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We're honored you've carved out time to celebrate with us this Easter weekend. Whether you're a regular or visiting for the first time, we're glad you're here. Northview isn't a perfect church—we approach Scripture as a mirror, not a mallet—but we do want to be a better church. We're not for everybody, but we are for somebody, and we hope that's you.
We're fully confident you'll be impressed by the wonderful family surrounding you. Consider joining us week in and week out. For those of you who aren't Christians yet, know that we're privileged to have many of you hanging out with us, even in life groups, and I'll do my best to put Jesus in front of you in a way that makes him irresistible.
Northview is one church meeting across multiple locations: Carmel, Anderson, Benford, Westfield, Fishers, Greater Lafayette, Flora, Kokomo, Noblesville, Brookside, Marian, Greentown, and our three correctional facilities—Miami, Newcastle, and Indiana Women's Prison. We celebrate all of our locations this weekend.
At the start of 2025, we jumped into a study on the book of Romans. This letter was written by Saul from Tarsus—the Apostle Paul—one of the most influential individuals to ever live. Paul wrote to a church under Roman dominion, on the doorstep of Emperor Nero's fortress, yet he was so anchored in the gospel and confident of his King that he addressed Nero's power with the power of the gospel. Nero eventually had Paul's head cut off, but his words echo throughout human history.
The book of Romans is significant in Christian community. It's often called the Christian's constitution—if you want to know what Christians believe, what the gospel truly is, Romans offers the clearest, most concise, power-packed definition. I find that many people approach faith and turn away, rejecting Christianity, not realizing they're rejecting a caricature, not what God had in mind with the gospel.
One thing you cannot overlook is the literary brilliance of the Bible. It's a library of 66 books with mesmerizing facts, but it also has tremendous artistic style. The brilliance of a metaphor is that when you change the metaphor, you change your imagination—it makes you think differently.
Two of my favorite metaphors for the Bible are these:
The Bible is the Father's portrait of the Son painted by the Spirit. Every word written is inspired by God, pointing to Jesus, exalting the holy Trinity. It's mesmerizing.
The Bible is like a wedding ring, and the book of Romans is the diamond. If Romans is the diamond, then chapter 8 is its shimmer—the sparkle of the gospel, the overwhelming, rattling effect that God's love has on your life.
When you stand up to share God's word with a community, you're always answering the question: who am I talking to? This Easter Sunday, as we celebrate the resurrection of Christ in Romans chapter 8, I want to apply the shimmer of the gospel to a specific conversation.
Two weeks ago, I got off social media—not to demonize it, but because it was becoming a distraction during Easter season. The last message I got was a video someone sent me with a caption: "my thoughts. Exactly."
The video contained a rant about Christians and the Bible. The speaker expressed frustration: "I don't care that you're a Christian. I don't care what the Bible says. I'm so tired of non-stop conversations about what the Bible says.... You don't get to take the Bible and tell me, 'Well, the Bible says this'—I don't care. I don't believe in it."
Welcome to Easter at Northview, folks. Have you ever found that familiar tension? You're trying to live a godly life, you experience spiritual moments of worship, and then you get smacked in the face with a scoff toward what you believe.
If no one's scoffing at your faith, you're living in isolation, not accomplishing the mission of the gospel. People are going to scoff at what we believe. I have no idea who this woman is or what her full story is, but I titled my message "The Scoff of Culture" because that's what we're encountering.
A video like that suddenly commands everyone's attention. Some of you are ready to fight—you carry bullet points and come out firing when someone disagrees with you. Some of you find it unsettling and offensive: "It's resurrection weekend, I'm here with my family to celebrate Jesus." We sometimes don't get that choice. We live in a world with this tension, and we cannot resolve it.
But here's what I want to say: some of you will hear a sentiment like this and quietly think, "Part of me agrees with her." I know this will be the case at every service because, as your pastor, I agree with her in part.
Chances are this woman has been on the negative side of an interaction with a Christian. Her overarching sentiment is: "I don't like how the church is treating culture." Fair? And I would say: "Well, yeah. In the same way, I don't like how the church is treating the church."
The embarrassing reality is that the local church is filled with imperfect people. Where there are people, there will always be problems. Where there is a human in the pulpit, you should always hold everything I say loosely, testing it as a responsible thinker. We're all trying our best, but we're going to come up short. We're going to make mistakes.
