Author: lukesills

Categories
Christian living

Pride Comes Before the Fall

Pride is not just a cultural slogan or a personal attitude—it is a spiritual issue with eternal consequences. In a time when pride is celebrated in many forms and spaces, it is important to step back and examine what Scripture says about it. This is not merely about addressing one group or one movement, but about confronting the deeper issue that affects every human heart: pride itself.

Pride is often praised, defended, and even worn as a badge of honor. Yet, more often than not, it leads people down a path that strays from the Word of God. As has been said, pride is not a small flaw—it is the root of many others. It distorts our thinking, elevates ourselves above God, and ultimately leads us away from truth.

The central message is clear: the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against the prideful.

Romans 1:18–20 explains that God’s wrath is revealed against all ungodliness and unrighteousness. This wrath is not like human anger—it is holy, perfect, and just. It is directed toward those who reject God, who go against His created order, and who suppress the truth. God has made Himself known through creation. His eternal power and divine nature are clearly seen in the world around us. Because of this, no one has an excuse.

Pride plays a critical role here.

Pride Suppresses the Truth

People do not reject God because there is no evidence. They reject Him because pride does not want to acknowledge Him. Creation itself testifies to a Creator. The complexity of the human body, the order of the universe, and the beauty of the world all point to God. Yet pride pushes that truth down.

General revelation—what we see in creation—does not save, but it does reveal enough to make us accountable. The issue is not ignorance; it is refusal. Pride refuses to bow.

Pride Makes You Foolish

Romans 1:21–22 shows that although people know God, they do not honor Him or give thanks. Instead, their thinking becomes futile and their hearts are darkened. Claiming to be wise, they become fools.

Futile thinking produces nothing of value. It is empty and fruitless. When people reject God, they begin to define truth on their own terms. Their minds drift further from reality, and their hearts grow darker.

True wisdom begins with acknowledging God. Without that foundation, all human wisdom falls short.

Pride Leads to Idolatry

When truth is suppressed and thinking becomes futile, idolatry follows. Romans 1:23 describes how people exchange the glory of God for images—worshiping created things rather than the Creator.

Idolatry is not limited to carved statues. It can be anything elevated above God—possessions, status, intellect, or even personal desires. The human heart constantly produces idols, replacing God with something lesser.

At its core, idolatry is pride. It reshapes God into something manageable, something that fits human preferences rather than submitting to who He truly is.

Pride Leads to Improper Worship

Romans 1:24–25 reveals that God “gave them up” to their desires. This is a form of judgment—not only in eternity, but in the present. When people persist in pride, God allows them to follow their own path.

This results in dishonoring their bodies and exchanging truth for lies. Worship becomes misdirected. Instead of honoring the Creator, people serve creation.

This exchange is devastating. What seems like freedom is actually loss. What seems like gain is ultimately empty.

Pride Leads Away from God’s Design

Romans 1:26–31 shows the full progression. Pride leads people to reject God’s design entirely, including His design for human relationships and sexuality. When God is removed from the center, everything else becomes distorted.

The passage goes beyond one specific sin and lists many—envy, deceit, malice, gossip, arrogance, disobedience, and more. These sins affect every area of life and every relationship.

Pride convinces people that they have the authority to define right and wrong for themselves. It rejects God’s design and replaces it with human preference.

Pride Makes You the Final Judge

Romans 1:32 brings a sobering conclusion. People not only practice sin but approve of it in others. This reveals a deeper level of rebellion—knowing what is wrong, yet celebrating it.

Pride declares, “I am the authority.” It removes God from His rightful place as Judge and places self on the throne.

This is dangerous, not only because it leads to personal sin, but because it encourages others to follow the same path.

The Good News

The message does not end with judgment.

1 Corinthians 6:9–11 reminds us that while many will not inherit the kingdom of God because of sin, there is hope: “And such were some of you.” Those who believe in Christ can be washed, sanctified, and justified.

No matter how deep the sin or how strong the pride, there is a way to be made new. Jesus Christ lived a perfect life, died for sin, and rose again. Through faith in Him, a person can be forgiven and transformed.

Salvation is not about a checklist—it is about a relationship. It begins with repentance, turning away from pride and sin, and trusting in Christ.

A Call to Humility

James 4:6 says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

Pride leads to destruction, but humility leads to grace.

The call is simple:

  • Do not suppress the truth—embrace it.
  • Do not trust your own wisdom—seek God’s.
  • Remove idols—worship God alone.
  • Follow His design—do not redefine it.
  • Submit to Him as Judge—do not take His place.

Pride comes before the fall, but humility leads to life.

Categories
Matthew

Church Discipline: A Mark of a Healthy Church

Matthew 18:15–20

If you have a Bible, turn to Matthew 18. The topic before us is not one most people would call their favorite: church discipline. Yet, while it may feel uncomfortable, it is essential to the health, purity, and witness of the church.

Church discipline is often misunderstood. Some hear the phrase and immediately think of harsh judgment or exclusion. But biblically, church discipline is not about punishment—it is about restoration, protection, and love.

A helpful definition puts it this way:
Church discipline is the process of correcting sinful behavior among members of a local church for the purpose of protecting the church, restoring the sinner to a right walk with God, and renewing fellowship among believers.

Why Church Discipline Matters

We live in a time where many churches emphasize comfort over correction. As Mark Dever has pointed out, it is possible for a church to grow numerically, have great music, welcoming people, and exciting programs—and yet be spiritually unhealthy. Why? Because sin is tolerated rather than confronted.

J. Carl Laney describes it as an infection left untreated. Just as disease weakens the body, unchecked sin weakens the church. When discipline is neglected, the church loses its power, its witness, and its effectiveness.

God’s intention for His church is not just unity—but unity in holiness.

The Biblical Process of Church Discipline

In Matthew 18:15–20, Jesus gives a clear and loving process for addressing sin within the church. These steps are not optional—they are given by Christ Himself for the good of His people.

Step 1: Private Correction

Jesus begins:
“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone…”

Notice the context—this is about fellow believers, not outsiders. This is family. When sin occurs, the first step is not gossip, avoidance, or retaliation. It is a private, personal conversation.

This means:

  • Not waiting for them to come to you
  • Not giving them the cold shoulder
  • Not talking about them behind their back
  • Not masking gossip as a “prayer request”

Instead, you go directly to them—with humility and love.

Sometimes this correction is gentle. Other times it requires firm clarity. Scripture shows both. In Galatians 6:1, we are told to restore others in a spirit of gentleness. Yet in other places, like Paul confronting Peter, there is a necessary boldness.

Why? Because sin is serious—but so is restoration.

The goal is always the same:
“If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer captured this beautifully when he wrote that sin thrives in isolation but loses its power when brought into the light. Confession and loving confrontation break sin’s grip and restore fellowship.

Step 2: Group Correction

Jesus continues:
“But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you…”

Sometimes people don’t respond to private correction. At that point, others are brought in—not to gang up, but to:

  • Confirm the truth
  • Ensure fairness
  • Provide additional perspective

This principle comes from Deuteronomy 19:15—matters are established by two or three witnesses.

This step protects everyone involved. It guards against false accusations and helps the person see the seriousness of their sin.

Again, the goal remains unchanged:
restoration.

Step 3: Tell It to the Church

“If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church…”

At this stage, the issue becomes a matter for the whole body. Why? Because sin that remains unrepented affects more than just the individual—it impacts the entire church.

This step is not about public shaming. It is about corporate care. The church lovingly calls the individual to repentance, saying in effect:

“We love you too much to let you continue in this.”

We are not meant to ignore one another’s spiritual condition. True love cares deeply about a brother or sister’s walk with Christ.

Step 4: Removal from Fellowship

Jesus concludes:
“If he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”

This is the most difficult step. It involves removing the unrepentant person from church membership and fellowship.

This is not done lightly. It only happens after repeated opportunities for repentance. And even then, the purpose is not rejection—it is wake-up mercy.

In 1 Corinthians 5, Paul instructs the church to remove a man living in blatant sin—not to destroy him, but so that he might ultimately be saved.

Church discipline protects:

  • The individual (by confronting sin)
  • The church (by preventing sin from spreading)
  • The witness of the gospel

Christ’s Authority in Discipline

Jesus gives a powerful assurance in this passage:

“Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven…”

This reminds us that when the church faithfully follows Christ’s instructions, it acts under His authority. Discipline is not man-made—it is Christ-ordained.

