THE GOSPEL AS THE WORK OF CHRIST

THE GOSPEL AS THE WORK OF CHRIST

1 Corinthians 15:1–4

INTRODUCTION — THE GOSPEL IS NEWS, NOT DOCTRINE

Here are 20 definitions of the gospel, gleaned from various sources:

The gospel is the announcement that God has fulfilled His eternal plan through Jesus Christ, bringing salvation, reconciliation, and new creation to all who believe.
The gospel is the good news that Jesus, the promised Messiah, died for our sins, was buried, rose again on the third day, and now reigns as Lord over all.
The gospel is God’s declaration that sinners are justified freely by His grace through the redemption accomplished by Christ.
The gospel is the proclamation that through Jesus’ death and resurrection, God has defeated sin, death, and the powers of darkness.
The gospel is the message that God is restoring His world and His people through the crucified and risen Christ.
The gospel is the revelation that in Christ, Jew and Gentile alike have equal access to God and equal standing in His family.
The gospel is the invitation to repent, believe, and enter the kingdom of God under the gracious rule of Jesus.
The gospel is the announcement that eternal life — God’s own life — is now available through union with Christ.
The gospel is the unveiling of God’s love demonstrated in the self-giving sacrifice of His Son for the undeserving.
The gospel is the message that Jesus bore the penalty of sin so that we might receive the gift of righteousness.
The gospel is the proclamation that Jesus is Lord — the true King — and that His resurrection is the proof of His authority.
The gospel is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, revealing God’s faithfulness to His covenant promises.
The gospel is the power of God for salvation, transforming those who believe from the inside out by the Holy Spirit.
The gospel is the story of God’s rescue mission: the Father sending the Son, and the Son sending the Spirit, to redeem a people for His glory.
The gospel is the message that Christ’s resurrection is the firstfruits of the coming new creation and the future resurrection of all believers.
The gospel is the truth that God reconciles enemies to Himself through the blood of the cross, making peace where hostility once reigned.
The gospel is the announcement that forgiveness of sins is granted in Jesus’ name to all nations.
The gospel is the revelation that God has adopted believers as His children, giving them the Spirit who cries, “Abba, Father.”
The gospel is the proclamation that Jesus will return to judge the world in righteousness and to renew all things.
The gospel is the message that through Christ, God is making all things new — beginning with the human heart.

When I collected these definitions, I didn’t weed any out. These are the first 20 definitions I retrieved. What do all these definitions focus on? They all focus on what Jesus did for us.

Brothers and sisters, the gospel is not a set of instructions for how to live a better life. It is not a spiritual self‑help program. It is not a list of moral improvements we must perform to earn God’s favor. It is not a doctrinal definition that true believers must adhere to. The gospel is news — the announcement of what God has already done in Jesus Christ.

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15 that the gospel is something he received and then delivered. You don’t invent news; you receive it. You don’t improve news; you announce it. And the news Paul received — the news he staked his life on — is that Christ died for our sins, was buried, and rose again on the third day.

The gospel is not about what we do for God. It is not what we can know about God.
The gospel is about what Christ has done for us.

Today we proclaim this good news:
The gospel is the saving work of Jesus Christ — His life, His death, His resurrection, His reign, and His return — offered to sinners as the power of God for salvation.

I. THE GOSPEL IS THE WORK OF CHRIST PROMISED IN SCRIPTURE

(1 Corinthians 15:3–4; Luke 24:25–27)

Paul says Christ died “according to the Scriptures.” That means the gospel is not a divine afterthought. It is not God scrambling to fix a broken world. The gospel is the fulfillment of a plan God set in motion before the foundation of the world.

From the moment Adam and Eve fell, God promised a Redeemer who would crush the serpent’s head. Every sacrifice, every prophet, every king, every psalm — all of it pointed forward to Christ.

When Jesus walked with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, He opened the Scriptures and showed them that the whole story was about Him. The gospel is not a new story; it is the climax of the old story.

And because the gospel is rooted in Scripture, it is rooted in history. God acted in time and space. Jesus lived in a real body, walked on real soil, died on a real cross, and rose from a real tomb. Our faith is not built on feelings but on fulfilled promises.

When doubts arise, we anchor ourselves not in our emotions or in legal definitions, but in God’s unbreakable Word. The gospel is trustworthy because God is faithful.

II. THE GOSPEL IS THE WORK OF CHRIST IN HIS ATONING DEATH

(Mark 10:45; Romans 3:24–26; 1 Peter 2:24)

Paul says Christ “died for our sins.” That little phrase is the heart of the gospel. Jesus did not die as a martyr for a cause. He did not die as a moral example. He died as a substitute.

Substitution: He took our place.
Propitiation: He bore the wrath we deserved.
Redemption: He purchased our freedom.
Reconciliation: He restored us to God.

Mark 10:45 says the Son of Man came “to give His life as a ransom for many.” A ransom is the price paid to set a captive free. At the cross, Jesus paid the price we could never pay.

Peter says, “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree.” He didn’t send an angel. He didn’t delegate the task. He Himself carried our sins.

The cross is not the prelude to the gospel; it is the center of the gospel. Without the cross, there is no forgiveness. Without forgiveness, there is no reconciliation. Without reconciliation, there is no gospel.

The cross humbles our pride — because we contributed nothing to our salvation.
The cross assures our forgiveness — because Christ paid it all.
The cross compels our worship — because love like this demands our all.

III. THE GOSPEL IS THE WORK OF CHRIST IN HIS RESURRECTION

(1 Corinthians 15:4, 20–22; Romans 4:25)

Paul says Jesus “was raised on the third day.” The resurrection is not an optional add‑on to the gospel. It is the Father’s public declaration that Christ’s work is complete.

Romans 4:25 says Jesus, “was raised for our justification.” The resurrection is God’s stamp of approval on the cross. It is the divine announcement that the debt has been paid in full.

The resurrection also inaugurates the new creation. Paul calls Jesus “the firstfruits.” The firstfruits are the beginning of the harvest — the guarantee that more is coming. Christ’s resurrection guarantees ours.

Because He lives, we will live also.

The resurrection gives hope in suffering — because death does not have the last word.
It gives courage in evangelism — because we proclaim a living Savior.
It gives confidence in death — because the grave is not the end.

