Loving the Church in Her Brokenness

By / Jul 7

The Question Beneath the Brokenness

Brokenness in this world is apparent. While it grieves my heart to see the effects of sin, I can look at the corruption and distortion in culture with an understanding of what caused it and can look forward in hopeful expectation to the restoration of all creation.

My struggle comes when I think on the church. Why is there brokenness in her midst? Why does God not protect her more? As a pastor, is she worth giving my life to? As a lay member, is she worth the sacrifices required to be an active participant? It is a bold question, but it is also one that deserves to be wrestled with: Is she—the church—worth it?

God’s Design for the Church

Scripture is clear that the church is the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, and a picture of heaven here on earth. She is the sum of all who believe and are indwelt by the Holy Spirit. To be such, she is necessarily distinct from any other gathering or organization in this world.

Sadly, when we look around or experience her in practice, we often see something that falls short of this heavenly picture. We see exclusive groups that fail to include the least of these. We see leaders who abuse the office of pastor and those under their care. We see organizations that care more about public image than holiness. We see carefully worded mission and vision statements that reveal hearts that value seats over souls.

The Church Is Broken—but Being Redeemed

The body of Christ, the bride of Christ, the picture of heaven here on earth is broken. But what we find in Scripture is that she is beautifully broken. She is beautifully broken because, like creation, she is also being redeemed (Eph. 5:25–27).

The entirety of Scripture tells the story of God redeeming His people. From Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 to the covenant promises given to Abraham, to Moses leading the people in the wilderness, to Joshua leading them into the promised land, to a nation under the Davidic kingship, and finally to the New Testament church—God’s people have always been a broken people living in a broken world. But they have also always been a people being redeemed and sanctified.

God’s people have always been a distinctive people set apart for God’s purposes. Even in her brokenness, what sets the church apart is Christ. She is indwelt by the same Spirit who is working in every member to bring about sanctification into the image of Christ. She has been bought with a price and is worth it to Him who calls her His beloved.

As a pastor or layperson, if she is worth it to Christ, then I can and must say she is worth it to me, for I am counted in her midst. That Christ would call me to be part of His church and His redeeming work within her produces both deep gratitude and awe.

To see and experience the brokenness of the church is also to see and experience the redeeming work of Christ as He makes all things new. As we navigate failed leadership structures, misaligned purposes, and wrong motives within her, we are also seeing the gospel of grace and mercy at work in real time as God withholds the judgment we deserve in Christ. He can deal gently with her because His wrath fell on Christ, whose righteousness now covers her.

In all her brokenness, she is worth it because one day she will be united face to face with the One who is redeeming her and bringing her to perfect holiness and final union with Him.



Gyros, Lamb Chops, and the Church: A Warning Against Doing Christianity Alone

By / Jul 2

Sheep, the Herd, and the Shepherd

Humans are repeatedly compared to sheep in Scripture. If you know anything about sheep, you understand this is not a flattering analogy. Watch a few sheep videos and you’ll quickly see why.

Like sheep, we tend to stray (Isa. 53:6). We can be “harassed and helpless” (Matt. 9:36). We are not known for strength in adversity or for our ability to care well for ourselves (Ezek. 34:11–23), but we do have a “great shepherd” (Heb. 13:20). We may wander, but the Lord knows us (John 10:11–16) and claims us as His own (Ps. 100:3).

This world is a hostile place, and sheep only have two defense mechanisms: the Shepherd and the herd.

If you get too far from the Shepherd, you become lamb chops. And if you lose your herd, you become a gyro.

Thus, it is too spiritually dangerous for a Christian to walk alone. Christians need both the Shepherd and a local herd. When a sheep wanders from the herd, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes easy prey.

The Danger of Wandering Alone

I see this all the time. I meet Christians, who still believe in Jesus, but they are not a part of any church or body of believers. Perhaps this stems from church hurt or some other legitimate reason for leaving. But whenever I hear about a Christian that has no church family, I think “Oh boy. That doesn’t sound good.”

A Southern preacher put it this way: “If you’re a lone sheep, you’re not a stud. You’re next.”

Whenever I meet a Christian who gloats in not needing a church, I never feel envy. I feel nervous for them: A believer without a local church is not a self-feeding, super-mature, super-Christian. They are wandering in the woods, oblivious to their need for community. Have you ever met a sheep alone in the wild? Exactly my point.