And in verses 19–20, we are reminded that when believers gather in unity under His name, He is present among them—even in difficult moments like discipline.

Five Reasons to Practice Church Discipline

Drawing from biblical teaching, here are five key reasons the church must practice discipline:

1. For the Good of the Individual

Sin deceives. Discipline lovingly calls people back to truth and life.

2. For the Good of Other Believers

When sin is addressed, it serves as a warning and reminder of its seriousness.

3. For the Health of the Church

Scripture compares sin to yeast—it spreads. Discipline protects the church’s purity.

4. For the Church’s Witness

A holy church stands out in a broken world. When we look no different from the world, our message loses credibility.

5. For the Glory of God

Above all, we pursue holiness because God is holy. Our lives are meant to reflect His character.

The Heart Behind Discipline

It is important to remember:
Church discipline is not the main focus of the church—just like medicine is not the focus of life. But when needed, it is essential.

At its core, church discipline is about love:

  • Love for the individual
  • Love for the church
  • Love for the lost
  • Love for God

The Gospel Foundation

The greatest truth behind church discipline is this:
Jesus Himself confronted sin—our sin—at the cross.

Our greatest problem is not the sins we commit against one another, but the sins we have committed against God. And what did Christ do?

He took our punishment.
He bore the wrath we deserved.
He died in our place.
And He rose again.

Through His sacrifice, we are forgiven, restored, and made new.

Because of that love, we pursue holiness—not to earn salvation, but because we have been saved.

A Call to the Church

Church discipline is not easy—but it is necessary. It is a mark of a healthy church and a reflection of Christ’s love for His people.

So let us:

  • Love one another enough to speak truth
  • Walk in humility and accountability
  • Pursue holiness together
  • Reflect Christ to the world

And if you do not yet know Jesus, see His love for you. Turn from your sin, trust in Him, and be saved.

Let us be a church that is pure, loving, and faithful—
for the glory of God and the good of His people.

Go… and Keep Going

The final text in the Gospel of Matthew is incredibly important. It takes everything Jesus has done and said—everything we have seen in the cross, the burial, and the resurrection—and moves it toward action.

The women at the empty tomb were told to go.
The disciples were told to go.
And now the church is told to go.

One line has been on my heart as I’ve thought about this passage:

The biggest problem with the church is that we have turned the Great Commission into the Great Omission.

At the end of the Gospel of Matthew we read:

Matthew 28:16–20 says:

“Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’”

The message is simple:

Every Christian is called to go into the world and make disciples.

Why Galilee?

Matthew tells us the disciples met Jesus in Galilee on a mountain. That wasn’t random. It was intentional.

Galilee was where Jesus began His ministry. It was in Galilee that He preached the Sermon on the Mount. His first great teaching happened on a mountain there. Now His final commission happens on a mountain there.

At the beginning of His ministry the crowds were amazed because He taught with authority. Now, after the resurrection, Jesus declares:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”

The authority they saw glimpses of at the beginning is now fully revealed at the end.

The Sermon on the Mount focused inward—how a disciple should live.

The Great Commission focuses outward—now go make disciples.

Galilee was also called “Galilee of the Gentiles.” Even at the beginning of His ministry, the mission was bigger than Israel. It was always headed toward the nations.

And there’s something beautiful in this moment.

Before the cross Jesus told them, “After I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” He kept that promise. And when He calls them there, He doesn’t just call them disciples—He calls them brothers.

After their failure.
After their running.
After Peter’s denial.

They are restored and recommissioned.

Worship… and Doubt

When the disciples saw Jesus, Matthew records something honest:

They worshiped Him—but some doubted.

The word doubt here doesn’t mean outright unbelief. It means hesitation. It’s the same word used when Peter began to sink while walking on water.

Matthew includes this detail for believers like us. People who believe—but sometimes struggle.

What’s remarkable is this:
Jesus doesn’t shame them for their hesitation.

He gives them a mission.

Their flaws are not met with condemnation. They are met with calling.

Why We Go

Jesus explains why we must go:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”

This means the Great Commission is not based on preference. It’s based on authority.

We don’t fulfill the Great Commission because a pastor tells us to.

We fulfill it because the risen King commands it.

Human beings resist authority. We want to do what we want, when we want. But this command comes from the One who went to the cross for us and now reigns over all creation.

Understanding the Great Commission requires understanding the One who sent us.

What the Mission Is

Jesus gives four clear actions:

Go.
Make disciples.
Baptize them.
Teach them.

“Go” carries the idea of “as you are going.”

As you are going to work.
As you are going to school.
As you are going through your neighborhood.
As you are walking through Walmart.
As you are going through life.

Make disciples.

The Christian life was never meant to be stationary. The church was never meant to sit—it was meant to move.

This command is not just for pastors or missionaries. It is not for elite Christians. It is normal Christianity.

We go across the street.
We go across the office.
We go across the dinner table.

And some go across the ocean.

But every believer is called to go.

Not Just Converts—Disciples

Jesus did not say, “Go make converts.”

He said, “Make disciples.”

A disciple is someone who hears the Word of Jesus, understands it, and obeys it.

Disciple-making is deeper than a momentary decision. It is slower. More relational. More intentional.

It means walking with people.

Opening Scripture together.
Answering questions.
Modeling repentance.
Encouraging obedience.

Disciples are not microwaved. They are slow-cooked.

Jesus spent three years with His disciples—and even then they struggled. That alone tells us disciple-making is a process.

Baptism and Obedience

Part of making disciples includes baptism.

Baptism is not decoration. It is public identification with Christ.

It declares:

I have died with Christ.
I have been buried with Christ.
I am raised with Christ.

Baptism brings weight to the commitment of following Jesus. It forces a person to publicly align themselves with the crucified and risen Savior.

And then comes the part we often overlook:

Teaching them to observe everything Jesus commanded.

Not the comfortable parts.
Not the convenient parts.

All of it.

Selective obedience is simply disobedience in disguise.

The Promise That Makes It Possible

The Great Commission would feel impossible if it ended there.

But Jesus gives a promise:

“I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

The One who commands the mission also empowers the mission.

He doesn’t send His people out alone.

The cross purchased a people.
The burial confirmed the sacrifice.
The resurrection secured the throne.
The commission mobilizes the redeemed.

If the tomb is empty, the church cannot remain stationary.

Why We Must Keep Going

Numbers 13 and 14 show us another side of this story.

God promised Israel the land of Canaan. Twelve spies went to scout it.

They all saw the same land.

It was good. Fruitful. Exactly what God promised.

But they also saw giants and fortified cities.

Two reports came back.

The majority said:
“The land is good… but the people are too strong.”

Joshua and Caleb said:
“The people are strong… but the Lord is with us.”

Same facts.
Different faith.

The difference was where they placed the “but.”

The majority measured the promise by the problem.

Joshua and Caleb measured the problem by the promise.

The ten spies forgot God and saw giants.

Joshua and Caleb remembered God and saw victory.

Faith That Goes… and Keeps Going

Trusting God and His promises empowers us to keep going.

A resurrection faith moves intentionally.

It identifies people who need Christ and begins praying for them.

A resurrection faith speaks clearly.

The gospel must be explained. People cannot believe a message they have never heard.

A resurrection faith is patient.

Disciple-making takes time, relationships, and investment.

A resurrection faith calls for public obedience.

Baptism declares allegiance to Christ.

A resurrection faith submits to all of Christ’s teaching.

Not a curated Christianity—but a surrendered one.

And a resurrection faith endures because Christ is present.

When fear rises, we remember His presence.

When rejection comes, we remember we are not alone.

When fatigue sets in, we remember the risen King walks with His church.

The Empty Tomb Demands a Moving Church

The resurrection means Jesus reigns.

The cross was not defeat.
The tomb was not final.
The mission is not optional.

If the tomb is empty, our lives cannot remain stationary.

So the response is simple:

If you have never bowed to this risen King—surrender.

If you have received grace but withheld obedience—repent.

If comfort has replaced calling—move.

If you are weary—remember He is with you.

Because resurrection faith does not sit.

It goes.
And it keeps going.

Categories
Jonah

From the Depths to Dry Land: The Prayer That Changed Jonah

Jonah 2 records the first time in the book that the prophet speaks directly to God. In chapter 1, the pagan captain pleads with him to pray. The sailors cry out to their gods. The storm rages. And Jonah remains silent. It is only after he is hurled into the sea, swallowed by a great fish, and physically delivered from drowning that he finally lifts his voice to the Lord.

