3 For I passed on to you as of first importance what I also received — that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures, 4 and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day according to the scriptures, 5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. 6 Then he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep.7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 8 Last of all, as though to one born at the wrong time, he appeared to me also.
20 But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. 21 For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead also came through a man. 22 For just as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive. 23 But each in his own order: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when Christ comes, those who belong to him.
When we discovered he lives
The events I want to describe to you this morning are those that took place on that first Easter morning, when Jesus woke from the dead. The story is taken from the Gospels: Matthew 28, Mark 16, Luke 24, and John 20.
Before dawn on the first day of the week, a small group of women set out toward the tomb where Jesus had been laid. Mary Magdalene led the way, joined by Mary, the mother of James, Salome, and others who had prepared spices to complete the burial. The sky was still dim, and their conversation circled one anxious question: “Who will roll away the stone for us?”
As they approached, the ground had already shaken from an earlier earthquake. An angel of the Lord had descended, rolled back the massive stone, and left the guards trembling and paralyzed with fear. By the time the women arrived, the soldiers had fled, and the stone stood open.
Mary Magdalene, seeing the empty entrance but not yet seeing angels, panicked. She assumed the worst—that someone had taken Jesus’ body. Without waiting for the others, she turned and ran back toward the city to find Peter and John.
The remaining women stepped closer. Inside the tomb, they encountered heavenly messengers—one described by Matthew and Mark, two described by Luke—radiant, calm, and utterly unearthly. The angels spoke words that would echo through history:
“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He has risen.”
They reminded the women of Jesus’ own promises, and the women, trembling with fear and joy, hurried away to tell the disciples.
Meanwhile, Mary Magdalene reached Peter and John breathless and distraught:
“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have laid Him!”
The two men sprinted toward the garden. John arrived first but hesitated at the entrance. Peter, true to form, charged straight in. The linen cloths lay there, undisturbed. The face cloth was folded separately. Something had happened—but not theft. John entered, saw, and believed, though neither yet understood the full meaning of the Scriptures. They left in stunned silence.
Mary Magdalene, having followed them back, remained at the tomb weeping. When she finally looked inside, she saw two angels seated where Jesus’ body had been. They asked her why she was crying, but before she could process their words, she turned and saw a man standing behind her. She did not recognize Him—grief has a way of blurring the obvious.
He spoke gently:
“Mary.”
At the sound of her name, everything became clear. She fell before Him, overwhelmed. Jesus sent her to tell the disciples that He was ascending to His Father and their Father.
While Mary was carrying this message, the other women were still on their way to the disciples when Jesus Himself met them. They fell at His feet, worshiping Him, and He told them not to be afraid but to go and tell His brothers to meet Him in Galilee.
Back in the city, the guards who had witnessed the angel’s descent reported everything to the chief priests. A bribe was arranged, and a false story was circulated: the disciples had stolen the body while the guards slept.
But the truth was already spreading.
The tomb was empty.
The angels had spoken.
Jesus had appeared.
And the world had begun to change.
This is the story of the beginning of the great miracle we celebrate every Easter. But there is more to the story. Last Sunday, I asked and answered the question, “Why did Jesus have to die on Calvary’s cross? Today I want to address another question.
Why did Jesus wake from the dead?
After all, when we share the gospel with our friends and neighbors, we tell them that Jesus died for their sins, that because of his death, we are now free from the consequences of our sins – the second death in hell. But if we tell people that, we are not telling them the whole gospel. The death of Christ indeed atoned for our sins. But that is not all we need. We need a living Christ.
This morning’s text explains why Jesus lives.
Jesus had to wake from the dead because the same Scriptures that predicted his sacrificial death also predicted his resurrection.
Jesus himself had noted that the prophet Jonah’s experience of being in the great fish for three days and three nights (Jonah 1:17) was a prophetic sign of his own resurrection. He said, “For just as Jonah was in the belly of the huge fish for three days and three nights, so the Son of Man will be in the heart of the earth for three days and three nights” (Matthew 12:40).
The early Christians also often quoted Hosea 6:2, which says, “After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us, that we may live before Him.”
Peter and Paul both quote Psalm 16:10, in which David writes, “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, nor let Your Holy One see decay.” Sheol is the Hebrew word for the state of being dead. The apostles understood that Jesus’ resurrection was proof that he was God’s chosen savior.
Psalm 22 speaks of the suffering servant who cried out for help, and God responded. It says that many who are descending to their graves will tell future generations about what God did for the Messiah. We now know what God did: he raised Jesus from the dead.
Isaiah 53 predicted the crucifixion of Jesus in vivid detail. But it also says that after suffering and death, the Servant “will see His offspring,” “prolong His days,” and be vindicated.
In addition to these Old Testament predictions, there are nine specific references in the Gospels in which Jesus predicted his own resurrection on the third day after his crucifixion.[1]
That explains why Paul summarized the gospel message in today’s text: “…that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according to the Scriptures.”
But Paul goes on to tell us that there is another reason why Jesus had to be awakened from the dead. He said that Christ is the firstfruits. His resurrection is the first part of God’s great harvest. He is the firstfruits, the first, best portion of the harvest, offered to God, guaranteeing the full harvest to come. He is the firstfruits of the resurrection, guaranteeing that all who belong to Him will be raised in the same way.
Firstfruits teaches that Jesus is the first to receive immortal resurrection life. No one else has it yet. His resurrection guarantees that God will give His people the same miraculous, permanent life at the final harvest. That will happen when he returns. Paul teaches this explicitly in verse 23: “But each in his own order: Christ, the firstfruits; then when Christ comes, those who belong to him.”
As we celebrate the resurrection of Christ this morning, we also anticipate the glorious new life that we will experience when the rest of the harvest happens. Happy Easter.
[1] Matthew 16:21; Matthew 17:22–23; Matthew 20:17–19; Mark 8:31; Mark 9:31; Mark 10:34; Luke 9:22; Luke 18:33; John 2:19–22.
14 Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, he likewise shared in their humanity, so that through death he could destroy the one who holds the power of death (that is, the devil), 15 and set free those who were held in slavery all their lives by their fear of death.
24 For Christ has not entered the holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us; 25 not that He should offer Himself often, as the high priest enters the Most Holy Place every year with blood of another — 26 He then would have had to suffer often since the foundation of the world. Still, now, once at the end of the ages, He has appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. 27 And as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment, 28 so Christ was offered once to bear the sins of many. To those who eagerly wait for Him, He will appear a second time, apart from sin, for salvation.