This woman has been on the negative side of a Christian experience, and it marks her. It holds her heart in reserve. How many of you have ever been on the negative side of an experience with a Christian? This tends to mark us for non-Christians, and it holds their hearts in reserve.
To the person scoffing because of this, I would say: that is in contradiction to the gospel. Though Christianity may have some inconsistency in its branding, with some walking around as poor representations of Christ, that does not represent the vast majority of believers, nor does it represent the vast majority of what life as a believer truly is.
If you're not a Christian contemplating faith in Christ, you should know you have to approach faith like you approach driving. Every day you're aware that accidents happen in our city—accidents so severe they take lives daily. Yet you wake without pause, jump in your vehicle, and drive 80 miles an hour down the interstate, knowing accidents happen daily.
The same is true with faith. Accidents happen. We're trying our best to stay in our lane and get where God is taking us. And where is God taking us? He's taking us to a place of no fragmentation, no brokenness.
If we build out the acronym "SCOFF" and apply the shimmer of the gospel to the scoff of culture, first, the gospel does away with fragmentation and brokenness.
Paul says in Romans 8: "The mind of the sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the spirit is life and peace."
We established early in this study that the gospel can be condensed into two words: grace and peace. Grace is the vehicle; peace is the destination. To the person on the negative side of a broken experience with a Christian, I say: as believers, we have anchored ourselves to an eternal reality and promise that we will be at peace, in harmony, for all of eternity with God and each other. We are reverse-engineering a peaceful future into our present.
So when you bump into a Christian who's a disruptor, failing to recognize they're called to be a peacemaker—I'm sorry. That's not what the gospel has in mind. There will be no fragmentation.
Here's what's so evident throughout church history: we're embarrassed by the fact that there are hundreds of thousands of denominations and variations of Christianity around the globe. Why? Because every time we disagree, we divide. The windshield of our faith is scattered like a spiderweb, all because we can't stay in attention.
People have lost the ability to be in deeper dialogue, to stay in conversation and say, "Hey, I hear your scoff. Would you hear my shimmer? Can we stay in the tension and see if there's anything reconcilable or redeemable here?" We're redemptive people. If you're a follower of Christ, you're called to be a redemptive person moving toward no fragmentation.
We keep mismanaging relationships because we treat people like objects rather than subjects. When you treat someone like an object, you label them. And the moment you label, you stop learning. Once you've defined and labeled someone, they become a tool—a function, a purpose. You no longer have to be curious; you no longer have to keep learning.
This is dysfunctional for relationships. If you're married, you understand this. When you got married, you committed to a lifetime course in Christian learning. Much of marriage is learning to love the stranger—seeing God's redemptive work in their life over time.
My wife does something that minimizes everything to where it's hard to know whether I should prioritize certain things. Just this Monday night, she told me she had a dentist appointment the next morning and needed me to drop her off. When we got in the car, she was out like "comaos" from the pre-procedure medication. We arrived at our kids' school—a K-12 school with four different drop-off stations for students in all four grades—and I saw what I always see: heroes and champions—teachers, teacher's aides—lining the sidewalk enthusiastically in rain, snow, and ice, saying "Good morning" and helping kids out of the car, grabbing their backpacks, lunchboxes, lacrosse gear, making sure science projects get to fourth period.
As we move through daily life, sometimes we stumble into moments of misplaced confidence. These are clumsy moments where we misrepresent the gospel without even realizing it. We discover we don't have our footing. But as Christians, we should be way more humble—it's a bare necessity.
Paul anchors his argument in creation itself, going all the way back to the very beginning. There is a creator behind this grand design—God himself, an architect and brilliant being. Due to the fall of man in the garden and sin's devastating effect, a chasm opened between us and our heavenly Father. Not only was humanity left in eternal bondage, so was creation.
Creation was subjected to frustration because it can't live out its full potential. But here's the gospel message: every single day creation wakes with its neck stretched out in eager anticipation to see the full and final redemption of the sons and daughters of God. When humanity is liberated, creation itself will be liberated to be its full potential. Even creation knows something's wrong, something's off.
To the person scoffing at our faith, I ask: how do you explain such bold convictions about justice and right and wrong? Where does this intuition come from? How does every human who has ever lived on this planet simply arrive with the same internal compass, knowing there's right and wrong, truth, and things hardwired in us all?
