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Easter Sermon
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Easter Sermon
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Our theme this year is This Is the Gospel, and I want to give you a brief gospel presentation. Let me read from 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 but have eternal life."
I want to give this scripture a subject that carries spiritual significance: God's got a plan. If you believe that, say it with me—God's got a plan.
I'm going to bring you some good news and some bad news, and I'm taking the pastoral privilege to give you the bad news first.
The bad news is simple: you and me, we got some problems. We've got adversity that's agitating us. We've got situations stressing us. We've got trials testing us. We've got people pestering us. We got some problems.
How do I know you've got problems? Because you told me you've got problems. And God told me you've got problems—through a text message. Not an iPhone or Android. I mean God sent me a message through the Bible. The Bible is a collection of texts that God uses to give us messages.
John 16:33 says, "I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble." That sounds like a problem.
Psalm 34:19 says the righteous person may have many troubles. One translation says, "Many are the afflictions of the righteous." That's a problem.
First Peter 4:12 says, "Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come to test you as though something strange were happening in you." That sounds like a problem.
But I got some good news for you: We may have some problems, but God's got a plan.
Resurrection weekend, the Easter celebration, isn't just a reminder that God's got power. It's also a reminder that God is a planner. The resurrection was not God's reaction to Jesus' crucifixion. It was intentional. It was strategic. It was planned.
In scripture, the writer says, "The lamb of God, that's your Jesus, was slain before the foundation of the world." So the resurrection is a revelation of God's ability and commitment to make a plan and keep it. He is so committed to keeping his plan that no matter what adversity attempts to inhibit and overthrow his plan, he will overthrow what tries to overthrow his intention for your life.
There's a word that describes God working this way: providence. Providence is a synthesis of two words—pro, which means "before," and roots in verde or video, which means "to see." So God's providence is God's ability to see before. He sees it before you see it.
Providence is God's ability to see what's ahead and supply what's needed before you get there. God sees the problem before we know it's a problem and creates a plan to solve the problem before it becomes a problem.
Therefore, just because God isn't talking to you about the plan doesn't mean God doesn't have a plan. Sometimes God's not talking to you about the problem because he's working on the answer.
We would say it in the Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church in Kilmichael, Mississippi where I grew up: "While you're trying to figure it out, God has already worked it out."
Have you ever found yourself in seasons where you were stressed, overwhelmed, worried about something you thought would be a bigger problem than it was? But by the time the problem came to your doorstep, God had already rearranged, reorchestrated, and redeemed it for his glory and your good?
We've all got problems, and we're in different seasons and stages of life, so our problems are different. But reading John 3:16, I see one problem that all of us have no matter what season or stage of life we're in: the problem of perishing.
John 3:16 captures a conversation between Jesus and a man named Nicodemus, a religious leader who approaches Jesus at night. He doesn't want to be publicly seen with Jesus because Jesus was a disruptor who challenged the religious elite. But Nicodemus was intrigued, impacted, and impressed by Jesus. So he goes to Jesus to learn more.
When he engages Jesus, Nicodemus wants to talk to Jesus about Jesus. He says, "Jesus, I know you're a man come from God because nobody can do these things you do except God be with you."
But watch how Jesus flipped the script. Nicodemus came to talk about Jesus, and Jesus said, "You want to talk to me about me? I need to talk to you about you."
God is a God that will reorchestrate your intentions and use them to accomplish his agenda. You come to God about one problem, and God says, "You came to me about the problem you know about, but I want to introduce you to a problem you don't know about. The thing you want me to fix first ain't always the thing you need me to fix first. But I'm going to use the thing you want me to fix to get you close to me so I can talk to you about this other thing over here."
This happens with a man in the Gospel of Mark who's paralyzed. We may not have dealt with physical paralysis, but we know what it's like to feel stuck—to feel immobile, to feel like time is moving and you're not moving.
You're not unhappy or discontent. It's just that you've got a revelation of what's in you, and where you are doesn't match what's in you. Some would be happy to be where you are, but they don't have what you have. And because God has given you something different, you're not unappreciative—you're just aware.
It's more in me than this. I was born for more than this. I'm equipped for more than this. I'm not disrespecting where you want to be. If you're happy there, stay there. But as for me and my house, I'm running, trying to make a hundred. Ninety-nine and a half just won't do.
This man is stuck, but he's got a squad. The text says, "Some men came bringing to him Jesus a paralyzed man carried by four of them."
He's got a friend that's stuck, and his friends get word that Jesus—who can get him unstuck—is in town at somebody's house. So they pull up to their friend's house and say, "Put some clothes on. We're going to see Jesus."