The joy of Palm Sunday
In Matthew 21:1–11, Jesus gives two of His disciples a simple but unusual job: find a donkey and her young colt and bring them to Him. They do exactly what He says. Soon, Jesus is riding into Jerusalem on the young donkey.
What happens next is amazing. People start taking off their coats—things that were very valuable back then—and laying them on the road like a carpet for a king. Others cut branches and wave them in the air to celebrate. When Jesus rides by, the whole crowd shouts with excitement: “Hosanna to the Son of David!” This isn’t quiet clapping. It’s the loud cheer of people who believe their long‑promised King has finally arrived.
Matthew stops to remind us that this moment was predicted long ago in Zechariah 9:9, where God told His people to rejoice because their King would come to them humbly, riding on a donkey. The joy of the crowd isn’t random. It’s exactly the kind of joy the prophet said would happen hundreds of years earlier.
In Mark 11:1–11, the story happens almost the same way—there’s the donkey, the coats on the road, and the branches waving in the air. But Mark focuses on what the people were hoping for. They shout, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Then they add something that shows what they’re expecting: “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”
They aren’t just cheering for a man who can do miracles. They believe Jesus is the King who will bring back the great kingdom David once ruled. Their excitement is huge. They think Jesus isn’t only going to help others—He is going to change their own lives in a big way.
In Luke 19:28–44, the feelings in the story are even stronger. As Jesus rides the young donkey, His disciples start praising God loudly because of all the amazing miracles they have seen Him do. They shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” They are excited and proud to follow Him.
But then Luke tells us something surprising. While the crowds are cheering, Jesus begins to cry. He knows something the people don’t. Even though everyone is happy right now, the city of Jerusalem will not accept the peace He brings. Their joy is real, but it doesn’t go very deep, and it won’t last.
This reminds us of something important. Even when we celebrate Palm Sunday and worship Jesus as our King, many people in the world still ignore Him or push Him away. Jesus feels that sadness, even in the middle of all the cheering.
In John 12:12–19, the celebration becomes the biggest and most excited of all the Gospel stories. John is the only one who mentions palm branches, which were symbols of victory and national pride. Huge crowds rush out to meet Jesus, shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the King of Israel!”
John also tells us why everyone is so thrilled. Just before this, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. News of that miracle spread everywhere, and people couldn’t stop talking about it. So when Jesus arrived, they weren’t just welcoming a great teacher. They were welcoming the One who had shown power over death itself.
Their joy is the joy of people who feel like they are seeing the beginning of a brand‑new world—one filled with hope, life, and the promise that everything is about to change.
The irony of Palm Sunday
Right after the exciting Triumphal Entry, Jesus enters the temple and finds people cheating others and making dishonest money. He turns over the tables of the moneychangers to stop the corruption. This makes the religious leaders very angry. They challenge Him in front of everyone and ask, “Who gave you the right to do this?” Then they try to trap Him with tricky questions about paying taxes, the resurrection, and which commandment is the greatest. They aren’t looking for real answers. They want to catch Him saying something wrong. This is the first big rejection: they refuse to accept Jesus as the Messiah or even as a true teacher.
After Jesus tells several parables exposing the leaders’ hypocrisy, they become even angrier. They decide that Jesus must die. The chief priests and elders meet in secret and make a plan. They agree to arrest Him quietly so the crowds won’t find out. They look for the perfect moment when no one is watching. This is the strongest rejection of all: they choose, on purpose, to work together to kill Him.
One of Jesus’ own disciples becomes part of the leaders’ plan. Judas agrees to betray Jesus in exchange for a bag of coins. After that, he starts watching for the right time to hand Jesus over. This is a very personal kind of rejection—a painful betrayal from someone in Jesus’ closest group of friends.
When Jesus is arrested, His disciples become scared and run away. Even though they had promised to stay with Him no matter what, their fear is stronger in that moment. This is a painful kind of rejection: the people who loved Him most leave Him alone when He needs them.
Jesus is taken to the high priest’s house for a trial in the middle of the night, even though this was against Jewish law. People are brought in to lie about Him, but their stories don’t match. Some accuse Jesus of saying He would destroy the temple. When Jesus says clearly that He is the Messiah, the Son of Man, the council becomes furious. They say He is guilty of blasphemy. Then they spit on Him, hit Him, and make fun of Him. This is a terrible kind of rejection: the religious court wrongly condemns the true Judge of Israel.
While Jesus is being mocked inside, Peter is outside in the courtyard. Three different times, people ask him if he knows Jesus, and each time Peter says he doesn’t. When the rooster crows, Peter suddenly remembers Jesus’ warning. He realizes what he has done and begins to cry bitterly. This is an emotional kind of rejection: fear makes even Jesus’ bravest disciple deny knowing Him.
Jesus is taken to Pilate, the Roman governor. The religious leaders accuse Him of claiming to be a king. Pilate looks into the charges and says he can’t find anything Jesus has done wrong. But the crowd, pushed by the leaders, begins shouting for Jesus to be crucified. Pilate doesn’t want trouble, so he gives in to the pressure and hands Jesus over to be killed. This is a kind of public, government rejection: Rome chooses to punish an innocent man to keep the peace.
The same city that cheered for Jesus with palm branches now chooses someone else instead of Him. Pilate offers to let Jesus go free, but the crowd shouts for Barabbas, a man who had committed serious crimes. Then the crowd begins to yell, “Crucify Him!” This is a public rejection: the people choose a criminal over their true King.
Everyone around Him rejects Jesus. The Roman soldiers make fun of Him and pretend He is a fake king. People walking by the cross shout insults at Him. The religious leaders laugh at Him and challenge Him to save Himself. Even one of the criminals being crucified next to Him joins in the mocking. This is complete rejection: leaders, crowds, soldiers, and criminals all turn against Him.
Between Palm Sunday and Good Friday, Jesus is rejected again and again. The religious leaders turn against Him. One of His own disciples betrays Him. His friends run away. False witnesses lie about Him. Peter denies knowing Him. The Jewish council hands Him over to the Romans. Rome sentences Him even though He is innocent. And the same crowds that once cheered for Him now shout for His death.
Why did Jesus have to die?