Imagine meeting someone with a Navy anchor tattooed on his shoulder. You might ask him, “Are you in the Navy?” “Nah,” he replies, “I used to be. But there was too much drama, frustrating leadership, and they made me go to this hour-long meeting every Sunday. It was inconvenient, so I left. I’m still a sailor—I’m just in my own Navy.”

You might reply, “You started your own Navy of one? That sounds like a good way to get captured by the enemy!” A Christian without a herd also sounds like a great way to be captured by the enemy.

The Shepherd Brings Us home

Jesus famously told a parable of a lost sheep in Luke 15.

Most of us revel in the shepherd’s tenacity to leave the herd and journey through the wilderness looking for his lost sheep. It’s a beautiful image of God’s pursuit of his wayward children.

And yet, we often miss what happens next. What does the shepherd do once he finds his lost sheep? “He lays it on his shoulders,” Jesus says, and brings the sheep “home.” Home is the herd—the safest, healthiest, most prosperous place for a sheep to be.

For the record, the shepherd is with the herd. To value a deep relationship with the Lord while seeing no meaningful value in the church family butchers the shepherd imagery of Scripture.

To be far from the herd is to be far from the shepherd (Ps. 79:13). To be one of God’s sheep is to be placed in His “pasture,” within His “gates” (Ps. 100:3–4). When the Good Shepherd speaks to His sheep, He speaks to a herd (John 10:14). When He tends to His sheep, He gathers them as a flock (Isa. 40:11).

Jesus knew there would be Christians who would believe in Him but struggle to find a church family. He declared in John 10:16, “I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

Getting Involved with the Herd

We must make church involvement a priority.

Perhaps you have a good reason for being unchurched. Maybe pain or disappointment from the family of God has left you with a bad taste in your mouth. If that’s your story, that pain matters, and it shouldn’t be minimized. Just “going back to church” may not be reasonable.

I instead challenge you to take one baby step toward finding a herd. Perhaps you need to seek healing from religious trauma. Maybe joining a Bible study or church small group is your first step. Or maybe you would benefit from simply talking with someone and sharing your story.

Whatever you do, do not remain churchless forever. And do not believe the lie, “I only need Jesus and my Bible. I don’t need a church.” The Bible never says that; not even once. The Good Shepherd never intended His sheep to live outside the flock He gathers and sustains.

You need the Shepherd, and you need His herd. So take one step toward home.



Who Makes Pastors?

By / Jul 1

Jared Wilson has a new book releasing this month — Pastoral Mentoring for the Care of Souls — about the training and formation of pastors in the local church context. The guys discuss the important roles of both seminary and the church, and they outline the centrality of congregational life in the raising up of the next generation of church leaders. Preorder Pastoral Mentoring for the Care of Souls at 40% off today by visiting https://bakerbookhouse.com/products/9781540905956_pastoral-mentoring



Serve the Meal: Why Preachers Must Trust the Word

By / Jun 30

My wife cooks healthy meals that nourish me day after day. Once I asked how she prepares them. She answered simply: start with good ingredients and use sauces that enhance the meal rather than cover it.

That answer lingered with me as I thought about my role as a preacher of God’s Word. What do I leave my people with? What do I train them to hunger for? Am I helping them taste the nourishment of the meal, or covering it up?

Pastors should think about preaching this way.

At its heart, preaching rests on a theological conviction: God has chosen to work through His Word. Scripture is not merely information about God; it is the instrument through which the Spirit confronts, exposes, and renews His people. The preacher’s task, therefore, is not to compensate for Scripture’s weakness but to faithfully serve its power.

Competing with the Text

In churches that rightly value expository preaching, the danger is rarely abandoning the text—it is subtly competing with it.

I felt this tension in my own ministry. I prepared sermons I believed were faithful, and I even had affirmation from others. Yet among the students and young adults I served, I noticed a disconnect. Their attention was present, but their hearts seemed elsewhere. Their expressions said, “This makes sense, but I don’t see how it has much to do with me.”

So I adjusted. I leaned harder into stories, illustrations, and humor. I felt I had to become the missing link.

And it worked—at least on the surface. Engagement increased. People thanked me for the fun and engaging message. Small group leaders told me their group discussions centered on my funny or heartfelt stories and how relatable they were.

At first, it felt great—it felt like I was doing my job well.

But there was a problem: I was slowly training our people to hunger for what I added rather than the Word of God itself.