The text doesn't say whether this man wanted to go, but if they picked him up, he had no choice. My prayer is that you've got a circle in your life that does more than comfort you—that will confront you. They'll pull up on you and say, "What I'm about to say might hurt your feelings, but it's going to fix your future. We're about to pick you up because you are not destined to stay here. You are not called to stay here."
We need a circle in our life that reminds us of who we are when we forget who we are. We need people who speak life when we're ready to stay stuck and settle. We need people who'll pick us up and say, "We're going to Jesus. We didn't come this far to come this far. We're going to Jesus. You didn't survive all you survived just to stay here. We're going to Jesus. You didn't bounce back from all of that just to stay stuck."
So they picked this man up—four of them, probably holding four corners of the mat. He's got to be heavy. It's got to be inconvenient. They probably had other things to do. But commitment is only revealed when it's inconvenient.
You think you've got committed friends? You don't know yet. Some of you say people change, but they didn't. You confuse time showing you who people are instead of seasons showing you who people are. It doesn't matter how long; what matters is how many seasons you've been through.
Will you carry me if I'm heavy? When it inconveniences you—when do you love me enough to adjust?
They carried him to the house where Jesus was. But they get there and can't even get in the house because there are too many people. So what do these men do? They see an obstacle not as an indication to abandon the assignment, but as an opportunity for divine innovation.
A victim mindset sees an obstacle as a sign to quit. A faith-filled mindset sees an obstacle as an opportunity for God to show another way.
Instead of abandoning the assignment, these men carried their friend up to the roof. These weren't extremely high houses, but they had to go up, go up, go up. To get in, they had to elevate.
Sometimes God uses the obstacle as an invitation for elevation. He's saying, "You can do it, but not with that level of focus. You've got to elevate. You can do it, but not with that level of commitment. You've got to elevate. You can do it, but not with that level of competence. You've got to elevate."
So they go up on the roof. It's a clay roof with straw on top. They remove the straw, dig through the clay, and create a hole large enough to let him down in the mat.
I don't know how far they had to walk, but if you're carrying a grown man, that's enough. I don't know how high the roof was, but carrying him up there took a lot. Digging through that clay took a lot. Letting the man down took a lot.
And the text says when they do that, when Jesus saw their faith.
I know that "their" is plural. So when he saw their faith—is it the faith of the four who carried him or the faith of all five?
If it's the faith of the four, it's what's called intercessory faith. Many Christians have a reductionist view of intercession that limits it only to prayer. But intercession means to stand in the gap or go on behalf of another. In scripture, you see intercessory prayer, but also intercessory faith.
Look at Mary and Martha—also Lazarus, in John 11. Lazarus has been dead for four days, so he can't use his own faith. But his sisters go to Jesus on his behalf. They stand proxy on behalf of their brother. They're saying, "He can't be here to believe for himself. He can't use his faith to get out of the grave. But I've got enough faith not just to believe you for me—I've got enough faith to believe you for Lazarus."
So Jesus saw their faith and said to the paralyzed man, "Son, your sins are forgiven."
Now, the man's paralyzed, right? And if you're honest—and that's why I need you to come back next week so you can be okay being honest—these men were probably disappointed. That's not the answer they wanted. We came here because he was sick. You're talking to us about sins.
But Jesus is saying, "There's a problem that matters to you that brought you to me so I can deal with a problem that matters to me. If you think this sickness got you stuck, you have no idea how sin has got you stuck."
The same thing is happening with Nicodemus in John 3. He comes to Jesus for one reason—he wants his questions answered about Jesus. But Jesus doesn't answer those questions. He's dealing with anxiousness about whether to go public with his affiliation with Jesus, knowing it will cost him his position on the Sanhedrin council and his affluence and influence.
Jesus says, "I'm not really interested in that. You want to talk to me about that problem, but I need to talk to you about another problem."
The problem Jesus talked to Nicodemus about is a problem he needs to talk to all of us about: your perishing problem.
Depending on your religious background, you might interpret "perish" a certain way. If you weren't brought up in a religious background, you probably have an advantage in accurately interpreting what Jesus means here. But for those of us who grew up in conservative Christian circles, we were taught that "perish" means dying and ending up in eternal alienation and separation from God—what some people call hell.
So John 3:16 has been historically interpreted to mean: God loved you so much that he sent Jesus so that you wouldn't have to die and be eternally alienated and separated from God.
I'm not saying that's incorrect. I'm saying it's incomplete.