IV. THE GOSPEL IS THE WORK OF CHRIST THAT WILL BE COMPLETED AT HIS RETURN

(Acts 17:31; Revelation 21:1–5; 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18)

The gospel is not only about what Christ has done. It is also about what Christ will do.

He will return to judge the world in righteousness.
He will raise the dead.
He will renew creation.
He will wipe away every tear.
He will make all things new.

The gospel ends in glory. The cross leads to the crown. Suffering leads to resurrection. Faith leads to sight.

Application:
The gospel shapes our hope.
It anchors our endurance.
It fuels our mission.

We live in the present with our eyes fixed on the future — because the gospel story ends with Christ victorious and His people glorified.

CONCLUSION — THE GOSPEL IS CHRIST FROM START TO FINISH

Christ promised.
Christ crucified.
Christ risen.
Christ reigning.
Christ returning.

The gospel is the work of Christ — complete, sufficient, victorious.

So today, the call is simple and urgent:

Repent. Believe. Rest in Christ. Proclaim His work to the world.

I appeal to all my fellow believers. Don’t make the gospel ministry the promotion of a creed that must be strictly adhered to. Focus on preaching the work of Christ!

May the Lord fill our hearts with the joy of this gospel and send us out to preach this gospel.

Amen.

UNLESS I SEE

UNLESS I SEE

John 20:24-31 NET.

²⁴Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵The other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he replied, “Unless I see the wounds from the nails in his hands, and put my finger into the wounds from the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will never believe it!” ²⁶Eight days later, the disciples were again together in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and examine my hands. Extend your hand and put it into my side. Do not continue in your unbelief, but believe.” ²⁸Thomas replied to him, “My Lord and my God!” ²⁹Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are the people who have not seen and yet have believed.” ³⁰Now Jesus performed many other miraculous signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not recorded in this book. ³¹But these are recorded so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

This passage tells us that all eleven of Jesus’ disciples did not see him as soon as he rose from the dead.

Thomas Missed Out.

Ten of the eleven disciples had seen the Lord risen from the dead. But for whatever reason, Thomas was not there with them. He missed out on that blessing. The other disciples told him of their experience, but Thomas was not convinced. He knew one thing: his master was dead. He was not about to let anyone else tell him anything different. Thomas was from Missouri: the “show me” state.

But the church is not made up of one kind of disciple. It is a community of people stretched across the entire spectrum—from confident believers who feel the nearness of Christ every day, to those who are hanging on by a thread, unsure, wounded, or waiting for God to break through the fog. And most of us, if we are honest, move back and forth along that continuum throughout our lives.

Thomas is not the odd disciple out. He is the disciple who says out loud what many of us have felt but were afraid to admit. He is the one who names the ache, the disappointment, the longing for something more than secondhand reports. He is the disciple who wants to believe but cannot pretend. And because he refuses to pretend, his story becomes a gift to the church. It shows us that doubt is not a disqualifier. It is not a barrier Jesus refuses to cross. It is simply a place where Christ intends to meet us.

The other disciples had already seen the risen Lord. They had already experienced the shock and joy of that first Easter evening. They had already moved from fear to wonder. But Thomas was not there. We are not told why. Scripture does not shame him with speculation. It simply says he was absent, and because he was absent, he missed the moment everyone else experienced. When they told him, “We have seen the Lord,” Thomas could not receive it. He could not borrow their faith. He could not live on their testimony. He needed his own encounter.

Now imagine, for a moment, what might have happened if the other disciples had responded to Thomas the way some churches respond to doubt. Imagine if they had said, “If you cannot believe what we believe, then you do not belong here.” Imagine if they had excluded him from their fellowship because his faith was not yet fully formed. Imagine if they had treated his honest struggle as rebellion or unbelief. If they had done that—if they had pushed him away—they would have missed the testimony he would later give. They would have missed the moment when Thomas, the doubter, became Thomas, the worshiper, the one who looked at the risen Christ and declared, “My Lord and my God.”

But they did not exclude him. They stayed with him. They kept him close. They allowed him to wrestle. They trusted that Christ would reveal himself in his own time. And because they stayed, Thomas stayed. And because Thomas stayed, he saw. And because he saw, he believed.

The reason Thomas’ story is in the Bible is that…

Many are Close to Believing.

This is a word the church needs today. Our congregations are filled with people who are somewhere between doubt and faith. Some are new believers still learning the contours of trust. Some are lifelong Christians who have been bruised by suffering or disappointment. Some are young adults asking hard questions for the first time. Some are older saints who have walked with Christ for decades but now find themselves in a season of dryness or silence. And some are like Thomas—longing for a fresh encounter, longing for something more than the faith of others, longing for the risen Christ to meet them personally.

If we stay with them, if we refuse to shame them, if we trust Christ to reveal himself to them farther along the road, their faith will grow. But if we push them away, if we demand certainty before belonging, if we treat doubt as a threat rather than a doorway, we may miss the testimony God intends to bring forth from their lives.

Thomas’s story teaches us that Christ is not threatened by doubt. He is not offended by honest questions. He does not scold Thomas for wanting to see. Instead, he comes to him. He meets him in the very place of his struggle. He offers him the evidence he longed for. And in doing so, he transforms Thomas’s doubt into worship.

Seeing the resurrected Christ was all Thomas needed to solidify his trust. The same was true for the other disciples who had seen him the previous week. Their faith did not rest on wishful thinking or vague spiritual impressions. It rested on a real encounter with the risen Lord. And the outcome of that trust is one of the major themes of John’s Gospel: “life in his name.” John uses that word—life—repeatedly. Sometimes he calls it “eternal life.” Sometimes he calls it “a resurrection of life.” Sometimes he calls Jesus himself “the resurrection and the life.” Sometimes he says “life,” as if the word itself is so full, so rich, so overflowing with promise that no adjective is needed.

What John means is not merely a longer life, not simply an extension of our earthly existence. He means another life. It is the promise of a permanent life after this one, made possible by a resurrection. And that promise is not abstract. It is not theoretical. It is anchored in the historical reality of Christ’s victory over the grave.

