“Acts 29” (Acts 28:30-31)

 

Chain of Faith

Have you heard of the name Edward Kimball? Probably not. And yet, his story reminds us that even a “nobody” in the world’s eyes can have an incredible impact when they care about others and about God’s kingdom. Edward Kimball was a Sunday school teacher in Chicago in 1855. One day, he felt prompted to visit a teenage student from his class at the shoe store where the young man worked. There Kimball shared the gospel. He continued to nurture that young man’s faith through his Sunday school class. That teenager’s name was D.L. Moody. And the story did not stop there.

1. Moody later shared Christ with F. B. Meyer.
2. F. B. Meyer’s preaching led to the conversion of J. Wilbur Chapman.
3. Chapman’s preaching led to the conversion of Billy Sunday.
4. Mordecai Ham was converted at a Billy Sunday meeting.
5. Billy Graham was converted at a Ham meeting.

Billy Graham went on to preach the gospel face-to-face to more people than anyone else in history.[1] This whole chain of faith began with one Sunday School teacher who faithfully shared the good news and cared for others according to the gifts God had given him.

My Grandfather
Let me ask you a personal question. Who shared the gospel with you for the first time? Who helped you experience God’s love in a personal way?

For me, whenever I tell my faith story, it always traces back to my maternal grandfather. He was a North Korean defector. His family was locally influential, and just before being arrested by the Communist Party, he narrowly escaped by swimming across the border. He later fought for South Korea during the Korean War. After the war, life was hard. He was lonely, discouraged, and overwhelmed. At one point, he even considered ending his life. But a friend invited him to church, and he began attending weekday early morning prayer. There he heard the good news of Jesus Christ, and he became a Christian.

My grandfather deeply fell in love with Jesus. He went all in. Later, he was called to ministry and became a Methodist pastor. He was a contagious Christian. Because of his faith and love, his entire family came to Christ. He was later appointed to the church my father was attending. And through my grandfather’s influence, my father also became a pastor. My grandfather was my pastor from third grade to seventh grade. Through his preaching, and through the congruence of his life, I tasted and saw the love of Christ. I believed. I was saved. And I sensed God’s call to ministry.

When I was young, my grandfather often shared his testimonies, freely and joyfully, telling stories of how God was at work in his life. One story, in particular, stayed with me. It was about his first appointment. He had two choices: (1) One church offered a parsonage and stable compensation, and (2) The other option was to plant a new church, with minimum support. As he prayed, he heard the voice, saying, “Are you Lot, or are you Abraham?” In Genesis 13, when Lot and Abraham became wealthy, they had to separate. Lot looked up and chose the Jordan Valley. It looked like the Garden of Eden. But it turned out to be the land of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham waited for the Lord and followed God’s guidance. My grandfather replied, “Lord, I want to be like Abraham.” So he chose to plant a new church, with his wife and their 3-month-old daughter, my mother.

In 2018, I reached a very low point. I was ready to throw in the towel. I was about to ask my DS for a new appointment. Then, I remembered my grandfather’s first appointment story. So I prayed. And instead of leaving, I chose to “abide.” I told my DS, “Let me stay here for another 20 years.” I don’t know about you, but for me, my heart gets discouraged easily. My hands grow tired. When that happens, I return to my grandfather’s faith stories. I can almost hear him saying, “My son, you are not just called to be a patient, but a soldier. Stand firm. Be a man of God.” And I remember Paul’s words: “No one serving a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer.” (2 Timothy 2:4) My grandfather has passed away, but he still speaks through his faith. (cf. Hebrews 11:4)

Acts 16
This week, we turn to the Book of Acts, written by Luke. Who was Luke? Early church tradition tells us that Luke was from Antioch of Syria. He was well-educated and trained as a medical doctor. It is possible that he came to faith during Paul’s early missionary work.

In Acts 16, we see Luke’s spiritual turning point. Up to this point, Luke writes as an observer. He uses the word “they.” But then, something changes. Paul begins his second missionary journey, and Luke joins him. Suddenly, the language shifts from “they” to “we.” “So we set sail from Troas…” (16:11) Luke is no longer just telling the story. He is living it. He travels dangerous roads with Paul. He sails through violent storms. He sits in prison and tends Paul’s wounds. Luke becomes a faithful companion.

Acts 28
Then, we come to the end of the book of Acts. And it feels abrupt. Paul arrives in Rome. We expect revival. We expect a great awakening. But instead, after Paul preaches, the people disagree with each other and leave (Acts 28:25).

Paul remains under house arrest for two full years. Again and again, Scripture shows us that God’s ways are not our ways. Paul once believed his calling was to preach the good news to the Jews. He had the best training. He knew their history and culture. But the Lord said to him, “Go! I will send you far away to the Gentiles.” (22:21) Later, while ministering among the Gentiles, Paul experienced a painful thorn in the flesh. So he pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it. But the Lord replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) God used weakness to keep Paul humble and fully dependent on Him and His divine power.

The story of Acts ends with imprisonment. And we may wonder, “Why?” It doesn’t make sense. But during those two years: Paul’s body was bound, but God’s Word was not. Paul wrote Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians and Philemon during this time. Not only that, Luke stayed with Paul. And Paul mentored him closely. Many scholars believe Luke wrote his Gospel during this time (around AD 60-62), and then wrote Acts shortly after. Nothing was wasted.

