Sermon: Daniel 10, November 9, 2025
Scripture: Daniel 10
Preacher: Rev. Ryan Slifka
Isolation. Helplessness. Fear. Hopelessness. These are words that describe the experience of exile.
We’re one week away from finishing our sermon series on the book of Daniel, which takes place during the Babylonian exile. When Babylon, the world’s most powerful empire crushed the kingdom of Judah, knocked down the temple, and hauled off the elites, the best and brightest into captivity, into exile in Babylon.
Loneliness, helplessness, fear, and hopelessness are the understandable and reasonable emotions when you’re in exile. Because what is there to do? What is there to do when you are a prisoner to forces greater than yourself, your family, your tribe and even your nation. Forces way beyond your control?
Now, clearly there isn’t a single person in this church today who has been hauled to Courtenay, B.C. as the result of a Babylonian campaign.
And yet, we do know isolation, don’t we? And we know fear. There isn’t a Babylonian chariot barreling down our boulevard. But we are very afraid. Afraid of political rivals, climate catastrophe. Wars and rumours of wars. The rise of AI.
And we know helplessness and hopelessness. Think about Daniel and Israel in exile. You’re in a strange and foreign land. You’re high up in the bureaucracy, but you’re not in charge. Like there’s nothing you can do to fundamentally change the circumstance of your people, let alone reverse the trends. Sounds rather familiar, doesn’t it? I mean, we have enough of a hard time changing our actual habits, let alone changing the world. So we definitely know what it means to be helpless and hopeless, too.
Now, Daniel did find a way to cope with all of this. He didn’t find it where we do, in politics, or any host of chemical and electronic amusements. But he found it in God.
I can barely go between meals but this guy goes on a twenty-one day fast. He’s standing by the river Tigris, and suddenly, he looks up–way up–and before him is a giant figure all clothed in linen–like a priest. His body like beryl, his face like lightning, eyes like burning torches, body like burnished bronze. And when he speaks it’s like a thousand trumpets. It’s probably the angel Gabriel again, though we’re not entirely sure. Regardless of who this is, Daniel’s with a whole group of people and they don’t see it. But they get what appears to be a bad vibe and run away. Daniel’s so shaken by this whole thing that he loses all his strength and falls face first on the ground, in a trance.
Just then, though, a divine hand lifts him up again and puts him back on his feet. At this point, Daniel’s trembling, but the angel reassures him, tells him not to be afraid, but that he’s come in response to Daniel’s prayer and desire for understanding. Basically, says the angel. I’ve taken a break from fighting the Prince of Persia, who’d been opposing me for as long as your fast. And by the “Prince of Persia,” I don’t mean some dude in with a little gold crown. I mean another heavenly being, the spiritual head of their nation. What you might call a fallen angel who’s opposed to God.
Another angel–Michael, a prince of angels, in fact–joined me as backup. Don’t know him? He’s the heavenly protector of your people. I’ve left him in a foxhole back there to come and deliver you this message. To tell you what’s going to happen to your people at the end of days.
Now, I know this sounds like more of an acid trip than a holy vision. But it illustrates the worldview of the scriptures—both Old and New.
Remember the first thing Jesus does after his baptism. He faces the devil in the wilderness. The first thing Jesus does in his entire ministry is engage in a spiritual struggle against the personal, symbolized embodiment of evil. And he’s ministered to by angels. I mean, all Gabriel and Michael were doing in Daniel’s time is wage war with the angelic prince of Persia. In the New Testament Jesus goes head-to-head with the big man himself, the prince of darkness itself. The New Testament kicks it up a notch, but both are in agreement: that the underneath the surface of things, heavenly forces are waging war on forces opposed to God. There’s a battle being waged, one that we can’t see.
Which, let’s be honest, could be a source of more fear and panic. Like, there’s a cottage industry of Christian books dedicated to the issue of spiritual warfare. Like life itself is akin to a horror movie. Basically the minions of hell are going to jump out and grab you anywhere from behind your exam room table to outta the flaps on your cereal box. Your neighbours, the government. All this stuff can induce in us one big freaky, spooky panic.
But that’s not what it does to Daniel.
Look again at Daniel’s vision. After he gets a peak behind the curtain of reality, he’s totally pooped. “My Lord,” he says to the angel. “Because of this vision such pains have come upon me that I retain no strength.” He’s out of breath, he’s shaking, exhausted. I mean, maybe the reason is that he hasn’t had so much of a piece of toast for three weeks. Like, try eating an orange or something first.
All kidding aside, though, there really is something to this idea of seeing behind the curtain of things being exhausting. I mean, if life is shot through with spiritual realities, it can make us not only fearful, but exhausted at the kind of vigilance we need to show.