The message of John’s gospel – his good news is…

Christ’s Resurrection is a Promise.

Seeing the resurrected Christ enabled the disciples to trust in the promise of their own resurrection. The one who overcame death is the one who will overcome death for them. The one who stepped out of the tomb is the one who will call them out of their tombs. The one who lives forever is the one who will share his life with all who trust him.

This is why the resurrection is not simply a doctrine to affirm. It is the foundation of Christian hope. It is the reason we can face suffering without despair. It is the reason we can face death without fear. It is the reason we can walk through seasons of doubt without losing our way because the risen Christ is not a memory. He is not a metaphor. He is alive. And because he is alive, he can meet us in our doubts, strengthen us in our weakness, and lead us into the life he promised.

Thomas’s story is not the story of a man who failed. It is the story of a man who waited, who wrestled, who longed, and who was met by grace. It is the story of a Savior who does not abandon doubters but seeks them out. It is the story of a community that held space for a struggling brother until Christ himself brought him through.

And it is a story that invites us to do the same. To stay with those who doubt. To trust Christ to reveal himself. To believe that the risen Lord still meets people in their questions. And to remember that the promise of resurrection life is not only for the confident but also for the hesitant, the wounded, the weary, and the waiting.

For the one who overcame death is the one who will overcome death for them—and for us.

Now, I want to talk about…

How to be a Church who welcomes Thomases.

Every church says it welcomes everyone, but not every church feels like a safe place for those who doubt, struggle, or carry unresolved questions. Many congregations unintentionally create an atmosphere where only the confident, the cheerful, and the doctrinally certain feel at home. People who are wrestling with faith or suffering often learn to hide their questions behind polite smiles. Yet the gospel reveals a Savior who consistently drew near to the confused, the wounded, and the skeptical. A congregation shaped by this Jesus must learn to welcome doubters and strugglers not as problems to fix but as fellow travelers on the journey of faith.

To become such a community, the church must cultivate several intentional commitments—spiritual, relational, and communal—that reshape how we imagine discipleship and how we treat one another.

1. Recognize That Doubt Is Part of Biblical Discipleship

Scripture does not sanitize the inner lives of God’s people. Abraham laughed at God’s promise. Moses questioned his call. Elijah despaired. Jeremiah accused God of deceiving him. Thomas refused to believe without evidence. Even the disciples, standing before the risen Christ, worshiped while some doubted.

The Bible treats doubt not as a shameful defect but as a human response to a God who often works in ways we do not expect. Doubt is not the opposite of faith; indifference is. Doubt is faith reaching for understanding, faith struggling to breathe, faith refusing to settle for clichés.

A congregation that welcomes doubters must teach this openly. When sermons acknowledge the complexity of belief, people learn that their questions are not threats to God. When leaders speak honestly about their own seasons of uncertainty, the church becomes a place where honesty is safer than pretense.

This does not mean celebrating doubt or treating it as a virtue. It means recognizing that doubt is a normal part of spiritual growth and that God meets people in their questions with patience, not condemnation.

2. Replace Performance Culture With Humility

Many churches unintentionally create a performance culture where people feel pressure to appear spiritually mature, emotionally steady, and doctrinally certain. Testimonies highlight victories but rarely mention ongoing struggles. Prayer requests are sanitized. Conversations after worship stay on the surface.

In such environments, doubters quickly learn that honesty is costly.

A welcoming congregation cultivates humility instead—a shared recognition that every believer is a work in progress, dependent on grace. Humility dismantles the illusion that some Christians are “above” struggle. It reminds us that the ground at the foot of the cross is level.

Humility also changes how we listen. Instead of rushing to fix people or offer spiritual shortcuts, we learn to sit with them, to hear their stories, and to honor the courage it takes to speak honestly. A humble church does not treat strugglers as projects but as companions.

3. Create Spaces for Honest Conversation

Doubters and strugglers need places where they can speak freely—without being ashamed, dismissed, or pressured into quick resolutions. This requires intentional spaces: small groups, prayer gatherings, mentoring relationships, and informal conversations where people can bring their real selves.

In these spaces, the church must resist the temptation to offer premature answers. Sometimes the most faithful response is not an explanation but presence. When someone confesses doubt, the first task is not to defend God but to bear witness to their pain. When someone admits they are struggling with sin, the first task is not to lecture but to walk with them toward healing.

A congregation that welcomes doubters learns to say things like: “Thank you for trusting us with that.” “You’re not alone.” “Let’s keep walking together.” “God is not afraid of your questions.”

Such responses create an atmosphere where people feel safe enough to be known—and being known is often the first step toward healing.

4. Preach the Gospel of Grace, Not Achievement

A church’s theology shapes its culture. If the gospel is presented as a reward for the spiritually successful, doubters will feel excluded. If sanctification is framed as a steady upward climb, strugglers will feel like failures. If faith is described as certainty rather than trust, those wrestling with questions will feel defective.

But the gospel is not a ladder we climb; it is a gift we receive. It is not a reward for the strong but good news for the weak. It is not a call to pretend but an invitation to bring our whole selves—wounded, confused, hopeful, fearful—into the presence of Christ.

When preaching emphasizes grace, people learn that God’s love does not rise and fall with their spiritual performance. When teaching highlights the patience of Jesus, people learn that he does not abandon them when they falter. When the church proclaims that salvation rests on Christ’s faithfulness rather than ours, doubters discover that their questions cannot undo God’s promises.

5. Practice Hospitality That Honors People’s Stories

Hospitality is more than offering handshakes and smiles. It is the spiritual discipline of making room—emotionally, relationally, and communally—for people whose experiences differ from our own.

Doubters and strugglers often carry stories of disappointment, trauma, unanswered prayer, or intellectual wrestling. A welcoming church honors these stories rather than minimizing them. It listens without defensiveness. It acknowledges the complexity of suffering. It refuses to offer simplistic explanations for deep wounds.

Hospitality also means allowing people to belong before they believe. Jesus welcomed people into a relationship long before they understood who he was. A congregation shaped by his example will not require certainty as a prerequisite for community. Certainty comes with time.

6. Equip the Whole Church to Walk With the Hurting

Welcoming doubters is not the job of pastors alone. It is the calling of the entire congregation. Every member must learn how to respond with compassion, patience, and wisdom.