But notice where this prayer happens—not in a temple, not at an altar, not in the safety of community—but in the belly of a fish.

Jonah prays from a place no one would consider a sanctuary.

And yet, it becomes one.

A Prayer from the Belly of the Fish

Jonah’s prayer is remarkable for many reasons, but one stands out immediately: he gives thanks before the danger has fully passed.

He is still inside the fish. He is still confined, uncomfortable, and uncertain. Yet he praises God for deliverance already granted. He recognizes that his rescue from drowning is an act of divine mercy and compassion, even though he has not yet reached dry land.

Despite his location, Jonah is thankful.

He focuses not on the smell of the fish, the darkness, or the confinement—but on the mercy of God.

And that tells us something profound: gratitude is not dependent on geography.

Death and Rebirth in the Deep

The Hebrew text reinforces this theme of deliverance with striking imagery. In Jonah 1:17, the fish is described using a masculine noun. In Jonah 2:1, it is feminine. While some may dismiss this as scribal variation, the context suggests something more poetic and symbolic.

The masculine fish swallows Jonah in an image of death.

The feminine fish carries him like a womb, preparing him for rebirth.

The Hebrew word translated “inside” refers to inward parts and is closely associated with the word for “womb.” Jonah’s experience is portrayed not merely as rescue—but as movement from death to life, from burial to birth.

This birthing imagery intensifies in Jonah’s own language. He describes his distress using a word associated with the pains of childbirth—being bound tightly, trapped under pressure. He cries out “from the womb of Sheol,” a phrase found nowhere else in the Old Testament.

Sheol represents the realm of the dead. To describe it as a womb suggests that Jonah is as good as dead—yet not beyond the possibility of new life.

His deliverance is framed not just as survival, but as rebirth.

And that raises a question every believer must eventually face:

Have you been born again?

The Christian life is not simply being rescued from consequences—it is dying to self and being remade in the image of Christ.

A Psalm from the Deep

Jonah’s prayer reads like a psalm of thanksgiving, structured in five descending stanzas (verses 2–6), each describing a deeper stage of descent.

1. A Summary of Distress and Deliverance

Jonah begins:
“I called out to the Lord, out of my distress, and he answered me.”

This mirrors the pattern of thanksgiving psalms—crisis followed by rescue. He starts by speaking about God, then shifts to addressing Him directly. The relational distance is closing.

2. Hurled into Chaos

Though sailors physically threw him overboard, Jonah acknowledges, “You cast me into the deep.”

He recognizes God’s sovereignty behind human action.

The sea in Israel’s imagination symbolized chaos and death. Yet Jonah confesses that even the chaos belongs to God. The waves are “your waves.” The billows are “your billows.”

The deep is not outside Yahweh’s control.

3. The Turning Point

At the center of the prayer comes this pivotal line:

“I am driven away from your sight; yet I shall again look upon your holy temple.” (Jonah 2:4)

Here Jonah realizes that his flight from God has resulted in more than chosen distance—it has produced experienced exile.

When he was hurled from the ship, the illusion ended. He could no longer pretend he could run and still maintain control.

Yet even in banishment, he turns.

He cannot return to the temple—but he can look toward it.

This orientation of the heart becomes the theological center of the prayer. Repentance begins not with relocation, but reorientation.

4. Helplessness Intensifies

Jonah describes waters closing over him. The deep surrounds him. Seaweed wraps around his head. The imagery grows heavier, darker, more suffocating.

He is not exaggerating. He is helpless.

5. The Lowest Point—and the Raising Up

He sinks to “the roots of the mountains.” The earth’s bars close upon him “forever.”

And then comes the reversal:

“Yet you brought up my life from the pit, O Lord my God.”

The descent is matched by God’s ascent. The prayer begins and ends with deliverance, framing everything else inside divine mercy.

Remembering the Lord

“When my life was fainting away, I remembered the Lord.”

In Scripture, remembering is covenantal, not casual. Jonah does not mean he recalled a fact. He means he returned relationally. He came back in loyalty and dependence.

Often, we too “remember” God only when the options run out.

Jonah’s prayer rises “to your holy temple”—not because God is confined to a building, but because the temple represents covenant presence.

Unlike other religions that insist you must go somewhere special to pray at a deeper level, Jonah teaches us something radically freeing: God hears from the belly of a fish.

No depth silences prayer when God chooses to hear.

A Provocative Statement About Idols

Jonah declares:

“Those who pay regard to vain idols forsake their hope of steadfast love.”

The statement is theologically true—but spiritually uncomfortable.

It may refer to the sailors’ former gods. It may point to Israel’s history. It may warn future readers. But it creates tension.

Jonah contrasts himself with idolaters—even though he has just run from God in self-serving disobedience.

Tim Keller defines an idol this way:
An idol is anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God—anything you seek to give you what only God can give.

Jonah fled because he valued control, reputation, and national preference more than God’s mercy toward Nineveh.

It is possible to be theologically correct and spiritually misaligned.

“Salvation Belongs to the LORD”

The prayer climaxes with one of the most powerful confessions in Scripture:

“Salvation belongs to the LORD.”

Not to sailors.
Not to prophets.
Not to personal effort.
Not to timing.

To the Lord.

Jonah acknowledges God’s sovereign right to save whomever He chooses—even though he still struggles with how that salvation might extend to Nineveh.

Then God speaks to the fish.

And Jonah is vomited onto dry land.

Vomiting in Scripture often symbolizes judgment. Here, it becomes salvation. Jonah is expelled not because he has fully repented, but because God has decided to deliver him.

Both swallowing and vomiting serve God’s saving purpose.

What Jonah 2 Teaches Us

HEAD — What We Are Called to Know

  1. Salvation is entirely the Lord’s work.
    Chaos, fish, sailors, and seas all answer to Him.
  2. God hears prayer from unlikely places.
    No depth, no distance, no darkness prevents Him from hearing.
  3. Deliverance often begins before circumstances change.
    Jonah gives thanks inside the fish. The Christian life echoes this tension: we are saved, we are being saved, and we will be saved.
  4. God’s deliverance is rebirth, not mere rescue.
    Death-to-life transformation defines true salvation.
  5. Repentance begins with reorientation.
    When you cannot return, you can still look toward God.
  6. Remembering the Lord is covenant loyalty.
    We are called to continually remember the cross.

HEART — What We Are Called to Feel

  1. Gratitude in distress.
    Worship does not wait for comfort.
  2. Humility before mercy.
    Jonah lives because God is compassionate, not because he deserves it.
  3. Hope at the lowest point.
    No descent is beyond God’s reach. That is deeply encouraging.
  4. Awe at patient sovereignty.
    God does not argue. He commands.
    As 2 Peter 3:9 reminds us, He is patient, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

HANDS — How We Are Called to Live

  1. Pray honestly from wherever you are.
    Prayer can be raw, messy, and immediate.
  2. Give thanks before full deliverance.
    Faith praises ahead of visible resolution.
  3. Reorient when you feel far away.
    Look toward Him.
  4. Keep your vows and testify publicly.
    Gratitude moves outward into obedience.
  5. Rest in God’s timing.
    He rescues according to His purposes—even when the process is uncomfortable.

Salvation belongs to the LORD.

From the depths of the sea to the dryness of shore, from death to rebirth, from rebellion to restoration—every step is His.

Categories
Jonah

When the Storm Reveals the Sovereign:

Jonah 1:7–17

The great problem in the book of Jonah: the prophet of God was running from the call of God. The Lord had spoken, but Jonah had fled. And as we noted, his running was not only hurting him—it was about to endanger everyone around him. Disobedience never stays contained. It spills over.

As we come to Jonah 1:7–17, the storm is raging, the sailors are desperate, and the Lord is doing far more than anyone on that ship realizes.

The Lot That Wasn’t Luck

The sailors, in their panic, say to one another, “Come, let us cast lots, that we may know on whose account this evil has come upon us.” Casting lots in the ancient world involved tossing marked stones or objects and interpreting the result as divine direction. To them, this was a way to discover the source of their calamity.

The lot falls on Jonah.

This is no coincidence. This is divine sovereignty. The storm was not random. The lot was not luck. The God who made the sea and the dry land was ruling over both.