After seeing the huge, joyful crowd on Palm Sunday, it’s hard to understand how everything went so wrong so fast. One day, the people are cheering for Jesus, and only a few days later, He is rejected and killed. It doesn’t seem to make sense. So we naturally ask, Why was Jesus rejected? And why did He have to die?
But we don’t have to stay confused. God never gives us a question without giving us an answer in His Word. When we look at today’s passage, we find many reasons that explain why Jesus was rejected and why His death was necessary.
Today’s passage in the Book of Hebrews gives us three big reasons why Jesus had to die on the cross. To make them easy to remember, we can use three words that all start with the same letter: slavery, sacrifice, and salvation.
These three words help us understand that the cross was not an accident. It wasn’t a mistake or a surprise. It was part of God’s perfect plan. God chose to send His one and only Son to die on a cruel cross so that His people could be set free, forgiven, and saved forever.
The first reason Jesus had to die is connected to the word slavery. The writer of Hebrews explains that God’s children are human—they have flesh and blood—so Jesus became human too. He did this so that through His own death, He could break the power of the devil, the one who uses death to scare people. By dying, Jesus set people free from being slaves to the fear of death their whole lives.
In other words, Jesus died to break our chains. He died so we wouldn’t have to live scared of death anymore.
One of the big problems Jesus came to fix by dying on the cross was the slavery problem. This problem began with Satan. In the Garden of Eden, Satan appeared to Adam and Eve as a serpent. He tempted them to disobey God’s command and eat the fruit God had forbidden. When they listened to him, sin entered the world, and people became trapped—like slaves—under the power of sin and death.
Jesus came to break that slavery. He came to undo what Satan started and to set people free from the fear and power of death.
Satan knew exactly why God told Adam and Eve not to eat the forbidden fruit. God wanted to protect them from the power of sin and from the pain of death. God had warned them that if they disobeyed, they would become mortal—their bodies would grow old, break down, and eventually die.
Satan understood this. He knew that if he could get them to disobey, they would fall under the power of sin and death. And that is exactly what happened. By tempting them, Satan helped bring death into the human story, and people became trapped in fear and brokenness.
We don’t have to look far to see that this is exactly what happened. The world around us shows the results of that first terrible choice in the Garden. We know we are mortal—we are flesh‑and‑blood people who live only for a short time. Our lives are fragile, and every breath reminds us that one day our bodies will stop working.
Because of this, many people live with a quiet fear of dying. That fear follows us through life like a shadow. The writer of Hebrews calls this slavery—being trapped by the fear of death and unable to escape it on our own.
Jesus came to break that slavery. He came to set us free.
The worst part of this slavery is that we can’t fix it ourselves. There is nothing we can do to stop being mortal. Doctors can help us for a while, but eventually, even they reach a point where they can’t repair our bodies anymore. Science tries to make our lives longer, but even then, it can only stretch out the time, not remove death. Sometimes people live longer in their bodies while their minds fade away.
No matter what we try, slavery continues. We cannot free ourselves from death or the fear that comes with it.
The writer of Hebrews says that the devil holds the power of death. He has this power because our first ancestors gave it to him. When Adam and Eve listened to Satan’s temptation and chose to disobey God, they handed themselves—and all of us—over to the power of sin and death.
By following Satan’s lie instead of God’s truth, they placed themselves under his control. In that moment, we became like slaves, trapped by sin.
Since we are slaves to sin and death, we cannot free ourselves. No matter how hard we try, we cannot pay the price needed to break our chains. For us to be set free, one of us would have to pay the price for all of us. But none of us qualifies, because we are all sinners and all mortal.
So God sent Jesus.
Jesus is God’s only begotten Son, but He came into the world and became one of us. He took on our humanity—our flesh and blood—so that He could die a sinless death in our place. His perfect life and His willing death became the ransom that frees us from our slavery to sin and death.
Jesus did what none of us could ever do. He paid the price to set us free.
Because we were slaves to sin and death, we also had a sacrifice problem. We knew we were sinners, and we knew that sin needed a perfect, spotless sacrifice to make things right with God. But none of us could make that sacrifice. Even the best people in the world are still touched by the failure that began in the Garden of Eden.
No human being is completely pure. No one is without sin. So none of us could offer the perfect sacrifice God required. We needed someone who was truly without sin—someone who could stand in our place.
Under the old covenant, God told the Israelites to offer sacrifices as part of their worship. These sacrifices were important, but they did not solve the problem of sin forever. They were more like a temporary fix—something to hold things together until a better, final sacrifice would come.
People could bring an animal to the altar, but that didn’t always mean their hearts were truly changed. Someone could offer a sacrifice without real repentance or without turning away from their sin. So even though the sacrifices were part of God’s plan, they could not remove sin completely or change the human heart.
They pointed forward to a greater sacrifice that was still to come.
The writer of Hebrews explains this in chapter 9, verses 24–26. He says that Jesus did something no other priest or sacrifice could ever do. Instead of bringing an animal into an earthly temple, Jesus brought His own life as the perfect sacrifice into the heavenly sanctuary—God’s true presence.
All the sacrifices in the Old Testament were pointing forward to this one moment. They were like signs showing that a greater sacrifice was coming. And when Jesus came, He offered Himself once for all. Hebrews says He appeared “at the end of the ages” to put away sin by giving His own life.
In other words, Jesus didn’t need to be sacrificed again and again. His one sacrifice was enough to deal with sin forever.
The last problem we face is our need for salvation. We needed someone to rescue us from slavery to death. We needed a perfect, sinless sacrifice to take our place. But we also needed someone who could save us forever.
The writer of Hebrews explains this in chapter 9, verses 27–28. He says that every person is appointed to die once, and after that comes judgment. That means we will all stand before God one day. But here is the good news: Jesus has already been offered once to carry the sins of many people. He died once, and that sacrifice was enough.
And Hebrews says something even better. Jesus will come again—not to deal with sin, because He already did that—but to bring salvation to everyone who is waiting for Him with hope.
In other words, Jesus’ first coming took away our sin. His second coming will restore his universe.
For our salvation to be complete, we needed two things. First, we needed our sins to be paid for, and Jesus did that when He died on the cross. His death provided the atonement we could never earn on our own.
But even after our sins are forgiven, we still face another problem: we still die. Our bodies still grow old, break down, and eventually stop working. That’s because our first death comes from Adam’s sin, not our own. The Bible says, “In Adam, all die.” Jesus’ death on the cross paid for our sins, but it did not remove the physical death that comes from being part of Adam’s family.