Non-believers can do godly things—we see justice, generosity, compassion, peace, meekness, and humility in them. But where does that goodness come from? Your explanation is that we're random, but how do you explain the godliness in your life? Don't overlook the thumbprint of heaven upon your life. You were created in the image and likeness of God. Look at your own godliness. Aren't you at all curious where more of that goodness comes from?
Paul makes a bold claim: "And we know that in all things, the good, the bad, the confusing, the trials, the pain, the agony—in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Currently, as you speak, God is giving you everything you would pray for if you knew what he knows. We're going to look back and realize he didn't waste anything—not my time, not my energy, not my thinking, not my tears, not my talent, not my pain. Somehow he worked all things together for our good.
This is where the fundamental shift of the gospel takes place in a person's life. The question isn't just how does a person go from lost and in death to resurrected life in Christ—it's this fundamental shift in thinking. The moment this changes everything, all bets are off. You are in the resurrected life.
There was a kid who was reckless growing up. He didn't apply himself to school, skipped class, and was on the verge of dropping out. His mom made a deal with him: "I want you to take the SAT." Two weeks later, he received a score of 1480—Ivy League level.
His mom thought he cheated. But he actually received a 1480. Suddenly, a fundamental shift happened in his thinking: "If I'm a 1480 person, I should probably start doing what 1480 people do." And 1480 people don't skip class. They do their homework. They hang out with other 1480 people. They go to college. So that's what he did. He went to community college, transferred to Wichita State, then to an Ivy League school where he graduated with honors and built a successful business.
Twelve years after graduation, he received a letter from New Jersey: "We regret to inform you that you are among 13 people who received the wrong SAT score. You actually received a 720." The kid was not a 1480 person. But because of that fundamental shift in his thinking, he went on to live a 1480 life.
Take that dynamic and multiply it by a million—that's what Paul is saying. That's the power of the gospel.
Paul puts the love of God in front of us in such an overwhelming way. Here's his argument:
Argument One: Unconditional, permanent, pure, truthful, faithful, eternal love is the most powerful force in the entire world.
Argument Two: This most powerful force is being leveraged by the most powerful and wisest being in the universe. Every single day it is aimed in your direction. You have been targeted by heaven. The laser dot is on your forehead. You live a marked life. The hound of heaven patiently, diligently, faithfully, gently, and creatively pursues you.
When you turn to Christ, you discover an overwhelming, life-shattering, mesmerizing liberty. In Christ and Christ alone, you can live a fruitful, righteous life that is only extra credit—not for earning and receiving your salvation. Simply by believing and trusting in Christ, you now stand and the righteous requirements are fulfilled.
There is no obligation. There's no condemnation. There's no separation. The righteous requirement is fulfilled, and we get extra credit.
There is no condemnation. If you are a believer, your judgment day is behind you. If you're not a believer, your judgment day still stands before you. If you are in Christ, eternal life, resurrected life, begins now. You do not live in fear of pressure or punishment because you already passed. You're in Christ. That's the liberty, peace, and joy that comes with the righteous requirement being fulfilled.
There is no separation. Nothing can separate us from God's love.
Paul goes off the rails in worship—which is what you should do on Easter if you're truly a believer:
What then shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also along with him graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died more than that, who was raised to life, is at the right hand of God, and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither present or future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.
In a nutshell, Paul is saying: Stop underestimating God's love. Stop.
He packs an incredible punch: he lists seven accusations against humanity in the faith, then seven obstacles representing the seven major fears of humanity, then four pairs—death and life, present and future, angels and demons—all to make one point.
When you live every single day understanding "Wait a second, God is for me," that's the fundamental shift. God is for me. The most powerful force in all the world, leveraged by the most powerful being, aimed in my direction every single day, is the wind at my back. Come what may, I am more than a conqueror. Insecurity is gone. Fear is gone. Shame is gone. Because I am in Christ and he's for me and it's going to be good.
The moment you get off the fence and realize "I'm in, I believe it," that's the fundamental shift. You just live with that type of wind at your back.
The love of God is so vast it transcends all human expression:
If all the seas with ink would fill, and were the skies of parchment made; were every pen on earth a quill and every man ascribed by trade to write the love of God above, would drain the oceans dry, nor could the whole contain the scroll, though stretched from sky to sky.
