The Great Recycling Enterprise

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Reading time: 3-4 minutes.

It bothers me to waste things. After pouring a few chips on my plate, I immediately seal the bag. If those chips get stale sitting open in the July heat and humidity, they will go to waste, and I hate that. Wasting time, money, food, coffee (because I made it too weak), or anything else of value is anathema to me.

I notice that Jesus did not waste things either. After the stupendous miracle of the feeding of the five thousand, he ordered his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” After the similarly remarkable miracle of the feeding of the 4,000, he gave the same instruction. Here is a savior after my own heart! (How I desire to be a servant after his!)

I suspect that “Let nothing be wasted” amounts to something like a principle with Jesus. It is not just food that he refuses to waste. It is opportunities. It is people. It is even tragedies.

What do I mean by saying that Jesus did not waste opportunities? Here is an example. As he and his disciple were headed to Jerusalem at the front of a throng of Passover pilgrims; the atmosphere was electric. His apostles would soon be flushed with excitement over the reception their master received on his entrance into Jerusalem. Before that happened, Jesus took the opportunity to draw his disciples aside and warn them of his coming arrest, rejection, and execution. It was the perfect time to remind them of what was important, and he would not waste it.

The same Jesus who would not waste leftover barley bread will not waste people. The word that is used regarding the leftover bread in John is “apollymi” in Greek, “to waste, to ruin, to perish, to lose.” It is a fairly common word in the New Testament, used 90 times. The New Testament writers recognize that many things are wasted, including people, but that is never God’s desire.

For example, one’s “soul” or “life” (Greek, psyche) might be wasted: “Whoever finds his life will lose” (apollymi) “it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39). Likewise, Jesus told people that “unless you repent, you too will all perish” (apollymi). “You too will all ruin, lose, waste your life.”

God does not want anything to go to waste, especially people. So, we read in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish” (apollymi, “go to waste”) “but have eternal life.” Likewise, in 2 Peter 3:9: “The Lord … is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

If people’s lives are wasted and they “perish” or are “lost,” it will not be because God wanted it that way. He is, as Jesus represented him, careful not to waste anything, especially the people he made in his own likeness.

Jesus, and the God he perfectly images, will never waste a trial, a hardship, or a tragedy (nor a good time) that his people experience. (Note: This is not to say that God engineers our hardships and tragedies. It is to say that he is so capable, so sovereign, that he can use hardships and tragedies, however unjust, to bring about some good. That tragedy itself may be a purely evil occurrence, but that will not stop him from using it to bring about something good.)

In my own life, my older brother’s death when I was in 6th grade was a tragedy. It was not good in any way; it was horrible. But God nevertheless brought good out of it. I do not know how my parents or I would ever have come to Christ if it were not for my brother’s death. That does not make his death a good thing—far from it. But God used this evil thing to bring about a genuine good. While I am still sad about my brother’s death, I am profoundly grateful that God brought good out of it.

Of course, we have a part to play. God works together with us in making good come out of the evil (and morally neutral) things that happen in our lives. (See Romans 8:28.) Even bad things will not be wasted if God has his way. He will recycle them and make something good come from them, like the Cambodian landmines that locals melted down and, with the help of NGO’s, transformed into prosthetic limbs for victims of war.

Father God and Son Jesus do not willingly allow anything to be wasted. That includes you and me. It includes the things that we have suffered, sometimes unjustly. It includes the tragedies that have befallen us. But we must choose to be God’s coworkers in this great recycling enterprise, and that can only happen if we trust him.

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Jesus and the Samaritan Woman – John 4 (a Sermon)

In this 29-minute sermon, we watch as Jesus first reveals that he is the Messiah, but he does so in what seems like the wrong place and to what seems like the wrong person. It is a delightful passage, and in it we not only learn about Jesus; we also learn about ourselves.

