Today begins the second week of Advent, an invitation to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ by embracing peace, repentance, and readiness for the King, Jesus Christ. This week’s candle, often called the Candle of Peace, reminds us that true peace comes not from the absence of conflict but from a heart rightly prepared for God’s presence.

In the Gospels, no figure embodies this call to preparation more clearly than John the Baptist. His voice breaks centuries of prophetic silence, crying out in the wilderness: “Prepare the way for the Lord’s coming! Clear the road for Him!” John’s mission was not to gather followers for himself but to ready the hearts of God’s people for the arrival of the King. His message still echoes through every Advent season: repent, return, and make room for the coming Christ.
Between the final words of the prophet Malachi and the birth of John the Baptist, four hundred years passed without a single recorded prophetic word. Israel waited, longing for God’s voice. Then God broke the silence at last.

“Look! I am sending My messenger, and he will prepare the way before Me. Then the Lord you are seeking will suddenly come to His Temple—the Messenger of the covenant, whom you look for so eagerly, is surely coming,” says the Lord of heaven’s Armies. (Malachi 3:1)

Malachi’s prophecy pointed toward a divine visitation. God Himself would come to His people, but first, a messenger would appear to prepare the way. John was that messenger, the bridge between the old covenant and the new. His birth was foretold by an angel, and filled with purpose: “He will turn many Israelites to the Lord their God. He will be a man with the spirit and power of Elijah… He will prepare the people for the coming of the Lord.” (Luke 1:16–17)

John’s very existence testified that God had not forgotten His promises. God broke heaven’s long silence, and through Him the beginning of redemption rose.

Malachi’s prophecy also revealed the nature of the One who was coming:
“But who will be able to endure it when He comes? Who will be able to stand and face Him when He appears? For He will be like a blazing fire that refines metal, or like a strong soap that bleaches clothes. He will sit like a refiner of silver, burning away the dross.” (Malachi 3:2–3)

This prophecy is not sentimental language. It is purifying language. The coming of the Lord would not simply comfort; it would cleanse. Before the light of peace could dawn, the fire of holiness had to burn away impurity.

John’s ministry carried this same tone of holy urgency. His message was neither gentle nor harsh, but just. He was a prophet of purification, calling the people to repentance so that they could stand before the Refiner’s fire. Advent reminds us that peace without repentance is a false peace. The peace of Christ begins as we purify our hearts, confess our sins, and prepare our souls to receive our King.

The Call of John the Baptist
John’s appearance in the wilderness fulfilled both Isaiah’s and Malachi’s prophecies. He stood as the messenger and the voice—the herald of the Messiah. His ministry was simple yet powerful:

“He went from place to place on both sides of the Jordan River, preaching that people should be baptized to show that they had repented of their sins and turned to God to be forgiven.” (Luke 3:3)

The wilderness itself was significant. It symbolized both desolation and renewal—the place where Israel had once wandered in disobedience and where God had shaped them into His people. In that same wilderness, John proclaimed a message of repentance, offering Israel a new beginning.

He lived simply, wearing rough camel hair and eating locusts and wild honey, reminding everyone that the Kingdom of God is not about luxury or status but about transformation. His words were as stark as his surroundings, yet his message drew crowds who were hungry for truth.

Preparing the Way: Clearing the Road
John’s central proclamation, “Prepare the way for the Lord; make His paths straight,” was both literal and spiritual. In ancient times, when a king traveled, the roads were repaired, valleys filled, and obstacles removed so that his procession could move unhindered. John used this imagery to describe what must take place in the human heart.

Hope lifts every valley of despair. Humility levels every mountain of pride, and repentance straightens every crooked path of sin. Advent is our season to do this heart work to clear the way for the coming King.

When we allow bitterness, selfishness, or distraction to remain in our hearts, we clutter the path of Christ’s peace. The preparation John spoke of is not about outer activity but inner alignment, a readiness that begins in repentance and ends in renewal.

The Meaning of Baptism: A New Beginning
John’s baptism symbolized cleansing and commitment. It was not merely a ritual but a response to conviction. “Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God.” (Luke 3:8)

Baptism was familiar to Jews as a symbol of purification, but John’s practice was revolutionary. He baptized the Israelites themselves, calling them to repentance, not because of their heritage but because of their hearts. His message dismantled religious complacency. Being Abraham’s descendant was not enough; God desired changed lives.

Advent reminds us of our own baptismal identity—that we belong to Christ and are called to live contrary to the world, we are called to live as those who are washed and renewed. The preparation of Advent leads us to the waters of repentance. It invites us to remember that forgiveness is not a one-time event but a daily turning toward the One who makes us clean.

The Ax and the Fire: Judgment and Refinement
John spoke sharp words, but in love. He confronted the hypocrisy of the religious elite with piercing truth:

“Even now the ax of God’s judgment is poised, ready to sever the roots of the trees. Yes, every tree that does not produce good fruit will be chopped down and thrown into the fire.” (Matthew 3:10)

This vivid imagery reminds us that God sees through outward religion. Fruitless faith is lifeless faith. John’s warning was a call to authenticity, to lives that bear the fruit of true repentance: compassion, justice, generosity, and mercy.

But fire also has another purpose. John said of the coming Christ: “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” (Matthew 3:11) The same fire that judges also refines. The Spirit burns away sin, pride, and impurity, shaping us into vessels fit for the King’s service.

So this time leading up to Christmas is not only a time of joy because the King is coming, but also a time of refinement and repentance because the King is coming. It is the season when the Spirit gently, and sometimes painfully, purifies us so that Christ’s light might shine more clearly through us.

John’s Humility and Purpose
John’s greatness lay not in his power or popularity but in his humility. When people wondered if he might be the Messiah, John replied, “I baptize with water; but right here in the crowd is someone you do not recognize. Though His ministry follows mine, I’m not even worthy to be His slave and untie the straps of His sandals.” (John 1:26–27)

John knew his role: to prepare, not to perform; to point, not to possess. His declaration, “He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less” (John 3:30), captures the posture of every true disciple.

During this season, we follow his example. We decrease so that Christ may increase. We make room in our lives by letting go of pride, self-focus, and control. Humility becomes the road that welcomes the Prince of Peace.

Advent: A Season of Preparation and Peace
The second candle of Advent shines with a soft glow: a symbol of peace that comes through repentance and readiness. John’s voice reminds us that we do not find peace by avoiding the truth but by walking in it. There can be no lasting peace without purification.

The message of John invites us into three spiritual movements that characterize this week of Advent:

1. Repentance:
   To repent is to turn from self to Savior. It is to see our sin clearly and trust God’s mercy completely. Advent repentance is hopeful repentance: an acknowledgment of need joined with confidence in God’s grace.
2. Renewal:
   John’s baptism marked new beginnings. Likewise, Advent invites us to renew our faith, to let go of what is old and broken, and to welcome what is new and alive. Renewal often comes quietly, as we surrender our will and allow Christ to reshape our hearts.
3. Readiness:
   John’s mission was to prepare people for the coming King. Advent reminds us that the story of Jesus’ first coming points toward His second. As we celebrate His birth, we also await His return. The call of Advent is to live watchfully, faithfully, and joyfully, knowing that the King who came in humility will come again in power and glory.