We're honored you've carved out time to celebrate with us this Easter weekend. Whether you're a regular or visiting for the first time, we're glad you're here. Northview isn't a perfect church—we approach Scripture as a mirror, not a mallet—but we do want to be a better church. We're not for everybody, but we are for somebody, and we hope that's you.
We're fully confident you'll be impressed by the wonderful family surrounding you. Consider joining us week in and week out. For those of you who aren't Christians yet, know that we're privileged to have many of you hanging out with us, even in life groups, and I'll do my best to put Jesus in front of you in a way that makes him irresistible.
Northview is one church meeting across multiple locations: Carmel, Anderson, Benford, Westfield, Fishers, Greater Lafayette, Flora, Kokomo, Noblesville, Brookside, Marian, Greentown, and our three correctional facilities—Miami, Newcastle, and Indiana Women's Prison. We celebrate all of our locations this weekend.
At the start of 2025, we jumped into a study on the book of Romans. This letter was written by Saul from Tarsus—the Apostle Paul—one of the most influential individuals to ever live. Paul wrote to a church under Roman dominion, on the doorstep of Emperor Nero's fortress, yet he was so anchored in the gospel and confident of his King that he addressed Nero's power with the power of the gospel. Nero eventually had Paul's head cut off, but his words echo throughout human history.
The book of Romans is significant in Christian community. It's often called the Christian's constitution—if you want to know what Christians believe, what the gospel truly is, Romans offers the clearest, most concise, power-packed definition. I find that many people approach faith and turn away, rejecting Christianity, not realizing they're rejecting a caricature, not what God had in mind with the gospel.
One thing you cannot overlook is the literary brilliance of the Bible. It's a library of 66 books with mesmerizing facts, but it also has tremendous artistic style. The brilliance of a metaphor is that when you change the metaphor, you change your imagination—it makes you think differently.
Two of my favorite metaphors for the Bible are these:
The Bible is the Father's portrait of the Son painted by the Spirit. Every word written is inspired by God, pointing to Jesus, exalting the holy Trinity. It's mesmerizing.
The Bible is like a wedding ring, and the book of Romans is the diamond. If Romans is the diamond, then chapter 8 is its shimmer—the sparkle of the gospel, the overwhelming, rattling effect that God's love has on your life.
When you stand up to share God's word with a community, you're always answering the question: who am I talking to? This Easter Sunday, as we celebrate the resurrection of Christ in Romans chapter 8, I want to apply the shimmer of the gospel to a specific conversation.
Two weeks ago, I got off social media—not to demonize it, but because it was becoming a distraction during Easter season. The last message I got was a video someone sent me with a caption: "my thoughts. Exactly."
The video contained a rant about Christians and the Bible. The speaker expressed frustration: "I don't care that you're a Christian. I don't care what the Bible says. I'm so tired of non-stop conversations about what the Bible says.... You don't get to take the Bible and tell me, 'Well, the Bible says this'—I don't care. I don't believe in it."
Welcome to Easter at Northview, folks. Have you ever found that familiar tension? You're trying to live a godly life, you experience spiritual moments of worship, and then you get smacked in the face with a scoff toward what you believe.
If no one's scoffing at your faith, you're living in isolation, not accomplishing the mission of the gospel. People are going to scoff at what we believe. I have no idea who this woman is or what her full story is, but I titled my message "The Scoff of Culture" because that's what we're encountering.
A video like that suddenly commands everyone's attention. Some of you are ready to fight—you carry bullet points and come out firing when someone disagrees with you. Some of you find it unsettling and offensive: "It's resurrection weekend, I'm here with my family to celebrate Jesus." We sometimes don't get that choice. We live in a world with this tension, and we cannot resolve it.
But here's what I want to say: some of you will hear a sentiment like this and quietly think, "Part of me agrees with her." I know this will be the case at every service because, as your pastor, I agree with her in part.
Chances are this woman has been on the negative side of an interaction with a Christian. Her overarching sentiment is: "I don't like how the church is treating culture." Fair? And I would say: "Well, yeah. In the same way, I don't like how the church is treating the church."
The embarrassing reality is that the local church is filled with imperfect people. Where there are people, there will always be problems. Where there is a human in the pulpit, you should always hold everything I say loosely, testing it as a responsible thinker. We're all trying our best, but we're going to come up short. We're going to make mistakes.