This requires teaching the church how to listen well, ask gentle questions, avoid clichés, pray with sensitivity, respect boundaries, and trust the Spirit’s timing. It also requires recognizing when someone needs professional counseling or specialized care.

When the whole congregation learns to walk with the hurting, the church becomes a community where no one suffers alone.

7. See Doubters as Gifts, Not Threats

Doubters and strugglers are not liabilities to the church; they are gifts. They keep the community honest. They ask questions that deepen understanding. They remind the church that faith is not a performance but a pilgrimage. They reveal the breadth of God’s patience and the depth of his compassion.

A church that welcomes doubters does not merely tolerate them; it honors them.

To welcome doubters and strugglers is to embody the heart of Christ. It is to create a community where honesty is safer than pretense, where grace is stronger than fear, and where people can bring their whole selves into the light of God’s love. Such a church becomes a refuge for the weary, a home for the wandering, and a witness to the world that the gospel is truly good news—for all of us.

LIFE FROM THE SON

LIFE FROM THE SON

John 5:24-29 NET.

²⁴“I tell you the solemn truth, the one who hears my message and believes the one who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned but has crossed over from death to life. ²⁵I tell you the solemn truth, a time is coming — and is now here — when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. ²⁶For just as the Father has life in himself, thus he has granted the Son to have life in himself, ²⁷and he has granted the Son authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. ²⁸“Do not be amazed at this, because a time is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice ²⁹and will come out — the ones who have done what is good to the resurrection resulting in life, and the ones who have done what is evil to the resurrection resulting in condemnation.

One of the important responsibilities of preaching is to slow us down long enough to really hear Scripture. We live in a world where familiar verses come preloaded with assumptions, ideas that almost everyone repeats, but few have traced back to the text itself. When those assumptions go unchallenged, they can blur what God is saying. Preaching becomes an act of love when it clears away that fog and lets the Word speak with its own weight and clarity.

There is something deeply real about this work. It invites us to come before God with open hands, willing to let Him correct us, surprise us, and reshape our understanding. It reminds us that Scripture is not a collection of slogans to confirm what we already think, but a living voice that calls us into truth. When a preacher helps us see what the text truly says—no more, no less—we experience that gentle moment when God realigns our hearts. And in those moments, we remember why we listen at all: because His Word still brings light, and His truth still sets us free.

Today’s passage is one of those places where we need to slow down and listen carefully. Most of us have heard John 5:24 explained the same way: it’s about a spiritual resurrection, a person getting saved, moving from spiritual death to spiritual life. And on the surface, that sounds right. I mean, what else could “crossed over from death to life” mean, if not conversion and new birth?

But you know what? Sometimes a verse we think we already understand is exactly the one that invites us to look again. That’s what I want to do with you this morning. My aim is not to be clever or to dismiss the many faithful teachers and theologians who see spiritual resurrection here. Many of them love Jesus deeply and handle Scripture with great care. I believe, after sitting with this text, that Jesus is talking about something different than what we usually assume.

So together, we’re going to walk slowly through John 5:24-29 and let the passage itself guide us. I hope that, by the end, you’ll see that what Jesus is saying is even richer and more grounded than the familiar explanation—and that your trust in His word will grow deeper, not thinner.

There are Two Life-Givers

Verse 26 says the Father has life in himself, and he has granted the Son to have life in himself. Those are the two sources where life can come from. Now, what kind of life do we get from the Father? Is it spiritual life or is it what we call physical life?

The Bible says that the LORD God formed Adam from dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.[1] He formed a non-living creature from the clay and breathed life into it, and Adam became alive. This is the kind of life we received from our Father. It was a dependent life. We owed our existence and continued functioning to the one who gave us this life. He is the first life-giver, and that life is (for want of a better description) physical animal life.

We have life, but the life we have is not self-contained. The theologians talk about humans having immortal souls, but the Bible never mentions anything about our souls being immortal. The Old Testament says that the soul who sins shall die.[2] Jesus said that sinful souls will be destroyed in Gehenna hell.[3] So, both Testaments testify that the idea of our having immortal souls by nature is unbiblical.

The life we receive from the Father is mortal, conditional life, temporary life. It can be a wonderful life, or it can be a miserable life, but there is one thing that life from the Father cannot be. It cannot be eternal life. The Father made that decision in Eden. He said that if our ancestors ate of the forbidden tree, we would become mortal and we would all eventually die.

Now, is this life from the Father spiritual life? Paul said that before salvation, all of us are “dead in our trespasses.”[4] We cannot even seek God because our sins have made us dead, not functioning in our relationship to him. So, if we are going to have a relationship with God, we are going to need a new life, another life, other than the natural life we were born into.

Never fear, because the Father, who has life in himself, has also granted the Son to have life in himself. There is another source of life. Now this is where the theologians are quick to explain that the kind of life Jesus offers is spiritual life, and that we need that because we are all spiritually dead. But hold your horses, because the text says something different.

The Son gave life by Physical Resurrection.

In verse 25, Jesus says a time is coming — and is now here — when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. One of the keys to understanding that statement is the fact that Jesus used the word “now.” He was referring to his earthly ministry. We know that Jesus brought the dead back to life while he walked among us. He took the corpse of Jairus’ daughter by the hand and said Little girl, I say to you, wake up!”[5] She woke up. To the widow’s son at Nain, he said, “Young man, I say to you, wake up!”[6] He woke up. In Bethany, he called Lazarus by name and told him to get out of that tomb.[7] He shuffled out of that tomb. On the night of his crucifixion, many of the saints who were buried and sleeping in their graves came out.[8] They came to life again.

Now, I want to ask you which of those four resurrections could be categorized as a spiritual resurrection? I think it is obvious that none of them were. They were all examples of Jesus literally raising people from the dead.

Jesus Establishes A Second Pattern Of Life-Giving.

In verse 25, Jesus said, “A time is coming — and is now here — when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.” If the time that is here meant that Jesus could literally raise the dead during his earthly ministry, what does he mean when he talks about that time that is coming?