The Greek word Jesus uses means this: lost, waste, ruin, destruction. It's the same word used in Luke 15 when Jesus tells parables about the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son.
So let's read John 3:16 using words consistent with what Jesus said:
God so loved the world, he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not be lost in this life. Shall not waste this life. Shall not ruin this life and shall not experience destruction in this life and the next one.
Jesus didn't just come to keep you from dying—he came to show you how to live. He says, "I came so that you won't be lost in this life and living with no direction. I came so that you won't waste this life and not take advantage of what I've graciously given you. I came so that you wouldn't ruin this life and not properly steward the opportunities I placed in your proximity."
Look at John 10, same author, same book. Now Jesus' claims make more sense when he talks about Satan's mission and his own ministry as Messiah:
"The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy, but I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly."
For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.
If you grew up in conservative Christian environments, eternal life has been limited to a location. You interpret it as: I don't go to hell, I go to heaven.
Not incorrect, but if you stop there, it's incomplete.
I'm not saying there is no eternal life. I'm not saying there is no eternal differentiation. I'm saying the way this has been historically understood reduces eternal life to something you only get when you die.
So life on this side has to be terrible. Life on this side has to be trash. So we sing songs about how terrible this life is and preach sermons about how terrible this life is—not realizing that the word Jesus uses for eternal life is zoe, and it is not a location. It is a condition. It is a posture of the heart. It is life from God. It is life as God intended.
And life characterized by zoe has three traits:
Life is lived God's way where you are flourishing, speaking to the internal condition of your soul.
When God saves your soul, he doesn't just save your soul in the next life. He saves your soul in this life. James says, "Receive with meekness the engrafted word of God which is able to save your soul—your mind, your will, your emotions, your imaginations, and your affections."
It's the condition of the soul described by John the Apostle when he writes to a man named Gaius in 3 John 2:
"Beloved, I wish above all things that you would prosper and be in health even as your soul prospers."
You're doing however your soul is doing. However your mind is doing, that's how you're doing. I don't care where you're at. You are wherever your mind is. You can be in the Maldives, but if your mind is stressed, you'll be stressed on the beach. You'll be stressed in the concert.
Jesus uses words to describe the fruit of a soul experiencing the life of God: joy, peace, kindness, temperance, goodness, patience, long-suffering.
That's when your soul is flourishing.
You mean Jesus came to take me to heaven and I'm supposed to be frustrated all the way there? His work only starts working when I die? He doesn't have enough power to give me some peace today?
I need some peace today. As soon as I leave here, I need some peace. As soon as I get in the car and in this parking lot, I need some peace.
Not just flourishing, but a fruitful life. Flourishing is what's happening in me. Fruitful is what's coming from me. It is the execution of God's original intention for humanity seen in Genesis when he says, "Be fruitful and multiply."
This is not just a command to procreate. It is a command toward productivity. God's intention is that humans be more than consumers—they be contributors.
In the New Testament, he uses the imagery of a tree to describe humans and uses fruit to describe what humans convey and produce. "You will know a tree by the fruit that it bears."
It is not just procreation, it is productivity. You were not just created to consume; you were created to contribute.
When you experience zoe, you are not just a consumer—you are a contributor. The fruit that a tree produces is not eaten by the tree. The fruit that a tree produces is eaten by others. So when you create, you are creating something that contributes to the flourishing of other humans.
That's why the Bible speaks very harshly toward laziness. The Old Testament calls it slothfulness, because slothfulness is selfishness. It is a refusal to create something that will benefit other people.
Only God can tell you what kind of tree you are. And it's only when you know what kind of tree you are that you know what kind of fruit you're supposed to be producing.
We've got a bunch of apple trees trying to be orange trees and a bunch of orange trees trying to be pear trees. When God wants you to know, "I made you to be a certain kind of tree, and if people don't want your fruit, those people are not assigned to you."
I need you to look in the mirror in the morning and say: "I like this tree. I love this tree. God made this tree. God called this tree. God anointed this tree, and I'm not about to be an apple tree running around here trying to switch leaves because it looks like everybody likes orange trees. I'm going to be the tree God made me to be, and what God has for me, it is."
You won't find the word "fulfilled" per se in scripture, but you will find the word contentment. And contentment doesn't mean complacent. Contentment means the happiness in my soul is not held hostage by what I don't have yet.
It means my soul has a satisfaction that comes from him—not what he gives.
Job says, "The good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away." If the condition of my soul is simply tied to what he gives, I'll be content when he gives and I'll be entitled when he takes away. And how can you feel entitled to God taking what he was never obligated to give?