This time of preparation reminds me of the importance of being prepared and ready. In my role as Executive Director at Anchor House, I am often responsible for organizing significant events and fundraisers that require thorough planning and coordination. There are times in my planning and organizing when everything seemed in order until moments before it began, when I realized I had overlooked a crucial detail. The scramble to fix it was stressful, and though these events often go well, the experience left me with one unforgettable truth: preparation matters.
This echoes John the Baptist's message. The arrival of a King demands readiness. It is not enough to admire the idea of His coming; we must make space for Him to enter.

Advent is God’s gracious reminder that the time to prepare is now. It is a pause in the year’s busyness to re-center our lives on what truly matters. The decorations, traditions, and celebrations all find meaning only when the heart itself is ready for the King.

Conclusion: The King Is Coming
John the Baptist’s cry still pierces the noise of our modern world: “Prepare the way for the Lord.” His message is one of warning, yes, but also one of wonder. The Lord is coming. The Refiner’s fire will burn away the dross. The Prince of Peace will step into our chaos with healing in His wings.

As we reflect on the second candle of Advent, may its glow remind us that preparation brings peace, repentance leads to renewal, and humility opens the door to hope.

The King is coming.
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Are you ready?

​Today marks the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of a season the Church has cherished for centuries. Advent begins on the Sunday closest to November 30 and carries us all the way to Christmas Eve. It is a season of anticipation—of watching, waiting, and preparing our hearts for the coming of Christ.

Many churches and homes mark this season with an Advent wreath, a simple yet profound symbol rich with meaning. The Advent wreath originated in the middle of the nineteenth century as a custom in small Protestant communities in northern Germany.[1] The wreath’s circular shape, without beginning or end, reminds us of God's eternal nature and unchanging faithfulness. The evergreen branches speak of the everlasting life we find in Christ, a life that remains vibrant and steadfast even in the coldest seasons.

In many modern usages, the four outer candles represent the four Sundays/weeks of Advent, and are associated with themes like hope, peace, joy, and love.

Traditionally, the wreath includes three purple candles, one pink candle, and one white candle.

• The purple candles represent repentance, reflection, and the royal dignity of Christ.
• The pink candle signifies joy—a moment of celebration in the midst of waiting.
• The white candle represents purity and victory, symbolizing Christ Himself, who cleanses us from all sin.
  
  

Each Sunday, we light a new candle, and with each small flame, the glow grows stronger. It is a weekly reminder that the darkness is giving way, hope is rising, and the coming of Christ, His return we await, draws nearer with every passing day.

Advent invites us to slow down; to wait, to watch, and to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. It is more than a prelude to Christmas morning; it is a season of spiritual renewal rooted in repentance, reflection, and hope.

With that in mind, today we’re going to look specifically at Advent through the lens of repentance. Drawing from John 1:1–18, see how this theme has shaped Advent historically and how it continues to speak to our lives today. Ultimately, Advent calls us to open ourselves to the light of Christ, the light that enters the darkness of life and of ourselves, and exposes what needs to be changed and renewed in our lives.

Advent Through the Lens of John 1:1–18

The Gospel of John introduces us to the point of Advent. In his opening verses, John does not begin with shepherds or angels but with eternity itself.

“In the beginning, the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

This verse reveals that Jesus did not come into existence at Bethlehem; He is eternal, has always been. The Son of God is eternal, divine, and the very Word through whom all things were made. John declares that the One who formed the heavens and earth has stepped into His creation, taking on flesh to redeem it.

“So the Word became human and made His home among us.”
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This incarnation is the heart of Advent. The infinite became finite. The Creator entered the world He created, not as a conqueror but as a child. This act of divine humility reveals the depth of God’s love and His desire to dwell among His people.

“The Word gave life to everything that was created, and His life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”

Here, we see the two great symbols of Advent: light and life. The light of Christ exposes sin, illuminates truth, and brings hope to a world shrouded in darkness. Yet even as this light shines, humanity often turns away.

“He came to His own people, and even they rejected Him.”

That rejection reveals our deep need for repentance—a turning from darkness toward the light that has come.

The Call to Repentance
The earliest Christians did not treat Advent as a festive countdown but as a season of repentance and preparation. In many early regions (around the 4th to 6th century), of the Church, especially in what is now France and Western Europe, Advent was observed as a period of fasting and reflection similar in spirit to Lent, sometimes lasting as long as forty days, beginning after St. Martin’s Day. It was a time set aside to confront personal sin, pursue reconciliation, and renew one’s relationship with God in anticipation of celebrating the joy of Christ’s birth.

And this still speaks to us today. Advent reminds us that we cannot fully embrace the light until we are willing to face the darkness. It calls us to confess, to surrender, and to open our hearts to the transforming grace of God. Fleming Rutledge captures this tension beautifully when she writes:

“Advent is the season that, when properly understood, does not flinch from the darkness that stalks us in this world. Advent begins in the dark and moves toward the light.”[2]

To begin in darkness is not an act of despair but of honesty. We acknowledge the brokenness of our world and the sin within our hearts, but we do so with the confidence that light (Jesus) is coming, and it cannot be overcome.

Repentance, then, is not punishment but preparation. It clears away what clutters the heart. It allows God’s light to shine where shadows once lingered. When we turn from sin, we make space for grace; when we confess our need, we open ourselves to joy.

Historical Context
The word Advent comes from the Latin adventus, meaning “arrival” or “coming.” It translates a Greek word often used in the New Testament to describe the second coming of Christ. Advent as a season of the Church likely began sometime after the fourth century. Initially, it wasn’t about Christmas at all—it was a time of preparation for Epiphany (also known as Three Kings’ Day), when believers celebrated the manifestation of Jesus to the Gentiles through the visit of the Magi and His baptism in the Jordan River.

By the eighth century, the Western Church began observing Advent as we know it today—a time to both remember Christ’s birth in Bethlehem and to look forward to His glorious return. Advent now holds three beautiful truths in tension:

1. Christ has come – The Incarnation
2. Christ is present – The Holy Spirit
3. Christ will come again – The Coming King

Advent has carried a dual focus: looking back to the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem and looking forward to His return as King.

While many modern celebrations focus on the nativity, the Church emphasized Christ’s future coming, the day when He will return to make all things new. This broader vision of Advent reminds us that the season is not merely about nostalgia; it is about hope rooted in eternity.
At the same time, Advent highlights Christ's humility. The angel’s announcement to Mary declared, “He will be very great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give Him the throne of His ancestor David” (Luke 1:32).

This promise speaks of majesty and kingship, yet the fulfillment came in the humblest way possible—a manger, a carpenter’s son, a suffering servant. The irony of Advent is that the Sovereign Lord came not in power, but in weakness, not in splendor, but in humility.