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When Jesus Gave the Silent Treatment

Silence, as nearly everyone knows, can be used as a weapon. A spouse is angry and hardly speaks five words all day. Perhaps they are silent because they cannot trust themselves to speak without saying things that should be left unsaid, or because they are so hurt and overwhelmed that coherent speech is impossible; but too often silence is a weapon. So, what are we to think about Jesus when he gives the silent treatment?

The story is told in Matthew 15 and in Mark 7. A Greek-speaking Canaanite woman, born in Syrian Phoenicia, learns that Jesus has come to town and goes to him to request healing for her daughter, whose illness she believes has been caused by an “unclean spirit.”

The fact that Matthew characterizes her as a Canaanite is worth noting. Canaanites were among Israel’s greatest enemies in Old Testament times, and were “the most morally despised” of all Israel’s neighbors, according to Craig Keener. Matthew’s description of this woman would agitate any first century Jew with racist tendencies. Clearly, the woman faced serious obstacles in approaching Jesus for a favor.

It is easy to imagine this mother, who has suffered along with her daughter, hearing that Jesus, the well-known healer, is in town. She would give anything to free her daughter from her terrible situation. She is determined to see Jesus and ask for his help. Nothing can deter her.

When she finds Jesus, she boldly – should we say rudely? – intrudes upon him, begging for her daughter’s deliverance. And how does Jesus respond to this woman, whose heart was breaking for her little girl? He gives her the silent treatment. He heard her pleas, knew her distress, and yet walked away without saying a word.

The desperate woman followed, “crying after” him, pleading for help. This either embarrassed or annoyed Jesus’s disciples, and they asked him to “send her away.” Jesus did not do that, but neither did he respond to the woman. He continued the silent treatment.

With the woman following them, crying for help, Jesus entered the house where he was staying (perhaps a first century version of an Airbnb), but left the door unlocked, and the woman boldly followed him right into the house. She got down on her knees and implored him: “Lord, help me.”

Finally, Jesus spoke. But what he said was not what she wanted to hear, and most people would have taken it as a racial insult: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.” Undeterred, the woman pressed her case: “Yes, Lord,” she said, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Matthew says that Jesus responded to this by saying, “Woman, you have great faith!” and he healed her daughter.

It is a challenging passage for the biblical exegete. I can think of no scholar who suggests that Jesus was racist or mean, but what else can explain his refusal to answer? If he was not using silence as a weapon, what was he doing?

I am not sure I understand what Jesus was doing, at least, not fully. But I am sure that his silence was not a weapon. Quite the contrary, his silence seems to have been an invitation to the woman to keep asking; that is what happened. Jesus could have turned this poor mother away, as his disciples requested, but he did not. His silence resulted in focusing her faith on him and causing it to deepen.  

No doubt, there was more going on than that. And when I am the one pleading for an answer, but Jesus and his Father remain silent, there is also more going on than that. The silence can focus my faith on Jesus himself and on his Father rather than on my trouble and my desire. And faith only grows when it is so focused.

Faith is not a substance, like one of Professor Snape’s magical potions. Faith functions as a relational bond that makes it possible for persons to cooperate with, share with, understand, and enjoy one another. God is in relationship with every creature he has made (the relationship of creator to creature), but the possibility of cooperating with him while enjoying and deepening that relationship is only available to those who exercise faith.

We should never assume that Jesus’s silence is a punishment. It may be the opportunity we need to exercise faith, see it grow, and develop our relationship with him.

So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain but the breaking does not
The aching may remain but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God. – Andrew Peterson

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Why God Wants You to Believe in Him

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(Updated: 6/12/2026)

Most religions have some concept of salvation. This salvation might be expressed as life after death, heaven, enlightenment, Nirvana, or union with God. The way to salvation varies by the religion.

In some, the way to salvation runs through good deeds that purify the soul, which may include the performance of certain ritual acts specific to that religion. For others, salvation’s path lies along the death of desire. For Christianity, salvation is a gift of God received through faith.

Why faith? Why not good works or rituals, which are quantifiable? Why not intellectual attainment? For that matter, why not the utterance of secret and sacred words of power?