Acts 29
Luke wrote his Gospel so that we might believe in Christ and have eternal life. Then he wrote Acts so that we might live out our calling as followers of Christ. Luke was not called to preach like Paul. He never planted churches like Paul. But he stayed. He listened. He wrote. At the end of Paul’s life, during his second imprisonment in Rome (AD 64-67), Paul wrote: “Only Luke is with me,” (2 Timothy 4:11). Through Luke’s faithfulness – through his two books, which make up about 27% of the New Testament – people across generations continue to come to know Jesus. Sometimes the most powerful ministry is not leading from the front, but walking faithfully beside someone God places in our lives.

So what’s is your calling? Once, an enthusiastic volunteer wrote to Mother Teresa, offering to come and help her in Calcutta. Mother Teresa replied, "Stay where you are. Find your own Calcutta. Find the sick, the suffering, and the lonely right there where you are — in your own homes and in your own families, in your workplaces and in your schools". And she added, "I can only love one person at a time - just one, one, one. So you begin. I began - I picked up one person. Maybe if I didn't pick up that one person, I wouldn't have picked up forty-two thousand.”

So let me ask you: Who is that one person? Where is your Calcutta? May we be found faithful. As Scripture says, “It is required of stewards that they be found faithful.” (1 Cor 4:2) And may we one day hear our Lord say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Amen.

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[1] Kenneth Boa and Jenny Abel, Recalibrate Your Life (pp. 200-201). InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition.

“I Believe” (John 11:17-27)

*Vincent van Gogh, The Raising of Lazarus (1890)

Winter, but Not the End
If you have watched or read C. S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, you may remember this line: “Always winter, but never Christmas.”

Narnia is frozen. The White Witch rules with fear and power. The land is cold. Life feels stuck. Nothing grows. Hope seems buried under snow and ice. But quietly, something begins to change. There are rumors. Signs. The snow starts to melt. The ice cracks. Spring is coming. Aslan is on the move. The winter is not the end of the story.

Friends, many of us know this kind of winter. Not just outside, but inside. Some of us are grieving. Some are tired. Some feel numb. Some look at our country and our world and feel sad, frustrated, even overwhelmed. If you are in a season of winter, today’s message is for you.

John and Signs
Unlike the other three Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), John doesn’t follow Jesus’ life and ministry chronologically. Instead, he focuses on “seven signs” – signs of hope, signs of spring, signs that reveal who Jesus is. John tells us why he writes this way:

“But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20:31, NIV)

The story of Lazarus is the seventh and most powerful sign. Lazarus’ family was not only facing external oppression from the Roman Regime; they were grieving, broken, and living in a personal winter.

Martha and Mary were deeply disappointed and hurt. When their brother Lazarus became ill, they sent a message to Jesus, hoping he would come right away. But for some reason, Jesus stayed two more days. By the time he arrived, Lazarus had been dead for four days.

God of Yesterday and Tomorrow
When Martha saw Jesus, she said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” (v. 21) Have you ever felt that way? “Where were you, Lord? You came too late. Where were you when my loved one died? Where were you when my marriage fell apart? Where were you when my child went astray?” Martha was focused on the God of yesterday – the One who was “not there.”

Jesus gently said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha replied, “I know that he will rise in the resurrection on the last day.” This time she believed in the God of tomorrow, the life after death.

I AM
Jesus said to her, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” Here, Jesus was saying, “Martha, I am the God of today, not just yesterday or tomorrow.” Martha replied, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, God’s Son, the one who is coming into the world.” “I do believe that you are the God of today.”

We, too, can often focus only on the God of yesterday or tomorrow. We remember how God has helped in the past. We also have faith that someday we will get to heaven after death. But through the story of Lazarus, John tells us that eternal life is “present tense” – here and now. Jesus prayed in John 17:3, “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” Jesus also said in John 10:10, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” When? Now. Today.

Living the Resurrection
So now, Jesus stood at the tomb of Lazarus and cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out. Jesus said, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Lazarus had life again that day, but one day he would die again. This is the sign that points to a deeper truth: Jesus, who called Lazarus out of the tomb, walks toward His own tomb within days. He laid down His life, for Lazarus and for us, so that we might believe in him and have new life today.

We see this kind of resurrection life in Ben-Hur. Ben-Hur and Messala grew up together as close friends, both Jewish. But as adults, they chose very different paths. Ben-Hur stayed faithful to his people. Messala chose power and became a Roman officer. When their paths crossed again, ambition won over friendship. Ben-Hur’s family was arrested. His mother and sister were imprisoned and became lepers. Ben-Hur was sent to a slave ship. From that moment, his heart burned with revenge. Years later, miraculously Ben-Hur survived a shipwreck. He gained freedom, wealth, and strength. Eventually, he faced Messala and defeated him. But even after winning, Ben-Hur was not free. His heart was still restless.

Then he heard about Jesus - a man who healed the sick. He rushed to bring his mother and sister to him, but arrived too late. Jesus was already on the cross. From a distance, Ben-Hur watched. He saw the mocking. He heard the cruelty. Then he heard Jesus pray, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” In that moment, Ben-Hur said it felt as if Jesus took the sword out of his hand. The hatred was gone. Peace entered his heart. That is resurrection life. Not only life after death, but a new heart, a new way of living, through Jesus’ death and resurrection, here and now.