We don’t have to guess about that time because Jesus goes on to explain it more fully. He says, “A time is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and will come out — the ones who have done what is good to the resurrection resulting in life, and the ones who have done what is evil to the resurrection resulting in condemnation.

So, in this time that is coming, Jesus is going to perform the same kind of resurrection as he did during his earthly ministry. He is going to wake the dead and make them alive again. This is not a spiritual resurrection. It, too, is what we might call a literal, physical resurrection. In fact, it appears that there are only three things about this coming resurrection that will be different from the resurrections mentioned in the New Testament.

First, the extent to which the dead are raised. Jairus’ daughter died again. The Widow’s son died again. The saints who were sleeping fell asleep again. Those New Testament resurrections were temporary. They were miracles designed to show who Jesus is. But none of those who were raised were raised immortal.

Second, the purpose of the coming resurrection is Judgment Day. That is why Jesus says that some will be raised to a resurrection that results in condemnation. They, too, will be brought back to life, but not to immortality. Their resurrection is not a doorway into eternal joy but the moment they must stand before the Judge at the Great White Throne and answer for their lives. Every sin, every injustice, every rejection of God’s grace must be dealt with. Scripture is painfully clear: there are only two ways sin can be addressed—either through the atoning death of Christ or through the second death in Gehenna, the lake of fire.

The penalty for sin has always been death. That is the cost. And if we refuse the death of Christ as our substitute, then the only payment left is our own. Hell is not a place for people God dislikes; it is the place where unpaid sin debts are settled. It is a sober reminder that grace is offered freely, but it is not forced. The coming resurrection will reveal who trusted in Christ’s sacrifice and who chose to bear the weight of their own.

But the good news of the gospel is that there is a third and far greater difference between the resurrections Jesus performed during His earthly ministry and the resurrection He will bring about at the end of the age. The people He raised in the Gospels were restored to the same kind of life they had before—beautiful, compassionate miracles, but still temporary. They lived again, but they eventually died again. Their stories point forward, but they are not the destination.

What Jesus promises in the future is something entirely different. He says that some will be raised to a resurrection that results in life—real, lasting, indestructible life. Just as the Father gives life, so the Son gives life. But the life He gives is not mortal life stretched a little longer. It is immortal life, the kind that cannot fade or weaken or slip away. It is not natural life patched up and restarted. It is supernatural life, breathed into us by the One who conquered death. It is not a temporary life borrowed for a season. It is eternal, everlasting, permanent life—life that shares in the very permanence of God Himself.

That is the hope set before us, and it is worth holding with both hands.

This Resurrection Promise Gives us Hope.

Here are five reasons why we can draw confidence and hope from this resurrection promise:

1. The resurrection means death is not the end.

Every funeral, every diagnosis, every reminder of our mortality is not the final word. The resurrection promises that God will reverse what Adam’s fall unleashed. We do not cling to wishful thinking; we cling to a future event God has already previewed in Jesus.

2. The resurrection guarantees that our bodies matter to God.

We are not escaping creation; we are awaiting its renewal. The resurrection tells us that God will raise these very bodies—healed, restored, glorified. Nothing about our embodied life is disposable or forgotten.

3. The resurrection assures us that justice will be done.

So much in this world goes unresolved. But resurrection means God will raise every person and set all things right. No evil will remain unaddressed, and no faithfulness will go unnoticed.

4. The resurrection anchors our hope in Christ’s victory, not our performance.

Our future does not depend on our strength, consistency, or spiritual success. It rests on the risen Christ who conquered death for us. Because He lives, we will live also.

5. The resurrection promises reunion and restoration.

Every tear, every separation, every grave we’ve stood beside will be answered. God will gather His people, restore what was lost, and make all things new. Hope is not abstract. It is personal, relational, and guaranteed.

In conclusion, I am convinced Jesus is not introducing a new or hidden idea of spiritual resurrection in this passage. He is pointing us to the same promise He makes so clearly in John 6, where He says that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in Him has eternal life, and that He Himself will raise that person on the last day. That is the heartbeat of His message. He is not describing an invisible inner event; He is promising a future moment when He will act with resurrection power.

If you belong to Christ today, I cannot promise you a spiritual resurrection that happens quietly inside you. Scripture never speaks that way. But I can promise you something far better and far more concrete. Our Savior knows your name. He has not lost track of you. And one day, He will speak that name with the same authority that called Lazarus out of the tomb. If you are asleep in the dust, you will wake at His voice. If you are in your grave, you will rise and step out into a life that can never be taken from you again. That is the promise He gives, and it is worth holding onto with all your heart.

[1] Genesis 2:7.

[2] Ezekiel 18:4, 20.

[3] Matthew 10:28.

[4] Ephesians 2:1, 5; Colossians 2:13.

[5] Mark 5:21–43, Matthew 9:18–26, and Luke 8:40–56.

[6] Luke 7:11–17.

[7] John 11:1–44

[8] Matthew 27:52–53.

FOUND SHEEP

FOUND SHEEP

Luke 15:1-7 NET.

¹Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming to hear him. ²But the Pharisees and the experts in the law were complaining, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” ³So Jesus told them this parable: ⁴“Which one of you, if he has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the open pasture and go look for the one that is lost until he finds it? ⁵Then, when he has found it, he places it on his shoulders, rejoicing. ⁶Returning home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, telling them, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost.’ ⁷I tell you, in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to repent.

There are moments in the Gospels when the tension in the air is almost visible, when the religious leaders stand on one side with their arms folded and their brows furrowed, and Jesus stands on the other side with His arms open. Luke 15 begins with one of those moments. The Pharisees and scribes are watching Jesus closely, not with admiration but with suspicion. They see Him surrounded by people they would never choose to be around—tax collectors, sinners, the socially stained, the spiritually unclean, the people who had long ago given up on ever being welcomed in a synagogue. And instead of distancing Himself from them, Jesus is eating with them, talking with them, listening to them, and treating them as if they matter.

The Complaint

That is what provokes the complaint. “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” It is not a theological objection. It is a social one. They are offended not because Jesus is breaking a commandment, but because He is breaking their categories. They had built a religious system that kept the riffraff at arm’s length, and here is Jesus pulling them close. They had built a spiritual ladder that only the disciplined and respectable could climb, and here is Jesus walking down the ladder to sit with those who had fallen off long ago. They had built a community where holiness meant separation, and here is Jesus showing them that holiness looks like compassion.