The Scottish New Testament scholar William Barclay suggested that anyone can exercise faith. One needn’t be smart, highly educated, or initiated into the mysteries of some secret sect. They can be impoverished or wealthy, young or old, male or female, slave or free. In other words, faith levels the playing field.

Barclay was clearly onto something. Most people cannot afford to go on pilgrimage. Multitudes are incapable of attaining the mental concentration necessary to meditate. Few will ever have access to the world’s deep mysteries. Faith, unlike these other paths of salvation, is open to all. It is genuinely egalitarian.

Barclay was onto something, but equal opportunity is not the only reason that salvation is by faith. Faith does something that meditation, ritual acts, and good deeds – the stuff of religion worldwide – cannot do. It was by breaking faith that humanity was lost. It is in the recovery of faith that human souls will be restored.

The biblical story is that the first humans broke faith with God. It was because they failed to trust God that they were unfaithful to him. Because they were unfaithful to him, the faith they did have was diminished even further. They were caught in a self-reinforcing cycle that still goes on today.

By its very nature, unfaithfulness injures a soul. If I break faith with a spouse, a child, a friend – even someone I don’t know – I have delivered a soul-disordering blow to them. How many souls, I cannot help but wonder, have I thus damaged?

The connection the first humans had with their maker, the author and quintessence of life, was broken. They suffered a soul injury so severe that a part of them died. They were left faith-less and someone who has no faith – in God, self, or others – will eventually become faithless to God, self, and others.

Faith is connective. When we trust a person, we naturally connect to that person. It is by trust that humans connect to God, “whom to know,” as Jesus once said, “is eternal life.”

God’s choice of faith as the requirement for salvation was not arbitrary. Faithlessness broke humanity, and it is faith that will put it back together. Faith is so powerful that faith in a friend or even in a celebrity can be a salve for the soul. Faithful marriage and lifelong friendship possess extraordinary possibilities for soul restoration.

But only a faith-connection with the maker of the soul can fully restore the soul—can save a person. God’s astounding faithfulness, expressed in the self-giving Christ, gives people someone they can genuinely trust. Faithfulness, wherever and in whomever one finds it, will enhance a life, but trusting the faithfulness of the infinite God will save it “to the uttermost.”

In the original Greek of the New Testament, “faith” and “faithfulness” are translations of a single word. They are two side of the same coin. The difference between faith and faithfulness is one of perspective. Trusting someone is called “faith.” Remaining trustworthy is called “faithfulness.” Remaining faithful to a person in whom we have no faith is problematic at best, and exercising faith in someone toward whom we are acting faithlessly is a psychological impossibility.

God, through the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus, makes it possible for us to have faith, and to be faithful. All this is captured in St. Paul’s brilliant line: “It is by grace you have been saved through faith.”

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Faith: Don’t Take It Lightly

(Updated, 6/12/2026)

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The Pulitzer Prize winning author Annie Dillard once asked, “Why do people in church seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.”

I cannot think of anyone but Annie Dillard who could have written those lines, but I can think of many people whom she might have been describing. I have been one of them myself on more occasions than I care to admit.

People of faith routinely underestimate the seriousness of what they do. We say things like, “A person’s immortal soul hangs in the balance,” yet we cast the Creator in the role of heaven’s bellboy, whose purpose is to escort people to their eternal inheritance. We “blithely invoke” a power we have not begun to understand.

Dillard’s “children playing on the floor” turn the incarnation of Christ into an occasion for schmaltzy movies and white elephant gifts. Few people apprehend the fact that Christmas marks the divine invasion of planet earth and the beginning of a campaign to wrest control from hostile powers.

In the hands of us “cheerful, brainless tourists,” Easter is an opportunity to dress our daughters in pastel-colored dresses and send our kids to hunt for colored eggs. St. Paul, however, saw it as nothing less than the overthrow of death – nothing less, and certainly a great deal more.

