution that represents the authority of Christ on earth until he returns is the local church. Therefore, it is inconsistent for you to claim allegiance to Christ if you are not submitting to the authority of a church through faithful membership. So if that’s you, don’t eat with us today, but do take the next step toward joining a church where you can be cared for and discipled under the means of grace and authority Christ has appointed.
For everyone else, your opportunity to respond to the preaching of the Word is by eating and drinking in faith. Week by week we eat the Lord’s Supper together, through the ups and downs of life, through our triumphs and failures, through our joys and difficulties. So whether we are at relative peace with the broader culture or are facing its wrath for our testimony to a truth that it hates, we will continue coming here week by week to eat and drink this small foretaste of a great banquet to come. And that’s because our hope is not in the ups and downs of this age, but in the coming kingdom. So let us eat, drink, and press on. Amen.