C171 4/19/59
© Project Winsome International, 2000

CHRIST AND THE FOURTH HORSEMAN
Dr. John Allan Lavender
Rev. 6:7a; 1 Cor.2:9

Many years ago the armies of France and England were engaged in mortal conflict. Napoleon and Wellington were struggling for survival. For a time it was uncertain as to how the tide of battle would turn and the people at home were anxious for some word.

It was long before radio or telegraph. News had to be taken by runner from the battlefront to the shore where a sailing vessel brought it across the channel to the coast of England. From there it was signaled overland to London by means of semaphore.

When the result of the historic battle was finally known, and the news had come across the channel to England, it was picked up a short distance away and signaled on to the next station until it came to London.

Atop Westminister Abby the semaphore began to laboriously spell out the message --
"W-e-l-l-i-n-g-t-o-n D-e-f-e-a-t-e-d."
Before further word could come, a dense fog settled down on old London-town, and with it came heartache and sadness. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fog lifted and the semaphore began spelling out the rest of the message --
"W-e-l-l-i-n-g-t-o-n D-e-f-e-a-t-e-d T-h-e E-n-e-m-y."
With those words, sadness gave way to gladness and sorrow gave way to joy.

In a similar way, some nineteen hundred years ago, a battle of unparalleled importance was waged on a lonely, barren hill outside the walls of old Jerusalem. To those who watched the conflict, it seemed as if the man who hung upon the cross had lost the day. His brutal death and subsequent burial in a borrowed tomb were stark bits of tragic evidence that this was the end of Jesus.
As the cold, dank fog of dark despair settled upon their souls, the tear-dimmed eyes of the disciples only saw the words:
"C-h-r-i-s-t D-e-f-e-a-t-e-d."
But thanks be to God, their grey, psychic fog soon lifted, and those who strolled sadly into the garden that first Easter morn, were to leave rejoicing.
The bad news --
"C-h-r-i-s-t D-e-f-e-a-t-e-d,"
was changed into the glad news --
"C-h-r-i-s-t D-e-f-e-a-t-e-d D-e-a-t-h!"

This is the message of Easter. This is the hope that floods our hearts with happiness this resurrection morning. Christ is risen. He is not dead, but lives. Because he lives, we, too, shall live.

This is the message of Easter. This is the hope that floods our hearts with happiness this resurrection morning. For Christ is risen. He is not dead, but liveth. And because he lives we too shall live.

Over in the sixth chapter of Revelation we have John's vision of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. It is a vision that has struck terror in the human heart for over 1900 years. As John pictures humanity being stalked by war, famine, pestilence and death. No where in all of literature is there so pungent or concise a description of the calamity that befalls mankind As when John says, in Rev. 6:7, "I saw a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was death. And hell followed with him," it's a vision that petrifies the soul and fills the heart with darkness.

Death has always been the epitome of evil in the world. This dread visitor severs families and loved ones, parents and children, husbands and wives, lovers and friends. If John had finished his writing with these words we would of all men be most miserable.

But thank God, he goes on to tell of another vision. A vision of a multitude of the redeemed whom no man can number. A vision of those same four horsemen bridled into subjection, their necks bowed before a throne. A vision of the eternal Christ, high and lifted up, with great throngs of saints and angels singing,
"Blessing and honor, glory and power be unto him that sitteth
upon the throne and unto the lamb."

How grateful we are today for this glad word of great assurance that the wild beasts of war and famine and pestilence will one day be bridled into subjection, and Christ shall reign triumphant over all the earth. But even more wonderful is the knowledge that the fourth horse, death, is already vanquished, for as I said a moment ago, death has always been the epitome of evil in the world.

Anyone here this morning who has ever stood beside the bed of one whom they have loved and watched the icy hands of death reach out and turn warm lips to clay, knows I speak the truth when I say that death is real. The shaft of sorrow that it drives into the heart produces pain. Sharp, stabbing, unrelenting pain. Yet, while we admit to the reality of death, and the harshness of the sorrow that it leaves within its wake, we must not lose sight of the reason for our sorrow.

It is not for those who have died, for as Paul reminds us in 1 Thess. 3:13, "We do not sorrow as those who have no hope." Our grief is not for those who have gone to be with Christ. They are much better off than we. Our grief is for ourselves, and for the loss we feel in having to go on without them. This is what wilts the spirit, and fills the heart with pain. The knowledge that without those whom we have loved, and lost a while, our world is a sadder, poorer, darker place.

But for those who have died in Christ, for those who have gone to be with him, for those who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death into what lies beyond, there is only glory, joy, peace, and life, abundant and eternal. As James Henry Darlington says so beautifully,
"No ear hath heard, no tongue can tell,
The joy of that first breath,
When first we know, as we are known,
The other side of death."