This humility shapes how we are to prepare our hearts. Just as Christ stooped to serve, so we must bow before Him in repentance and gratitude. The first coming of Jesus was wrapped in humility; so should be our response to it.

Tish Harrison Warren describes Advent as a time to be “unsettled, undone, and remade by the coming of Christ.” Advent waiting is not passive; it is transformative. It confronts our pride and teaches us to wait in faith, trusting that God’s ways are higher than ours.

Advent for us Today
Advent is not only a theological reflection, but it is also a lived practice. It invites us into practices that promote repentance, hope, and anticipation. Here are three spiritual practices that can help us live out Advent this year with intentionality.

1. Embrace Silence and Reflection: The pace of life often drowns out the voice of God. Advent calls us to slow down, to carve out moments of quiet for prayer, confession, and meditation. In silence, we make room for God to speak. Setting aside time to read passages like John 1:1–18 allows us to remember who Christ is, the eternal Word, the true Light, the One who brings life to all who believe.
   
2. Engage in Acts of Humility and Service: Christ’s coming was an act of self-giving love. He humbled Himself for our sake, and we honor Him by doing the same. Acts of kindness, generosity, and compassion become living reflections of His character. When we serve those experiencing poverty, forgive those who have wronged us, or simply show patience in our daily lives, we participate in the humility of Advent. These practices prepare our hearts for the King who came not to be served but to serve.
   
3. Anticipate Through Worship and Expectation: Worship grounds our waiting in hope. Advent worship looks backward to Christ’s birth and forward to His return. Singing hymns, reading Scripture, and praying with expectation all remind us that Christ’s light is still breaking into the darkness. Each act of worship declares that the world’s story is not one of despair, but of redemption.

Through these practices, silence, service, and worship, we turn repentance into renewal. They help us raise an awareness of God’s presence and prepare us to receive His grace anew.

Conclusion
Advent is a season of holy tension, between darkness and light, humility and majesty, waiting and fulfillment. It calls us not only to remember Christ’s first coming but to long for His return. It invites us to journey inward, confronting the shadows of our hearts, even as we lift our eyes toward the dawning light of His glory.

“The Word gave life to everything that was created, and His life brought light to everyone.” John reminds us that Jesus is the eternal Word, the source of life, and the true light that no darkness can overcome. Advent, therefore, is not merely about anticipation; it is about transformation. As we wait, we are shaped. As we repent, we are renewed. As we worship, we are filled with hope.

This season does not shy away from the world’s pain but moves through it toward promise. In our waiting, we are reminded that the light has already come—and that it will come again.
Through silence, service, and worship, we prepare room in our hearts for the One who came and will come again. The story of Advent is not just the story of Bethlehem; it is the story of redemption unfolding in every generation.

Let us, therefore, enter this season with humility and anticipation, confident that the same Word who became flesh still dwells among us. May the light of Christ shine in our darkness and lead us on the journey of repentance, renewal, and everlasting hope.
 

[1] Fleming Rutledge, Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2018), 2.

[2] Fleming Rutledge, Advent: The Once & Future Coming of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2018), 251.

When most people think about Samson in the Bible, they picture someone with raw muscle and superhuman strength, a man who could tear a lion apart with his bare hands, lift city gates onto his shoulders, and kill thousands of Philistines with only the jawbone of a donkey. Yet beneath all his physical power was a heart that struggled deeply with the one virtue God most desires in His people: humility. Samson’s story is not merely about a strong man with a tragic ending; it is a story about the danger of pride and the mercy of a God who uses imperfect, self-focused people to accomplish His purposes. Samson shows us what can happen when God’s gifts meet human arrogance, and Christ shows us what strength looks like when clothed in humility.
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We live in a self-centered, self-promoting, self-glorifying world—a culture that constantly shouts, “Look at me!” Our culture idolizes confidence, power, fame, and influence. Social media encourages us to build platforms around ourselves. Colleges and employers tell us to “sell ourselves.” Advertisers tell us we deserve more, better, and faster. Even the Church, at times, absorbs these worldly messages, producing a shallow Christianity focused on personal fulfillment, spiritual consumerism, and self-improvement instead of Christlike humility and obedience.

Into this culture speaks the story of Samson, a man who had everything except humility. His life is a warning. But it is also a window into God’s grace.

Samson: A Man Gifted by God, but Guided by Self
Samson was the last of the major judges of Israel. Before he was even conceived, the Angel of the Lord appeared to his parents and announced that Samson would be set apart as a Nazarite and chosen by God to deliver Israel from the Philistines. Samson grew up blessed by God, empowered by the Holy Spirit, and called to a life of holiness and purpose. Yet from the moment he reached adulthood, Samson lived as though God’s blessings were his personal possessions.

One of the first recorded decisions of Samson’s adult life reveals his heart. He demanded that his parents arrange his marriage to a Philistine woman. His father and mother objected, not because they were overprotective and unreasonable, but because Samson’s calling was a call to holiness and ultimately to deliver Israel from the Philistines, not to join their families. But Samson insisted. Judges 14:3 says bluntly, “Get her for me! She looks good to me.” If you want to understand Samson, those words tell the complete story.

Samson lived as the Israelites did and did what was right in his own eyes.

Despite his prideful choices, God worked out His larger plan. Samson’s marriage set in motion a series of conflicts between him and the Philistines. His wedding feast sparked a riddle, which led to betrayal, which led to violence, which eventually led to war. Samson burned Philistine fields, killed Philistine men, and escaped Philistine traps. But you’ll notice something missing through these chapters: humility. Samson never once prayed. He never once sought God’s direction. He never gave God any glory. His life was marked not by holiness but by entitlement. God had given him strength, so Samson assumed God owed him victory.

His greatest downfall came through Delilah. She appealed to his weakness: his ego. Three times she asked for the secret of his strength. Three times he lied to her. You’d think after three assassination attempts, he would realize she wasn’t safe. But pride makes a person blind, sometimes literally. When Samson revealed the truth, his hair was shaved, his strength was gone, and Scripture says, tragically, “But he didn’t realize the Lord had left him” (Judg. 16:20).
The man who lived by what was right in his own eyes now lived without eyes at all.

Humiliated, blind, and imprisoned, Samson was reduced to grinding grain—the work of a slave. And it was there, in the lowest moment of his life, that humility finally found him. Samson called out to God. For the first time in the entire book, Samson prayed sincerely: “Then Samson prayed to the Lord, “Sovereign Lord, remember me again. O God, please strengthen me just one more time. With one blow let me pay back the Philistines for the loss of my two eyes.” (Judg. 16:28). God heard him. And in that final act, Samson accomplished more for Israel in his death than he did in his life.

The story of Samson is the story of a man who possessed great power but lacked the humility to use it well.

It is also a story of a God who can redeem even the proudest heart.

