“Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation, and uphold me with Thy free spirit.” Psalm 51:12
Introduction – Passion Misplaced
The kingdom of God is not going to advance
simply because our churches are full of people.
No — the kingdom of God is going to advance
when the people who are in our churches are full of God.
That’s a world of difference. We can fill pews with warm bodies, but that doesn’t mean lives are transformed. The question isn’t “How many are in attendance?” The question is “How much of God is in us?”
And here’s the strange thing about our culture today: it’s perfectly acceptable to be passionate about almost anything — except God.
Think about it. I can be passionate about movies — nobody blinks. I can be passionate about sports — people cheer that on. I can be passionate about politics — folks may disagree, but at least they admire the passion. I can even be passionate about food, about restaurants, about clothes, about hobbies.
But passionate about God? Now you’ve crossed the line. Now you’re a fanatic.
Have you noticed?
I can shout myself hoarse at a baseball game — nobody thinks that’s strange.
I can dance in the aisles at a concert — people say, “Wow, he’s a real fan.”
But if I lift my hands in worship? If I shout hallelujah in church? People whisper, “Oh, he’s gone too far. He’s a nut.”
We live in a world that says: “Be passionate about anything — except your faith. Except your God.”
But friends, do you remember when you first became a believer? Do you remember the joy? The fire? The passion?
It was all brand-new:
“All my sins are forgiven. I have a purpose for living. I have a future in heaven!”
It was a big deal! You were excited. You told people. You sang. You prayed. You gave thanks.
But then what happened? What always seems to happen? Time went by. Responsibilities piled on. Life grew heavier. And slowly, quietly, without meaning to, you lost some of that fire.
Losing the Fire
You started with fire. But as time passed, you began to lose steam. The joy leaked out.
Like the old man in that little church in Tennessee. Every spring, during revival meetings, he’d move a little closer to the front row each night, until at the end he’d be in the front saying, “Fill me, Lord! Fill me, Lord!” And a little old lady who knew him well would mutter under her breath, “Careful, Lord, he leaks.”
Billy Sunday, the fiery evangelist before Billy Graham, said: “If you have no joy, there’s a leak in your Christianity somewhere.”
And isn’t that true? We leak. We lose passion. We forget what it felt like to be forgiven. We lose the freshness of grace.
And church itself can start to feel like a drain instead of a delight. People say, “I’m too tired to go to church.”
But should it not be the other way around? “I’m tired — I need to go to church! I need to get filled, revived, energized, renewed!”
What Revival Is Not
And here’s the thing: we often misunderstand revival.
We say, “Revival is coming! Mark the date! Put it on the calendar between VBS and the retreat.”
But revival is not a program. It’s not a crusade. It’s not a meeting. It’s not just emotional hype.
And revival is not a guilt trip.
Jonathan Edwards preached his famous sermon Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. He described people dangling like spiders over the pit of hell, God’s wrath burning hot, ready to drop them into the fire.
Charles Finney thundered about breaking the sinner’s heart, humiliating people until they confessed. He believed revival came when guilt was laid on thick.
But listen: guilt alone does not revive. Shame may sting, but it doesn’t save.
Ask any doctor. Diagnosis alone doesn’t cure. You can’t help someone just by saying, “Here’s what’s wrong.” There must be a remedy.
What Revival Is
Revival is not about guilt. Revival comes when we get a fresh vision of God.
Revival comes when we get a fresh vision of God.
J. B. Phillips once wrote a book called Your God Is Too Small.
And that’s the problem with many of us — our view of God is too small.
Some see God as a policeman — always watching, always ready to catch you.
Some see God as a professor — all about doctrine, all about information.
Some see God as a grandfather — kindly, but powerless.
Some see God as a judge — cold, stern, distant.
But your spiritual life cannot rise higher than your view of God.
If your God is small, your joy will be small. If your God is weak, your worship will be weak.