If we listen closely, we can hear jealousy in their complaint. They cannot understand why this rabbi—this miracle‑working, Scripture‑quoting, crowd‑drawing rabbi—would spend His time among people who had nothing to offer Him. They cannot understand why He would waste His energy on the spiritually unproductive. They cannot understand why He would invest His heart in people who had already proven they were failures. And so, they grumble. They whisper. They criticize. They question His judgment. They question His motives. They question His discernment.

But Jesus does not defend Himself with an argument. He defends himself with a story. He tells them a parable so simple a child can understand it, yet so profound that the most learned theologian can spend a lifetime exploring it. He tells them about a shepherd, a flock, and one sheep that wandered away.

Before we rush into the details, we need to feel the weight of the moment. Jesus is not merely telling a story. He is revealing His heart. He is explaining why He does what He does. He is showing the religious leaders—and us—what God is really like. And He begins with a question: “Which one of you, if you had a hundred sheep and lost one, would not leave the ninety‑nine in the open country and go after the one that is lost until you find it?”

With that question, Jesus shifts the entire conversation. The Pharisees were focused on the sinners. Jesus is focused on the shepherd. They were focused on the scandal of His associations. Jesus is focused on the urgency of His mission. They were focused on the unworthiness of the lost. Jesus is focused on the worth of the lost. And so, He invites them to imagine themselves as shepherds, responsible for a flock, attentive to every sheep, aware of every danger.

The Priority of The Sheep Owner.

That brings us to the second movement of the story: the priority of the sheep owner. Emergencies always rise to the top. When a sheep goes missing, the shepherd does not shrug. He does not say, “Well, ninety‑nine out of a hundred isn’t bad.” He does not say, “That sheep should have known better.” He does not say, “I’ll deal with it later.” A lost sheep is an emergency. A wandering sheep is a crisis. A missing sheep demands immediate action.

Jesus describes the shepherd leaving the ninety‑nine in the open country. That is not negligence. That is triage. The ninety‑nine are safe together. The one is alone. The flock protects the ninety‑nine. The one is exposed to the wolves. The ninety‑nine are where they belong. The one is where it cannot survive. And so, the shepherd goes. He searches diligently. He climbs hills. He walks through ravines. He calls out the sheep’s name. He listens for the faintest bleat. He keeps going until he finds it.

This is not a casual search. This is not a half‑hearted effort. This is not a shepherd who checks a few likely spots and then gives up. Jesus says he searches “until he finds it.” That is the priority of love. That is the urgency of compassion. That is the determination of a heart that refuses to let the lost stay lost.

And here is where the parable becomes personal. Jesus is not simply describing what a good shepherd does. He is describing what He Himself is doing. He is explaining why He spends so much time among the riffraff. He is showing the religious leaders that His ministry is not a hobby. It is a rescue mission. The sinners and tax collectors are not distractions. They are the very reason He came. They are the lost sheep. They are the emergency. They are the ones who cannot find their way home without Him.

The Motive Behind the Rescue

But Jesus does not stop with the search. He moves to the motive behind the rescue. The shepherd does not search out of duty. He searches out of joy. He anticipates the moment when he will find the sheep. He imagines the relief of seeing it alive. He imagines the satisfaction of lifting it onto his shoulders. He imagines the celebration when he returns home. And that joy fuels his perseverance.

When he finally finds the sheep, he does not scold it. He does not punish it. He does not drag it home. He lifts it. He carries it. He rejoices. And when he arrives home, he calls his friends and neighbors and says, “Rejoice with me, for I have found my lost sheep.” The joy is too big to keep to himself. It spills over. It becomes communal. It becomes a shared celebration.

Jesus says that is what God in heaven is like. God and all his holy angels rejoice over one sinner who repents. Heaven erupts in celebration when one wandering soul turns back toward God. Heaven throws a party when one person who thought they were too far gone discovers that God has been searching for them all along. Heaven’s joy is not reserved for the righteous who never strayed. The return of the lost ignites heaven’s joy. The joy is the found sheep.

The Purpose of The Parable

And that brings us to the purpose of the parable. Jesus is not merely defending His ministry. He is revealing God’s heart. He is showing the religious leaders—and us—why He spends so much time among the riffraff. That is where the lost sheep are. That is where the emergencies are. That is where the future citizens of God’s eternal kingdom are currently living. That is where restoration happens. That is where grace does its best work.

Jesus is telling them, “If you want to understand Me, you must understand this: I go where the lost are. I move toward the broken. I seek out the wandering. I pursue the forgotten. I rescue the ones everyone else has written off. I do not wait for them to come to me. I go to them. And when I find them, I rejoice.”

This parable confronts us with a question: Do we share the heart of the shepherd, or do we share the complaint of the Pharisees? Do we rejoice when the lost are found, or do we grumble about the company Jesus keeps? Do we move toward the people who need grace most, or do we retreat into the comfort of the ninety‑nine? Do we see emergencies where Jesus sees emergencies, or do we see inconveniences where Jesus sees opportunities?

The truth is, every one of us has been the lost sheep. Every one of us has wandered. Every one of us has needed rescue. And Jesus came for us. He searched for us. He carried us. He rejoiced over us. And now He invites us to join Him in the search for others.

A Call to Love Sinners

This is not a call to tolerate sinners. It is a call to love them. It is not a call to endure the riffraff. It is a call to embrace them. It is not a call to protect our religious respectability. It is a call to risk it for the sake of the lost. It is not a call to preserve the comfort of the ninety‑nine. It is a call to prioritize the one.

If we want to be like Jesus, we must go where He goes, love whom He loves, seek whom He seeks, and rejoice over what He rejoices over. We must remember that the church is not a museum for the righteous. It is a rescue station for the lost. It is not a fortress to keep sinners out. It is a home where sinners discover they are loved. It is not a club for the spiritually successful. It is a community where the broken are carried on the shoulders of grace.

Jesus ends the parable with a promise: “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety‑nine righteous persons who do not need repentance.” That is not a mathematical statement. It is a relational one. Numbers do not measure heaven’s joy. It is measured by love. And love always rejoices when the lost are found.