When the lot falls on Jonah, the questions begin to fly:

  • Who is responsible for this?
  • What is your occupation?
  • Where do you come from?
  • What is your country?
  • Of what people are you?

In other words: Who are you, and what have you done?

Jonah answers—though not completely. He says, “I am a Hebrew, and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land.”

What a powerful proclamation to pagan sailors. He confesses Yahweh as Creator—the One who made the very sea that now threatens to swallow them. Yet the irony is thick: Jonah says he fears the Lord while actively fleeing from Him. His theology is orthodox. His life is not.

The men are exceedingly afraid. They understand that if this man is running from the Creator of the sea, then they are in serious trouble. “What is this that you have done!” they cry.

They know something serious has happened to bring about a storm like this.

The Prophet Who Would Rather Be Thrown Overboard

As the sea grows more and more tempestuous, they ask Jonah the most practical question imaginable: “What shall we do to you, that the sea may quiet down for us?”

Jonah’s answer is striking: “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea; then the sea will quiet down for you, for I know it is because of me that this great tempest has come upon you.”

He knows he is the problem. He recognizes God’s hand in the storm. Yet he does not repent. He does not say, “Turn the ship around. Let me go back and obey the Lord.” Instead, it is as though he says, “Just get rid of me. Throw me overboard.”

There is something deeply tragic here. Jonah seems to despair of future usefulness. He appears to believe there is nothing left for him but judgment. Rather than turn back to obedience, he resigns himself to being cast away.

The sailors, however, are more compassionate than the prophet. They row harder. They strain toward dry land. They do everything in their power to avoid throwing him into the sea. But they cannot. The storm only worsens.

Once again, we see the point clearly: Jonah is not in control. The sailors are not in control. God is.

The Pagan Sailors Who Fear the Lord

Finally, these sailors do what Jonah should have done from the beginning—they call out to the Lord.

“O Lord, let us not perish for this man’s life, and lay not on us innocent blood, for you, O Lord, have done as it pleased you.”

They recognize God’s sovereignty. They acknowledge His right to act according to His will. With trembling reverence, they pick up Jonah and hurl him into the sea.

And immediately, the sea ceases from its raging.

The effect is dramatic. The storm that no human effort could calm stops at once. The men fear the Lord exceedingly. They offer a sacrifice and make vows to Him.

Think about that. These sailors—who were never supposed to meet Jonah—have an encounter with the living God because of a prophet’s disobedience. Even in Jonah’s rebellion, God is saving. Even while His servant runs, God is drawing pagans from false gods to the fear of the one true Lord.

God’s purposes are not thwarted by our failure.

The Appointed Fish and the Greater Miracle

Then we read the verse many have been waiting for: “And the Lord appointed a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.”

For some, this is the stumbling block. “How could a fish swallow a man and keep him alive for three days and three nights?”

But that is not the real issue. The issue is not the fish. The issue is the miracle.

In a scientific age, we are tempted to dismiss what does not fit neatly into natural explanation. But by definition, a miracle is an act of God that stands outside the normal course of nature. If Jonah is correct that the Lord is the Creator of the heavens, the sea, and the dry land, then appointing a creature to swallow and preserve a man is no difficulty at all.

The text says the Lord appointed the fish. God knew exactly when and where Jonah would hit the water. With absolute knowledge and power, He could use an existing creature, appoint another, or create one for this very moment. The point is not the species of the fish. The point is the sovereignty of God.

The better question is not, “Could this happen?” but “Why did this happen?”

Jesus answers that for us. Jonah was a sign.

Jonah and the Greater Prophet

Just as Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights, so the Son of Man would be in the heart of the earth.

The parallels are striking:

  • Both came from Galilee (Jonah from Gath-hepher in lower Galilee; see 2 Kings 14:25).
  • Both preached judgment and mercy.
  • Both were forsaken.
  • Both entered into death for the sake of others.
  • Both were kept three days.
  • Both were raised up by the Father.

Jonah went into the jaws of the fish; Jesus went into the jaws of the grave.

There is another connection we must not miss. The sailors were saved only when Jonah was handed over to death. The storm ceased when the prophet was cast into the sea. Jonah died to them, but lived to God.

That points us directly to the cross.

God’s wrath does not subside because we row harder. The sailors tried that. It only made them exhausted. Deliverance came only when the appointed substitute was given over.

So it is with us. You do not work your way out of the wrath of God. You do not try harder, clean yourself up, or row more diligently in the storm of your sin. If you try, you will drown.

Your only hope is grace—grace found in the blood of Christ. We come empty-handed, trusting fully, clinging to the finished work of Jesus. And it is there that we meet our sovereign, saving, idol-smashing God.

Is There Something of Jonah in Us?

One writer reflects on Jonah’s despair in this moment. When Jonah said, “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea,” he may have felt there was nothing left for him. No future usefulness. No assurance. No certainty that he was still even a true servant of God. Where there is no obedience, there can be no assurance.

He felt like a castaway—physically and spiritually—with no guarantee of rescue.

The sailors did all they could. They rowed hard. They begged pardon before throwing him overboard. They offered sacrifices afterward. But for Jonah, they could do nothing. They could only commit him to the tender mercies of his God.

And that forces a question on us:

Is something of Jonah reflected in my life?

Leader though I may be; minister, preacher, pastor, missionary, Christian worker—have I turned from God’s Word and presence? Have the effects of that already written themselves into my biography? Is God saying something to me through the dark providences of life?

Am I like Jonah?

Head, Heart, and Hands

Head — What We Must Understand

Jonah 1:7–17 teaches us that God is absolutely sovereign—even over our disobedience. He rules storms, lots, sailors, repentance, fear, worship, and fish. Nothing is random. Nothing is outside His control.

We also learn that running from God never affects only us. Jonah’s disobedience endangered innocent sailors. Our sin always has a radius.

Most importantly, Jonah is a sign pointing us to Christ. Salvation comes not through human effort but through God’s appointed substitute.

Heart — What We Must Feel

This passage should humble us. It exposes how easily we can confess truth with our lips—“I fear the Lord”—while running from Him with our lives.

It should search us. Some of us know what it feels like to despair of usefulness, to feel spiritually castaway. Yet this text also comforts us. Even when Jonah gives up on himself, God has already appointed the fish. God is not finished when we think He is.

Grace meets Jonah at the bottom of the sea.

Hands — How We Must Respond

Stop running. Obedience delayed is still disobedience.

Own your sin honestly—not just admitting guilt, but turning back to God in repentance.

Rest fully in grace. Stop rowing harder. Call on the Lord.

And believe that God is not done with you. If He can appoint a storm, a lot, a fish, and a cross for His redemptive purposes, He can still work through repentant sinners today.

Our hope is not our faithfulness, but His sovereign mercy—revealed fully and finally in Jesus Christ.

Categories
Jonah

Running from the Word: The Sovereign Mercy of God in the Book of Jonah

The book of Jonah was written either by Jonah himself or by a contemporary who carefully recorded these events. While the precise authorship is not definitively known, the time frame of the book falls somewhere between 843 BC and 705 BC, during a turbulent period in Israel’s history. These were dark spiritual days—marked by moral compromise, political instability, and widespread disobedience to the Lord.

Yet into that darkness, God spoke.

The book of Jonah shows us truths we cannot afford to overlook. It reveals that the Lord is sovereign in His power. He commands winds and waves. He directs nations and prophets. He rules storms and hearts alike. It also shows us that He is the Savior of all people. His mercy is not confined to one ethnicity, one nation, or one class of people. All people need Jesus. And the Lord delights to show His mercy and salvation to all who will repent.

This is not a fairy tale. It is not spiritual folklore or moral fiction. Jesus Himself affirmed its historicity. In Matthew 12:39–41 (ESV), He said:

“An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah. For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.”

If Jesus treated Jonah as real history, so must we. And if Nineveh’s repentance was real, then the mercy they received was real as well.

Running from the Word, Fleeing the Presence

Jonah 1:1–6 (ESV) begins:

“Now the word of the LORD came to Jonah the son of Amittai, saying, ‘Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it, for their evil has come up before me.’ But Jonah rose to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the LORD. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish… But the LORD hurled a great wind upon the sea…”

What happens when God’s Word comes to us clearly, personally, and authoritatively—and we refuse it?

Jonah 1:1–6 is not merely a story about a prophet and a storm. It is a spiritual anatomy of rebellion. It is a sober reminder that obedience delayed is obedience denied, and that refusing God’s mission never leaves us unchanged—or alone in the consequences.