But when you see God fresh, when you see Him as He really is —
merciful, powerful, faithful, Father — that’s when revival comes.
Illustration – The Wonder of Creation
Sometimes revival comes when we simply stop and notice the world around us.
Think about it: God could have made this world in black and white, plain and functional. But He didn’t. He filled it with color and beauty.
A hummingbird, wings beating faster than the eye can follow, hovering like a living jewel in midair.
An eagle, soaring high, hardly flapping at all, just riding the unseen currents of wind.
A lion, roaring so strong it rattles your chest — and then a little kitten purring soft in your lap.
A newborn baby, tiny fingers wrapping around yours, a whole lifetime bundled into that fragile little body.
The complexity, the balance, the sheer beauty of it all — it points us to a God who is both powerful and tender, mighty and loving, vast and intimate.
And here’s the point: if God designed the hummingbird’s wings, the eagle’s flight, the lion’s roar, the kitten’s purr, and the baby’s cry, then surely He is faithful to order your life as well.
Revival happens when we pause long enough to see Him in what He has made. The beauty of nature is God’s invitation: “Look at Me. See Me fresh.”
Repentance as Fresh Thinking
In the Old Testament, the word is shuv — to turn. Turn from sin, turn to God.
But in the New Testament, the word is metanoia — “new mind.” To rethink. To see differently.
Repentance isn’t just wallowing in guilt. Repentance is seeing God in a new way. It’s a change of perspective.
David said, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Your presence; take not Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of Your salvation.”
David’s lips were opened again. His passion came back. He began writing songs again. Why? Because he wasn’t stuck in shame. He saw God afresh.
Illustration – The Murderer
And here’s where the gospel cuts deepest.
A pastor once told of a woman named Lori. She came to him trembling, broken, and the first words out of her mouth were these:
“I am a murderer.”
That’s shocking, isn’t it? But she meant it. She had lived with an abusive husband. One night, in a moment of rage, she turned with a knife in her hand and drove it into his chest. He died.
She confessed. She went to prison. She served her time. But even years later, she could not forgive herself.
Counselors told her it was self-defense. But she said again and again:
“I am a murderer. I killed him. I cannot escape it.”
The pastor pointed her to David, who arranged the murder of Uriah. She shook her head. “God may have forgiven David, but He cannot forgive me.”
He told her of Saul of Tarsus, who hunted Christians. She said, “God may have forgiven Saul, but He cannot forgive me.”
And again she whispered:
“I am a murderer.”
Now listen, church — those words are not just Lori’s. If your heart is open, the Spirit will whisper them into your soul:
I am the murderer.
It was my sin that pierced Him.
It was my pride that nailed Him there.
It was my rebellion that drove the spear into His side.
When she said it, she was speaking for me. She was speaking for you.
“I am a murderer.”
That is the confession every honest heart must make. Because only when we confess it do we begin to see the cross for what it is.
But here’s the miracle: Jesus does not leave murderers condemned. He forgives. He restores. He gives the joy of salvation even to those who carry the heaviest guilt.
The pastor said to her once, “Lori, what if the next time you sense God reaching out His hand, you take it?”
And sometime later, she did. She said, “I reached for His hand — and in His eyes I saw mercy. I knew that if my pastor could forgive me, then surely God could too.”
She came back radiant. No longer obsessed with her sin, but alive with forgiveness.
Friends, revival happens not when we stare longer at our guilt — but when we finally lift our eyes to see God as He is.
Conclusion – Restore the Joy
“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea. There’s a kindness in His justice, which is more than liberty.”
The joy of salvation is not shallow happiness. It’s not hype. It’s deep, rooted confidence in the God who forgives, restores, and renews.
So let me ask you: has your bucket leaked? Has your passion cooled? Has your joy faded?
Then pray with David: “Restore unto me the joy of Your salvation.”
And when you do, you’ll find — revival is not a date on the calendar. It is the daily miracle of seeing God afresh.