Here and Now
Many artists have tried to paint Lazarus being raised. For me, my favorite is Vincent van Gogh. As many of us know, Van Gogh lived a very hard life. Early on, he hoped to serve God. He worked as a lay preacher and missionary, but he was eventually dismissed. He struggled to find his calling. For most of his life, he was unknown, misunderstood, and poor.

The Raising of Lazarus was painted while Van Gogh was in a mental hospital, in his final year. He based the painting on a Rembrandt print, but left out Jesus. Instead, he focuses on Lazarus, weak and struggling to rise. Many believe Van Gogh saw himself in Lazarus. That’s why Lazarus has a red beard, like Van Gogh. How about the two women at the grave? They are not biblical figures. They are real people Van Gogh knew: Mrs. Roulin and Mrs. Ginoux. They were friends who showed him kindness and care during one of his darkest seasons.

Van Gogh reminds us: In winter, we may not hear Jesus’ voice clearly. We may not see dramatic miracles. But even then, Jesus is still at work. Resurrection life still comes to us. His presence, his grace, and his power in this season may be gentle, but they are still, and always, more than enough to raise us up. This is resurrection, here and now.

I want to close with Dr. King’s last speech. Without knowing he would be killed the very next day, he said:

“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”

Brothers and sisters in Christ, resurrection life is now. By faith, we’ve been to the mountain top. By faith, we’ve seen the Promised Land. Do you believe Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God? Do you believe he was raised from the dead? Do you believe he is the resurrection and the life? Let us say with all our hearts, “Lord, I believe.” Let us live by faith, not by sight. And we have life – abundant life, today and always. Amen.

“Are You a Christian?” (Luke 15:1-2, 11-32)

Dear Theophilus
When did you hear the gospel for the first time? Who shared it with you?

Luke writes his Gospel to someone named Theophilus, a name that means “lover of God.” Theophilus may have been a real person – a Roman official, a new believer or a sincere seeker. Or he may represent anyone who longs to know God. At the very beginning of his Gospel, Luke tells us his purpose. He writes so that people may know the truth and so they may trust that God’s salvation in Jesus is real and reliable. Luke wants us to see that Jesus came for all people – the religious and the non-religious, the powerful and the weak, the insider and the outsider. That’s why Luke includes stories found no other Gospels: the Good Samaritan, Zacchaeus, and the thief on the cross, and the Prodigal Son. Luke’s message is simple and clear: no one is beyond God’s redemption, and new life is possible now in Jesus.

Younger Son
Today’s story begins like this: There was a man who had two sons. The younger son said to the father, “Give me my share of your estate now before you die.” In other words, “Father, I want your stuff, but not you. I wish you were dead.” Heartbroken, yet loving, the father divided the property – two-thirds to the older son, one-third to the younger. A few days later, the younger son packed his bags and left for a far county. He wanted to be his boss. He longed for freedom – to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he wasted everything he had.

Then a famine came. He began to starve. He hired himself out and ended up feeding the pigs. He was so hungry that he longed to eat the pods in the pig slop, but no one gave him anything. Then we come to the turning point of the story: “He came to his senses” (v. 17). Finally, he realized, “I am lost. I cannot save myself. I need to go home.” That is grace. That is repentance. So he turned and went home. While he was still a long way off, his father saw him. Filled with compassion, the father ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him, even before the son said anything.

Once we learn how to die, we learn how to live. The other day, while visiting Linda in the ICU, she shared something profound with me. She said she had heard these two questions before, but this was the first time someone asked her directly:

1. If you could not breathe on your own, would you want to be placed on a breathing machine?
2. If your heart were to stop, would you want to be resuscitated, or would you prefer a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)?”

She said to herself, “Am I dying?” Suddenly, death felt real and near. For a day, breathing itself was hard work. And she realized how much she had taken for granted – breathing, life. When we learn how to face death, we learn how to live well. When we realize how lost we are, we begin the journey home.

Older Son
But there is another son. The older son never left home, and yet he also needed to return – not from a far country, but from self-righteousness and judgment. He too was lost. He too was a prodigal son. He was hardworking, obedient, respectable. He followed the rules. But he was joyless. And when his younger brother returned and the father threw a celebration, the older son was not happy. He was furious. He was lost, not in spite of his goodness, but because of it.

So the father went out to him and pleaded, “Son, we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.” The parable ends as a cliffhanger. We never learn whether the older son enters the party. Jesus leaves the story open—because the invitation still stands. Jesus is still reaching out to rebellious sinners and to religious, self-righteous ones.

One day, D. L. Moody stopped a gentleman on the street and asked him a simple question: “Are you a Christian?” The man was deeply offended. He thought to himself, “I am a decent man. I am better than most. How dare he ask me such a question?” Angry, he walked away. Later, the man discovered that Moody worked for a man he knew. So he complained, saying, “Your worker, Moody, was rude. He is doing more harm than good. He has zeal without knowledge.” When Moody’s boss shared this with him, Moody was crushed. He asked himself, “Am I really doing more harm than good?” He became discouraged. He wrestled with God in prayer. About a week later, there was loud knocking at Moody’s door late at night. When Moody opened the door, the same gentleman stood there. The man said, “Since you spoke to me last week, I have not been able to sleep. Your question will not leave me. Please tell me what must I do to be saved?” God used Moody’s simple, honest question to awaken the heart of an older son.