This woman has been on the negative side of a Christian experience, and it marks her. It holds her heart in reserve. How many of you have ever been on the negative side of an experience with a Christian? This tends to mark us for non-Christians, and it holds their hearts in reserve.
To the person scoffing because of this, I would say: that is in contradiction to the gospel. Though Christianity may have some inconsistency in its branding, with some walking around as poor representations of Christ, that does not represent the vast majority of believers, nor does it represent the vast majority of what life as a believer truly is.
If you're not a Christian contemplating faith in Christ, you should know you have to approach faith like you approach driving. Every day you're aware that accidents happen in our city—accidents so severe they take lives daily. Yet you wake without pause, jump in your vehicle, and drive 80 miles an hour down the interstate, knowing accidents happen daily.
The same is true with faith. Accidents happen. We're trying our best to stay in our lane and get where God is taking us. And where is God taking us? He's taking us to a place of no fragmentation, no brokenness.
If we build out the acronym "SCOFF" and apply the shimmer of the gospel to the scoff of culture, first, the gospel does away with fragmentation and brokenness.
Paul says in Romans 8: "The mind of the sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the spirit is life and peace."
We established early in this study that the gospel can be condensed into two words: grace and peace. Grace is the vehicle; peace is the destination. To the person on the negative side of a broken experience with a Christian, I say: as believers, we have anchored ourselves to an eternal reality and promise that we will be at peace, in harmony, for all of eternity with God and each other. We are reverse-engineering a peaceful future into our present.
So when you bump into a Christian who's a disruptor, failing to recognize they're called to be a peacemaker—I'm sorry. That's not what the gospel has in mind. There will be no fragmentation.
Here's what's so evident throughout church history: we're embarrassed by the fact that there are hundreds of thousands of denominations and variations of Christianity around the globe. Why? Because every time we disagree, we divide. The windshield of our faith is scattered like a spiderweb, all because we can't stay in attention.
People have lost the ability to be in deeper dialogue, to stay in conversation and say, "Hey, I hear your scoff. Would you hear my shimmer? Can we stay in the tension and see if there's anything reconcilable or redeemable here?" We're redemptive people. If you're a follower of Christ, you're called to be a redemptive person moving toward no fragmentation.
We keep mismanaging relationships because we treat people like objects rather than subjects. When you treat someone like an object, you label them. And the moment you label, you stop learning. Once you've defined and labeled someone, they become a tool—a function, a purpose. You no longer have to be curious; you no longer have to keep learning.
This is dysfunctional for relationships. If you're married, you understand this. When you got married, you committed to a lifetime course in Christian learning. Much of marriage is learning to love the stranger—seeing God's redemptive work in their life over time.
My wife does something that minimizes everything to where it's hard to know whether I should prioritize certain things. Just this Monday night, she told me she had a dentist appointment the next morning and needed me to drop her off. When we got in the car, she was out like "comaos" from the pre-procedure medication. We arrived at our kids' school—a K-12 school with four different drop-off stations for students in all four grades—and I saw what I always see: heroes and champions—teachers, teacher's aides—lining the sidewalk enthusiastically in rain, snow, and ice, saying "Good morning" and helping kids out of the car, grabbing their backpacks, lunchboxes, lacrosse gear, making sure science projects get to fourth period.
As we move through daily life, sometimes we stumble into moments of misplaced confidence. These are clumsy moments where we misrepresent the gospel without even realizing it. We discover we don't have our footing. But as Christians, we should be way more humble—it's a bare necessity.
Paul anchors his argument in creation itself, going all the way back to the very beginning. There is a creator behind this grand design—God himself, an architect and brilliant being. Due to the fall of man in the garden and sin's devastating effect, a chasm opened between us and our heavenly Father. Not only was humanity left in eternal bondage, so was creation.
Creation was subjected to frustration because it can't live out its full potential. But here's the gospel message: every single day creation wakes with its neck stretched out in eager anticipation to see the full and final redemption of the sons and daughters of God. When humanity is liberated, creation itself will be liberated to be its full potential. Even creation knows something's wrong, something's off.
To the person scoffing at our faith, I ask: how do you explain such bold convictions about justice and right and wrong? Where does this intuition come from? How does every human who has ever lived on this planet simply arrive with the same internal compass, knowing there's right and wrong, truth, and things hardwired in us all?