So even when you had it, you didn't deserve it, but now you feel entitled to it because you've had it.
My contentment can't be tied to what he does or doesn't do. It's got to be tied to him.
What's the number that's going to make you happy? What's the kind of wedding that's going to make you happy? Let me tell you something: it never feels like there.
I'm not saying be complacent. I'm not saying don't have a holy and healthy ambition. But if your happiness is tied to achievement and accomplishment, then you're in for a rude awakening, because elevation to one level is a revelation that you're at the bottom of a new one.
"I'mma be happy when I'm a senior." Until you graduate, and now you're a freshman. "I'mma be happy when I get my bachelor's." Until you realize people are getting master's.
For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only son that whoever believed in him shall not be lost, wasted, ruined, or destroyed, but will have a flourishing, fruitful, and fulfilled life. This is the gospel.
Here's the question: If zoe is God's intention, why doesn't everybody have it? If this is what God wants for me, why am I not experiencing it?
One reason: The Bible says people are destroyed for lack of knowledge. You won't pursue what you don't know exists. So some people don't have it because the gospel has never actually been presented to them. They've heard fussing. And those who can't teach must fuss.
For some, the issue is not awareness. They've received the gospel, but the issue is application. The issue is the version of Jesus they've accepted. They're experiencing a reductionist soteriology.
Some people reduce Jesus to someone who is only a ticket out of hell into heaven.
And when you reduce Jesus to that, you're saved. You're just settling. When you settle, you don't perish when you die, you perish while you live.
If I'm saved, when I die, I won't experience eternal alienation and separation from God. But if I reduce Jesus to simply being a ticket out of hell into heaven, he is that—but he's more than that. Then I won't perish when I die, but I'm perishing while I live.
No flourishing. But you're going to heaven. No fruit. But you're going to heaven. No fulfillment. But you're going to heaven.
And it's the flourishing, the fruitfulness, and the fulfillment that actually make us sought and liked. That's what made Nicodemus come to you at night and say, "I got everything but that."
Jesus is God's plan.
When I settle for a reductionist view of Jesus that only gets me out of hell into heaven, I don't perish when I die, but I perish while I'm living. And I live my whole life defeated by the products of my perishing.
The first of which is sin.
Jesus is God's plan for sin. I don't know what you've been taught sin means, but the word sin in the New Testament is hamartia. There's a discipline of systematic theology called hamartiology, and it's an archery term. It literally means to miss the mark. Not missing left or right—falling short of the target.
This is the language Paul uses when he says, "All have sinned and fallen short." It means: I need to be more patient today? You fell short. I need to be more generous? You fell short. I need to steward my body differently? You fell short. I want to say the right thing? You fell short.
It's not just missing left or right. You fall short.
But Jesus is God's plan for sin. He not only forgives you for it, he helps you fix your aim. He becomes your spotter. Some of you are spending your whole life trying to reach a target you can't reach with your strength. So Jesus wants to come alongside you, help you pull the bow back, because he's got enough strength to help you reach the target.
You're trying to fix this by yourself. You're trying to change you by yourself. You're trying to rearrange your life by yourself. Jesus is God's plan for that.
Jesus is God's plan not just for sin—a product of perishing—but also for shame, the emotional implications sin has on us.
Sin has practical implications, but then there are emotional implications: embarrassment, shrinking.
Sin is I did a bad thing. Shame is I am a bad person.
Now you let your sin define you instead of your savior defining you. When you shrink back, now you're running from a God that you need to run to. He's like, "I don't only need to help you fix what you did. I need to help you fix how you feel."
I'm going to give you conviction to get it right. But the devil wants to give you condemnation to keep you stuck.
That's why I need you to come here next week, because the title of my message next week is "I'm Acting Brand New." If any man be in Christ, he's a new creature. Old things have passed away.
You're going to suffer. But Jesus is God's plan for suffering. He doesn't always remove the suffering, but he will redeem the suffering. He doesn't always bring me out of the suffering, but he brings something out of me that makes me better because of it.
And last but not least: scars. Jesus is God's plan for scars.
Scars are the evidence of a previous season you went through. A wound is open; a scar is closed. But scars have a memory attached.
I've got a scar on my knee. I was trying to do something stupid on a bike. When you see a scar, you catch a memory.
Here's what Jesus does: When Jesus gets ahold of your scars, the scar that used to be a trigger becomes your testimony. So now it doesn't trigger you. It's evidence of what didn't kill you. It's proof that you survived.
Your scars aren't for you—they're for Thomas. To show Thomas that what Jesus did for you, he can do for Thomas.