People who come to Jesus are not joining a religious club or a theological society. They’re joining the Resistance. They are ordinary men and women who know that things are not the way they are supposed to be in the world and, more importantly, in themselves. They are willing to change, and yet their commitment is not so much to change as it is to their King. They have sworn allegiance to his kingdom.

These men and women are Christ’s operatives in the world. Their role is not to set up a kingdom; Christ will do that. Their job is simple: always keep communication lines with headquarters open and, when a communication is received, follow orders. The Resistance gathers regularly to send communications to headquarters, to receive instructions, and to be encouraged. When they leave their gatherings, they do not leave the Resistance.

They go into their schools, into their workplaces, into public settings and private homes and work for the Resistance; that is, they obey their leader. They make car parts and study history and teach elementary school and drive trucks and wait tables. They do what everyone else does but, unlike everyone else, they are always awaiting instructions from their leader.

The people of the Resistance have confessed their leader Jesus to be the Lord, the rightful king, and have given him their unconditional allegiance. They have entered an agreement with him, an agreement of greatest consequence. In the Bible and in other ancient documents, such agreements are known as covenants. There are numerous covenants in the Bible, but the one that is most important to the Resistance is known simply as “The New Covenant.” 

A standard component of such agreements was the covenant meal. After entering into a covenant, the parties would share a meal – the reception dinner that follows a covenant of marriage ceremony is one example. The church participates in the New Covenant meal whenever it takes Holy Communion, also known as The Lord’s Supper, and the Eucharist.

Do those who participate in this ritual understand what they are doing? Are they aware that they are affirming their covenant with the true king? Do they acknowledge those who eat the meal with them as brothers and sisters in the Company of the Committed?

Or are they just mixing up another batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning? But even that would be better than playing with “a form of godliness but denying its power.” Sacred things are powerful things, but they are not, as Annie Dillard wants us to understand, playthings.

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Reason to Rejoice: Jesus, Genesis 1, and John 1

When we see the parallels between Genesis 1 and John 1 and realize they are not coincidental, we are amazed at the greatness of God and the grace of our Lord Jesus.

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The “Residue” Inside Us

I found the following quote years ago and saved it in my files. It comes from David G. Myers, who is a professor of Psychology at Hope College.  

“If social psychologists have proven anything during the last 30 years, they have proven that the actions we take leave a residue inside us. Every time we act, we amplify the underlying idea or tendency behind it. Most people presume the reverse: that our traits and attitudes affect our behavior. While this is true to a certain extent (though less so than commonly supposed), it is also true that our traits and attitudes follow our behavior. We are as likely to act ourselves into a new way of thinking as to think ourselves into a new way of acting.”

There is much that could be profitably explored in what Dr. Myers wrote. Many have resonated with the idea expressed in that last line, but it is the first sentence that I find most striking. If “the actions we take leave a residue inside us,” we had better understand what that “residue” is and what its effect is on human flourishing.

First, we must ask what does Dr. Myers, and the social psychologists he represents, mean by “inside us.” Are we talking about something that happens inside our brain or our soul? Does this residue deposit amount to a neurological condition or a spiritual one?

The question, as I stated it, is misleading. It separates what God has joined together, as if humans are part spiritual and part physical. Instead, humans are spiritual beings that interact with the world through a physical body, or say rather, humans are fully embodied spiritual beings. This is true whether or not they ever pray, attend corporate worship services, or believe in God. Everything that happens “inside us” (as well as “to us”) has spiritual implications because Homo sapiens is a spiritual being.

Another question: What is the residue that is left inside us? If this question implies the “residue” is some foreign substance that originates outside us, it is also misleading (see Jesus’s teaching in Mark 7:15). It might be better to think that what is already “inside us” will become either a residue of evil or a reserve of holiness as we interact with our world. Outside events serve as a kind of spiritual catalyst, and what forms inside us will depend on whether we “live according to the flesh” (Romans 8:13) or are “led by the Spirit.”