Non-believers can do godly things—we see justice, generosity, compassion, peace, meekness, and humility in them. But where does that goodness come from? Your explanation is that we're random, but how do you explain the godliness in your life? Don't overlook the thumbprint of heaven upon your life. You were created in the image and likeness of God. Look at your own godliness. Aren't you at all curious where more of that goodness comes from?
Paul makes a bold claim: "And we know that in all things, the good, the bad, the confusing, the trials, the pain, the agony—in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Currently, as you speak, God is giving you everything you would pray for if you knew what he knows. We're going to look back and realize he didn't waste anything—not my time, not my energy, not my thinking, not my tears, not my talent, not my pain. Somehow he worked all things together for our good.
This is where the fundamental shift of the gospel takes place in a person's life. The question isn't just how does a person go from lost and in death to resurrected life in Christ—it's this fundamental shift in thinking. The moment this changes everything, all bets are off. You are in the resurrected life.
There was a kid who was reckless growing up. He didn't apply himself to school, skipped class, and was on the verge of dropping out. His mom made a deal with him: "I want you to take the SAT." Two weeks later, he received a score of 1480—Ivy League level.
His mom thought he cheated. But he actually received a 1480. Suddenly, a fundamental shift happened in his thinking: "If I'm a 1480 person, I should probably start doing what 1480 people do." And 1480 people don't skip class. They do their homework. They hang out with other 1480 people. They go to college. So that's what he did. He went to community college, transferred to Wichita State, then to an Ivy League school where he graduated with honors and built a successful business.
Twelve years after graduation, he received a letter from New Jersey: "We regret to inform you that you are among 13 people who received the wrong SAT score. You actually received a 720." The kid was not a 1480 person. But because of that fundamental shift in his thinking, he went on to live a 1480 life.
Take that dynamic and multiply it by a million—that's what Paul is saying. That's the power of the gospel.
Paul puts the love of God in front of us in such an overwhelming way. Here's his argument:
Argument One: Unconditional, permanent, pure, truthful, faithful, eternal love is the most powerful force in the entire world.
Argument Two: This most powerful force is being leveraged by the most powerful and wisest being in the universe. Every single day it is aimed in your direction. You have been targeted by heaven. The laser dot is on your forehead. You live a marked life. The hound of heaven patiently, diligently, faithfully, gently, and creatively pursues you.
When you turn to Christ, you discover an overwhelming, life-shattering, mesmerizing liberty. In Christ and Christ alone, you can live a fruitful, righteous life that is only extra credit—not for earning and receiving your salvation. Simply by believing and trusting in Christ, you now stand and the righteous requirements are fulfilled.
There is no obligation. There's no condemnation. There's no separation. The righteous requirement is fulfilled, and we get extra credit.
There is no condemnation. If you are a believer, your judgment day is behind you. If you're not a believer, your judgment day still stands before you. If you are in Christ, eternal life, resurrected life, begins now. You do not live in fear of pressure or punishment because you already passed. You're in Christ. That's the liberty, peace, and joy that comes with the righteous requirement being fulfilled.
There is no separation. Nothing can separate us from God's love.
Paul goes off the rails in worship—which is what you should do on Easter if you're truly a believer:
What then shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also along with him graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died more than that, who was raised to life, is at the right hand of God, and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither present or future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.
In a nutshell, Paul is saying: Stop underestimating God's love. Stop.
He packs an incredible punch: he lists seven accusations against humanity in the faith, then seven obstacles representing the seven major fears of humanity, then four pairs—death and life, present and future, angels and demons—all to make one point.
When you live every single day understanding "Wait a second, God is for me," that's the fundamental shift. God is for me. The most powerful force in all the world, leveraged by the most powerful being, aimed in my direction every single day, is the wind at my back. Come what may, I am more than a conqueror. Insecurity is gone. Fear is gone. Shame is gone. Because I am in Christ and he's for me and it's going to be good.
The moment you get off the fence and realize "I'm in, I believe it," that's the fundamental shift. You just live with that type of wind at your back.
The love of God is so vast it transcends all human expression:
If all the seas with ink would fill, and were the skies of parchment made; were every pen on earth a quill and every man ascribed by trade to write the love of God above, would drain the oceans dry, nor could the whole contain the scroll, though stretched from sky to sky.