Or, as J. B. Chapman so poignantly puts it,
"Think of stepping on shore and finding it heaven. Of taking hold of a hand
and finding it God's hand. Of breathing new air and finding it celestial air.
Of feeling invigorated and finding it immortality. Of passing from storm and
tempest to an unknown calm. Of waking up and finding it home!"

This is the heritage of those who go to sleep in Christ. The glad, good news of the gospel is that,
"Life, and not death, has the final word." Oh, I know there are those who say the Christian faith is nothing more than "a narcotic to dull the pain of life's unfortunate events." But the critics who say that know nothing about our faith. Christianity does not gloss over the unpleasant and infallible experience of people. To the contrary, Christianity is very realistic about the dark matters of life. It faces them squarely. It admits, indeed, warns again and again that, "It is appointed unto man once to die, and after that the judgement."

Christianity offers no escape from death. It has no scheme for getting over it, under it, or around it. Instead the Christian faith invites you to die right now. It invites you to go on dying a series of little deaths. Death to sin. Death to self. Death to Satan. Moment by moment. Hour by hour. Day by day. So when you come to the end of your days, and experience that, which for want of a better name we call death, it will be nothing more than the act which crowns the many little deaths through which you have already passed, and through which you have come alive in Christ.

Dr. H. B. Hinson of Portland, Oregon was a man who had discovered this bright side of death. For many years he flung high the banner of the cross, and called himself and his people to a daily dying for the sake of Jesus. And as a result, when his physician told him one day that he was in the grip of an unyielding disease he went before his congregation, acquainted them with the doctor's verdict, and then added these words,
"I walked out where I live, five miles out of the city, and I looked at
the mountains in which I rejoice. I looked at the river which has always
been God's special poetry to my soul. Then, in the evening, I looked up
into the great sky where God was lighting his lamps and I said, 'I may
not see you many times more, but mountain, I shall be alive when you
are gone. And river, I shall be alive when you cease running to the sea.
And stars, I shall be alive when you have fallen from your sockets.'"

You see, for Dr. Hinson, who had already died in Christ, there was no sting in death. He had been doing it for years. Therefore, it was simply, "Absent from the body, present with the Lord."
We do not sorrow as those who have no hope. We know that life, not death, has the final word.

Where do Christians get this incredible audacity? How is it that though we are stunned by the immediate shock of a sudden loss, we can smile through our tears and whisper,
"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord"?

Where do we get such faith? From whence do such deep wells of hope spring? For the answer you must march with me back through the arches of history, and listen to the Good News that comes from a graveyard. For on that first Easter morning the angel said,
"Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here. For he is risen!"

There's the answer! That's what makes the difference. The empty tomb! The hollow grave- clothes! The risen Christ!

These are the headwaters of our hope which wipes away all tears.
These are the source of our great audacity.
These are the root-system which feeds our Christian faith.
Jesus is alive! He rules! He reigns! He triumphs! That's what makes the difference.

The resurrection was no small, ordinary, experience in the history of humanity. The resurrection was an event of cosmic importance. Easter was the birthday of eternal life! Only creation can equal it.

In the beginning, the God of creation said,
"Let there be light." And there was light.
So, too, on that first Easter morning, the God of re-creation cried,
"Let there be life." And there was life.
In one magnificent moment unequaled in all of human history, death, the last and worst of foes, was defeated.

This is the glad Good News that changes fear into faith, and gloom into glory. Christ picked up his cross, and using it as a battering ram, broke open the other side of the sepulchre and let the light of eternal day flood in.

He lives, therefore, everything is changed. The grave has become a gateway. Death has become a doorway. The tombstone has become a milestone. The graveyard has become a park festooned with hope. He who was dead is live again, and fills our hearts with glory as we hear him say,
"He that believeth in me, though he be dead, yet shall he live."

Easter was the turning point in history. It was the day that death met life, and died! Ever since, the same power which brought Jesus from the gave, has been available to help you meet life, and defeat death.

There is only one prerequisite. You must climb the hill of your own private calvary, die to self, and in that dying, be made alive forevermore.

How is it with you this morning? Do you cower before the ever present specter of that pale fourth horseman called death? Or have you died already? If not, I urge you to die right now. Die to self. Die to sin. Die to the rule of Satan.

Receive Christ now, so you can be free to see the ending of this life for what it really is. A passing into another room. A changing into another garment. A moving from a house in which you now see through misty glasses, to one in which you see God clearly. Face to face.

This is the hope of Easter. It can be yours . . . right now.