My Gospel
Luke proclaims the gospel to both sons – and to us:

We are all lost in one way or another, whether we are rebellious or self-righteous. God saw us and did not turn away. Out of great love, God came near to us in Jesus. Jesus lived among us. He showed mercy to the forgotten, healed the broken, welcomed sinners. He suffered, died on the cross, and carried our sin and pain with him. But death did not have the final word—Jesus rose again. Because of him, forgiveness is real, hope is alive, and new life is possible. This good news is for everyone.

The Apostle Paul believed this good news and said, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—and I am the worst of them all.” (1 Timothy 1:15) “But by the grace of God I am what I am.” (1 Corinthians 15:10) I cannot forget the day this gospel became real for me. Before, I was constantly wandering. But after believing, I felt whole – at home, with purpose. Joy flooded in and stayed.

Prodigal Father
As I close, let me tell you a true story about a Russian czar. A close friend of the czar died and asked him to raise his son as his own. The czar agreed. He loved the boy and gave him every opportunity. But as the young man grew older, he developed a secret gambling addiction. He began stealing money to cover his debts. When he realized he was ruined and exposed, he planned to end his life. That night, the czar—traveling in disguise—came upon the young man’s tent. He saw everything. He knew the full truth. But instead of punishment, the czar wrote a note, promising to pay the entire debt himself. When the young man woke up, he realized two things:

1. The czar knew all about his sin.
2. And the czar still loved him enough to cover the cost.

That is the love of the prodigal father. God knows us fully, and he still runs toward us with wide open arms.

So let me ask the question again: Are you a Christian? A Christian is someone who receives the prodigal Father’s love in Jesus, and then becomes like the Father: reaching out, forgiving, rejoicing. May we all come home running. And may we invite others into the Father’s celebration.

“With Jesus in the Storm” (Mark 4:35-41)

 

Shelter in Storms
D. L. Moody is known as a man with a consuming passion for the salvation of the lost. After he was saved, he made a resolution that he would never let 24 hours pass without speaking to at least one person about his or her soul. One day Mr. Moody arrived home and went to bed. Then he suddenly realized that he had not spoken to anyone about Christ that day. So he got up, got dressed, and went to the front door. It was pouring rain. He said to himself, “Oh, there will be no one out in this pouring rain.” Just then, he heard someone passing by, holding an umbrella over his head. Mr. Moody rushed up to the man and said, “May I share the shelter of your umbrella?” “Certainly,” the man replied. Then, Mr. Moody asked, “Have you had shelter in the time of storm?” He shared the good news of Jesus and led him to Christ.[1]

The Gospel of Mark
Today’s passage tells the story of Jesus calming a storm. Last week, we explored the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew’s main audience was Jewish. That is why his Gospel begins with a genealogy of Jesus and includes many quotations from the Old Testament to show that Jesus is the promised Messiah. Unlike Matthew, the Gospel of Mark was written for Gentiles, especially Romans. Mark is fast-paced, using words like “immediately” or “at once” more than 40 times. It focuses on what Jesus did. This fits a Roman mindset, practical and action-oriented. Through Jesus’ actions, Mark shows us who Jesus is.

The Storm Story
Today’s passage is one of those action-filled stories – the storm story. One day Jesus and his disciples set out in a boat to cross the other side of the lake. But soon a huge storm came up. Waves poured into the boat, and it began to fill with water. And Jesus was sleeping, his head resting on a pillow. The disciples panicked and woke him up, saying, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”

Have you been there? Have you felt desperate and panicked, not knowing what to do in the storms of life? Have you ever felt that God seemed absent or asleep during your struggles? In Rembrandt’s Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee[2], every disciple is in a different place in the boat. Near the mast, several struggle to repair the torn sail, trying to fix the problem without success. One clings to a rope, barely hanging on. Another crouches in fear, staring at the wave. One is sick and overwhelmed, leaning over the side of the boat. Two are angry, shaking Jesus awake. One sits quietly, lost and withdrawn from the chaos. At the stern, a leader grips the tiller, trying to keep the boat on course and to control the situation. Only one kneels at Jesus’ feet in trust.

And then there is one more person, Rembrandt himself. He paints his own face among the disciples, wearing a blue cap, gripping a rope and looking straight at us. By doing this, Rembrandt invites us into the boat. This is not just their storm; it is ours. Mark’s Gospel asks the same question the painting asks: “Where are you in the boat today?” – Are you afraid? Are you lost? Are you just hanging in there? Are you angry at God? Are you trying to control or fix the problem? Here is the good news: wherever we are, Jesus is in the boat with us. And the storm becomes an invitation and opportunity to know him and experience him personally.

Who Is This Man?
When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Immediately, the wind stopped, and there was a great calm. Then he said to the disciples, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” They were filled with awe and said to each other, “Who is this man? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

“Who is this man?” “Who is Jesus?” This is the most important question we can answer. By recording Jesus’ actions, Mark shows us that Jesus is the Son of God. He rules over nature, calming the storm. He forgives sins. He commands demons, and they obey him. He heals the sick with a word or a touch. All his actions point to one truth: Jesus has divine authority. So who is this man? Mark invites us to answer: This is the one we trust, follow, and worship.