Pride vs. Humility in the Life of Samson
Samson’s life is a reminder that pride distorts our calling, damages our witness, and blinds us to the very dangers that will destroy us. Pride made Samson believe:

• He was untouchable.
• He could play with temptation.
• He could ignore God’s commands.
• He could use God’s gifts for self-gratification.
• He could handle sin on his own terms.
  
  

Samson didn’t fall because the Philistines were strong. He fell because he refused to be dependent on God.

And this brings us to the heart of the matter: pride is self-dependence. Humility is God-dependence.

The reason humility is so central to the Christian life is that humility recognizes the truth: we are not God, and we cannot live without God. Pride is the original sin, Lucifer’s downfall, Adam and Eve’s temptation, and humanity’s most significant flaw. Pride says, “I deserve. I am entitled. I must be seen.” Humility says, “I don’t deserve anything, but by God’s grace I receive everything.”
James 4:6 puts the matter plainly: "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

God didn’t oppose Samson’s strength; He opposed Samson’s self-reliance.

So what does humility look like? To understand that, we must turn from Samson’s example to Christ’s.

Philippians 2:1–11

The Apostle Paul gives us one of the clearest pictures of humility in this passage. Here, Paul urges the church to live with unity, love, and selflessness—qualities that flow from humility. But Paul doesn’t simply command humility; he anchors the command in the life of Jesus.

Before the incarnation, Jesus existed eternally with the Father. He was not a mere angel; He was the radiance of God’s glory, the exact imprint of His nature. Yet instead of clinging to His exalted position, Jesus emptied Himself, choosing to come to earth in human flesh.

We also see Jesus could have come as a conqueror, a warrior, or a king. Instead, He came as a baby, weak, dependent, and born into poverty. His first breath was taken in a manger, not a palace. His arrival was announced to shepherds, not nobles.

Jesus lived as a servant. He washed feet, touched lepers, fed the hungry, and taught the poor. He declared, “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matt. 20:28).

Nothing displays humble strength more than the cross. Jesus allowed Himself to be mocked, beaten, betrayed, and crucified—not because He lacked power, but because He submitted to the Father’s will.

And here is the breathtaking truth: Because Jesus humbled Himself, God exalted Him.
Not the other way around. God never exalts a prideful heart. But He always lifts the humble.

What Samson Teaches Us About Humility Today
When we compare Samson to Jesus, the lesson becomes clear: pride destroys, but humility delivers. Samson teaches us that strength without humility becomes weakness. Jesus teaches us that humility is true strength.

So how do we live humbly in a world that rewards pride?
Paul’s words in Philippians 2:3–4 guide us:

Humility is not thinking less of yourself. It is thinking of yourself less. It is shifting your focus from me-centered living to Christ-centered. It means:

• Putting others before ourselves
• Serving without seeking recognition
• Loving without demanding repayment
• Giving without expecting anything in return
• Obeying God even when no one else sees

Samson lived for himself and suffered for it. Jesus lived for others and saved us through it.

Joyful Humility: Living a Different Way
Humility is not natural. Pride is. We were born selfish, self-seeking, and self-protecting. That’s why humility is a work of the Holy Spirit. But humility also brings joy, the kind of joy that Samson never knew until the final moments of his life.
We do not serve to feel good about ourselves.
We do not serve to get applause.

We serve because Jesus served, because His humility has changed us from the inside out.
When our motivation is Christ, our service becomes worship.

Paul says, “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” That doesn’t mean neglecting ourselves; it means seeing others through the lens of Christ’s love. It means recognizing that our talents, resources, money, time, and gifts were never meant to end with us. They were meant to flow through us to others.

And yes, people will take advantage of our service. Sometimes our humility will not be recognized or appreciated. But humility is not about results; it is about obedience.

Conclusion
In the end, Samson’s story is a mirror. It exposes the parts of us that want control, recognition, and self-gratification. It exposes our tendency to treat God’s blessings as personal trophies rather than sacred stewardship. It exposes the danger of living by what is “right in our own eyes.”

But Samson’s story is also a doorway to grace.

Because the same God who forgave Samson, restored Samson, and empowered Samson in his final moments is the same God who invites us into joyful humility today. A humility that reflects Christ. A humility that transforms how we serve, give, live, speak, and love.

Each of us knows what it feels like to wrestle between who we are and who we want to be in Christ. We are aware of the differences between our intentions and our actions; between the character we aspire to be and the desires we constantly struggle with. Sometimes it feels like there are two competing forces within us: one that wants to honor God and one that pulls us back into old ways of living, reacting, and succumbing to temptations. Galatians 5 addresses this struggle directly. It does not shame us for it. Instead, it explains, reframes, and lifts our eyes to the only real power that can transform us from the inside out: the Holy Spirit.

When we examine Paul’s letter to the Galatians, one of the themes that emerges almost immediately is freedom. Paul is writing to believers who have been rescued by Christ, redeemed from the curse of the law, and welcomed into a life of grace. But as is often the case, the human heart, like a pendulum, swings between extremes. On one side is the temptation to rely on the law—rules, rituals, and human effort, to secure God’s approval. On the other hand, there is the temptation to treat freedom as a license to live as we please. Paul writes to the Galatians in Galatians 5 to warn against both misunderstandings and to remind us of what true Christian freedom truly looks like.

Freedom in Christ—But Not Freedom to Sin
“We have freedom in Christ.” Most of us know that phrase. We sing about it, quote it, and celebrate it, but Paul wants us to understand what real freedom looks like. In Christ, we are free: free from sin’s penalty, free from the crushing demands of the law, and free from trying to earn God’s acceptance through our performance. Jesus has accomplished what we could never have done. He has fulfilled the law, broken the chains of sin, and given us access to the Father through His grace.

But Paul is quick to clarify something important: Christian freedom is not moral anarchy. It is not permission to indulge the desires of our old, sinful nature. He says earlier in the chapter, “But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love.” (5:13)

In other words, the gospel does not give us a license to sin. Freedom in Christ is not freedom from holiness; it is freedom for holiness. It is freedom to live in the Spirit and no longer be dominated by the flesh.

This brings us to the heart of Galatians 5.

Galatians 5:16 – 22

Paul writes, “So I say, let the Holy Spirit guide your lives. Then you won’t be doing what your sinful nature craves.” Notice he doesn’t say, “When you finally get control over your sinful desires, then you’ll be able to walk in the Spirit.” No, Paul starts with the Spirit because he knows that’s where our hope is found. It’s the Spirit who strengthens us, guides us, and breaks the power of sin in our lives. Walking in the Spirit isn’t something we earn by trying harder; it’s God’s gracious way of fixing what we could never fix on our own.

To “walk” in the Spirit means to live your life under the Spirit’s guidance. It is movement, progress, and purpose. It reflects the ongoing pattern of your life that changes your habits, priorities, decisions, speech, thoughts, and actions.

Paul’s contrast between life in the Spirit and life in the flesh is essential. He explains the struggle when he writes, “The sinful nature wants to do evil, which is just the opposite of what the Spirit wants. And the Spirit gives us desires that are the opposite of what the sinful nature desires. These two forces are constantly fighting each other…”

This conflict is why we need the Spirit, and why we cannot live the Christian life in our own strength.