The Inherent Power of the Word

Eventually I found myself burned out. One day I knelt before the Lord, anxious and exhausted, because I had nothing left to give.

As I sat there, I opened my Bible and read: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).

I read the verse again and again.

Then it struck me: the issue was not that expository preaching was ineffective or cold. The issue was that I had under-trusted the power already present in the Word itself.

Scripture does more than inform—it exposes and restores the heart.

Instead of asking how to make sermons more engaging, I began asking a better question: What is this text intending to do to the human heart—not just the mind?

If Scripture is sufficient (2 Tim. 3:16–17), then it already contains both diagnosis and remedy. My task is not to fill a “relevance gap,” but to stay with the text until it does its work.

As this conviction deepened, something in my preaching began to change. I preached more boldly, trusting God’s timing and methods. Immediate response mattered less because I knew the Word would work.

And in time, it did.

Transformation became quieter but more durable. Leaders shared that group members were confessing their own sins rather than criticizing or gossiping about others. Fewer people thanked me for a good message or story; more volunteered to share testimonies of what God was doing in their lives.

As the Word became central, I became less so.

Preachers as Servants, Not Substitutes

A sauce enhances a meal; it does not replace it. In the same way, pastors serve the Word—we do not substitute for it.

When people leave remembering the preacher but not the passage, something has gone wrong.

This does not mean illustrations or personality are wrong. It means they must never compete with the formative work the text is already doing. When we rely too heavily on our contributions, we subtly suggest that Scripture needs our help to be effective.

Often, the deeper issue is impatience—an unwillingness to trust the slow work of the Spirit through the Word.

Serve the Meal

If you are just beginning in preaching ministry, you will feel pressure to perform before you have learned to trust the Spirit’s work through the Word.

When a sermon feels dry, you will be tempted to compensate. And people may respond. They may even applaud. But attention is not the same thing as nourishment.

Stay with the text longer than feels efficient. Learn to trust that the Word is good. Let it do its work. In time, your people won’t just remember your stories—they will be fed by the Bread of Life.

Serve the meal. Trust the Word. Let Christ feed your people.



How have hardships shaped your ministry? – Jed Coppenger

By / Jun 30

Ftc.co asks Jed Coppenger, ‘How have hardships shaped your ministry?’.



Common mistakes preachers make – Clint Pressley

By / Jun 30

Ftc.co asks Clint Pressley about common mistakes that preachers make.



Acedia: The Noonday Demon We Forgot

By / Jun 25

What Is Acedia?

I’ve spent much of my Christian life wondering what’s wrong with me—more than I care to admit. Why is it that I not only fail to want the things of God, but sometimes feel a strong urge to resist or even reject them? Some years ago, I learned there’s a name for what I’ve felt. Earlier generations of Christians referred to it as acedia (from the Greek akedia, meaning “lack of care”).

Most Christians today have not heard of acedia, but in the fourth century the desert fathers numbered it among the deadliest temptations, precisely because it can attack subtly, quietly, and without warning.

Acedia should not be confused with doubt. A person experiencing acedia still holds to the faith. It is not overt rebellion. People with acedia usually don’t storm away from God. Nor is it identical to depression, though it often resembles it and may accompany it. Acedia is more specific, and in its own way more alarming: It is a deep-seated weariness with the divine good. It is a condition in which God and the means of grace by which we know Him—His word, His table, His people, His presence—become genuinely unwanted.

Drawing from Psalm 91:6, one fourth-century monk—Evagrius of Pontus—nicknamed acedia “the noonday demon.” This nickname was well chosen. Acedia does not usually attack in the morning, when the day is fresh and God’s mercies are new, nor in the evening, when rest is close at hand. Most often, it attacks at midday when the sun is at its highest, the heat is at its worst, and the day feels like it will never end.

Three Symptoms of Acedia

Christian tradition has identified three primary symptoms of acedia.

Lethargy

A heaviness of soul that makes the means of grace feel like burdens rather than gifts. Prayer feels futile. Reading Scripture is tedious. Going to church fills you with dread. It’s not that the means of grace have changed—it’s that your soul has grown numb to them.

Restlessness and Fantasizing

A tendency to fantasize about a different life—a different job, a different city, a different set of circumstances. You find yourself staring out the window and wonder if the grass is greener someplace else, convinced that your circumstances are your biggest problem. Yet the problem is your soul’s refusal to receive the life God has given you. The noonday demon always makes you want to leave.