So even forgiven people still experience the first death. That’s why we need something more—something only Jesus can give.
For our salvation to be complete, we needed more than a perfect sacrifice. Jesus’ death on the cross paid for our sins, and that was essential. But even after our sins are forgiven, we still face physical death. That first death comes from Adam’s sin, and Jesus’ sacrifice did not remove that part of our human condition.
So we needed something else.
We needed a Savior who would come back and rescue us from our graves. We needed someone who had already defeated death to come and pull us out of it. Until that happens, our salvation is not finished. We can say we are saved because we trust Jesus to complete the work He began.
That’s why the Bible talks about salvation in three tenses:
We have been saved — Jesus paid for our sins on the cross.
We are being saved — Jesus is changing us and keeping us in faith.
We will be saved — Jesus will return and raise us from the dead.
All three are true because of what Jesus did on the cross and what He will do when He comes again.
So now we come back to the cries of the crowds on that first Palm Sunday. They shouted “Hosanna!” Many people today think of that word as a kind of praise, but at first it wasn’t praise at all. It was a prayer. The word comes from the Hebrew phrase hôshîʿah-nnaʾ, which means “Save us, please!” or “Please rescue us!” Over time, the meaning of the word changed. It became a way of celebrating the salvation God had already given. That’s why we often use it as a joyful word of praise today. But it is still right—and very fitting—for us to use the word in its original meaning too. We still need God to save us. We still need Jesus to finish the salvation He began. So when we cry out “Hosanna,” we are both praising God for what He has done and praying for Him to complete His work when Christ returns. “Hosanna” is both a shout of joy and a cry for help. It is the perfect word for people who trust Jesus to save them completely.
We still live in a world that is trapped in the slavery of fearing death. So we pray, “Save us, Christ, we pray!” We still need forgiveness for our sins and rescue from the damage they cause. So again we cry, “Save us, Christ, we pray!”
And we still wait for the day when our salvation will be complete—when the One who conquered death will return and pull us out of our graves. Our hearts long for that day, so we say once more, “Save us, Christ, we pray!”
This is the true meaning of Hosanna. It is the cry of people who trust Jesus to finish what He started. It is the prayer of those who believe He will come again to save us fully and forever.
1 Jonah prayed to the LORD his God from the stomach of the fish 2 and said, “I called out to the LORD from my distress, and he answered me; from the belly of Sheol I cried out for help, and you heard my prayer. 3 You threw me into the deep waters, into the middle of the sea; the ocean current engulfed me; all the mighty waves you sent swept over me. 4 I thought I had been banished from your sight, that I would never again see your holy temple! 5 Water engulfed me up to my neck; the deep ocean surrounded me; seaweed was wrapped around my head. 6 I went down to the very bottoms of the mountains; the gates of the netherworld barred me in forever; but you brought me up from the Pit, O LORD, my God.
I usually rely on the NET translation when I preach because it is clear, careful, and often very helpful. At times, though, I switch to another version if it captures the Hebrew or Greek more accurately. But today I stayed with the NET precisely because, in this case, its weaker rendering becomes a teaching moment. I’m referring to the phrase “the gates of the netherworld” in verse 6. Jonah did not speak in vague mythological language, nor was he imagining some shadowy underworld out of ancient folklore. The Hebrew phrase points much more directly to the realm of death itself—the place no one escapes, the place whose “bars” and “gates” symbolize finality and hopelessness.
Jonah is describing what it felt like to be swallowed by death. He believed he had crossed the threshold from which no human being returns. And yet, from within that prison, he cried out—and the Lord heard him. The point is not that Jonah understood everything perfectly, but that God’s mercy reached him even where he thought no mercy could reach. The “gates” that should have held him forever could not hold him because the Lord willed otherwise.
Keeping the NET’s awkward phrase in front of us helps us slow down and ask what Jonah actually meant. It reminds us that God’s saving power is not limited by our circumstances, our despair, or even our mistaken assumptions. When we feel trapped behind our own “gates,” Jonah’s prayer teaches us that the Lord can still bring us up from the pit.
The NET’s own notes acknowledge the literal Hebrew—“As for the earth, its bars…”—yet the translation still opts for the much looser and theologically loaded phrase “the gates of the netherworld.” That choice imports an idea Jonah never expressed. There is no “netherworld” in this passage, no mythic underworld, no realm of demons or torment. Jonah is not giving us cosmology; he is giving us biography—the raw memory of a man who believed he was about to die.
The phrase הָאָרֶץ בְּרִחֶיהָ paints a concrete picture: the earth with its bars, the physical world closing over him like a prison. In Jonah’s mind, the ocean floor was not a symbolic underworld but the literal boundary between life and death. The “bars” are the finality of drowning—the sense that the world has shut behind him and there is no way back.
Jonah prays this from inside the fish, but his language reaches back to the moments before the fish swallowed him. Verse 2 already tells us he cried out from “the belly of Sheol.” In the Old Testament, Sheol is not the netherworld; it is simply the state of being dead—the grave, the silence, the end of consciousness. Jonah is saying, “I was as good as dead. I had crossed the threshold. I was already in death’s grip.”
Jonah’s point is simple and profound: he was dying, and God saved him. The “bars” of the earth were closing, the grave was claiming him, and yet God intervened. The miracle is not that Jonah visited some mystical realm—it is that God preserved a man who had already begun to descend into death.
Christians often end up confused about what happens after death because our English Bibles sometimes adjust the Hebrew and Greek in ways that unintentionally reinforce ideas the biblical writers never taught. When translators choose words like “netherworld”, they introduce the notion of a conscious realm people enter immediately after death—a concept far more at home in Greek mythology than in the Old Testament. The result is that many readers assume the Bible teaches an automatic, conscious afterlife somewhere else, when in fact the Hebrew text is describing something much simpler and far more sobering: death itself.
Several English translations use terms like “netherworld,” “underworld,” or “realm of the dead,” language that suggests ongoing awareness after death. These words carry cultural baggage and make readers imagine souls continuing life elsewhere. But Hebrew Scripture uses Sheol to describe the state of being dead—silent, unconscious, cut off from the living. It is not a destination but the condition of no longer being alive. Such mythic terms mislead readers into believing in a conscious afterlife before resurrection. In Jonah 2, the language is physical: he is drowning, the “bars of the earth” closing over him. “Sheol” means he was as good as dead.