Galatians 5:22 - 23

When we hear the word “fruit,” we think of something produced naturally from what it is connected to. Likewise, the “fruit of the Spirit” is the natural, visible evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work in the believer’s life. It is not manufactured. It is not achieved by human effort. The Spirit produces it.
Paul lists nine qualities: “But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!”

​Let’s examine each one.

1. Love: This is more than affection or emotion. It is self-giving, sacrificial love based on high regard for others. It loves when it is not convenient, not deserved, and not easy. This is the love God has for us and the love He produces in us.
   
   This kind of love chooses the good of another even when our feelings don’t cooperate. It treats people with dignity, speaks the truth with grace, and seeks reconciliation rather than revenge. It’s the love that keeps showing up when relationships are strained and keeps serving when appreciation is absent. This love is shown by Christ, who laid down His life for us while we were still sinners.
2. Joy: Joy is a spiritual state of gladness and deep contentment. It is not circumstantial but relational; it comes from Christ. Joy thrives even in difficulty because it is rooted in the presence of God.​ 
   
   This joy looks beyond what is happening around us to what is true within us. It is the steady confidence that God is at work, present, and good, regardless of outward pressures. Joy doesn’t ignore pain; it anchors us in hope during pain. It is the settled assurance that Christ has already secured the outcome of our lives.
3. Peace: Peace is inner calm produced by trust in God. It is the quiet confidence that comes from being secure in Christ. Even when life shakes us, peace steadies us because it is not dependent on circumstances; it is dependent on Christ.
   
   This peace guards our hearts from anxiety, restlessness, and fear. It reminds us that God is sovereign and at work even when life feels out of control. Peace doesn’t eliminate conflict, but it keeps conflict from controlling us. It is the Spirit’s gift that allows us to breathe deeply and walk confidently when everything around us feels unstable.
4. Patience: Patience, or long-suffering, is the ability to endure under pressure. It is emotional steadiness in trials. It is being slow to anger and slow to retaliate. Patience keeps us from reacting impulsively or harshly.
   
   This patience gives us the ability to wait on God’s timing without losing heart. It helps us persevere through unfair situations, frustrating people, and prolonged seasons of uncertainty. Patience is not passive; it is active trust. It is the Spirit empowering us to respond with grace when our natural impulse is irritation or judgment.
5. Kindness: Kindness is compassion in action. It is offering compassion, encouragement, and help. It reflects the kindness God has shown us through Christ.
   
   Kindness notices needs rather than overlooking them. It speaks gently, listens well, and acts generously without demanding anything in return. Kindness is often expressed in small, quiet ways; words that heal, gestures that uplift, and attitudes that bless. It is love in action.
6. Goodness: Goodness is the uprightness of character, choosing what is morally right and honorable. It is a virtue expressed in everyday life.
   
   Goodness refuses to compromise what is true and righteous. It demonstrates integrity in private moments, honesty in difficult conversations, and purity in our motives. Goodness is the moral beauty of Christ displayed in a believer’s life. It shines in a dark world, attracting others to God.
7. Faithfulness: Faithfulness is trustworthiness and dependability. A faithful person is fixed, loyal, and committed. Their character remains consistent, even when life is not.
   
   Faithfulness stays the course even when enthusiasm fades. It keeps promises, honors commitments, and shows up when others quit. It is reliability rooted in conviction rather than convenience. Faithfulness reflects the character of God, who never fails and never abandons His people.
8. Gentleness: Gentleness is strength submitted to God. It is humility in our attitudes and tenderness in our interactions. Gentleness handles others with care.
   
   Gentleness does not mean weakness; it means controlled strength. It responds to hostility without aggression, receives correction without defensiveness, and restores others without condemnation. Gentleness creates safety in relationships and points people to the compassion of Christ.
9. Self-Control: Self-control refers to the ability to manage impulses, desires, and passions. It is the Spirit-given ability to say “no” to what is harmful and “yes” to what is holy.
   
   Self-control sets healthy boundaries around our thoughts, words, and actions. It empowers us to resist temptation, manage emotions, and pursue obedience even when sacrifice is required. Self-control is not willpower; it is Spirit power shaping us into the likeness of Christ.

Together, these characteristics form a portrait of a Spirit-filled life. They are not nine separate tasks to work on; they are one unified fruit that grows from one source: the Holy Spirit.

Conclusion
Paul makes it clear that these qualities are the natural result of a life fully submitted to Christ. They are not optional add-ons for the extra-spiritual or overly devoted; they are the evidence of a heart transformed by the Holy Spirit. Wherever the Spirit reigns, this fruit appears. But Paul also makes something else equally clear: we cannot produce this fruit on our own. No amount of determination, discipline, or religious effort can manufacture what only the Spirit can grow.

He reminds the Galatians earlier, in Galatians 3:3, “How foolish can you be? After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort?”
Human effort cannot produce spiritual fruit. The flesh cannot imitate the Spirit. Our sinful nature can mimic morality for a moment, but it can never sustain genuine transformation. True spiritual growth begins with surrender, not striving. Christian character does not emerge from trying harder; it emerges from yielding to God.

The flesh and the Spirit are at war within us, and only one can lead. A fruitful Christian life is one marked by submission, obedience, and transformation as the Holy Spirit shapes our thoughts, desires, actions, and reactions. The more we surrender to His leading, the more His fruit becomes visible in us. As we give the Spirit full control, He produces in us what we could never accomplish ourselves, and our lives begin to reflect the beauty, strength, and character of Christ.

Judges 8 ends with Gideon’s victory over the Midianites and forty years of peace. But that peace was fragile. Though Gideon began as a humble, God-dependent warrior, he finished as a man entangled by pride and compromise. His creation of a golden ephod and his many wives sowed seeds of idolatry and dysfunction that would sprout in the next generation.

Judges 9 continues the story, not as another military campaign against foreign oppressors, but as an internal collapse within Israel. The battle now is not fought on the field but in the heart of the nation. This chapter exposes how ambition, politics, and moral compromise can destroy a people from within. Gideon’s failure to guard his heart leads directly to his son Abimelech’s ruthless quest for power. It is a sobering reminder that victory in one season does not guarantee faithfulness in the next.

Judges 9:1–6

After Gideon’s death, his family prospered. He had many wives and seventy sons, and also a concubine from Shechem. From her, he fathered Abimelech, whose name means “My father is king.” The irony is striking: Gideon once refused Israel’s offer of kingship, yet he left behind a son whose very name proclaimed royal ambition.

Shechem had deep roots in Israel’s history. Abraham built an altar there. Joshua renewed the covenant there. Yet by Abimelech’s time, it had become a place of idolatry, housing the Temple of Baal-Berith, a shrine that blended Canaanite worship with corrupted covenant imagery.
Abimelech traveled to Shechem, his mother’s hometown, with a clear and calculated plan to make himself king. His rise to power unfolded in four steps.

