Church of Sardis or Can of Sardines: Choose You This Day

As we prepare for one of the most holy and joyous days in the Christian faith, Easter, I’m reminded of the parable of the fig tree.

Picture this from the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus enters Jerusalem, and the first thing He does is head to the temple. What He finds isn’t worship. It’s chaos. People buying, selling, and taking advantage of others in a place meant for prayer. So He clears it out. Flipping tables with a level of righteous indignation that would make Teresa Giudice from Real Housewives of New Jersey look like a beginner. No shade to my Lord and Savior, but let’s be real. He came in with fire and authority.

That night, He leaves the city and goes back to Bethany.

And I have to wonder. What does one even do in Bethany after a day of flipping chairs and confronting corrupt Pharisees? Sit down for some olives? Catch your breath with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus? Maybe just be still. Because even Jesus, fully God and fully man, took moments to step away and rest.

Anyhow, the next morning as He’s heading back into Jerusalem, He’s hungry. He spots a fig tree full of leaves. And naturally, where there are leaves, there should be fruit. It’s the sign that something is growing. But as He gets closer, nothing. Just leaves. No fruit.

This wasn’t just a story about breakfast.

It was a warning.

Jesus was showing us something deeper. How something can look healthy from far away, but when you get up close, it’s empty. All presentation. No power. And that image has been sitting heavy with me.

Because it led me straight to the book of Revelation.

Now hear me out. I know that’s quite a leap from a fig tree to the apocalypse, but stay with me.

In Revelation, we meet seven churches. And one of them, Sardis, sounded a whole lot like that fig tree.

Sardis had leaves. In fact, Sardis had a reputation.

People thought they were alive. Why? Because on the outside, it looked like everything was thriving. Maybe they had busy calendars, great music, charismatic leaders, all the right branding, and a few baptisms sprinkled in. It had the appearance of life.

But Jesus saw through it. He said, “You have a reputation for being alive, but you are dead.”

Whew. That’s tough.

But it also sounds familiar.

Because today, we can fall into the same trap. We can look alive to others. We can have spiritual language, highlight reel Christianity, weekly church selfies, and maybe even a ministry title, but still be asleep on the inside. We can be all leaves and no fruit.

Which brings me to this.

If it’s between being the church of Sardis or a can of sardines, call me sardines any day.

I mean, wasn’t fish the original sign of Christianity anyway?

And let’s be honest, The Chosen definitely made the fish symbol cool again.

At least a can of sardines is real.

What you see is what you get. Tightly packed. Salty. Preserved.

And not pretending to be filet mignon.

I’d rather be authentic, even if I’m not shiny, than be a leafy tree with no fruit or a church full of reputation but no Spirit.

God is not impressed by image. He is drawn to truth.

To repentance.

To surrender.

To a heart that says, “Search me and know me.”

As we approach Easter, I can’t help but ask.

Are we leafy or fruitful?

Are we awake or asleep?

Are we real, or just rehearsed?

At least sardines are real.

Messy? Maybe. But preserved. Useful.

And at least Jesus could have eaten the sardines.

Because He is not interested in appearance. He is interested in substance. In surrender. In fruit that feeds.

Jesus cursed the fig tree right before His death to send a message.

He was not going to the cross for show.

He was going for souls.

He was about to tear the veil, defeat death, and offer resurrection to anyone willing to die to self and live in Him.

So this Easter, let it be more than a celebration.

Let it be a resurrection.

Not of reputation, but of reality.

Not of image, but of intimacy.

Because He is still the God who wakes the dead.

Even the Sardis kind.

Even the sardine kind.

And maybe, especially, the surrendered kind.

Happy Resurrection. My Savior lives.

-Chassitie L.