The biblical writers are not concerned with where people “go” when they die. They are concerned with the fact that death ends life, and only God can restore it.
When Christians focus on “going somewhere” after death, they often miss the heart of the good news. The gospel is not about escaping to another realm. It is about God’s promise to undo death itself. Jesus does not offer relocation; He offers resurrection. The hope held out in Scripture is not that we will continue living elsewhere, but that God will give life back to those who have died.
This is why the New Testament proclaims resurrection so loudly and so often. It is the answer to the problem the Bible actually describes: not the fear of going to the wrong place, but the reality that we die—and need Jesus to raise us.
We all face the same reality when life ends, and Scripture names it in several ways: the grave, Sheol, the Pit, and death. These are not different realms but different expressions for the same end of earthly life. Biblical writers use them interchangeably to describe the universal fate of all people. When Jonah speaks of Sheol and the Pit, he is not picturing an underworld but describing how near he was to dying as the sea closed in around him. In his mind, he had already crossed into death, and his prayer rose from that desperate awareness.
And yet, God brought him back.
Because all these terms point to the same reality, they also point to the same hope. If death is the problem, then resurrection is the solution. The Bible does not promise that we will go somewhere else when we die; it promises that God will raise the dead. That is why the New Testament anchors Christian hope not in escape from death but in victory over it.
Death is a Pit
Jonah was not exaggerating. He was seconds from death, the world closing in like a prison as the sea swallowed him and the earth’s “bars” shut behind him. He was entering the finality Scripture calls the Pit—where life ends, and hope disappears. At that moment, God intervened and lifted him out. His rescue was a reversal of death, not a metaphor. The Pit is not an underworld but another name for Sheol, the grave, death itself. Jonah describes breath leaving his body and darkness overtaking him. His prayer is the cry of a man already slipping beneath life’s final boundary.
Job captures this hopelessness with painful clarity: “If I hope for Sheol as my house, if I make my bed in darkness, if I say to the pit, ‘You are my father,’ and to the worm, ‘My mother,’ or ‘My sister,’ where then is my hope? Who will see my hope? Will it go down to the bars of Sheol? Shall we descend together into the dust?” (Job 17:13–16)
Job’s questions assume the answer: there is no hope in Sheol—no future, no life, no expectation. Hope cannot follow a person into the dust. Jonah felt that same nearness to death as darkness closed in and the sea’s “bars” shut behind him. Yet where hope should have ended, God intervened and lifted him from the Pit. His prayer becomes a testimony of deliverance. Scripture’s images—darkness, worms, bars—describe the finality of death, not a conscious realm. This matches God’s word to Adam: made from dust, he would return to dust. Death ends life; consciousness ceases; dust returns to dust.
This is why the Bible uses “Sheol,” “the grave,” “the Pit,” and “death” interchangeably. They all describe the same reality: the end of life, the silence that follows, the condition from which only God can raise a person.
When Jonah speaks of the Pit and the bars of the earth, he is not imagining a mythological underworld. He is describing the moment when death was closing in on him. The darkness, the pressure, the descent, the sense of no escape—these are the very images Scripture uses to describe the grave. Jonah believed he was already crossing that threshold.
And yet, God brought him back.
There will be a rescue from the Pit.
Job admits no one escapes the Pit; once a person enters death, no strength or righteousness can bring him back. Yet he refuses despair. He knows he will return to dust, but he also knows his Redeemer lives and will one day stand on that dust and raise him. His own eyes will see God—resurrection hope. David echoes this in Psalm 30: death silences praise, so he pleads for life. Psalm 49 adds that no one can ransom another to “live on forever.” Wise and foolish alike perish. Death ends consciousness and activity; the Pit is simply the end of life.
Many people still resist this. They insist that people continue living somewhere else after their bodies die. But the sons of Korah say the opposite: we perish. We do not relocate; we cease.
Paul’s confirmation: we are perishable until resurrection
Paul brings Old Testament teaching to its climax: we are perishable and remain so until Jesus raises us from the dead. Only then do we become imperishable. He writes, “the dead will be raised imperishable” (1 Corinthians 15:52). He does not say the dead are already imperishable or alive elsewhere. He speaks of a future resurrection in which the dead are made imperishable. The Bible’s hope is not surviving death but God undoing death itself.
Jonah was lifted from the Pit.
Jonah fits seamlessly into the pattern established by Job, David, and the sons of Korah. He was seconds from dying, swallowed by the sea, sinking past the point of rescue. He felt himself descending into the Pit, the same Pit Job said no one can escape. The “bars of the earth” were closing behind him, sealing him in. His life was slipping away; he was returning to the dust from which all humanity comes. And yet, at the very brink—when death had already begun its work—God reached into that hopeless place and lifted him. Jonah’s deliverance is not merely dramatic; it is a small-scale demonstration of the very thing Scripture promises God will one day do for all His people.
Jonah’s rescue is a living parable of resurrection: God will bring life out of death, hope out of hopelessness, deliverance up from the Pit.
An EXPANDED VERSION of this sermon is available on the Afterlife site!
12 “Yet even now,” the LORD says, “return to me with all your heart — with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Tear your hearts, not just your garments!” 13 Return to the LORD your God, for he is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and boundless in loyal love — often relenting from calamitous punishment. 14 Who knows? Perhaps he will be compassionate and grant a reprieve, and leave blessing in his wake — a meal offering and a drink offering for you to offer to the LORD your God! 15 Blow the trumpet in Zion. Announce a holy fast; proclaim a sacred assembly! 16 Gather the people; sanctify an assembly! Gather the elders; gather the children and the nursing infants. Let the bridegroom come out from his bedroom and the bride from her private quarters. 17 Let the priests, those who serve the LORD, weep from the vestibule all the way back to the altar. Let them say, “Have pity, O LORD, on your people; please do not turn over your inheritance to be mocked, to become a proverb among the nations. Why should it be said among the peoples, “Where is their God?”
The prophet Joel addressed the southern kingdom of Judah, and he never mentions the northern kingdom of Israel. Because he names no kings and refers to no contemporary prophets, the exact date of his ministry is difficult to determine. Our prophetic chronology places the book around 850 B.C., but the text itself offers no firm historical markers, leaving the date approximate rather than precise.