Step One: Securing his family’s support: He first rallied his mother’s relatives, using their influence as leverage in the city.

Step Two: Persuading Shechem’s leaders: Abimelech instructed his family to appeal to the city’s elders. According to theologian Dale Ralph Davis, “Abimelech asked his mother’s relatives to put a bug in the ears of Shechem’s city fathers. The gospel according to Abimelech was: ‘I don’t want to scare you, but you don’t want seventy men—all Jerubbaal’s sons—trying to rule over you, do you?”[1]

The phrase translated “all the citizens of Shechem” more literally means “the lords or masters of Shechem,” referring to its leading men. Abimelech cleverly appealed to their self-interest—arguing that one ruler was better than seventy, and that one of their own blood was preferable to an outsider. His logic, though manipulative, was persuasive.

Step Three: Financing his coup: The elders of Shechem backed his plan and financed his campaign with seventy shekels of silver from the temple treasury of Baal-Berith. Abimelech used the money to hire “reckless scoundrels”, mercenaries who would do his bidding. The sum was symbolic: one shekel for every brother he intended to kill.

The temple itself, Baal-Berith, meaning “Lord of the Covenant”, represented the nation’s spiritual confusion. It mixed Israel’s covenant language with pagan worship. What should have been a house of devotion to Yahweh had become a monument to idolatry and betrayal.

Step Four: Eliminating his rivals: Abimelech traveled thirty miles north to Ophrah, Gideon’s hometown, and executed sixty-nine of his seventy half-brothers on a single stone. This was not random violence but a calculated act of political slaughter. Only the youngest son, Jotham, escaped.

Judges 9:7–21

The scene now shifts to Jotham, the lone survivor of Abimelech’s massacre. His name means “The LORD is perfect” or “The LORD is upright.” In contrast to Abimelech’s name, “My father is king,” Jotham’s name reflects trust in God’s justice and righteousness.

Fearing for his life, Jotham climbed Mount Gerizim, which overlooks Shechem, and shouted a prophetic parable to the people below. It is the only fable in the Old Testament and serves as both satire and warning.

In his story, the trees seek to anoint a king. They first invite the olive tree, then the fig tree, and finally the vine, each of which declines, content to fulfill its purpose in fruitfulness. Desperate, they turn to the thornbush. The thornbush accepts eagerly, promising shade it cannot give and threatening fire against those who resist.

The meaning is unmistakable: the noble trees represent worthy leaders who serve others; the thornbush symbolizes Abimelech, unfit, dangerous, and destructive. As one commentator observes, “Thornbushes may make good fuel for the fire, but poor kings; they burn better than they rule.”

Jotham’s message is not a rejection of kingship itself but of corrupt, self-made leadership. He rebukes the Shechemites for their betrayal: Gideon risked his life to save them, yet they rewarded him by murdering his sons and crowning a tyrant.

Having spoken, Jotham fled for his life.

Judges 9:22–29

Abimelech reigned for three years, but his rule rested on fear and deceit. Then God intervened. The alliance that had established his power now began to unravel under divine judgment.

Enter Gaal son of Ebed, a brash opportunist who arrived in Shechem and began stirring rebellion. During the grape harvest, a time of joy and festivity, Gaal and the people drank and celebrated in the temple of Baal-Berith. Fueled by wine and arrogance, Gaal mocked Abimelech, boasting that he could overthrow him.

Abimelech’s governor, Zebul, secretly warned his master and helped plan an ambush. When Gaal and his followers marched out, Abimelech’s forces attacked and routed them. Gaal was driven out of Shechem, but Abimelech’s rage only grew.

The next day, as the citizens went into their fields, Abimelech divided his troops into three companies. One blocked their retreat, while the others slaughtered the workers. He then tore down the city, sowed it with salt, and symbolically cursed it to barrenness.

The Shechemites had once trusted Abimelech to protect them; now he turned on them with the fury of divine retribution. Jotham’s curse was beginning to unfold.

Judges 9:46–57

When the surviving leaders of Shechem heard what happened, they fled to the temple of El-Berith, seeking refuge. But their false god could not save them. Abimelech gathered brushwood, set fire to the tower, and burned about a thousand men and women alive. Their sanctuary became their grave.

Still unsatisfied, Abimelech marched against Thebez, another rebellious city. The people retreated into a strong tower. As Abimelech approached to burn it, “a woman dropped a millstone on his head and cracked his skull”. Mortally wounded, he commanded his young armor-bearer to kill him so no one could say a woman had struck him down. Even in death, his pride endured.

Abimelech’s end was poetic justice. The fire he unleashed upon others ultimately consumed him. Evil destroyed evil. Abimelech destroyed Shechem, and Shechem destroyed Abimelech, with a millstone of divine irony.

Lessons and Application

1. Ambition and pride lead to destruction.
Abimelech’s life warns us of the ruin that comes from self-exaltation. His hunger for power drove him to destroy his family, his city, and himself. What began as ambition ended in ashes.
Unchecked ambition always devours the very thing it seeks to control. It blinds the heart, justifying deceit and violence in the name of success. The story of Abimelech cautions believers to check their motives—whether in ministry, leadership, or daily life—lest the pursuit of position overshadow obedience to God.

2. God’s justice always prevails.
Though Abimelech appeared to succeed, God’s justice was working behind the scenes. The Lord orchestrated division, downfall, and ultimate retribution through ordinary events, a boastful man, a city’s rebellion, and a woman’s millstone. What appears accidental is often providential.

When injustice seems to go unpunished, we can trust that God still governs human affairs. His timing may seem slow, but His justice is certain.

3. Leadership without calling or character brings chaos.
Abimelech embodies unqualified leadership, ambitious, manipulative, and self-appointed. Unlike the judges before him, he was not raised up by God; he crowned himself. The result was destruction. Jotham’s parable of the thornbush illustrates the danger of entrusting power to those without integrity: a thornbush cannot provide shade.

In both church and society, charisma and skill are poor substitutes for character. The story challenges us to value faithfulness over fame and humility over influence. True leadership, in God’s eyes, serves rather than rules.

4. God’s mercy preserves His people.
Although Judges 9 is filled with bloodshed and betrayal, it still reveals divine mercy. Israel was not annihilated. God allowed Abimelech’s evil to consume itself, preserving His covenant people despite their sin. Even judgment served a redemptive purpose, purging corruption and restoring moral order.

The same grace operates today. God disciplines His people, not to destroy, but to refine them. Through every act of correction, His goal is renewal.

Conclusion
The story of Abimelech is not just an ancient tragedy—it is a mirror held up to every generation. It warns of what happens when ambition replaces humility, when power outweighs integrity, and when God’s people follow the thornbush instead of the Lord.

Abimelech’s short-lived rule reminds us that success built on sin never lasts. The hand that lights the fire will one day be consumed by it. Yet, even amid the ruins of Shechem, we see hope: God remains sovereign. He judges to restore, disciplines to correct, and works all things for His glory and the good of His people.
​
Judges 9 stands as both a warning and a promise, a warning that unqualified, unrighteous leadership brings devastation, and a promise that God’s purposes endure even through judgment. His kingdom, unlike Abimelech’s, will never fall.
 