But that’s the opposite of the purpose of Daniel’s dream. After we see just how withered Daniel is, “again,” it says, “one in human form touched me and strengthened me.” Again, this is another example of not quite knowing who it is, whether it’s Gabriel, or God. Some scholars see it as Jesus prior to his becoming flesh.[i] Again, though, regardless of who speaks the words, here’s what they are: “Do not fear,” says the voice. “Do not fear, greatly beloved, you are safe.” You are safe. “Be strong, and courageous!” And when the angel says this that’s exactly what happens. “When he spoke to me,” says Daniel, “I was strengthened.” Which is to say that unseen reality or spiritual powers shouldn’t make us anxious or fearful, but calm and courageous. I mean, it’s no accident that the phrase Jesus says the most is “fear not.” “Be not afraid.”
But the idea is that the good in the universe is not against us, but for us. Even though him and his people are alone and isolated in Babylon, they are not ultimately alone in their daily struggles, or in the greater struggles of human life. But there is a goodness at the heart of things. And that goodness is God. That’s what gives Daniel his courage and his strength in the exile. And, in the end, the Persian empire came to an end.
And this is really, fundamentally, the source of our own strength as God’s people today. As the church. That none of us are actually alone in our struggles against any of the great evils of the world, or in our personal lives. It’s why the United Church’s Creed which we’ll say later begins with the words “We are not alone.” Because we believe that behind the curtain of reality is a goodness stronger than all the evil in our world. A goodness that is at work in ways we can’t see, bringing outcomes we would never expect. This is the source of our strength and our courage. We are not alone. On account of God.
And here’s the best part:
If we fast-forward from Daniel to the book of Revelation, chapter 12. The end of the Bible, and the end of time. And we’re given a vision of how the story ends. And it’s no mistake that it features our friend Michael again:
“And war broke out in heaven;” it says. “War broke out in heaven, and Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. The dragon and his angels fought back, but they were defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. The great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.”
Here, not only do we see the defeat of the Prince of Persia, but the Prince of darkness.
The triumph of good for good. Because the hidden struggle isn’t actually a fair fight. The biggest mistake we can make is to see good and evil as two competing opposites. God in one side of the ring, the devil in the other. Equal stats, let’s see who wins the title.
No! The gospel says that despite any appearance to the contrary, good will ultimately triumph over evil. And really, that’s what the cross and resurrection of Jesus are about. Evil threw it’s worst at God in the form of his Son to the point of killing him. But even death could not hold him. The cross is our downpayment, our token, our assurance that the purposes of our God can not be stopped, will not be foiled. Not only do we believe that there is a good at the heart of the universe, but we believe that this goodness is ultimately more powerful than evil. That old cliché “good always triumphs over evil,” doesn’t appear to be true. But it is if the Christian gospel is true. It’s our source of safety in danger and strength in struggle. No matter the odds.
There’s a story about Archbishop and anti-apartheid activist Desmond Tutu. One I might have shared before. But I’d share it every week if I could.
It was during the darkest days of apartheid. We know how it turned out, but nobody did at the time. It could have gone either way. The South African government tried to shut down opposition by canceling a political rally, but Tutu called together a church service instead.
The Cathedral was filled with worshippers. And outside the cathedral hundreds of police gathered. An obvious attempt at intimidation. As Tutu was preaching they entered the Cathedral, armed, and lined the walls.
But Tutu wouldn’t be intimidated. He preached against the evils of apartheid, declaring it could not endure. Its end was inevitable. And at one extraordinary point he addressed the police directly.
“You are powerful,” he admitted. “You are very powerful. But you are not gods and I serve a God who cannot be mocked. So, since you’ve already lost… Since you’ve already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!”[ii]
Like Daniel, Tutu trusted that, beyond what he could see, God was at work. That he could be strong and courageous, and strengthened because goodness was the “winning side” that would triumph over evil. Not only this evil, but every evil until the end. Rather than making him complacent, it gave him courage and strength against all odds.
And this, dear friends, is the same promise for you and, for me. Whether it’s the Babylonian exile, South African Apartheid, or something far closer to home, your everyday anxieties and fears. The good news of the gospel is that even in our isolation, God is with us. And that this God is good. In the face of our fear, the good God is with us, and for us. He’s with you and he’s for you, at work in ways you can not see.
So, in the words of the angel--“Do not.” “Do not fear, greatly beloved, you are safe.” You are safe. “Be strong, and courageous!” I invite you, today, to come and join the winning side!
I offer this to you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
[ii] https://storiesforpreaching.com/desmond-tutus-confidence/ Mike Dorn, “Since You’ve Already Lost,” website of the Capuchin Province of St. Joseph, accessed Dec. 21, 2018. https://www.thecapuchins.org/jpic/since-youve-already-lost