My Peace
Storms are inevitable in life. Right before entering the fiercest storm, on the very night the disciples would desert him, Jesus said to them, “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27) He continued, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have conquered the world!” (16:33)

In today’s passage, Jesus truly shows the disciples what his peace looks like. In the middle of a great storm, he is sleeping in peace. And he wants to give them (and us!) the same peace – the peace that surpasses all understanding. How can we have that peace? Rembrandt gives us a hint in this painting. The towering mast at the center of the boat resembles the cross.

Jesus loses peace so we can receive his peace. In Gethsemane, Jesus is overwhelmed. He is troubled and distressed (14:33). He says, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” The storm is no longer on the sea, but it is in his soul. The disciples sleep, but Jesus has no rest. On the cross, Jesus experiences the ultimate loss of peace. He cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (15:34). He enters abandonment so we can be accepted. Jesus gives up his own peace in the garden and on the cross so that we can have peace with God. Through the cross Jesus conquered the world, and his surpassing peace is available to everyone who trusts him.

He Is Able
Dr. King shared his personal experience in his sermon Our God Is Able. Soon after he became the leader of the Montgomery bus boycott, he began to receive threatening phone calls and letters. At first, they were occasional, but soon they increased day after day. One particular night, after a long hard day, as he was about to go to bed, he received another threatening call. After this, he could not sleep. All of his fears came down on him, and it felt like he had reached the saturation point. So he went to the kitchen, bowed over the table and prayed aloud: “O Lord, help me! I am at the end of my strength. I have nothing left. I cannot face this alone.” At that moment, he heard an inner voice, saying, “Stand up for righteousness, stand up for the truth. God will be at your side forever.” Almost at once, all his fear left him. His uncertainty disappeared. He was ready to face anything. The external situation remained the same, but God gave him inner calm. Three days later, his home was bombed. Strangely enough, he remained calm. He knew now God was able to give him the inner strength to face the storms of life.[3]

Is someone here afraid because of the uncertainty of the future? Jesus is with us in the storm. Is someone in despair because of the loss of a loved one or broken relationships? Jesus is with us in the storm. Is someone anxious because of health concerns? Jesus is with us in the storm.

In Rembrandt’s painting, we see light in two places. One shines from heaven upon the mast, the symbol of the cross. The other glows from Jesus himself. He is the Light of the World. He is the Prince of Peace. He is the Messiah and the Son of God. And he is able to give us inner strength and peace to stand firm in the storms of life as we come to the cross.

At the cross, at the cross
Where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!

So we return to D. L. Moody’s question: “Have you had shelter in the time of storm?” There is a great power that even the wind and the sea obey. His name is Jesus. He is with us in the storm, and he will be with us to the end. Not control, but trust. Trust. Trust Jesus.

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[1] R. A. Torrey, Why God Used D. L. Moody (Moody Press, 1973), 39-40.

[2] Juliet Benner, “A Meditation on Rembrandt’s Christ in the Storm on the Lake of Galilee.” https://conversatio.org/o-taste-and-see-4/, and Bill Gaultiere, “With Jesus in the Storm: Rembrandt’s Meditation,” https://www.soulshepherding.org/with-jesus-in-the-storm-on-the-sea-of-galilee-a-meditation-on-rembrandts-painting/

[3] Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love (Fortress Press, Cleveland, Ohio, 2010),116-117.

“Surprised by Grace” (Matthew 9:9-13)

 

*The Calling of Saint Matthew (1600) by Caravaggio

The Gospel According to Matthew
This year 2026, in the first half of the year, our Bible Study groups are walking through the entire New Testament together. Each week, our sermon will walk alongside that journey. This week, we begin with the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew’s main theme is loud and clear: “The kingdom of God.” “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near!” (Matthew 4:17) That was the very first message Jesus preached. Matthew often uses the phrase “kingdom of heaven” instead of “kingdom of God,” because of Jewish reverence for God’s name. He means the same thing: God’s reign, God’s rule, God’s way of life. So today, we ask Matthew’s questions:

· What is the kingdom of Heaven?
· How does Jesus bring the kingdom to us?
· How do we enter it? How do we live in it?

What the Kingdom of God Is Not
Let us begin with what the kingdom of God is not. First, God’s kingdom is not a visible political kingdom. In Jesus’ time, many people expected a visible, powerful kingdom. They hoped God would overthrow the Roman Empire, restore Israel, and bring freedom through force. They expected a strong savior and an even stronger kingdom. But Jesus says something very different: “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed… nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’” (Luke 17:20-21) The kingdom does not come here or there. It doesn’t come with armies or borders. This is why many were disappointed in Jesus. He did not meet their expectations.

On a more personal level, the kingdom of God is not an add-on to our existing life. Matthew is very honest. It is not something we can possess alongside everything else. Jesus clearly says, “You cannot serve both God and wealth.” (6:24) We cannot seek power and control and still live under God’s reign. We cannot hold tightly to our own kingdom and inherit God’s kingdom. Matthew shows us again and again. We cannot have both. We must get out of our own way. This is hard, even painful. God’s kingdom is found only on the narrow path. It was not what people expected then, and it is not what we often want now. So what is it?

What the Kingdom of God Is
Matthew shows us what the kingdom of God looks like. He tells us that when Jesus came, “the people living in darkness saw a great light.” (4:16) The kingdom comes like light breaking into darkness. Quietly. Powerfully. It is the fulfillment of God’s long promise through the prophets. What Isaiah spoke of long ago now takes flesh in Jesus. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” Good news is preached to the poor. Captives are set free. The broken are healed. New life and joy begin to grow where despair once lived. (cf. Isaiah 61:1-3)

In Matthew, God’s kingdom is not an idea or a place. It is made visible through Jesus. Wherever Jesus goes, the kingdom shows up. When he teaches, truth takes root. When he touches, bodies and souls are healed. When he forgives, lives are restored. Where Jesus is, there is healing, freedom, joy, peace, and new life! The kingdom of God looks like Jesus himself.