Jonah was not an inexperienced prophet. According to 2 Kings 14:25, he had already ministered during the reign of Jeroboam II. He was part of a new generation of prophets shaped by the ministries of Elijah and Elisha. Sinclair Ferguson notes that prophets of this era were marked by a deep sense of destiny. God had laid hold of their lives. Calling and destiny were inseparable. God did not merely use prophets; He claimed them.

And that is what makes this book so frightening for believers. Jonah knew God. He had experienced God’s power. He had spoken God’s Word. Yet when faced with a command that threatened his comfort, pride, and preferences, he resisted.

That should sober us.

The Word Came with Clarity

“Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it…” (Jonah 1:2).

The command was unmistakably clear.

It came with clarity: Arise, go to Nineveh.
It came with reality: That great city.
It came with responsibility: Call out against it.

Jonah did not need weeks of prayer, spreadsheets of pros and cons, or deeper theological analysis. God told him exactly what to do. Often we claim confusion when our real problem is not misunderstanding—but unwillingness. As Ferguson observes, our difficulty in obeying God is rarely intellectual. It is moral.

Jonah’s resistance was not about interpretation; it was about submission.

Amen—or ouch.

Why Nineveh Was Too Much

Nineveh was the capital of the Assyrian Empire—the most ruthless and violent superpower of the ancient world. Assyria was not just pagan; it was a looming enemy of Israel. To go to Nineveh was to step directly into enemy territory.

Jonah’s problem was deeper than fear. It was pride and nationalism. He likely wanted God’s grace for Israel and judgment for Assyria. He may have suspected that if he preached repentance, God might actually forgive them—and that was more than he could bear.

He did not want his enemies to receive mercy.

But God’s mercy is not tribal. It is sovereign.

The Tragic “But”

Jonah 1:3 begins with one of the saddest words in Scripture: “But.”

God said, “Arise, go.”
“But Jonah rose to flee…”

He goes down to Joppa. He goes down into the ship. Eventually, he will go down into the sea.

Rebellion is always downward.

Jonah even paid the fare himself. Ferguson points out the irony: Jonah literally paid in order not to serve the Lord. Disobedience always comes at a cost. The fare at Joppa was only the beginning.

The text says he fled “from the presence of the LORD.” He was not merely avoiding a task; he was attempting to abandon his calling. He wanted distance from God’s mission, from God’s voice, from God’s presence.

But no one outruns the sovereign God.

God Hurls a Storm

“But the LORD hurled a great wind upon the sea…” (Jonah 1:4).

The storm was not accidental. It was deliberate. The same God who commands prophets commands weather patterns. The sailors are terrified. They cry out to their gods and throw cargo overboard.

Meanwhile, Jonah sleeps.

This is tragic irony. The only man on board who knows the true God is spiritually numb. Rebellion dulls spiritual sensitivity. When we repeatedly ignore God’s Word, even our conscience grows quiet.

Jonah’s sleep was not peace—it was avoidance. He had run so hard from God that he collapsed inwardly. Sin is never static. What we tolerate today will dominate us tomorrow.

It takes a pagan sailor to wake a prophet.

“Arise, call out to your god!” (Jonah 1:6).

The captain’s words echo God’s original command. When God’s Word is ignored, He may send His message through unexpected voices—even unbelievers. Many of us have felt that sting before. Being corrected by someone who does not even share our faith can be humbling—and painful.

Jonah’s rebellion was no longer private. It endangered everyone around him.

That truth extends to us. We carry the only message of hope in a perishing world. When we withhold it out of fear, inconvenience, or indifference, others remain in danger.

Rebellion Denies Hope

Perhaps the most tragic detail is Jonah’s silence. While pagans pray, the prophet sleeps. He has a missionary opportunity right in front of him—but no desire to extend grace.

Prolonged disobedience does not merely distance us from God. It diminishes our compassion for others.

And yet, the book does not ultimately highlight Jonah’s failure—it magnifies God’s mercy.

Jonah, the Great Commission, and Us

Jonah’s mission was geographically specific; ours is universal. Jesus commands us to go to all nations—every ethnos—with the gospel. That includes neighbors, coworkers, friends, and enemies.

When we resist sharing Christ because it is costly or uncomfortable, we walk a path similar to Jonah’s. It may look quieter in our day, but it is no less serious.

Yet even here there is hope. God disciplines His children not out of cruelty, but love. Storms are sometimes mercies in disguise. They awaken us before we drift too far. Many of us can look back on hard seasons and see that God was redirecting us—shaking us awake for His mission.

Left to ourselves, we are all little Jonahs. Especially those of us who have known the Lord for years. We want to be used—but on our terms. We prefer selective obedience. We obey where it is comfortable and hesitate where it is costly.

But obedience is not selective. To reject one clear command is to challenge God’s authority.

Living with Obedient Availability

The application is straightforward and searching:

Live with obedient availability. Where is God’s Word clear—but costly—in your life?

Refuse selective obedience. To reject one command is to resist the Lord Himself.

Speak the gospel willingly and regularly. We hold the only message of hope in a dying world.

Pray for courage and opportunity. God delights to open doors when His people ask.

And above all, remember Christ.

Jesus did what Jonah would not. He came willingly into a hostile world. He did not flee from the Father’s will. He bore the ultimate storm—the wrath of God against sin—and He did so to offer mercy to His enemies, including us.

Jonah ran from enemies he did not want forgiven. Jesus ran toward enemies He intended to save.

“Something greater than Jonah is here.”

When God Says “Arise”

Jonah 1:1–6 confronts us with a choice. When God says, “Arise,” will we rise to obey—or rise to run?

The good news is that God is relentless in grace. He pursues fleeing prophets. He speaks again. He uses storms redemptively. He saves pagan sailors. He rescues rebellious preachers. And He extends mercy to violent cities.

The Lord is sovereign in His power.
He is the Savior of all people.
All people need Jesus.
And His mercy is wider than our prejudices.

May we be found not running from His Word, but rising to it—for the glory of Christ and the salvation of others.

Categories
Church History

The Light That Came: From Eternity to the Manger—and to the Cross

Luke, writing to “most excellent Theophilus,” tells us exactly why he picked up his pen. He wanted certainty—not sentiment. Not myth. Not a warmed-over religious tradition, but a carefully investigated, orderly account of what God had actually done in real history (Luke 1:1–4). For Luke, Christmas is not a fairy tale that begins with “once upon a time,” but a true story that begins “in those days.” It is anchored to real people, real places, real rulers, and real promises that God never forgot.

Luke himself is a surprising choice to tell this story. He is not Jewish, but a Gentile. Not an apostle, but a close companion of Paul. Not merely a theologian, but a historian, a physician, and—judging by the songs that fill his opening chapters—something of a poet as well. And what Luke gives us in the opening of his Gospel is not simply the birth of Jesus, but the breaking of divine silence.

For four hundred years, God had not spoken through a prophet. Israel waited. Rome ruled. The temple still stood. Priests still served. Sacrifices were still offered. But heaven was quiet—until one ordinary day, in one ordinary priest’s ordinary obedience, God interrupted history.

Zechariah was one priest among roughly eight thousand. His division served only two weeks a year. On this particular day, by the casting of lots, he was chosen to offer incense—an honor so rare that many priests never experienced it in their lifetime. As the prayers of the people rose like fragrant smoke, Zechariah stepped into the Holy Place, standing before the altar of incense, the veil of the Holy of Holies looming before him. And there, after centuries of silence, Gabriel appeared.

Fear fell on Zechariah, just as it had centuries earlier when Gabriel stood before Daniel. This was not superstition—it was the terror of encountering the living God. And yet the message Gabriel brought was not judgment, but good news. Elizabeth would bear a son. His name would be John—“God has been gracious.” He would be filled with the Holy Spirit from the womb. He would turn hearts back to God. He would go before the Lord in the spirit and power of Elijah. The dawn was breaking.

And yet, astonishingly, Zechariah doubted.

This was not the doubt of ignorance. Zechariah knew the Scriptures. He knew God had opened barren wombs before—Sarah, Hannah, Samson’s mother. He was not a pagan, but a priest. He was not praying in a field, but in the temple itself. He was not hearing a rumor, but standing before an angel who stood in the presence of God. And still he asked, “How shall I know this?”