Joel was a pre‑exilic prophet who ministered before the fall of both the northern kingdom of Israel (721 B.C.) and the southern kingdom of Judah (586 B.C.). Other pre‑exilic prophets include Jonah, Hosea, Amos, Isaiah, and Micah. Among them, Joel stands as the earliest.
Joel describes a devastating locust plague that had ravaged Judah. History records a similar catastrophe in 1915 across what is now Israel and Syria. The first swarms arrived in March, forming clouds so dense they blotted out the sun. The female locusts immediately began laying eggs—about a hundred each. Observers reported 65,000 to 75,000 eggs in a single square yard. Within weeks, the eggs hatched, and the young—unable to fly—moved like armies of oversized ants, hopping forward 400 to 600 feet a day and stripping every trace of vegetation in their path. After two more molts, they became adults capable of flight, and the destruction only intensified.
Immediately after the locust plague, a severe drought struck the land, deepening the devastation. The heat was relentless. The soil cracked, the rivers shrank, and the remaining vegetation withered. What little survived the locusts was now consumed by fires sweeping across the parched fields. Judah was left staring at a landscape stripped bare—an ecological collapse that touched every part of life: crops, livestock, economy, and hope.
But Joel’s message is unmistakable: this disaster was not the final judgment. It was an alarm, a divine warning shot. The locusts and the drought were God’s way of shaking Judah awake, forcing the nation to see its spiritual condition. Their covenant unfaithfulness had consequences, and the devastation around them was meant to drive them to repentance.
Joel insists that if Judah ignored this warning, something far worse was approaching. The locusts were only a symbol, a preview of a greater judgment on the horizon. He calls that coming catastrophe the day of the Lord—a day marked not by insects or drought, but by the arrival of an invading army, overwhelming and unstoppable, bringing destruction far beyond anything the locusts had done.
The plague was terrible. The drought was worse. But the day of the Lord would eclipse them both. Joel’s purpose was to make Judah understand that God was not merely punishing; He was calling—summoning His people to return to Him before the final blow fell.
Joel warned Judah to repent—to return to the Lord before an even greater calamity struck. The passage before us makes several foundational statements about repentance, and these statements speak directly to the questions every one of us carries about what it means to come back to God. Repentance is not a relic of the Old Testament or a theme confined to ancient prophets. It is the steady, unbroken call of Scripture from beginning to end.
The Law calls Israel to turn back to the Lord with all their heart. The prophets plead with the nation to return before judgment falls. John the Baptist begins his ministry with the command to repent. Jesus opens His public preaching with the same call. The apostles proclaim repentance as the doorway into life. And the book of Revelation ends with Christ still calling His people to turn from sin and return to Him.
Joel’s message fits squarely within this biblical pattern. His warnings are not merely historical; they reveal how God deals with His people in every generation. When disaster strikes, when life collapses, when the consequences of sin become impossible to ignore, God is not simply punishing—He is calling. He is summoning His people back to Himself.
HOW do we return to the LORD? (12).
Many of us carry a history with the word “repentance”. We remember revival meetings where the preacher urged us to walk the aisle, be baptized, or join the church. For many, repentance became something we did—a moment in the past, an event we point back to. But Scripture treats repentance as far more than a single decision or a trip down an aisle. It is a turning of the heart toward God, not merely a response to a preacher’s invitation. And Joel’s message forces us to rethink repentance, not as a box we checked years ago, but as a present, ongoing call from God Himself.
The people of Judah had their own traditions surrounding repentance. One of the most visible was the act of tearing their garments—a public display of grief meant to show their hatred of sin and their sorrow over its consequences. It was a cultural symbol everyone recognized. Joel understood this practice well; he knew it was the standard way people demonstrated repentance in his day. But he also knew its danger: it allowed people to perform repentance without actually repenting. A torn garment could hide an untouched heart.
The word Joel delivered from the Lord was direct and unmistakable: “Return to Me with all your heart—with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Tear your hearts, not just your garments!” God was not asking for a performance. He was calling for a genuine turning of the inner life. The outward signs—fasting, tears, expressions of grief—were meant to flow from a heart that was truly broken over sin. Judah had mastered the ritual of tearing garments; God wanted the reality of a torn heart.
Fasting is not something most of us practice regularly. We usually stop eating only when something so painful or shocking happens that food becomes irrelevant. When a loved one is in critical condition or tragedy strikes without warning, appetite disappears. We don’t choose to fast—we cannot imagine eating because our hearts are too heavy to care. That is the kind of fasting Joel has in mind: not a scheduled religious exercise, but the natural response of a heart overwhelmed by the weight of sin.
And Joel doesn’t stop with fasting. He adds weeping and mourning—the outward expressions of inward grief. In Scripture, these are not theatrical displays. They are the visible overflow of a heart that finally sees sin for what it is: a rupture in our relationship with God, a wound to His holiness, a betrayal of His goodness. When the heart breaks, the eyes follow. When the heart grieves, the body responds. Joel is describing repentance that is so real, so deep, so honest that it affects the whole person.
This is why God says, “Tear your hearts, not just your garments.” Judah knew how to perform repentance. They knew how to tear their clothes, bow their heads, and look sorrowful. But God was not moved by their rituals. He wanted the reality behind the ritual—the broken heart, the humbled spirit, the genuine turning back to Him.
True repentance is not measured by how loudly we cry or how dramatically we respond. It is measured by whether the heart has truly turned. The outward signs—fasting, weeping, mourning—are meaningful only when they flow from an inner transformation. Joel’s message is that repentance is not a performance; it is a surrender.
WHY should we return to the LORD? (13-14, 17b).
Joel calls Judah to return with fasting, weeping, and mourning—not because God delights in misery, but because true repentance is born from a heart that finally feels the weight of sin. But Joel does something crucial here: he anchors the call to repent in the character of God. The reason God demands a torn heart is not that He is harsh, but because He is gracious.
Joel 2:13 gives one of the most beautiful descriptions of God in the Old Testament: “For He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” That is the foundation of repentance. We return to God because of who He is.
He is gracious — God gives what we do not deserve. Repentance is not met with rejection but with open arms.
He is compassionate — God feels for His people. He is not indifferent to their suffering or their sin.
He is slow to anger — God is patient. He does not rush to judgment. He gives space to return.
He abounds in steadfast love — His covenant love is not fragile or fickle. It is abundant, overflowing, and constant.