This is the gospel. This is the good news.
Our theme this year is This Is the Gospel, and I want to give you a brief gospel presentation. Let me read from 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 but have eternal life."
I want to give this scripture a subject that carries spiritual significance: God's got a plan. If you believe that, say it with me—God's got a plan.
I'm going to bring you some good news and some bad news, and I'm taking the pastoral privilege to give you the bad news first.
The bad news is simple: you and me, we got some problems. We've got adversity that's agitating us. We've got situations stressing us. We've got trials testing us. We've got people pestering us. We got some problems.
How do I know you've got problems? Because you told me you've got problems. And God told me you've got problems—through a text message. Not an iPhone or Android. I mean God sent me a message through the Bible. The Bible is a collection of texts that God uses to give us messages.
John 16:33 says, "I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble." That sounds like a problem.
Psalm 34:19 says the righteous person may have many troubles. One translation says, "Many are the afflictions of the righteous." That's a problem.
First Peter 4:12 says, "Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come to test you as though something strange were happening in you." That sounds like a problem.
But I got some good news for you: We may have some problems, but God's got a plan.
Resurrection weekend, the Easter celebration, isn't just a reminder that God's got power. It's also a reminder that God is a planner. The resurrection was not God's reaction to Jesus' crucifixion. It was intentional. It was strategic. It was planned.
In scripture, the writer says, "The lamb of God, that's your Jesus, was slain before the foundation of the world." So the resurrection is a revelation of God's ability and commitment to make a plan and keep it. He is so committed to keeping his plan that no matter what adversity attempts to inhibit and overthrow his plan, he will overthrow what tries to overthrow his intention for your life.
There's a word that describes God working this way: providence. Providence is a synthesis of two words—pro, which means "before," and roots in verde or video, which means "to see." So God's providence is God's ability to see before. He sees it before you see it.
Providence is God's ability to see what's ahead and supply what's needed before you get there. God sees the problem before we know it's a problem and creates a plan to solve the problem before it becomes a problem.
Therefore, just because God isn't talking to you about the plan doesn't mean God doesn't have a plan. Sometimes God's not talking to you about the problem because he's working on the answer.
We would say it in the Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church in Kilmichael, Mississippi where I grew up: "While you're trying to figure it out, God has already worked it out."
Have you ever found yourself in seasons where you were stressed, overwhelmed, worried about something you thought would be a bigger problem than it was? But by the time the problem came to your doorstep, God had already rearranged, reorchestrated, and redeemed it for his glory and your good?
We've all got problems, and we're in different seasons and stages of life, so our problems are different. But reading John 3:16, I see one problem that all of us have no matter what season or stage of life we're in: the problem of perishing.
John 3:16 captures a conversation between Jesus and a man named Nicodemus, a religious leader who approaches Jesus at night. He doesn't want to be publicly seen with Jesus because Jesus was a disruptor who challenged the religious elite. But Nicodemus was intrigued, impacted, and impressed by Jesus. So he goes to Jesus to learn more.
When he engages Jesus, Nicodemus wants to talk to Jesus about Jesus. He says, "Jesus, I know you're a man come from God because nobody can do these things you do except God be with you."
But watch how Jesus flipped the script. Nicodemus came to talk about Jesus, and Jesus said, "You want to talk to me about me? I need to talk to you about you."
God is a God that will reorchestrate your intentions and use them to accomplish his agenda. You come to God about one problem, and God says, "You came to me about the problem you know about, but I want to introduce you to a problem you don't know about. The thing you want me to fix first ain't always the thing you need me to fix first. But I'm going to use the thing you want me to fix to get you close to me so I can talk to you about this other thing over here."
This happens with a man in the Gospel of Mark who's paralyzed. We may not have dealt with physical paralysis, but we know what it's like to feel stuck—to feel immobile, to feel like time is moving and you're not moving.
You're not unhappy or discontent. It's just that you've got a revelation of what's in you, and where you are doesn't match what's in you. Some would be happy to be where you are, but they don't have what you have. And because God has given you something different, you're not unappreciative—you're just aware.
It's more in me than this. I was born for more than this. I'm equipped for more than this. I'm not disrespecting where you want to be. If you're happy there, stay there. But as for me and my house, I'm running, trying to make a hundred. Ninety-nine and a half just won't do.
This man is stuck, but he's got a squad. The text says, "Some men came bringing to him Jesus a paralyzed man carried by four of them."
He's got a friend that's stuck, and his friends get word that Jesus—who can get him unstuck—is in town at somebody's house. So they pull up to their friend's house and say, "Put some clothes on. We're going to see Jesus."