[1] Dale Ralph Davis, Judges: Such a Great Salvation (Christian Focus, 2000), 122.

The third chapter of Judges introduces the recurring cycle that defines the entire book, a tragic yet redemptive cycle of sin, suffering, supplication, and salvation. Israel quickly drifts from faithful obedience to the Lord, turning away from Him to worship the gods of the surrounding nations. Their rebellion brings divine retribution as God allows foreign oppressors to rise against them. Yet in their suffering, the people cry out to the Lord, and in His mercy, God raises up deliverers, Othniel and Ehud, to rescue them from their enemies. Judges 3 sets the pattern for the rest of the book, revealing both the depths of Israel’s unfaithfulness and the boundless grace of a God who continues to save His people despite their repeated disobedience. This chapter reminds us of a timeless truth: when God’s people turn from Him, He disciplines them to bring them back, and He raises up deliverers who point the rebellious people back to Himself.

Judges 3:1–6

Israel’s spiritual problems began after the death of Joshua and the generation that had witnessed the mighty works of the Lord. When the Lord declared that the next generation of Israelites must “learn war,” His intent was not primarily that they master military strategy but that they grasp the spiritual nature of the conflict.

The Israelites had entered the land as God’s covenant people, charged with driving out the Canaanites and claiming the land as His gift to them. The continued presence of the Canaanites represented both their disobedience and a test, a test of whether they would recognize the Lord as their sovereign and remain loyal to His commands.

The Lord’s purpose is expressed in two ways: “to test the Israelites” and “to see” whether they would remain faithful to Him. This test was not for God’s knowledge; He is omniscient, but for Israel’s own revelation, allowing them to recognize the depth of their unfaithfulness and the justice of His discipline.

Verses 5–6 function as a kind of spiritual scorecard, offering the author’s (and God’s) evaluation of Israel’s performance in this divine examination. The verdict is unmistakable: Israel has failed. In keeping with Israelite law, her guilt is confirmed on three counts, each reflecting compromise with the Canaanites. Whatever Israel did, they failed. The people intermarried with the Canaanites, directly violating Deuteronomy 7:3–4, and in doing so, they broke the first command of the covenant: they served other gods.

So, what are the theological and practical implications of this disobedience? Living among foreigners led to cultural integration, which soon produced spiritual assimilation. The people who had entered the land as God’s chosen nation had blended into the pagan culture around them. In the author’s view, Israel had sold out. From this point forward, everything in the book must be read in this light: Israel has failed and rightly stands under God’s judgment.

Yet, as the narrative unfolds, we discover that God’s justice is never without mercy. Though the Israelites continually rebel, God deals graciously with them, not because they deserve it, but because of His long-term redemptive purpose for the world. He had chosen Israel to be the instrument of His blessing, and He would not allow that purpose to die. Even when the nation seemed determined to destroy itself, God intervened time and again to rescue His people.

Judges 3:7–11

Two clarifying details emerge as the cycle begins again. First, “the Israelites forgot the Lord their God.” Second, “they served the images of Baal and the Asherah poles.” Asherah was a prominent goddess in Canaanite mythology. She was believed to be the wife of the high god El and the mother of seventy gods. The Asherah poles were sacred wooden symbols used in fertility worship, often placed near altars dedicated to Baal. The Israelites had exchanged the worship of the living God for lifeless idols, mere products of human imagination. The lofty theology and moral discipline of Israel’s covenant faith had been replaced with the sensual excitement of Canaanite fertility rituals.

Because of this rebellion, God handed Israel over to King Cushan-rishathaim (KOO-shan RISH-ah-thah-eem), king of Aram-naharaim (AH-rahm nah-hah-RAH-yeem), or Mesopotamia. Who was this ruler? His name is as intriguing as his identity. The phrase likely means “Cushan of Double Wickedness,” suggesting it was a mocking nickname, a way of emphasizing his cruelty. Scholars have found no consensus on his exact historical identity, and no known king matches this name with certainty.

The Israelites’ outcry under his oppression was, again, not one of repentance but of desperation, a cry of pain, not confession. Yet, even in their spiritual confusion, God heard their cry. In His mercy, He raised up a deliverer: Othniel, a Judean hero (and the last judge from that tribe) of noble lineage, the nephew of Caleb. Othniel had already shown courage and leadership in earlier battles, but what truly qualified him as a deliverer were two things: he was raised up by the Lord, and the Spirit of the Lord empowered him.

When Scripture says, “The Spirit of the Lord came upon him,” it describes the empowering presence of God that transforms ordinary people into extraordinary instruments of His will. In Judges, this phrase signals divine empowerment for service. God’s Spirit comes upon individuals, often those who seem unqualified or reluctant, and equips them for a specific task. In Othniel’s case, the Spirit turned a minor officer into a national leader and conqueror.

Through Othniel, the Lord delivered Israel from the hand of the king of Mesopotamia. The result was forty years of peace, a symbolic number representing the span of a generation. The author notes that it was the land, not necessarily the people, that enjoyed rest. This subtle distinction underscores that Israel’s peace was God’s gift, not the fruit of sustained repentance. Othniel’s story stands as a reminder that God’s mercy is always greater than our failure, and His Spirit still empowers unlikely people to accomplish His redemptive purposes.

Judges 3:12 – 30

Once again, Israel fell into sin. “The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord,” and this time, God strengthened Eglon, king of Moab, as His instrument of discipline. Eglon allied with the Ammonites and Amalekites, attacked Israel, and captured the “City of Palms” (Jericho).

Eglon’s rise was no accident of history; God ordained it. Though Eglon himself was unaware of it, he was serving as an agent of divine judgment. Yet, the writer portrays him with irony. His name, Eglon, meaning “little calf,” carries an intentional hint of mockery. The narrative paints him as a comedic villain, a bloated, self-indulgent ruler, the “fattened calf” destined for slaughter.

In their suffering, Israel again cried out to the Lord, not out of deep repentance, but out of desperation. And again, God responded with mercy. He raised up another deliverer, Ehud, a left-handed man from the tribe of Benjamin. The detail of his left-handedness is not incidental; it’s part of the story. In Israelite culture, left-handedness was often viewed as a defect or weakness. Yet God delights in using the unexpected and the underestimated to accomplish His purposes.

Ehud crafted a double-edged dagger about fourteen inches long and concealed it on his right thigh under his clothing. When he brought tribute to King Eglon, he told the king he had a secret message from God. The unsuspecting Eglon dismissed his guards so he could hear the message privately. As the king rose from his seat, Ehud drew the dagger with his left hand and plunged it into Eglon’s belly—the sword sinking so deep that the handle disappeared. The once-oppressive ruler became a grotesque picture of his own arrogance.