Irritability

The people and responsibilities God has given become sources of frustration rather than fulfillment. Friends and family become insufferable. The congregation you’ve covenanted with becomes a cacophony of pet peeves. Everything near looks like a problem and everything far feels like the solution. Acedia turns the people you serve into problems you’d rather avoid.

The Downward Spiral

As acedia takes hold, these symptoms become a vicious cycle that feeds itself. Left unnamed and unaddressed, it subtly hollows you out like a tree that’s dying at the root while still budding in spring.

The cruelest effect of acedia is that it shuts down the very means that has power to break its grip: prayer. Not because you deny God’s existence, but because you cannot stomach one more forced or artificial conversation with Him.

You know what Christians are supposed to sound like in prayer. But you can’t bring yourself to pray that way. The distance between how you feel and how you know you should pray feels too wide. So you go silent—and that silence feeds the noonday demon.

Learning to Pray Honestly

Yet—for those experiencing acedia— something worth considering is this: The most honest prayers I’ve ever heard did not come from polished believers, but from people who appear in the pages of Scripture itself.

Jeremiah accuses God of deceiving him. Habakkuk demands to know why God seems silent while the wicked prosper. David asks why God is hiding His face. Elijah sits under a tree and begs to die.

Notice that these are not villains in the biblical story! These are the good guys and examples of faithfulness, and they prayed with a gut-level honesty that would make most churchgoers blush. Which raises a question: What makes that kind of honesty possible? What makes it safe to say, “Lord, I don’t want you right now, and I don’t know how to change that”?

God Can Handle Your Honesty

The answer, I am convinced, lies in one of the most misunderstood doctrines in Christianity: divine impassibility.

In popular theology, impassibility is often portrayed as the cold indifference of a distant creator. However, this doctrine shows us one of the most important ways that the Creator is different from the creature—and why that’s such good news. Impassibility means that God is not subject to sudden emotional change. Unlike you and me, God is not destabilized by shifting circumstances.

Impassibility is not the absence of love, but the infinite perfection of it. Scripture tells us that God is love. Because love is His essence and glory, His love for His people cannot be replaced with a different reaction to your acedia.

This means something extraordinary for the person who no longer wants God and has stopped praying: Your brutal honesty about where you are spiritually cannot make God have a bad day.

Every human relationship involves some level of calculation—what is safe to say, how it will be received, whether it will be misunderstood. In most cases, there is such a thing as being too honest with your friends, your pastor, or even your spouse. But there is no such thing as being too honest with God.

Security in Christ

In Christ, God’s love for you is not contingent on your prayers sounding good. His commitment toward you is not dependent on you feeling the right way or wanting the right things. Because He is impassible, He’s not threatened by your acedia. You can say to Him what you’re too scared to say to anyone else—you don’t have to perform. That’s not because God is indifferent about how you pray, it’s because His Son—your Advocate—is perfecting your prayers at the Father’s right hand. It’s because His Spirit is interceding for you according to the will of God. The entire Trinity is at work to ensure that every prayer you’ve prayed from the throes of acedia will reach the throne of grace.

Perhaps lately you’ve wondered the same thing I’ve wondered so often: What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I want God and His means of grace? Not only is there a name for that feeling you can’t shake, but there’s also a way forward: Pray the unvarnished truth, even if it feels too raw and ugly to face. Your Lord will by no means be damaged by it. To the contrary, in Christ, He will welcome it. After all, He’s God! He can handle it.

Though our desire for Him fluctuates—though there are days when that forgotten noonday demon gets the better of us—the God who hears your prayers will not forget you and does not change. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.



Desert Island Books

By / Jun 24

Here’s a fun one! Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss what books they’d want with them if they were castaways on a deserted island. Ronni mainly wants to know how many he can bring. Jared wants to not overthink the question. The guys share books and authors and genres that would make their exile from civilization more enjoyable, survivable, and spiritual.



Reverence in Worship

By / Jun 23

A few years ago, I spoke with a college senior about his recent conversion from Evangelicalism to Catholicism. One of the reasons he gave was the reverence he witnessed during Mass. Many other young adults share his sentiment and have acted similarly.[1] Their departure offers a helpful critique of what is lacking in many churches today.