The text doesn't say whether this man wanted to go, but if they picked him up, he had no choice. My prayer is that you've got a circle in your life that does more than comfort you—that will confront you. They'll pull up on you and say, "What I'm about to say might hurt your feelings, but it's going to fix your future. We're about to pick you up because you are not destined to stay here. You are not called to stay here."
We need a circle in our life that reminds us of who we are when we forget who we are. We need people who speak life when we're ready to stay stuck and settle. We need people who'll pick us up and say, "We're going to Jesus. We didn't come this far to come this far. We're going to Jesus. You didn't survive all you survived just to stay here. We're going to Jesus. You didn't bounce back from all of that just to stay stuck."
So they picked this man up—four of them, probably holding four corners of the mat. He's got to be heavy. It's got to be inconvenient. They probably had other things to do. But commitment is only revealed when it's inconvenient.
You think you've got committed friends? You don't know yet. Some of you say people change, but they didn't. You confuse time showing you who people are instead of seasons showing you who people are. It doesn't matter how long; what matters is how many seasons you've been through.
Will you carry me if I'm heavy? When it inconveniences you—when do you love me enough to adjust?
They carried him to the house where Jesus was. But they get there and can't even get in the house because there are too many people. So what do these men do? They see an obstacle not as an indication to abandon the assignment, but as an opportunity for divine innovation.
A victim mindset sees an obstacle as a sign to quit. A faith-filled mindset sees an obstacle as an opportunity for God to show another way.
Instead of abandoning the assignment, these men carried their friend up to the roof. These weren't extremely high houses, but they had to go up, go up, go up. To get in, they had to elevate.
Sometimes God uses the obstacle as an invitation for elevation. He's saying, "You can do it, but not with that level of focus. You've got to elevate. You can do it, but not with that level of commitment. You've got to elevate. You can do it, but not with that level of competence. You've got to elevate."
So they go up on the roof. It's a clay roof with straw on top. They remove the straw, dig through the clay, and create a hole large enough to let him down in the mat.
I don't know how far they had to walk, but if you're carrying a grown man, that's enough. I don't know how high the roof was, but carrying him up there took a lot. Digging through that clay took a lot. Letting the man down took a lot.
And the text says when they do that, when Jesus saw their faith.
I know that "their" is plural. So when he saw their faith—is it the faith of the four who carried him or the faith of all five?
If it's the faith of the four, it's what's called intercessory faith. Many Christians have a reductionist view of intercession that limits it only to prayer. But intercession means to stand in the gap or go on behalf of another. In scripture, you see intercessory prayer, but also intercessory faith.
Look at Mary and Martha—also Lazarus, in John 11. Lazarus has been dead for four days, so he can't use his own faith. But his sisters go to Jesus on his behalf. They stand proxy on behalf of their brother. They're saying, "He can't be here to believe for himself. He can't use his faith to get out of the grave. But I've got enough faith not just to believe you for me—I've got enough faith to believe you for Lazarus."
So Jesus saw their faith and said to the paralyzed man, "Son, your sins are forgiven."
Now, the man's paralyzed, right? And if you're honest—and that's why I need you to come back next week so you can be okay being honest—these men were probably disappointed. That's not the answer they wanted. We came here because he was sick. You're talking to us about sins.
But Jesus is saying, "There's a problem that matters to you that brought you to me so I can deal with a problem that matters to me. If you think this sickness got you stuck, you have no idea how sin has got you stuck."
The same thing is happening with Nicodemus in John 3. He comes to Jesus for one reason—he wants his questions answered about Jesus. But Jesus doesn't answer those questions. He's dealing with anxiousness about whether to go public with his affiliation with Jesus, knowing it will cost him his position on the Sanhedrin council and his affluence and influence.
Jesus says, "I'm not really interested in that. You want to talk to me about that problem, but I need to talk to you about another problem."
The problem Jesus talked to Nicodemus about is a problem he needs to talk to all of us about: your perishing problem.
Depending on your religious background, you might interpret "perish" a certain way. If you weren't brought up in a religious background, you probably have an advantage in accurately interpreting what Jesus means here. But for those of us who grew up in conservative Christian circles, we were taught that "perish" means dying and ending up in eternal alienation and separation from God—what some people call hell.
So John 3:16 has been historically interpreted to mean: God loved you so much that he sent Jesus so that you wouldn't have to die and be eternally alienated and separated from God.
I'm not saying that's incorrect. I'm saying it's incomplete.
The Greek word Jesus uses means this: lost, waste, ruin, destruction. It's the same word used in Luke 15 when Jesus tells parables about the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son.