During the Second World War, C. S. Lewis addressed this fundamental spiritual process. He said, “Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature…”

Lewis saw human volition – our ability to choose – as key to this process of formation. That ability, which is constantly being influenced by thoughts and feelings, sensations and perceptions, is the mechanism by which we are currently – at this very moment – being formed. I said earlier that what is “inside us” will become “either a residue of evil or a reserve of holiness,” but that is not quite right. We become that residue of evil or we become a person of holiness. What is “being made new” (Colossians 3:10) on the one hand, or being deformed on the other, is nothing other than us.

Lewis warns that “Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of.”

From there, Lewis went on to give this helpful advice. “Do not waste time bothering whether you ‘love’ your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.”

That sounds a lot like what Dr. Myers said the social psychologists learned: “We are as likely to act ourselves into a new way of thinking as to think ourselves into a new way of acting.”

The takeaway is this: the God who made us is now remaking us with our input. We play a vital role in the people we are becoming. We may claim that we are simply the product of our past—the abuse we suffered, the neglect we endured, or the poverty in which we were raised, but the reality is that we are a product of the choices we made in those (and all other) situations. We are “coworkers with God” in making the persons we are becoming. That is a both high honor and a momentous calling.

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The Interactive Story (Luke 5:27-29)

This sermon wraps up the Wide-Angle series, in which we surveyed the Bible’s big picture of what God is doing in the world. Wherever we looked in that big picture, we saw Jesus. Like Waldo in the entertaining children’s picture books, we saw Jesus in every scene.

In this sermon, we see something that may seem even more surprising: you are in the picture, too. You are part of God’s never-ending story of love and power and goodness. …You see, the story God has written is an interactive story. He wrote it in such a way that you actually take part in it.

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Could God Be Angry With You?

When theologians talk about what was accomplished through the death of Jesus, they are liable to use the word “propitiation.” Propitiation a term that is situated right at the intersection of God’s justice and his love. It is a dangerous intersection that many pastors and churches would rather avoid.

“To propitiate” means to appease someone who is or may become angry, to deflect his or her anger. We see this happen in the political sphere all the time. A Russian governor holds pro-Kremlin rallies, overstates the oblast’s support for government policies, and repeatedly praises the president, hoping (preemptively or otherwise) to placate the president’s wrath. The same kind of thing happens with increasing frequency in our own country. These examples of propitiation presuppose a leader who uses punishment to control the people around him.

So, is that a reasonable picture of God? Does he use punishment as an instrument of control? Do we need to hold pro-God rallies (Sunday mornings at 11:00) and offer the Almighty extravagant praise, lest his wrath burst out at us? Is God some kind of cosmic tyrant who requires constant appeasement?

That is precisely what the ancient gods of the pagans were like. If the god was angry and refused to send rain, then worshipers would attempt to improve his mood by bringing fruits to his altar, or sacrificing animals to him. Is the God of Jesus like the recalcitrant gods of the ancient pagans? Is that what the biblical God is like?

Not at all. Yet, his anger does need to be propitiated. This is a difficult subject, and it is necessary to proceed carefully.

The biblical framework for the doctrine of propitiation is built on the planks of divine love and divine justice. God is the most loving being in the universe. There are hundreds of biblical passages that testify to divine love, and they must be given their full weight. But there are also nearly 200 verses that include the word “wrath,” and in most of them, God is the one who is angry. These verses must also be given their full weight.

But why would God be angry? Is anger not unbecoming to the Divine Being? Not at all. In fact, if God were never angry it would be hard to maintain that he is a moral being. There are some things that ought to elicit anger from any morally upright person, including God. But we must not think of God as an angry person. He is not.

God’s anger is narrowly focused, while his love is unimaginably wide. God is angry at sin, but he loves loves his creation, including humans. God is angry at sin because he loves his creation. God created us with great plans in mind. He created us and the entire universe to be a glorious, beautiful, and awesome delight. He intends for humans to reign with him over the world. He wants us to “shine like the sun in the kingdom of [our] Father.”  