He refrains from sending calamity — God’s desire is not to destroy but to restore. Judgment is His strange work; mercy is His delight.
This is why God calls for the heart. A torn garment can be faked. A torn heart cannot. And when the heart turns, it turns toward a God who is eager to forgive, ready to restore, and overflowing with mercy.
Joel wants Judah to understand that repentance is not driven solely by fear. The character of God draws it. The warning is real, but the invitation is rooted in grace. The God who judges is the same God who longs to show compassion.
Joel ends this call to repentance with a scene that is both solemn and urgent. The priests—those appointed to stand between God and the people—are commanded to take their place “between the porch and the altar” and cry out, “Spare Your people, O Lord.” This is not a casual prayer. It is the desperate plea of spiritual leaders who understand that unless God shows mercy, the nation is finished.
The location matters. “Between the porch and the altar” was the space where sacrifices were offered and where the presence of God was approached. It was the meeting point between human guilt and divine grace. By placing the priests there, Joel is showing that repentance is not merely emotional sorrow—it is a return to God on His terms, through the means He provides.
The prayer itself is simple but profound:
“Spare Your people” — an admission that judgment is deserved, and mercy is the only hope.
“Do not make Your heritage a reproach” — an appeal to God’s covenant promises and His reputation among the nations.
“Why should the nations say, ‘Where is their God?’” — a reminder that God’s mercy toward His people displays His glory to the world.
Joel wants Judah to see that repentance is not only personal and not only communal—it is intercessory. The leaders must plead on behalf of the people. The people must humble themselves before God. And the entire nation must throw itself on the mercy of the God who is gracious, compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.
This priestly cry becomes the turning point of the book. When the people return to God with torn hearts, and when the priests intercede on their behalf, God responds—not with judgment, but with restoration.
WHO should return to the LORD? (15-17a).
Joel makes it clear that repentance is never a private matter. When God calls His people to return, He calls all of them. That is why, in Joel 2:15–17, the prophet commands the nation to gather for a sacred assembly. No one is excused. No one is too young, too old, too busy, or too important to respond.
The elders must come, because they are responsible for leading the people back to God.
The priests must come, because they stand between God and the nation, pleading for mercy.
The children must come, because even the youngest are part of the covenant community.
Nursing infants must come, because the crisis is so severe that even daily routines must be interrupted.
Newlyweds must come, because not even the joy of marriage outweighs the urgency of returning to the Lord.
Joel’s point is unmistakable: when God calls for repentance, He calls for a whole‑community response. Sin affects everyone, so repentance must involve everyone. The nation cannot be healed if only a handful return. The priests cannot repent for the people, and the people cannot repent without their leaders. The entire community must gather, humble themselves, and cry out for mercy.
And at the center of this gathering stands the priestly prayer: “Spare Your people, O Lord.” It is a cry that acknowledges guilt, pleads for compassion, and appeals to God’s covenant love. Joel wants Judah to see that repentance is not merely an individual act of sorrow—it is a collective turning back to the God who is gracious, compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.
We in 21st‑century America live in an individualist culture, so we rarely grasp the power of an entire community turning back to the Lord. That’s unfortunate, because I believe God desires to pour out blessings, righteousness, and justice on whole communities—not just on isolated individuals. But He is not going to transform a town because a handful of people on the margins seek Him while everyone else carries on unchanged. What we need is a community‑wide return to God.
I’m not talking about one congregation, not even Piney Grove by itself. I believe God wants to revive this whole community and breathe life into every church that calls on His name. Imagine what could happen if believers across our town humbled themselves, prayed together, and returned to the Lord. That is the kind of movement God has honored throughout Scripture. And that is the kind of movement we should be asking Him for today.
Let’s lift our eyes beyond our own pews and pray for a revival that reaches every home, every church, and every corner of our community. Let’s see what God will do when His people come together and return to Him with one heart.
14 However, in the future I will allure her; I will lead her back into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. 15 From there, I will give back her vineyards to her, and turn the “Valley of Trouble” into an “Opportunity for Hope.” There she will sing as she did when she was young, when she came up from the land of Egypt. 16 “At that time,” declares the LORD, “you will call, ‘My husband’; you will never again call me, ‘My master.’ 17 For I will remove the names of the Baal idols from your lips, so that you will never again utter their names!” 18 “At that time I will make a covenant for them with the wild animals, the birds of the air, and the creatures that crawl on the ground. I will abolish the warrior’s bow and sword — that is, every weapon of warfare — from the land, and I will allow them to live securely.” 19 I will commit myself to you forever; I will commit myself to you in righteousness and justice, in steadfast love and tender compassion. 20 I will commit myself to you in faithfulness; then you will acknowledge the LORD.”
Many of the Old Testament prophets had to do outrageous things to get the people’s attention. God had a message for his people, but they often refused to listen to his words. Yet his prophets were more than his spokespersons. They were also visible signs of his existence. When the people looked at the prophets, they could see the state of their relationship with God. No aspect of the prophets’ lives was private to themselves, especially their marriage relationships.
We have already seen this in Jeremiah 16, when God commanded that prophet not to marry. This restriction served as a powerful, tragic symbol for the nation, hinting at looming, terrible judgment. It evoked a heartbreaking future in which families could suffer from disease, famine, and war, with their bodies left unburied. Such imagery reminds us of the dire consequences that could come if we don’t heed the warnings.
We also saw this principle in Ezekiel 24, when God instructed that prophet that his wife was going to die, but he commanded him not to mourn her loss in the traditional way. God kindly guided Ezekiel to avoid the usual public mourning rituals, such as weeping, wearing sackcloth, or covering his face. Instead, he was advised to keep his turban and sandals on and refrain from eating the “bread of mourners,” encouraging him to stay strong and grounded during this time.
This personal tragedy resonated deeply with the Israelites during their Babylonian exile. The loss of Ezekiel’s wife served as a reminder of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, which was so cherished. It was described as the “delight” of the people’s eyes. Just as Ezekiel was instructed not to mourn his wife, the people of Israel would also find it difficult to properly grieve the destruction of their cherished city and the heartbreaking loss of their children.
But the story of Hosea takes this principle to a new level. He was intentionally instructed to marry the wrong person. The resulting bad relationship became a symbol of the broken covenant between the people of Israel and their God.