So may we be a people who join the search. May we be a people who carry the wounded. May we be people who rejoice with heaven. And may we never forget that the Shepherd who searched for us is still searching for others—and invites us to walk with Him into the places where grace is needed most.

Now here’s where the text becomes uncomfortably honest for those of us who consider ourselves good, healthy, churchgoing saints. If we’re willing to look in the mirror that Jesus holds up, we may notice something we would rather not admit. When we read Luke 15, we instinctively identify with Jesus—the compassionate shepherd, the seeker of the lost, the one who moves toward the hurting. But if we slow down long enough to be truthful, we often resemble the antagonists in the story far more than the hero. We look more like the Pharisees and the teachers of the law than the Shepherd who goes searching.

We tend to cluster with people who look like us, think like us, vote like us, worship like us, and sin in the same socially acceptable ways we do. We gravitate toward the familiar. We build comfortable circles. We enjoy the safety of the ninety‑nine. And without ever saying it out loud, we begin to believe that the church exists to meet our needs, to preserve our preferences, to protect our comfort. We develop what you might call a “stay” mentality—stay with the familiar, stay with the safe, stay with the people who already belong.

But Jesus did not give His disciples a “stay” command. He gave them a “go” command. Go into all the world. Go make disciples. Go to the highways and hedges. Go to the people who are not already here. Go to the ones who are wandering. Go to the ones who would never think of walking through our doors. Go to the ones who have been told by life, by shame, or even by the church that they do not belong.

And that is where the problem lies. Our instincts often run in the opposite direction of Jesus’ mission. We stay. He goes. We gather. He seeks. We protect our comfort. He pursues the lost. We build walls. He breaks them down. We wait for people to come to us. He goes out to find them.

That is not a small problem. That is not a minor misalignment. That is a spiritual crisis. And it demands real repentance—not the kind of repentance that merely feels bad for a moment, but the kind that reorients our lives. The kind that turns us outward. The kind that reshapes our priorities. The kind that forces us to ask, “Who is the one sheep Jesus is calling me to pursue?” The kind that refuses to let the ninety‑nine become an excuse for ignoring the one.

Repentance, in this context, means acknowledging that our hearts have drifted inward. It means confessing that we have become more concerned with maintaining our religious routines than joining Jesus in His rescue mission. It means admitting that we have allowed fear, comfort, or indifference to keep us from the very people Jesus came to save. And it means consciously, deliberately reversing the trend.

Every one of us needs to reorient our focus so that it points outward rather than inward. That does not mean abandoning the church. It means remembering why the church exists. It means seeing our gatherings not as the finish line but as the starting point. It means viewing Sunday not as the destination but as the launching pad. It means asking God to give us eyes to see the people around us—at work, in our neighborhoods, in our families—who are wandering without a shepherd.

This outward focus is not a program. It is not a strategy. It is not a church growth technique. It is the heart of God. It is the mission of Jesus. It is the calling of every disciple. And it begins with repentance—a turning away from self‑preservation and a turning toward the lost sheep Jesus loves.

If we want to look like Jesus, we must go where Jesus goes. If we want to share His joy, we must share His mission. If we want to experience the celebration of heaven, we must join the search on earth. And that begins with a humble, honest confession: “Lord, we have been too much like the Pharisees. Turn our hearts outward. Make us seekers of the lost. Teach us to go.”

ARE YOU CERTAIN?

ARE YOU CERTAIN?

Luke 1:1-4 NET.

¹Now many have undertaken to compile an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, ²like the accounts passed on to us by those who were eyewitnesses and servants of the word from the beginning. ³So it seemed good to me as well, because I have followed all things carefully from the beginning, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, ⁴so that you may know for certain the things you were taught.

Brothers and sisters, we live in a world that is suspicious of certainty. People are comfortable with opinions, impressions, and personal truths—but they grow uneasy when someone claims to know something, especially about God. Yet the Christian faith begins with a bold, unapologetic claim: you can know for certain the things you have been taught.

That is Luke’s purpose. That is the Holy Spirit’s purpose. And that is God’s gift to His people.

Luke opens his Gospel not with poetry, not with prophecy, not with a miracle—but with a historian’s preface. He begins with research, eyewitnesses, investigation, and careful writing. Why? Because Christianity is not built on myths, feelings, or private visions. It is built on real events, anchored in time, geography, and human testimony.

Luke wants Theophilus—and us—to understand that the story of Jesus is not a legend polished over time. It is not a spiritual metaphor. It is not a religious philosophy. It is history, and because it is history, it is trustworthy. And because it is trustworthy, it can hold the weight of your soul.

Let’s walk through Luke’s introduction and see how God strengthens our faith through the gift of historical certainty.

1. A Faith Rooted in Fulfilled Prophecies.

“Many have undertaken to compile an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us…” (v. 1)

Luke begins with a remarkable statement: the story of Jesus is not merely a story of things that happened—it is a story of things that have been fulfilled. Fulfilled. That word carries centuries of longing. It carries the weight of prophets, promises, covenants, and expectations. Luke is saying: The things God promised have come to pass in real time, in real space, in real history.

Christianity is not a new idea. It is the continuation and completion of God’s ancient plan. When Jesus was born, lived, died, and rose again, He stepped into a story already in motion—a story God had been writing since Genesis.

And Luke says: These things were fulfilled among us. Not “long ago.” Not “in a distant land.”
Not “in a mythical age.” But among us—in the lifetime of the eyewitnesses, in the streets of Jerusalem, in the villages of Galilee, in the courts of Rome. Christianity is not a philosophy that grew over centuries. It is a fulfillment that erupted into the world.

And that matters for your faith. Because if God has fulfilled His promises in the past, you can trust Him with the promises that are still ahead.

2. A Faith Anchored in Eyewitness Testimony.

“…like the accounts passed on to us by those who were eyewitnesses and servants of the word from the beginning.” (v. 2)

Luke is not writing rumors. He is not writing secondhand stories. He is not writing religious imagination. He is writing about what eyewitnesses saw.