By the Way of the Cross
Then, we ask: How does Jesus bring God’s kingdom to us? How does he make it available to everyone?” Jesus openly teaches that the kingdom comes through suffering. Three times, Jesus tells his disciples that he must suffer many things, be killed, and on the third day be raised to life.” (Matthew 16:21, 17:22-23, 20:18-19)

Matthew presents Jesus as King, yet a very different kind of king – A suffering King, a suffering Servant King. “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (20:28) His death is not an accident, but it is the way by which the kingdom comes – the way of the cross. And this fulfills God’s promise through Isaiah:

He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:5-6, NIV)

Jesus brings God’s kingdom – not by force but by his suffering, not by power but by giving his life. So, how do we receive God’s kingdom? How can we enter it and live in it?

Through the Knees
We enter the kingdom on our knees – through humility and repentance. Matthew does not only record the gospel message, but also he included his own story. He shows us how the kingdom changed him.

Matthew was a tax collector. He was wealthy and secure, but comprised, sitting on the fence. Something was missing. He longed for new life. Matthew tells his story briefly, but we can imagine it this way: One day, Matthew hears Jesus teaching nearby. Jesus tells a parable: Two people went up to the temple to pray. One is a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee says, “God, I thank you that I’m not like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I tithe.” But the tax collector stands at a distance, beating his chest, praying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Jesus says, “This man went home justified rather than the Pharisee.” After hearing this, Matthew cannot focus on his work. Then suddenly, Jesus appears at his tax booth and says two simple words, “Follow me.” And Matthew gets up, leaves everything, and follows him.

Caravaggio captures this moment beautifully in his painting The Call of St. Matthew. Matthew and his companions sit in a dim room, dressed in fine Roman clothes. Jesus enters quietly, pointing. Only Matthew notices. He points to himself as if to ask, “Who, me?”[1] Matthew ends this story with Jesus’ words: “I didn’t come to call righteous people, but sinners.” (9:13)

Caravaggio himself lived a troubled life. He was a talented painter, but also violent, restless. He fought, was imprisoned, even killed a man. He lived much of his life on the run. Yet God met him there. Caravaggio saw himself in Matthew – a tax collector, a sinner, a traitor. Caravaggio knew what it meant to be broken. He knew guilt, shame, and darkness. When he painted Matthew, he was not painting a perfect saint. He painted an ordinary, sinful man, surprised by grace. Many believe Caravaggio painted himself into Matthew’s face. It is as if he was asking, “Could Jesus call someone like me?” In the painting, light cuts through darkness. It changes everything.

The Gospel of Matthew for Everyone
Matthew’s gospel is about the God’s kingdom coming to sinners. Jesus eats with tax collectors. He does not choose the clean first. He simply invites and calls, “Follow me.” Like Matthew, like Caravaggio, we are surprised by grace.

Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it” (Matt. 13:44–46, NIV).

We could paraphrase the parable this way: Imagine a man walking downtown. He spots the most beautiful pearl he has ever seen in a shop window. He knows he must have it. He rushes inside and asks the clerk, “How much is that pearl?” The clerk replies, “How much do you have?” The man says, “I have $100 in my pocket.” “Good, I’ll take that. What else do you have?” “Well... I have a car parked outside.” “I’ll take that too. What else?” “I have some savings—maybe $10,000.” “Good. I’ll take that as well. What else?” This goes on until the man gives up his house, his family, everything. Finally, the clerk says, “All right. The pearl is yours.” The man is overjoyed. He turns to leave, but the clerk stops him and says, “Wait. One more thing. Your family? I don’t need them—I’m giving them back to you. But they’re mine now. Take good care of them for me. Your house? You can live in it. But remember, it’s mine. Same with your car, your savings, even the $100. It’s all mine now. Use them well for me.”

So this morning Matthew leaves us with one quiet but profound question: What am I still holding onto? The kingdom of heaven is near. The pearl is before us. Jesus still says: “Follow me.” May we, like Matthew, say yes – all in. I have decided to follow Jesus, my pearl, my all in all. No turning back.

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[1] Heidi J. Hornik, The Art of Christian Reflection (Baylor University Press, Waco, Texas, 2018), 13-15.

“Why I Run” (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

Running Story

There’s an article written by Nicholas Thompson that deeply inspired me to start running every day. It tells the story of his father and of himself. HIs father was brilliant and successful early in life. He won a scholarship to Phillips Academy Andover, Stanford, and Oxford. When he met John F. Kennedy in 1960, Kennedy joked that Thompson’s father might make it to the White House before he did. But beneath the success, something was wrong. He was drinking too much, smoking too much, worrying too much. So he started to run. He ran every morning. He ran marathons. Running helped him hold his life together until middle age. Then, he stopped. In his 40s, his life entered a downward spiral from which he never recovered. His life fell apart, and it ended sadly.