The angel’s response was both firm and gracious. Zechariah would be silent—not because God had abandoned him, but because God would still keep His word. Even unbelief could not derail redemption. The promise would stand. The child would be born. And God would speak again—first through John, then through Jesus Himself.

This is where Christmas begins: not with perfect faith, but with a faithful God. Not with human strength, but with divine initiative. John’s birth announcement is the first crack of light before the sunrise of Christ. God has remembered. God has shown favor. Immanuel is coming.

Luke then shifts the scene—from the temple in Jerusalem to a small home in Nazareth. From a priest to a young girl. From public worship to quiet surrender.

Gabriel appears again, but this time the message is even greater. Mary will conceive and bear a son. His name will be Jesus. He will be great. He will be called the Son of the Most High. His kingdom will never end. This is not merely a miracle—it is the fulfillment of centuries of promise, stretching back to David, to Abraham, even to Eden itself.

Mary asks a question, but hers is not the question of disbelief. It is faith seeking understanding: “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” And Gabriel answers with words that echo through all of Scripture: “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

What follows reveals the heart of true discipleship. Mary does not bargain. She does not delay. She does not protect her reputation. She does not calculate the cost—though she surely knew it would be great. She simply submits: “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”

This is the posture Christmas demands. Not self-sufficiency, but surrender. Not control, but trust. God comes to the humble, the needy, the poor in spirit. The incarnation is not for the proud. It never has been.

Mary goes to Elizabeth, and the story overflows with joy. An unborn John leaps at the presence of the unborn Christ. Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit and cries out in praise. Faith recognizes faith. Promise recognizes fulfillment. And Mary sings.

Her song—the Magnificat—is not sentimental. It is theological. It is revolutionary. She praises God for His might, His holiness, and His mercy. She celebrates a God who scatters the proud, brings down the mighty, exalts the humble, fills the hungry, and sends the rich away empty. This is the great reversal of God’s kingdom. This is what Christmas means.

God has remembered His mercy. God has kept His promises. The child in Mary’s womb is the fulfillment of Genesis 3:15—the offspring who would crush the serpent’s head. He is the offspring of Abraham through whom all nations would be blessed. Christmas is not a new idea; it is the climax of an ancient promise.

Luke then grounds the story once more in history. Caesar Augustus issues a decree. The world is counted. Empires move people like pieces on a board. And yet, unknowingly, Caesar serves the purposes of God. A census moves Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem—the city of David—fulfilling Micah’s prophecy. Earthly power thinks it is ruling history, but heaven is writing it.

Jesus is born—not in a palace, but in a home where the guest room is full. Not laid in gold, but in a manger. Not announced to emperors, but to shepherds—men considered unclean, unreliable, and insignificant. And yet to them the angels sing:

“Fear not… I bring you good news of great joy… For unto you is born this day… a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

Those titles mattered. Augustus was called savior. Son of God. Lord. Bringer of peace. And heaven answers Rome’s propaganda with truth: the real Savior is not in Rome, but in a feed trough. The real Lord does not rule by force, but by humility. The real peace is not political—it is eternal.

The shepherds go. They see. They tell. They praise. And Mary treasures these things, pondering them in her heart. Christmas produces worship when it is truly seen.

But the Christmas story does not stop at the manger.

Jesus did not come only to live—He came to die.

He lived a life completely free from sin, fulfilling the Law from the very beginning. Even as an infant, He was circumcised, presented at the temple, and consecrated to the Lord. He obeyed perfectly where we never could. Simeon and Anna recognized Him as God’s promised salvation, a light for the Gentiles, and the Redeemer of Israel. And Simeon also spoke of suffering—of a sword that would pierce Mary’s own soul. The shadow of the cross was already falling across the cradle.

Christmas is not just about a baby in a manger. It is about a Savior set apart to suffer and die for sinners.

This is where John’s Gospel pulls back the curtain even further.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

John takes us back before Bethlehem. Before shepherds. Before angels. Before creation itself. Jesus is eternally God. Before time began. Before matter existed. Before a single star was hung in place—Jesus already was.

“All things were made through Him.”

Every mountain peak. Every sunrise. Every star in the sky. And more personally—you. You are not an accident. You are intentionally crafted, deeply valued, and eternally loved.

And yet, “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

The eternal God took on skin. The Creator stepped into His creation. The Light walked straight into our darkness. The baby in the manger is the Lord of glory. The child of Bethlehem is the One who would one day hang on a cross to shatter the darkness once and for all.

“He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, yet the world did not know Him.”

Sin blinds. Sin darkens. Sin keeps people from recognizing the God who came to save them. But rejection is not the end of the story.

“To all who did receive Him… He gave the right to become children of God.”

This new birth is not earned. Not inherited. Not achieved. It is pure grace.

This is why Charles Spurgeon said, “For this child is not born unto you unless you are born to this child.”

Christmas demands a response.

Will we doubt like Zechariah, or believe like Mary?
Will we admire the story, or receive the Savior?
Will we bow to the child in the manger, or look for salvation elsewhere?

Light has come.
Light is here.
Light wins.

God stepped into the darkness.
God came near.
God came for you.
God came to save you.

And because Jesus is eternally God, His love is eternal. His grace is eternal. His life is eternal. And His light will never go out.

Christmas is not sentiment.
It is rescue.
It is God keeping His promises—right on time.

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”

Categories
Matthew

Where Does Your Devotion Lie?

Matthew 26:1–16

If you have your Bible, open it to Matthew 26. Today I want to wrestle with a simple but searching question:
Where does your devotion lie?

I titled the message that way on purpose, because this passage shows us a tale of two devotions. And as I mentioned last week—there is no middle ground with God.
You are either devoted to Christ, or you are not.

Jesus has just finished His final teachings, and the shadow of the cross now hangs fully over the Gospel narrative. Matthew begins the chapter by reminding us that Jesus is not caught off guard. He is not the victim of circumstance. He is not scrambling to respond to the threats around Him.
No—He is in full control.

“You know that after two days the Passover is coming,
and the Son of Man will be delivered up to be crucified.”
— Matthew 26:2

Jesus had predicted this moment repeatedly. Now the Passover approaches—a time when Jerusalem swelled to nearly five times its normal population. Yet even in the middle of the crowds, the religious leaders gather in secret, plotting Jesus’ death behind closed doors.

On one side of town, in the palace of Caiaphas, the religious elite are scheming.
On the other side, in the humble home of Simon the leper, a woman is worshiping.

And right there Matthew gives us the contrast that frames the whole passage.

A Tale of Two Devotions

Imagine the scene.
In Caiaphas’s palace, men who look clean on the outside are busy preparing for Passover. They are purifying themselves, making sure every ritual box is checked.

But inside those purified bodies sit polluted hearts—hearts plotting murder.

Meanwhile Jesus is reclining at table in the house of Simon the leper—a place every religious leader would have avoided. And in that humble setting, a woman comes forward with an alabaster flask of extremely expensive perfume and pours it over Jesus’ head.

While religious men sit in clean places with dirty hearts, this woman sits in an “unclean” place with a heart overflowing in worship.

Holiness is not found in the palace.
Holiness is found wherever Jesus is.

1. Love Serves. Hate Schemes.

This woman—John’s Gospel tells us she is Mary—demonstrates a devotion that stops heaven in its tracks. She pours out what was likely a year’s wage. To the disciples, it seems like a waste.
To Jesus, it is beautiful.

“She has done a beautiful thing to me.”
— Matthew 26:10

Her act is extravagant, costly, misunderstood, and yet Jesus says it will be remembered wherever the gospel is preached.
Why?
Because love serves.

She shows us something crucial:
Jesus must come first—above money, above reputation, above expectations, above the needs around us, above everything.

The disciples’ theology was off because they placed service to others on the same level as devotion to Christ. But you cannot love others well unless you first love Him most.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the story, we find Judas.
One of Jesus’ own.
One who walked with Him, watched Him, learned from Him.

And yet Judas slips into the darkness to strike a deal.

“What will you give me if I deliver him to you?”
— Matthew 26:15

Thirty pieces of silver.
Not even half of what Mary poured on Jesus’ head.

Her devotion is uncalculating generosity.
His devotion is cold calculation.

Mary serves.
Judas schemes.
But Christ redeems.

2. Despite Our Sin, Jesus Still Died for Sinners

Here is the beauty of the gospel in this passage:

Love serves. Hate schemes. But Christ redeems.