Biblical Foundations of Reverence

The Holy Scriptures provide tangible principles—drawn from key events—that church leaders can use to foster reverence every Sunday morning. Two such passages are Isaiah’s vision of God in the temple and the high priest’s duties on the Day of Atonement.

Encountering the Enthroned Lord

In Isaiah 6, the prophet recounts his encounter with the Almighty. He describes God sitting on a “lofty and exalted” throne—a seat built for a monarch. Its elevated position signifies God is above all earthly rulers in power and authority. Likewise, the “train of his robe … [which] filled the temple” displays the extent of His royal dominion. In the ancient world, a king’s conquests were represented by portions of the conquered kings’ robes sewn to his own robe. A train long enough to fill the temple communicates that this Monarch’s authority is worldwide.

Another striking image is the seraphim who stand above the Lord. Despite being great in power and physical presence, their subservience to the Lord highlights how great His power and majesty are compared to theirs. Isaiah’s immediate response to this display of God’s monarchical glory is telling: he confesses his desperate state and uncleanness. Confronted with divine holiness, he is undone.

The High Priest and the Weight of Worship

Leviticus 16 describes the high priest’s preparation and duties on behalf of himself and the Israelites. First, he bathed his body, and then dressed in prescribed linen garments: undergarments, a coat, a sash, and a turban. He proceeded to offer specific sacrifices according to God’s command. Each animal type served a distinct purpose. For example, a bull was killed for the sin offering, and its blood was placed on the mercy seat and on the altar.

The sacrificial system communicated to Israel that entering into the Sovereign’s presence and beholding His holiness was an extreme honor and a weighty matter. The author of Hebrews explains that these practices were shadows of a greater reality—the heavenly “throne room” and and the once-for-all priestly work of Christ. The earthly rituals, he writes, were “copies of the true things.”

From Isaiah’s experience, we learn that being in God’s presence is humbling. His confession, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips; my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts,” flows from the staggering enormity of the Almighty he saw. The appropriate response to such purity is awareness and confession of one’s own sinfulness.

From the high priest’s duties, we learn that being in God’s presence is sobering. He followed meticulous, sacrificial preparations and directives so God would be pleased and His wrath averted. The event’s seriousness was also reflected in the priest’s attire, which pointed to purity and righteousness (Rev. 19:8)—realities that find their fullness in Jesus, the “great high priest” (Heb. 4:14). This emphasis on purity was further seen in the command to bathe before offering sacrifices. With his life on the line, the high priest demonstrated reverence by obeying every priestly directive without deviation (Lev. 16:2–5).

Approaching with Reverence

These two passages serve as reference points for New Testament believers in understanding what it means to “offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:28). The language of “offering” connects our worship to the priestly actions of the Old Testament. When the high priest offered sacrifices, he was worshiping with profound reverence and submission. It is no wonder, then, that God calls Christians—His “royal priesthood”—to approach Him with the same posture as we enter the true “Most Holy Place.”

Cultivating Reverence in the Church

In light of these truths, how can churches cultivate reverence?

First, reverence can be exhibited. Church leaders can intentionally incorporate elements into a service that shape a congregation’s posture before God. These might include extended Scripture reading, the recitation of creeds, pastoral prayer, and responsive readings from catechisms.

Secondly, reverence can be taught. Cultural reference points for formality have waned over the past half century. People no longer dress formally for work, church, or travel, nor do they consistently use honorifics in professional settings. These touchpoints once helped communicate appropriate behavior for particular settings. Today, church leaders must be more intentional. By teaching the passages above, they can help believers recover a sense of the uniqueness and weightiness of corporate worship. Whether in a cathedral or a cafeteria, a formal setting can be marked by reverence.

Finally, reverence cannot be commanded. It is a response to the beauty and power of God rightly seen. The Apostle Thomas insisted he would not believe unless he touched Christ’s wounds. Yet eight days later when Thomas placed his finger and hand on Jesus’ hands and side, he responded with belief and reverence: “My Lord and my God!” The same can occur in our hearts when God’s power and holiness are faithfully proclaimed regularly on Sunday mornings.

The God Who Is a Consuming Fire

A recognition of God’s power underlies each instance of reverence above. The high priest knew it and modeled reverence by carrying out his sacrificial duties precisely. Isaiah encountered the Lord’s superiority when he beheld His majestic throne room and was undone. The author of Hebrews reminds us that God is a “consuming fire.” Unlike earthly fire, which burns and dies out, His holiness is unending. The God of heaven and earth is always worthy of reverent worship because He is forever supreme. May these truths ring out from our pulpits, take root in our hearts, and produce deeper reverence in our churches.