Christianity is not based on private revelation. It is based on public events witnessed by fishermen, tax collectors, women, soldiers, priests, skeptics, and enemies. The resurrection was not seen by one mystic in a cave. Hundreds saw it.

Luke says these eyewitnesses were “servants of the word”—meaning they didn’t just see these things; they proclaimed them. They staked their lives on them. They suffered for them. Many died for them.

People will die for a lie they believe is true. But no one dies for a lie they know is false. The apostles didn’t die for a philosophy. They died for a fact: Jesus rose from the dead. And Luke says: I talked to them. I listened to them. I investigated their testimony.

Your faith is not built on wishful thinking. It is built on the testimony of men and women who saw Jesus with their own eyes.

3. A Faith Strengthened by Careful Investigation.

“So, it seemed good to me as well, because I have followed all things carefully from the beginning…” (v. 3)

Luke is not a gullible man. He is not a storyteller. He is a physician—trained to observe, to analyze, to verify. And he says he has “followed all things carefully.” That phrase means:

He interviewed eyewitnesses.
He compared accounts.
He checked facts.
He traced events back to their origins.
He examined everything with precision.

Luke is the first-century equivalent of an investigative journalist. And he is telling Theophilus—and us—I did my homework. I checked the sources. I verified the details. God did not ask Luke to shut off his brain. He asked him to use it. And God does not ask you to shut off your brain either. Faith is not the absence of thinking; it is the result of thinking deeply about trustworthy evidence. Christianity welcomes investigation. It invites questions. It stands up to scrutiny because truth has nothing to fear.

4. A Faith Presented in an Orderly Account.

“…to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus…” (v. 3)

Luke is not writing a random collection of stories. He is writing an orderly account carefully structured narrative designed to show the meaning of the events.

Luke wants Theophilus to see the shape of the story:

The promises of God.
The arrival of the Messiah.
The ministry of Jesus.
The death that saves.
The resurrection that conquers.
The ascension that enthrones.
The Spirit who empowers.
The church that spreads the gospel to the nations.

Luke is not just giving information. He is giving understanding. He is showing how the pieces fit together. And that is what God does for us. He doesn’t just give us facts; He gives us a story that explains the world, explains our hearts, explains our hope. Your faith is not built on scattered ideas. It is built on a coherent, ordered, meaningful account of God’s work in history.

5. A Faith That Produces Certainty.

“…so that you may know for certain the things you were taught.” (v. 4)

This is the heart of the passage. This is the heartbeat of Luke’s Gospel. This is the desire of God for His people. Certainly. Not arrogance. Not pride. Not blind confidence. But a settled, grounded, informed assurance that what you believe is true.

Luke knows Theophilus has been taught the gospel. But teaching alone is not enough. Teaching must become conviction. Conviction must become certainty. And certainty must become endurance. Luke writes so that doubts, rumors, persecution, or cultural pressure will not shake Theophilus. He writes so that Theophilus will stand firm.

And God preserved Luke’s Gospel so that you would stand firm.

You do not have fragile faith. You do not have a mythological faith. You do not have faith built on feelings. You have faith built on fulfilled prophecy, eyewitness testimony, careful investigation, and orderly presentation. You have faith you can know for certain.

We live in a skeptical age. People question everything—news, science, institutions, motives, and especially religion. Many assume faith is a leap into the dark.

But Luke shows us that Christian faith is a step into the light.

When you face doubts, Luke says: Look at the evidence.
When you face suffering, Luke says: Look at the fulfilled promises.
When you face cultural pressure, Luke says: Look at the eyewitnesses.
When you face confusion, Luke says: Look at the orderly account.
When you face fear, Luke says: Look at the certainty God offers.

Your faith is not fragile. It is anchored in history. And because it is anchored in history, it can anchor your life. Luke does not write history for history’s sake. He writes history for faith’s sake.

Because if Jesus really lived, then His teachings matter.
If Jesus really died, then His sacrifice matters.
If Jesus really rose, then His victory matters.
If Jesus really ascended, then His reign matters.
If Jesus is really coming again, then your hope is secure.

Historical truth becomes spiritual power.

The more certain you are of the truth, the more boldly you will live it.
The more grounded you are in the gospel, the more confidently you will share it.
The more convinced you are of Christ, the more joyfully you will follow Him.

Certainty fuels obedience.
Certainty fuels worship.
Certainty fuels mission.
Certainty fuels endurance.

Luke wants you to have a faith that stands firm when the world shakes.

We don’t know much about Theophilus. His name means “lover of God.” He may have been a Roman official, a wealthy patron, or a new believer wrestling with questions. I personally think that Theophilus was a fellow physician whom Luke may have won to Christ.

We do not know that for sure. But we do know this: God cared enough about one man’s certainty to inspire an entire Gospel. And if God cared that much about Theophilus, He cares that much about you. Luke wrote so that Theophilus would know the truth. God preserved Luke so that you would know the truth.

You are not meant to live with a vague, uncertain, half‑formed faith. You are meant to live with a confident, joyful, historically grounded assurance that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Luke 1:1–4 is God’s invitation to a confident faith.

A faith rooted in fulfilled promises.
A faith anchored in eyewitness testimony.
A faith strengthened by careful investigation.
A faith presented in an orderly account.
A faith that produces certainty.

Christianity is not a leap into the dark. It is a step into the light of history. And because Jesus really lived, really died, and really rose, you can trust Him with your past, your present, and your future.

Lord, thank You for giving us a faith grounded in truth. Thank You for eyewitnesses who saw Your works, for servants who proclaimed Your word, and for Luke who carefully investigated and wrote so that we might know for certain the things we have been taught. Strengthen our confidence in Your promises. Anchor our hearts in the reliability of Your word. And let the certainty of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection shape the way we live today. Amen.

Communion Meditation:

Titus 3: 13-14 NET

“We wait for the happy fulfillment of our hope in the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. He gave himself for us to set us free…”

As we come to the Lord’s Table, we do so with a deep and steady certainty. Scripture tells us we wait for the happy fulfillment of our hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. The One we await is the One who already gave Himself for us, offering His life to set us free. This bread and cup remind us that our future is not uncertain, our hope is not fragile, and our salvation is not in question. Christ has acted, Christ is present, and Christ will come again. In this, we rest with confidence.