Mary prepares Jesus’ body for burial without even knowing it. Judas prepares to betray Him, and the religious elite prepare to arrest Him. And through it all—Jesus walks toward the cross on purpose.

He is not a victim of their schemes.
He is the Redeemer fulfilling His mission.

He goes to the cross knowing exactly how deeply humanity betrays Him—and He goes anyway.

He died for Judas-hearted sinners like us so He could give us hearts that love Him.

And then Matthew gives us a picture in Bethany of something that looks like waste—but is actually worship. The perfume poured out looks like a seed buried in the soil. To everyone watching, it seems lost, wasted, gone.

But burial isn’t the end.
Burial is the beginning.

What looked wasted at Bethany would bloom in the resurrection.
What looked like defeat on the cross became eternal victory.
What looked buried in the tomb was planted for glory.

3. What Do We Sell Jesus For?

Before we judge Judas too quickly, we need to ask an honest question:

How much would you sell Jesus for?

Most of us say, “I’d never betray Him!”
But we often betray Him for far less than thirty pieces of silver.

Some sell Christ for comfort—choosing ease over obedience.
Some for convenience—following Him only when it costs nothing.
Some for approval—wanting acceptance more than faithfulness.
Some for secret sin—clinging to what destroys us.
Some for busyness—filling every schedule except the one that includes Him.
Some for self-glory—choosing our reputation over His name.
Some for control—trusting our plan over God’s will.
Some for money—just like Judas.

Judas’s price was thirty pieces of silver.
Ours may be smaller—but often far more subtle.

We betray Him today not with a kiss, but with compromise:
When we call Him Lord but won’t obey Him…
When we praise Him on Sunday but ignore Him Monday…
When we hide our faith…
When we treat sin lightly…
When we want His blessings more than His presence…

Judas had his moment in history.
We have ours every day.

But praise God—Christ went to the cross knowing we would betray Him.
And He died so our hearts could be changed.

4. The Economics Professor and the Cost of Sin

There’s an old story about an economics professor who auctioned off a dollar bill every year. The highest bidder won the dollar, but the second-highest bidder still had to pay their bid. Before long, two embarrassed students were paying more than the dollar was worth simply because they couldn’t admit they were losing.

That’s how sin works.

We start small—just a little compromise, just a little pride, just a little sin.
But sin always raises the price.

We pay with our peace.
We pay with our joy.
We pay with our integrity.
We pay with our closeness to God.

Judas sold Jesus for thirty pieces of silver,
but he paid far more than he ever received.

So do we.

But here is the gospel:

Jesus willingly went to the cross for people who haven’t always valued Him rightly.
He died for those who sold Him cheap—so He could buy them back at the highest price: His own blood.

5. How Can We Be Known for Our Love for Christ?

I don’t know about you, but I want to be remembered the way Jesus said this woman would be remembered—
for doing beautiful things for Him.

So how do we do that? How do we, as a church, live a life of devotion?

Here are four simple ways:

1. Give Jesus your best—not your leftovers.

She brought her treasure.
Beautiful devotion begins when Jesus gets the first part of our life—our time, worship, giving, affections—not what remains after everything else is done.

2. Obey Jesus even when others don’t understand.

The disciples called her obedience “waste.”
But Jesus called it beautiful.

3. Love Jesus more than anything else.

Not tied for first.
Not almost first.
First.

A church that treasures Christ above everything becomes a church that looks like Him in everything.

4. Serve one another with humble, sacrificial love.

Real devotion is not loud or flashy.
It’s quiet.
It’s faithful.
It’s Christlike.

When we love each other that way, the world breathes in the fragrance of Christ.

The Call

Church, let’s be a people known for our worship, not our worldliness.
For our devotion, not our distraction.
For our obedience, not our excuses.
For our love, not our schemes.

Let’s be a church that pours out the perfume—
not one that counts the cost and walks away.

We don’t do beautiful things for Jesus to earn His love.
We do beautiful things for Jesus because He first did the most beautiful thing for us.

He gave His life to redeem us.

How could we not give Him our devotion?

Where does your devotion lie?

Categories
Matthew

Faith that Lives

Matthew 25:31–46

It was a cold Sunday morning in a small church on the edge of town. People trickled in wearing their Sunday best—shaking hands, exchanging smiles, settling in for worship. Just before the service began, the back doors opened. A man walked in with worn-out clothes, tired eyes, and rough hands. He slipped into the back pew. A few glanced his way. Someone offered a polite smile, then returned to their bulletin. When the offering plate passed him, he quietly handed it to the next person.

As soon as the final prayer ended, he slipped out the side door without speaking to anyone.

The next Sunday the congregation gathered again—this time expecting a special guest speaker. When the moment came, that same man walked up to the pulpit. The room went completely silent.

He looked over the crowd and said,
“Last week I came to see how you would treat me.”

Then he opened his Bible and read:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
I was a stranger and you welcomed me… Truly I tell you,
whatever you did for one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”
— Matthew 25:35, 40

Conviction fell like a weight upon the room. They realized they had missed Jesus standing right in front of them.

When Jesus Returns, Faith Will Be Revealed

Matthew 25 is no longer a parable when we reach verse 31. Jesus pulls back the curtain and gives us a prophetic picture of the final judgment:

The Son of Man returns in glory.
All nations gather before Him.
He separates people as a shepherd separates sheep from goats.

And the dividing line is not merely what they claimed to believe, but whether their faith lived—whether it expressed itself through love toward Christ’s people.

That’s the main idea of this entire passage:

Faith that doesn’t lead to action is not living faith.
The way we treat Christ’s followers reveals the reality of our relationship with Him.

This isn’t salvation by works—Jesus never teaches that.
But it absolutely is salvation that works.

1. Living Faith Serves Because Jesus Has Changed Us

Jesus begins His commendation in verses 35–36:

“I was hungry… and you gave me food.
I was thirsty… and you gave me drink.
I was a stranger… you welcomed me.
Naked… you clothed me.
Sick… you visited me.
In prison… you came to me.”

The righteous are stunned.
“Lord, when did we see You like this?”

They weren’t trying to impress God.
They weren’t keeping score.
They weren’t doing good works to earn heaven.

Their love simply flowed from who they were.

This is the consistent theme of Scripture. Galatians 6:10 says:

“Do good to everyone, especially to the household of faith.”

In other words, Christians serve Christians—not to be saved, but because they already are.

Jesus says that when we serve His people, we are serving Him.

Feeding the Hungry

Hunger today takes many forms:

Physical hunger – Families rationing groceries, elderly believers choosing between medication and food.

Time hunger – Single parents drowning under the weight of doing everything alone.

Emotional hunger – Believers crushed by discouragement and starving for hope.

Feeding the hungry may be as simple as:

  • Bringing dinner to a weary family
  • Sliding a grocery card into someone’s Bible
  • Meeting quiet needs before anyone has to ask
  • Speaking God’s Word into a starving soul

These small acts preach the gospel louder than we realize.

Giving Drink to the Thirsty

People today thirst for:

  • Relief from pressure
  • Encouragement in seasons of despair
  • Spiritual refreshment after long battles

Sometimes “a cup of cold water” is paying a bill.
Sometimes it’s praying with someone in the parking lot.
Sometimes it’s a timely Scripture sent when they’re breaking.

Refreshing others is a way of showing them the refreshment Christ has given us.

Welcoming the Stranger

A “stranger” isn’t only someone new—it’s someone who feels unknown.

  • The person sitting alone
  • The believer who recently moved
  • The young adult who feels overlooked
  • The older saint who feels forgotten

Hospitality is not about perfect homes.
It’s about making space in your life where lonely people can breathe again.

Clothing the Exposed

People today experience exposure in different ways:

Material exposure:
Families unable to afford winter coats, school shoes, or basic needs.

Emotional exposure:
Believers burdened with shame, sin struggles, or mistakes—afraid they’ll be judged instead of restored.

To clothe the exposed is to protect dignity, to remind them they are made in the image of God and clothed in Christ’s righteousness.

Caring for the Sick

Sickness strips away a sense of control.

Caring may look like:

  • Sitting by a hospital bed
  • Bringing meals
  • Cleaning a home or running errands
  • Watching children
  • Praying when fear is louder than faith

This includes emotional sickness too—depression, grief, anxiety, trauma.
Sometimes the loudest ministry is quiet presence.

Visiting the Prisoner

Some believers are behind literal bars—forgotten, abandoned, unseen.