So let's read John 3:16 using words consistent with what Jesus said:
God so loved the world, he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not be lost in this life. Shall not waste this life. Shall not ruin this life and shall not experience destruction in this life and the next one.
Jesus didn't just come to keep you from dying—he came to show you how to live. He says, "I came so that you won't be lost in this life and living with no direction. I came so that you won't waste this life and not take advantage of what I've graciously given you. I came so that you wouldn't ruin this life and not properly steward the opportunities I placed in your proximity."
Look at John 10, same author, same book. Now Jesus' claims make more sense when he talks about Satan's mission and his own ministry as Messiah:
"The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy, but I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly."
For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.
If you grew up in conservative Christian environments, eternal life has been limited to a location. You interpret it as: I don't go to hell, I go to heaven.
Not incorrect, but if you stop there, it's incomplete.
I'm not saying there is no eternal life. I'm not saying there is no eternal differentiation. I'm saying the way this has been historically understood reduces eternal life to something you only get when you die.
So life on this side has to be terrible. Life on this side has to be trash. So we sing songs about how terrible this life is and preach sermons about how terrible this life is—not realizing that the word Jesus uses for eternal life is zoe, and it is not a location. It is a condition. It is a posture of the heart. It is life from God. It is life as God intended.
And life characterized by zoe has three traits:
Life is lived God's way where you are flourishing, speaking to the internal condition of your soul.
When God saves your soul, he doesn't just save your soul in the next life. He saves your soul in this life. James says, "Receive with meekness the engrafted word of God which is able to save your soul—your mind, your will, your emotions, your imaginations, and your affections."
It's the condition of the soul described by John the Apostle when he writes to a man named Gaius in 3 John 2:
"Beloved, I wish above all things that you would prosper and be in health even as your soul prospers."
You're doing however your soul is doing. However your mind is doing, that's how you're doing. I don't care where you're at. You are wherever your mind is. You can be in the Maldives, but if your mind is stressed, you'll be stressed on the beach. You'll be stressed in the concert.
Jesus uses words to describe the fruit of a soul experiencing the life of God: joy, peace, kindness, temperance, goodness, patience, long-suffering.
That's when your soul is flourishing.
You mean Jesus came to take me to heaven and I'm supposed to be frustrated all the way there? His work only starts working when I die? He doesn't have enough power to give me some peace today?
I need some peace today. As soon as I leave here, I need some peace. As soon as I get in the car and in this parking lot, I need some peace.
Not just flourishing, but a fruitful life. Flourishing is what's happening in me. Fruitful is what's coming from me. It is the execution of God's original intention for humanity seen in Genesis when he says, "Be fruitful and multiply."
This is not just a command to procreate. It is a command toward productivity. God's intention is that humans be more than consumers—they be contributors.
In the New Testament, he uses the imagery of a tree to describe humans and uses fruit to describe what humans convey and produce. "You will know a tree by the fruit that it bears."
It is not just procreation, it is productivity. You were not just created to consume; you were created to contribute.
When you experience zoe, you are not just a consumer—you are a contributor. The fruit that a tree produces is not eaten by the tree. The fruit that a tree produces is eaten by others. So when you create, you are creating something that contributes to the flourishing of other humans.
That's why the Bible speaks very harshly toward laziness. The Old Testament calls it slothfulness, because slothfulness is selfishness. It is a refusal to create something that will benefit other people.
Only God can tell you what kind of tree you are. And it's only when you know what kind of tree you are that you know what kind of fruit you're supposed to be producing.
We've got a bunch of apple trees trying to be orange trees and a bunch of orange trees trying to be pear trees. When God wants you to know, "I made you to be a certain kind of tree, and if people don't want your fruit, those people are not assigned to you."
I need you to look in the mirror in the morning and say: "I like this tree. I love this tree. God made this tree. God called this tree. God anointed this tree, and I'm not about to be an apple tree running around here trying to switch leaves because it looks like everybody likes orange trees. I'm going to be the tree God made me to be, and what God has for me, it is."
You won't find the word "fulfilled" per se in scripture, but you will find the word contentment. And contentment doesn't mean complacent. Contentment means the happiness in my soul is not held hostage by what I don't have yet.
It means my soul has a satisfaction that comes from him—not what he gives.
Job says, "The good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away." If the condition of my soul is simply tied to what he gives, I'll be content when he gives and I'll be entitled when he takes away. And how can you feel entitled to God taking what he was never obligated to give?
So even when you had it, you didn't deserve it, but now you feel entitled to it because you've had it.