Introduction: a bad relationship
First, Hosea was instructed to marry a prostitute. His wife, Gomer, would serve as a constant reminder that God had married Israel, yet that nation had turned to other gods and worshipped idols rather than the one true God.
Gomer bore three children, and Hosea was instructed to give them unconventional names. The children’s names were also signs of the strained relationship between God and his people. They likely contributed to conflict and dysfunction within Hosea and Gomer’s family as well.
Their first son was named Jezreel (יִזְרְעֶאל). It meant “God scatters.” That may have been a reference to Israel’s impending defeat and the end of the dynasty of Jehu. This would be especially significant because King Jehu had committed genocide at a place called Jezreel. So, every time Hosea and Gomer mentioned their son’s name or called him by name, it would remind them of that embarrassing fact.
I would imagine, for example, that not many parents have chosen to name their son “Adolph” after that name became associated with a cruel and deadly dictator. Having a son named Jezreel would have been an embarrassment to the parents, and I would assume the kid did not appreciate the name either.
The next child born to Hosea and Gomer did not fare any better. They were instructed to name her Lo-Ruhamah (לֹא רֻחָמָה), which means no pity. It sounds like a name a professional wrestler would use. It certainly did not sound like an appropriate name for a sweet little girl. Her name would be a reminder to Israel that when God sent his invading armies into that kingdom, he would not show pity to any of its inhabitants. The invaders would be allowed to destroy, desecrate, and annihilate. God would watch, and he would do nothing to protect them.
Children can experience shame and anxiety when other children make fun of their names. This poor girl had no chance to escape it. Her name was a reminder that her family was different. Her dad was a prophet, and they sometimes did strange things. Because of this weird name, she had to endure the taunts and jokes of all the other kids. I can’t imagine she turned out very well. It’s hard to be well-adjusted mentally when you carry around a name that virtually predicts you will be dysfunctional.
The third child was another son, named Lo-Ammi (לֹא עַמִּי), meaning “not my people.” David Guzik commented on this: “This was not so much a sentence or a penalty as a simple statement of fact. It wasn’t as if the people really wanted to be the people of God, yet God would not have them. Instead, the people of Israel rejected God, and here the LORD recognized that fact. He would not play “let’s pretend”: “You pretend to be My people and I will pretend to be your God.” The time for those games was over.”[1]
Hosea’s messed-up family did not stay together long. Gomer went back to her life as a prostitute, breaking her husband’s heart. God’s point in orchestrating this dysfunctional family scenario was that Israel’s apostasy was breaking his heart. That is why he was forced to scatter them and send them to the Valley of Trouble.
The Valley of Trouble
Long before, the Hebrews stoned Achan and his family to death in a valley called “trouble” (עָכוֹר) after he rebelled against God’s command at Ai. Now, God is going to send the entire Northern kingdom into its own Valley of Trouble. Remember, Hosea is prophesying to the Northern kingdom – Israel. Other prophets would focus on the Southern kingdom of Judah. Judah had at least a couple of good kings. Israel had none. At the time he was prophesying these things, the kingdom of Israel was enjoying a reasonable amount of economic and political success. But the time of trouble was coming to them because they were prosperous and healthy, yet they used that blessing to turn away from God and follow the idols of the pagans.
Consequently, God had to bring judgment on the Northern kingdom and Jehu’s dynasty of kings. During this time of trouble, several kings succeeded one another, but none of them lasted long. Several were assassinated. The last king of Jehu’s line (Hoshea) died in exile.
But even during this season of trouble, God was going to do a special thing for this wayward bride, Israel.
The second courtship
God says that in the future he will allure her; he will lead her back into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. It would be like a second courtship. We even see how she would respond to this allure. God says he will fence her in with thorns; he will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. Then she will pursue her lovers, but she will not catch them; she will seek them, but she will not find them. Then she will say, “I will go back to my husband, because I was better off then than I am now” (6-7).
You see, throughout Israel’s rebellious era, she was tempted to worship other gods because those idols were associated with what she wanted: prosperity, fertility, and health. But during the exile, the only thing those idols did was remind her of what she had lost. Consequently, the exile cured Israel of her idolatry.
The Opportunity for Hope
God was going to let them go through that time of trouble, but he was going to be with them on the other side. He promised to give back their vineyards to them and to turn the “Valley of Trouble” into an “Opportunity for Hope.” There she will sing as she did when she was young, when she came up from the land of Egypt.
Out of this terrible time for Israel, there will come an opportunity for them to repent and return to God. God promised to plant them as his own in the land. He will pity ‘No Pity’ (Lo-Ruhamah). He will say to ‘Not My People’ (Lo-Ammi), ‘You are my people!’ And they will say, ‘You are my God!'”
But it is not that everything will be the same as it was. No, you see, the Israelites used to equate Yahveh, their God, with Baal. They referred to God as their Baal – their husband. But that word for husband carried the connotation of one who dominates his wife. God says he would not allow them to have that kind of relationship with him. God says they will no longer call him their Baal. The standard word for “husband” is Ish, and the female form is Ishah. So God says to call him their Ish. Some of them started calling God Ishi, which signified a much closer relationship. Ishi means “my husband.” But it referred to a loving, nurturing husband, not a master.
Now, what is God telling us in all this? Let me suggest a few things for us to think about:
No matter how far you run from God, He is still there, waiting for you to come back. Israel was like the prodigal. They finally came to themselves and realized that life with their heavenly Father was better than the pig slop they were eating.
God wants to restore you. He will let you suffer the consequences of your wrong choices, but what he really wants is your love. No other god wants our love, but God always does.
God can take a bad reputation and turn it into a good one. He can take the Jezreels and turn them into people who are planted deep and produce an abundant harvest. He can take the Lo-Ruhamas and bless them with his unmerited pity and favor. He can take the Lo-Ammis and turn them into his chosen race and royal priesthood. He can take Saul, the chief of sinners and persecutor of the church, and turn him into an Apostle of grace. There is not one character trait that God cannot redeem.
Peter saw the power of God at work in the life of Christ and asked him to depart from him because he was a sinner. But Jesus didn’t do that. He saw not just Peter the sinner but also Peter the Rock upon which he would build his church. So don’t ever let Satan convince you that Jesus cannot use you.
We are living in uncertain times. Now is the perfect time to turn your back on the Baals of your life and return to your Ishi, the Lord Jesus Christ. The Bridegroom is coming soon. We all need to get ready for Him.
jeffersonvann 