Many others are behind invisible ones:

  • Addiction
  • Shame
  • Grief
  • Regret
  • Anxiety
  • Consequences of sin

Visiting these “prisons” means carrying the gospel into broken places and walking alongside believers who feel trapped.

2. Dead Faith Has No Works—and Leads to Judgment

Jesus then turns to the goats—the people whose faith never moved.

They say, “Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty…?”

But the absence of works revealed the absence of Christ.

Faith that never moves is not saving faith.

It’s like buying a brand-new truck and never turning the key.
Looks good. Sounds impressive. But never actually goes anywhere.
Over time it rusts, dies, and becomes useless.

A faith that never acts is no faith at all.

Jesus does not soften His words:

“Depart from Me… into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”

Hell was never created for humans—it was prepared for the devil.
But those who reject the Savior, reject repentance, and reject His people will go where those who do not belong to Christ must go.

The sheep are not saved because they did good works.
They did good works because they were saved.

Works do not purchase salvation—they reveal it.

The Final Separation

Jesus pictures the final judgment as a shepherd separating sheep from goats.

Two groups.
Only two.

Not church-goers and non–church-goers.
Not “nice people” and “bad people.”

But:

  • Sheep clothed in Christ’s righteousness
  • Goats clothed in their own

The question is painfully simple:

What side are you on?

Not “What do you say you believe?”
But “What does your life reveal?”

A Wake-Up Call, Not a Crushing Weight

Jesus tells this sobering truth just before the cross—while His own love is about to be displayed for the world.

He wants our hearts, not empty religion.
He wants faith that breathes, acts, and loves.

Maybe you realize today that your faith has been sitting still like that unused truck—shiny, talked about, but unmoved.

That realization isn’t condemnation—it’s invitation.

Jesus died for wandering goats who need a Shepherd.
He died for sinners needing forgiveness.
He died to make us new.

So this is the call:

  • Repent where your faith has been dead.
  • Turn from empty religion.
  • Run to Jesus.
  • And then live a faith that moves.

Feed the hungry.
Refresh the thirsty.
Welcome the stranger.
Clothe the exposed.
Care for the sick.
Visit the prisoner.

Not to earn salvation—but because Jesus has already given it.

This is faith that lives.

Amen—or ouch?

Categories
Matthew

Don’t Waste Your Talents

Matthew 25:14–30

If you have a Bible, open it to Matthew 25. The message of this passage is simple and sobering: don’t waste your talents. Everything we possess—our abilities, our resources, our influence, even our very breath—is a gift from God. And Jesus tells us plainly that what we do with what He’s given us matters for eternity.

Before we step into the text, it’s helpful to understand what a “talent” meant in biblical times. John MacArthur explains that a talent wasn’t a coin but a measure of weight. A talent of gold was worth far more than a talent of silver, but either way, it represented a significant amount of money. Our modern word talent—meaning a natural ability—comes from applying this parable to the stewardship of the gifts God gives us.

The point is this: everything we have is a gift from God, and everything God gives is meant to be used for His glory.

Main Idea:

Christians use and invest their talents to glorify God because He is the One who gave them to us.

God Is the Giver of Talents

J. C. Ryle, in his usual straightforward manner, reminds us that we are all God’s servants, and all of us have talents. Not just the gifted, not just the platformed, not just the “talented.” Anyone who has anything that can be used to glorify God is a “talented person” in the biblical sense.

Ryle lists these gifts—our money, influence, knowledge, strength, time, intellect, affections, even our access to Scripture. Where did all these things come from? His answer is blunt: all that we have is a loan from God.

If God had willed it, we could be nothing more than worms crawling on the earth. But instead, He has given us authority, dignity, His Son, and every grace that flows from Him. Even our talents—whatever they may be—are temporary loans intended for eternal purposes.

This is exactly what Matthew 25 shows us. The Master gives His servants 5, 2, and 1 talent—each according to their ability. Scholars vary in estimating their modern value, but many place the total near two million dollars. In other words, these are no small gifts. But what matters most is not the amount, but the responsibility.

Two servants invest what the Master entrusts. One servant buries it.

And Scripture is clear: God expects faithfulness from all of us, not just a few.

We Will All Be Judged for How We Use Our Talents

The text says the Master returns “after a long time” to settle accounts. Jesus is teaching us that He will return, and every believer will give an account for what we did with what God gave.

Two servants step forward with joy. “Look, Master!” you can almost hear the excitement in their voices. And the Master responds with those words all believers long to hear:

“Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Master.”

It’s not just an accounting—it’s a relationship of joy. There is excitement, intimacy, delight. Their faithfulness is rewarded, not because they earned salvation, but because their love for their Master overflowed in obedience.

Then the third servant steps up, not with joy but with excuses. He accuses the Master of being harsh, unfair, unreasonable. And in doing so, he reveals he never truly knew the Master at all.

His problem wasn’t lack of ability. It was lack of love.

He wasn’t condemned because he failed.
He was condemned because he refused to try.

He hid what God gave him. He buried it.
And Jesus calls him “wicked and slothful.”

There is a warning here: self-preservation does not equal glorification.

You cannot glorify God by sitting on what He gave you. Churches do this. Christians do this. And Jesus warns us not to follow the path of the “do-nothing servant.”

Our View of God Determines Our Use of Talents

The unfaithful servant created a version of the Master that excused his laziness. Many people do the same today. A wrong view of God leads to a wrong walk with God.

If you believe God is harsh, you’ll serve Him reluctantly.
If you believe God is generous, you’ll serve Him joyfully.

Fear paralyzes. Faith propels.

Had the unfaithful servant truly believed the Master was powerful and generous, he would have acted. Instead, he projected his own unbelief onto God.

When we lose a right view of Jesus—His grace, His kindness, His sacrifice—it distorts our worship, our service, our generosity, and our obedience. A thankful heart serves the Lord with joy.

Faithfulness Means Using What God Has Given, Not Hiding It

Jesus rebukes the servant for not even attempting a minimal return. His point is clear: Do something with what I’ve given you.

Too many churches bury their gifts because they fear losing them. They sit and wait for God to work while refusing to work with what God already gave.

But when the church gives faithfully, invests in missions, supports ministries, and serves the community, God uses it—even when the results aren’t immediately visible. Faithfulness isn’t measured in numbers but obedience.

We may be a “one-talent church,” but that doesn’t mean we should be a bury-the-talent church.

God can do more with one faithful talent than a thousand buried in the ground.

The Use of Our Talents Has Eternal Implications

Ryle beautifully captures this truth:

“Every hour spent in Christ’s service, and every word spoken on Christ’s behalf, has been written in a book of remembrance.”

What we do for Christ in this life matters. Every act of service, every sacrifice, every faithful investment is seen by God. And in this parable, the faithful are given more—not earthly riches, but eternal reward.

This is not the prosperity gospel.
This is the reality of spiritual life.

Use it, and it grows.
Refuse to use it, and it dies.

The unfaithful servant lost everything—not because he wasn’t gifted, but because he wasted what God gave him.

Seeing Christ in the Parable

Jesus is the Master who entrusted His servants.
He is the Faithful Servant who did what we could not.
And He is the Returning King who will settle accounts.

His life, death, and resurrection are the ultimate expression of investment—He gave everything so we could receive life. And one day, He will return, and every believer will stand before Him.

Some will hear, “Enter into the joy of your Master.”
Others—those who were close to the things of God but never knew God—will face judgment.

Works don’t save us, but fruit proves the presence of saving faith.

Living Faithfully in Light of Eternity

Here is our response:

1. Recognize your life and gifts as grace.

Everything is a gift. Everything.

2. Be faithful, not fearful.

Fear buries talents. Faith invests them.

3. Have a right view of the Master.

A wrong view of God leads to a wrong walk with God.

4. Use what you have, not what you don’t.

God expects faithfulness, not equal results.

5. Remember eternal consequences.

What you do now echoes forever.

6. Invest your life for the gospel.

Nothing done for Christ is wasted—not one dollar, one hour, or one act of obedience.

A Final Charge

J. C. Ryle gives us a sobering reminder:

“The unprofitable servant was not ruined because he robbed his master, but because he did nothing.”

Christianity without practice is no Christianity at all.
Churches die because they bury what God gave them.
Christians drift because they forget the Master who entrusted them.
Let us refuse to be a “do-nothing” people.

Let us live ready for His return, faithful in His work, eager to hear those words on that day:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”