My contentment can't be tied to what he does or doesn't do. It's got to be tied to him.
What's the number that's going to make you happy? What's the kind of wedding that's going to make you happy? Let me tell you something: it never feels like there.
I'm not saying be complacent. I'm not saying don't have a holy and healthy ambition. But if your happiness is tied to achievement and accomplishment, then you're in for a rude awakening, because elevation to one level is a revelation that you're at the bottom of a new one.
"I'mma be happy when I'm a senior." Until you graduate, and now you're a freshman. "I'mma be happy when I get my bachelor's." Until you realize people are getting master's.
For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only son that whoever believed in him shall not be lost, wasted, ruined, or destroyed, but will have a flourishing, fruitful, and fulfilled life. This is the gospel.
Here's the question: If zoe is God's intention, why doesn't everybody have it? If this is what God wants for me, why am I not experiencing it?
One reason: The Bible says people are destroyed for lack of knowledge. You won't pursue what you don't know exists. So some people don't have it because the gospel has never actually been presented to them. They've heard fussing. And those who can't teach must fuss.
For some, the issue is not awareness. They've received the gospel, but the issue is application. The issue is the version of Jesus they've accepted. They're experiencing a reductionist soteriology.
Some people reduce Jesus to someone who is only a ticket out of hell into heaven.
And when you reduce Jesus to that, you're saved. You're just settling. When you settle, you don't perish when you die, you perish while you live.
If I'm saved, when I die, I won't experience eternal alienation and separation from God. But if I reduce Jesus to simply being a ticket out of hell into heaven, he is that—but he's more than that. Then I won't perish when I die, but I'm perishing while I live.
No flourishing. But you're going to heaven. No fruit. But you're going to heaven. No fulfillment. But you're going to heaven.
And it's the flourishing, the fruitfulness, and the fulfillment that actually make us sought and liked. That's what made Nicodemus come to you at night and say, "I got everything but that."
Jesus is God's plan.
When I settle for a reductionist view of Jesus that only gets me out of hell into heaven, I don't perish when I die, but I perish while I'm living. And I live my whole life defeated by the products of my perishing.
The first of which is sin.
Jesus is God's plan for sin. I don't know what you've been taught sin means, but the word sin in the New Testament is hamartia. There's a discipline of systematic theology called hamartiology, and it's an archery term. It literally means to miss the mark. Not missing left or right—falling short of the target.
This is the language Paul uses when he says, "All have sinned and fallen short." It means: I need to be more patient today? You fell short. I need to be more generous? You fell short. I need to steward my body differently? You fell short. I want to say the right thing? You fell short.
It's not just missing left or right. You fall short.
But Jesus is God's plan for sin. He not only forgives you for it, he helps you fix your aim. He becomes your spotter. Some of you are spending your whole life trying to reach a target you can't reach with your strength. So Jesus wants to come alongside you, help you pull the bow back, because he's got enough strength to help you reach the target.
You're trying to fix this by yourself. You're trying to change you by yourself. You're trying to rearrange your life by yourself. Jesus is God's plan for that.
Jesus is God's plan not just for sin—a product of perishing—but also for shame, the emotional implications sin has on us.
Sin has practical implications, but then there are emotional implications: embarrassment, shrinking.
Sin is I did a bad thing. Shame is I am a bad person.
Now you let your sin define you instead of your savior defining you. When you shrink back, now you're running from a God that you need to run to. He's like, "I don't only need to help you fix what you did. I need to help you fix how you feel."
I'm going to give you conviction to get it right. But the devil wants to give you condemnation to keep you stuck.
That's why I need you to come here next week, because the title of my message next week is "I'm Acting Brand New." If any man be in Christ, he's a new creature. Old things have passed away.
You're going to suffer. But Jesus is God's plan for suffering. He doesn't always remove the suffering, but he will redeem the suffering. He doesn't always bring me out of the suffering, but he brings something out of me that makes me better because of it.
And last but not least: scars. Jesus is God's plan for scars.
Scars are the evidence of a previous season you went through. A wound is open; a scar is closed. But scars have a memory attached.
I've got a scar on my knee. I was trying to do something stupid on a bike. When you see a scar, you catch a memory.
Here's what Jesus does: When Jesus gets ahold of your scars, the scar that used to be a trigger becomes your testimony. So now it doesn't trigger you. It's evidence of what didn't kill you. It's proof that you survived.
Your scars aren't for you—they're for Thomas. To show Thomas that what Jesus did for you, he can do for Thomas.
This is the gospel. This is the good news.