Peter says that God has called us to eternal glory and Paul says that we were called to share the glory of Jesus Christ.  Paul also says that we will judge the world, and the Revelation reveals that God’s saints are destined to reign upon the earth. I do not know what all is entailed in the term “reign.” But it is big. We are meant to have responsibilities, perhaps cosmic ones.

The biblical term for all this is “glorification.” We will reign with Christ. George MacDonald put it this way: “When God can do what He will with a man, the man may do what he will with the world.” He goes on to imagine what that might look like. The children of God, he says, “shall be … the lords of the lower creation, the bestowers of liberty and peace upon it: then shall the creation, subjected to vanity for their sakes, find its freedom in their freedom, its gladness in their sonship. The animals will glory to serve them, will joy to come to them for help.”  MacDonald may, of course, be wrong, but if he is, we can be confident that the reality will be greater than what he envisions, not less.

God intends for us to share his joy in a perfect universe, where there is no injustice or hatred, no sorrow or death. A universe characterized by “joy unspeakable” and jam-packed with glory. A place of perfect security, yet with unlimited adventure. The desire bred in our bones will at last be satisfied, and not because desire ebbs; if anything it will increase! We will be in the land where men and women drink down joy like we drink water, where the pleasures of the new age are not just contemplated but touched and smelled and tasted. And we will gaze upon the Face that is the joy of all desire.

There is only one problem. Sin. Nothing can stop the realization of this vision except sin, which is entirely incompatible with the glory that awaits us.

We think of sin as embarrassing and unpleasant. God thinks of it as disgusting and poisonous. We think of it as a little messy; he thinks of it as a bio-hazard. We only take sin seriously when it is monstrous, as in the Epstein files, or when it affects us, as when a drunk driver kills our loved one, or a trusted spouse is unfaithful. But God knows that sin is always monstrous. The only reason we do not recoil at the stench of sin is that our spiritual senses have been blunted.

It may help to think of sin as a disease. It insinuates itself into a person and then proceeds to take over, like a cancer. It becomes entangled with a person’s soul, the way an aggressive cancer become enmeshed in some vital organ. It can and will metastasize to the mind, the will, the emotions, even the body. Sin eats a man or woman up even as it propagates itself to others. And God hates it. He hates it with a passion.

The essential symptom of sin is this: It causes a man or woman to recoil from God. If you want to know whether this is true or not, the next time you choose to sin, see what happens to God: he will disappear from your mind and your consciousness. You cannot sin without getting rid of him, and at some deep level we know this is true. And yet, sin’s power is so great that we choose – we mustn’t mince words – we choose to banish God so that we can have our way, even if it is only for a moment! This is why sin is hateful to God. This is why he is angry with sin.

God will dethrone sin, once and for all. It will not, as St. Paul says, reign over us, nor over God’s creation. The anger of God at sin and at those who would spew it across creation has intersected the immeasurable love of God for sinners. And at that intersection of anger and love – of his anger and love – stands a cross, and on it hangs a man.

In his death, Jesus has made it possible for our sins to be separated from ourselves (see 1 Peter 2:24). I don’t claim to understand this. There is mystery here, awful and profound. Christ took our sins and experienced the divine anger against sin in himself. He took the sins of the world and subjected himself to the blast of divine wrath that would destroy them, as a well-placed blast of radiation kills cancer cells.

This is a little of what Scripture means when it says that “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” (1 John 2:2).

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Good News about the Day of Judgment (2 Cor. 5:10; Rev. 20:11-15)

Judgment. The very word is alarming. It stirs up thoughts of all the bad things we have done, the things we wish would remain hidden. So, why do the psalmists rejoice at the thought of judgment? Why does nature break into singing and dancing (Pss. 96 and 98) in anticipation of it?

This sermon looks at 2 Corinthians 5:9-11 and Revelation 20:11-15 to see what the New Testament teaches about God’s judgment. And we find, perhaps to our surprise, why St. Paul included the judgment in his gospel. It is good news!

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