Nicholas took up running to be like his father. He also kept running because his father stopped. He shares why he runs this way:

“But really I run because of my father. Running connects me to my father, reminds me of my father, and gives me a way to avoid becoming my father. My father led a deeply complicated and broken life. But he gave me many things, including the gift of running – a gift that opens the world to anyone who accepts it.”[1]

Spiritual Journey as a Long Race
In today’s scripture, the apostle Paul compares our spiritual journey to a long-distance race. And he does not say, “Just finish.” He says, “Run to win.” (v. 24) As we know, no one wakes up one morning and runs a marathon. It takes training. It takes discipline, especially if you want to finish well. In his article, Nicholas Thompson says this about getting faster: “You can’t get faster by magic, and you do get faster with effort… you have to go out every day and run – even when you’re sore, tired, cold, grumpy, busy, or all of the above.”[2]

The same is true of our spiritual race. We do not grow spiritually by accident. We grow through daily spiritual discipline – day after day after day – no matter what. (v. 25). Many of us remember John Wesley’s defining spiritual moment. It came at the lowest point of his life – after he failed mission to the American colonies. He wrote in his journal, “I went to America to convert the Indians, but who shall convert me?” And yet, Wesley did not quit. He kept searching. He kept reading Scripture. He kept attending worship. One evening, he wrote, “In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street.” That was the night his heart was strangely warmed. Think also of Mother Teressa, who lived through deep spiritual darkness for much of her life. Still, she kept going. Her well-known words say it all: “People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway… The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway.”

Run with Purpose
Running a marathon is hard. Many runners quit, not because they are weak, but because they forget why they are running. Around mile 20, runners call it “hitting the wall.” The legs feel heavy. The cheering crowd thins out. The finish line is nowhere in sight. The mind says, “Stop. This hurts. Why am I doing this?” This is where many runners slow down or quit. Another wall comes in the last three miles. The finish line is close, but the body is empty. At that point, it is no longer strength that carries runners home. It is purpose. For Nicholas Tompson, running was about becoming like his father – but not repeating his father’s ending. Many runners develop mantras to help them keep going.

In the same way, we, spiritual marathoners, need a crystal-clear reason why we run. Paul gives us that reason: “Everyone who competes practices self-discipline in everything. The runners do this to get a crown of leaves that shrivel up and die, but we do it to receive a crown that never dies.” (v. 25, CEB) The imperishable crown is our reason to run. Then what is that crown?

Full Salvation
There are two faithful ways to understand it. First, the imperishable crown is full salvation. Not only forgiveness of sins, but being shaped day by day into the likeness of Christ – until we are fully transformed by grace.

Samuel Logan Brengle, a leader in the Salvation Army, describes his life-changing experience of God’s love on Boston Common. He wrote:

“I walked out over Boston Common before breakfast, weeping for joy and praising God. Oh, how I loved! In that hour I knew Jesus, and I loved Him till it seemed my heart would break with love. I was filled with love for all His creatures. I heard the little sparrows chattering; I loved them. I saw a little worm wriggling across my path; I stepped over it; I didn’t want to hurt any living thing. I loved the dogs, I loved the horses, I loved the little urchins on the street, I loved the strangers who hurried past me, I loved the heathen, I loved the whole world.”

This is why we read Scripture every day. This is why we pray every day. This is why we come to this place and worship again and again. Not to earn salvation, but to make room for the Holy Spirit to transform us from one degree to another. The imperishable crown is the fruit of the Holy Spirit formed in us.

People
Second, the imperishable crown is the fruit of faithful gospel labor. Paul says, in Philippians 4:1, “My bothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown.” And again, in 1 Thessalonians 2:19-20, he says, “For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord when he comes? Is it not you? Indeed, you are our glory and joy.” Again and again, Paul calls people his crown. The lasting reward of the Christian race is not applause, not success, but lives transformed by Christ – through our persistent daily intercessory prayer, and through our faithful labor of love, sacrifice, and forgiveness.

Our perfect example is Jesus Christ our Lord. Hebrews 12:2 says, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” What was the joy set before Jesus? It was not comfort. It was the fruit of the cross. When Jesus carried the cross, he did not see only wood and nails. He saw faces. He saw names. He saw us. Jesus ran the race first. Jesus endured pain without quitting. Jesus finished strong. Why? For the imperishable crown. For the joy of redeemed people. For you and me.

Why I Run
I think many of us have seen the film Schindler’s List. German businessman Oskar Schindler used his wealth to buy Jewish lives from the Nazis. At the end of the film, he breaks down. He looks at his car. He looks at his gold pin. And he says, “I could have saved more.” He longed for one more chance – to give more, to save more lives.

But the film does not end with despair. In the very final scene, the real survivors – the people Schindler saved, and their descendants – walk together to Schindler’s tomb in Jerusalem. One by one, they place small stones on his grave as a sign of remembrance and honor. These people are Schindler’s crown.

Paul ran the race with purpose in every step because he knew what lasts forever – people transformed by God’s grace. Schindler disciplined his life to save lives. Paul disciplined his life to save souls. Both understood why they ran.

Daniel says those who lead many to righteousness will shine like stars forever. (12:3) This is the imperishable crown. Not gold. Not glory. But lives touched, saved, and led to Christ. While we still have our three T’s – time, treasure, and talents, how will we run?

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[1] Nicholas Thompson, “Why I Run,” The Atlantic (December 2025), 66-73.

[2] Ibid., 73.