[1] Matthew McDonald, “Eucharist, Unity, Clarity: What Attracts Converts to the Catholic Church?” National Catholic Register, https://www.ncregister.com/news/easter-converts-2024-by-the-numbers; Orthodox Studies Institute, Converts to Orthodoxy: Statistics and Trends from the Past Decade (Saint Constantine College, July 2024), https://resources.finalsite.net/images/v1722890523/saintconstantineorg/wwfz57wzdrdkx7tj1xu1/ConvertstoOrthodoxy.pdf.



King Jesus Changes Everything

By / Jun 18

I grew up as a pastor’s kid.

Every week, you would find me at church, and at the age of eight, I confessed my sin, realized my need for forgiveness, and gave my life to Christ.

Like many believers, I grew up saying that Jesus is my Lord and Savior. I knew He had saved me from my sin and that my life was meant to follow Him. But there was a gap between what I confessed and how I lived. I said Jesus was Lord, but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. His rule and reign felt abstract—something I affirmed theologically but hadn’t learned to live under practically. It wasn’t until I began to see Jesus as King that my faith moved from belief to worship, from confession to genuine submission.

In 2017, my wife and I started attending a church in St. Louis where we heard a phrase that caught my attention and, over time, reshaped the way I think about my faith:

King Jesus.

We walked into what is now our home church, and the pastor welcomed the congregation and encouraged us to prepare our hearts to worship King Jesus. As someone who had grown up in the church and was already a believer, it immediately stood out—especially when we realized it wasn’t just a one-time phrase. It was regularly used to describe Jesus in the worship service and in the life of the church.

King Jesus Rules Over Every Area of Life

The title King Jesus has helped me move beyond thinking of Jesus as simply my personal Lord and Savior to seeing Him as the triumphant King who rules and reigns over every area of life.

Jesus Himself declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18). As believers, we are called to relinquish our self-rule and submit our identity and worship to the One who has all authority.

Seeing Jesus as King reminds us that our faith is not confined to a moment of salvation or a private belief. Every part of our lives—our careers, finances, children, and futures—falls under His good and rightful rule. Everything He has given us to steward ultimately falls under His dominion, not ours.

King Jesus Is Reigning—Even Now

Viewing Jesus as King has also given me greater confidence in the midst of life’s uncertainties and society’s instability. The Bible reminds us that Christ is not only our Savior but the One who holds all things together.

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:17).

As the nations rage, kingdoms rise and fall, moral decay deepens, and the world feels chaotic or uncertain, we can rest knowing that King Jesus reigns over all of it.

In a culture that protests authority, we are reminded how deeply the human heart resists the true King who already reigns over everything.

King Jesus Has Brought Us into His Kingdom

Seeing Jesus as King has also reshaped how I understand the story God is telling in Scripture. The gospel is not only the forgiveness of sins; it is the announcement that the true King has come and that through Him we are brought into His Kingdom.

Through His death and resurrection, Jesus defeated sin and death and was enthroned as the rightful King over all creation (Col. 1:13).

The story of the Bible is the story of a conquering and redeeming King who stepped down to earth, died so that we might live, and invites us to become citizens of His Kingdom. The gospel is God’s story of redemption told through the life of a gentle and lowly King who was slain for a sinful and undeserving people.

Living Under King Jesus Today

Seeing Jesus as King has changed the way I understand God and what it means to live a life worthy of His calling. It reminds me that Christianity is not simply about what Jesus has done for me in the past, but about who He is right now.

Jesus is not only the Savior who forgives sins. He is the risen King who rules and reigns over heaven and earth. Because He is King, my life is meant to be lived in joyful submission to Him (Phil. 2:10–11).

The invitation of the gospel is not merely to acknowledge that truth someday, but to begin living under the good and gracious rule of King Jesus today. The title King Jesus has shaped me not only to receive salvation by grace, but also to actively worship the One who secured it.

I spent years confessing Jesus as Lord without fully living under His rule. The phrase King Jesus changed that. It took a truth I had always believed and made it something I could actually live—in worship, in submission, in the joyful recognition that He is King over every part of my life, not just my salvation.