“Prince of Peace” (2025 Christmas Eve Message)

*Madonna of the Meadow, Giovanni Bellini (1505)

2025: Year in Review
Almost every December, major magazines and news organizations publish a “Year in Review.” The Associated Press just has done that for 2025. It begins this way[1]: from battlefronts in Ukraine to the destruction in Gaza, from political upheaval to extreme weather. Wildfires, floods, earthquakes, and hurricanes left deep scars across many communities. Yes, there were moments of resilience and hope, but the dominant headlines are clear: war and conflict, political division, violence and fear, economic anxiety, and climate disasters. In other words, the biggest news of the year tells us one thing: the world is still longing for peace. We want peace. We talk about peace. We march for peace. We negotiate for peace. And yet, the gap between our longing and our reality remains painfully wide.

Peace Promised (Isaiah 9:2-7)
About 2,700 years ago, when peace was promised through the prophet Isaiah, Israel was living in dark times both within and without. Externally, the nation was under threat from powerful neighboring empires. Assyria was rising. War could break out at any moment. The people were anxious and afraid. Internally, things were not well either. Leaders were corrupt. Faith was shallow. Justice was weak. Many felt hopeless and powerless. They wondered if God had forgotten them. It sounds familiar. There is a clear parallel between the world Israel lived in and the world we live in today. We, too, feel uncertain and anxious in a world that feels too big to fix.

Into that darkness, and at the most unlikely time, God promised “peace.” God did not promise a new army, a stronger king, or a better system. God promised a child. A baby. “For a child is born to us, a son is given to us… and his name shall be: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” God’s way of bringing peace begins not with power, but with presence. Not with force, but with a person – Jesus, the Prince of Peace. And What God promised, God fulfilled.

Peace Came (Luke 2:8-14)
When the time had fully come, Jesus came to us. He was born in Bethlehem – in a particular time, in a particular place. Peace entered the world quietly, humbly, personally. The angels announced peace to ordinary people – to lowly shepherds: “Don’t be afraid! I bring you good news of great joy for all the people! Today, your Savior, the Lord Messiah, was born in the town of David.” Suddenly, a great choir of angels filled the sky, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in heaven, and peace on earth!” Peace is not the absence of trouble, but the presence of Christ, the Prince of Peace. The shepherds’ circumstances did not change, but their hearts did. After encountering Christ, they returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen (Luke 2:20). Peace entered their lives quietly and personally.

Giovanni Bellini captures this truth beautifully in his painting Madonna of the Meadow. Mary holds the Christ child at the center of everyday life. Around her, life goes on. A farmer works hard in the field. Another rests, weary. Nearby, a bird struggles with a snake, showing how life can feel like a constant battle. Above them, a dark crow sits on a bare tree, reminding us that sorrow and death are never far away. The trouble remains. The life is still hard. Work and weariness. Joy and pain. Life and death existing side by side. And yet, at the center, the baby sleeps in peace. This shows us something important: Peace does not mean our problems disappear. Peace means Jesus is with us. When Christ is at the center of our lives, even in hard and tiring days, we can have real peace. And that peace would one day be secured, not in a cradle, but on a cross.

Peace Accomplished (Ephesians 2:14-18)
After about 33 years later, Mary once again held Jesus on her lap – this time, taken down from the cross. Michelangelo’s Pietà shows us how Jesus secured peace for us. Ephesians 2 tells the story this way:

“He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance… Christ brought us together through his death on the Cross… He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near.” (cf. vv. 14–18)

One philosopher described humanity’s natural state as, “the war of all against all.” The Bible’s view is not very different. When sin entered the world, it brought sickness, brokenness, sorrow, hostility, and death. We became at odds with God, with others, and even with ourselves. This became our default condition. We have tried to achieve peace, but we could not. So Jesus did for us what we could not do for ourselves. On the cross, by his blood, he made peace with God and peace with one another. “It is finished,” Jesus said. Peace accomplished.

Peace Possible (Philippians 4:4-7)
Because peace is accomplished, it can now be experienced. Peace is not something we achieve; it is something we receive as God’s gift, because of the finished work of Christ.

The life of Horatio Spafford shows us that real peace is possible, even in the worst storms. He was a faithful Christian and a successful lawyer in Chicago. His life was full—family, work, and blessing. Then everything collapsed. His young son died. Soon after, the Great Chicago Fire destroyed nearly everything he owned. Hoping for healing, he sent his wife and four daughters on a ship to Europe, planning to join them later. Days later, a telegram arrived with two devastating words: “Saved alone.” The ship had sunk. All four daughters were gone. As Horatio crossed the same sea to meet his grieving wife, he prayed and wept. And there, in the deepest sorrow, God gave him a peace beyond words. Out of that moment came the hymn we still sing: “When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll… it is well, it is well with my soul.” Peace did not come because the pain was gone. Peace came because Christ was present.

This is the peace the gospel offers us. Not a pain-free life, but a guarded heart. Not answers to every “why,” but a faithful God who abides with us. Scripture tells us how we receive this peace: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” We come humbly. We turn back to God. We pour out our hearts before Him. We ask, we trust, we give thanks, even through tears. “And the peace of Christ, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Peace was promised. Peace came. Peace was accomplished. And tonight, peace is possible. The peace of Christ be with you. Amen.

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[1] “2025: Year in Review,” The Associated Press (Dec 16, 2025), https://vimeo.com/1147278858?fl=pl&fe=cm