Ehud escaped, rallied the Israelites, and struck down ten thousand Moabite soldiers, all “strong and able-bodied men.” The Lord delivered Israel once again, granting them eighty years of peace. Through this shocking and even outrageous story, we see that God’s deliverance does not always come through expected means. He often uses the weak, the flawed, and the unlikely to accomplish His purposes.

Connecting to Christ
Each judge in the Book of Judges points forward to Jesus Christ, the ultimate Deliverer.

• Othniel represents the Spirit-empowered deliverer who brings peace through divine strength.
• Ehud represents the unexpected savior, defeating the enemy through apparent weakness.
  
  

Both imperfect deliverers foreshadow the perfect Deliverer, Christ. Where they brought temporary relief, Jesus brings eternal redemption and peace. Where they fought physical enemies, He conquers sin and death. Where they delivered Israel by the sword, Christ delivers humanity by the cross.

Application
Judges 3 sets a pattern that reflects both the human condition and God’s redemptive plan. When people abandon the Lord for lesser gods, whether idols of wealth, comfort, or self, the result is always bondage. Yet God’s discipline is never meant for destruction; it is an act of mercy, intended to draw His people back to Himself.

For the church today, this passage serves as both a warning and a promise. It warns us that compromise with the world leads to spiritual decay. But it also assures us that God is faithful even when we are not. He still raises up deliverers (pastors, mentors, friends) who call us to repentance and remind us of His grace.

In the words of the prophet Zechariah, “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.” (Zechariah 4:6) God’s work of deliverance has always depended on His Spirit, not human strength. Like Israel, we too are prone to forget God’s goodness and fall into sin. But when we cry out, even out of desperation, He hears. He disciplines, He restores, and He saves.

The story of Judges 3 reminds us that God’s mercy is greater than our rebellion. He continues to pursue His people through the ages, culminating in the cross of Christ, where divine justice and mercy meet. And just as Israel’s peace was secured through deliverers raised by God, our peace is secured through Jesus, the Deliverer who came not to wield the sword, but to bear it, for our salvation.
​

Anyone who has read the Bible will recognize that God is unique in countless ways. One of His most extraordinary qualities is the people He chooses to carry out His divine purposes on earth. From Genesis to Revelation, God consistently calls ordinary, imperfect, and even unlikely individuals to accomplish His extraordinary will.

When you look through Scripture, you’ll notice something striking: there isn’t a single person who was “qualified” by the world’s standards to do the work of God. None was chosen because of wealth, power, or popularity. God seems to delight in using the weak, the fearful, the unrefined, and the overlooked to display His power.

That’s incredibly encouraging for people like you and me. Because, let’s be honest, there are plenty of days when I feel unqualified for the tasks before me. I feel overwhelmed, unsure, or even unworthy to be used by God.

Today, we’re going to look at one of those “ordinary” people—someone who often gets overlooked among the great heroes of the faith. His name is Gideon. His story is found in Judges 6–8, and it is a powerful reminder that God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things for His glory.

Gideon: An Ordinary Man Called by God

The story of Gideon begins in Judges 6, where we read that “the Israelites did evil in the Lord’s sight.” Resulting in God handing them over to the Midianites, who oppressed them for seven long years.

The Midianites, along with their allies the Amalekites, were like schoolyard bullies. Every time Israel planted crops, they would swoop in at harvest, steal their food, and destroy what was left. Bible scholar Daniel Isaac Block writes, “Seven years of Midianite terror had a devastating effect on the Israelite economy and emotion. Like locusts, their innumerable hosts devoured every green plant in sight, leaving the land devastated, with nothing left over for the Israelite flocks and herds.”[1] When life became unbearable, they finally cried out to God for help.

God, in His mercy, sent them an unnamed prophet to remind them why this was happening: it was their own unfaithfulness. Yet even in their rebellion, God did not abandon them. Instead, He prepared to raise up a new deliverer.
Enter Gideon.

Judges 6:11 - 15

When the angel of the Lord first appeared to Gideon, he was threshing wheat in a winepress—hiding from the Midianites. The angel greeted him with these unexpected words: “Mighty hero, the Lord is with you!”

You can almost imagine Gideon looking around in disbelief. “Who, me? You must be mistaken.” He immediately began listing his disqualifications to do the job: “But Lord,” Gideon replied, “how can I rescue Israel? My clan is the weakest in the whole tribe of Manasseh, and I am the least in my entire family!”

Sound familiar? Moses said the same thing. Jeremiah said it. Peter implied it. And so do we. When God calls, our first instinct is often to focus on what we lack. But the Lord’s response to Gideon is timeless and reassuring: “I will be with you.”

That’s all Gideon needed to hear, and all we need to know. God doesn’t promise comfort or clarity, but He promises His presence.

Judges 6:17 - 27

Still, Gideon wanted a sign, and the angel gave one by consuming Gideon’s offering with fire. That night, God gave Gideon his first assignment: to tear down his father’s altar to Baal and build a proper altar to the Lord.

This was no small task. It was a direct challenge to his family’s faith and his community’s idolatry. But Gideon obeyed, even though he was afraid. He did it at night, under the cover of darkness—but he did it.

That’s significant. Faith doesn’t always mean fearlessness. Sometimes obedience happens in fear. But it’s still obedience, and God honors it.

In the morning, when the townspeople discovered what Gideon had done, they were furious. Yet when his father saw what had happened, something changed in him. Instead of defending Baal, he defended his son. “If Baal is truly a god,” he said, “let him defend himself.” Gideon’s obedience spurred faith in his own family.

I wonder how many people miss their calling because they fear what others will think? Gideon shows us that obedience to God sometimes means standing against tradition, comfort, or even family expectations. But when we obey, God works not only through us but around us, transforming lives we thought were unreachable.

Judges 6:36 - 40

After this, God told Gideon again that He would use him to defeat the Midianites. But Gideon, still unsure, asked for a sign. He laid out a fleece on the ground and asked God for a sign. First, he asked that the fleece be wet with dew while the ground remained dry. God did exactly that. Then, just to be sure, Gideon asked for the opposite, and God did that too.

Some see this as a lack of faith, but D. A. Carson notes that in ancient times, it was common for leaders to seek confirmation of divine support before battle. It was more than disbelief; Gideon’s fleece reflected a desperate need for reassurance.

What stands out is not Gideon’s doubt but God’s patience. God could have disciplined him for his hesitation, but instead, He met Gideon right where he was. That’s grace. God doesn’t demand perfect confidence before He uses us; He simply asks for obedience.

Many of us have done the same thing. We’ve prayed, “Lord, if this is really what You want me to do, please show me.” Sometimes we call it “confirmation.” The danger, of course, is that we can put more faith in the sign than in the One who gives it. Still, God in His mercy understands our imperfection and meets us in our weakness.

When we struggle to trust, He doesn’t abandon us. He patiently reminds us, “I am with you.”

Judges 7:1 - 7

Now that Gideon was convinced of God’s calling, he assembled an army—32,000 men ready to fight the Midianites. But God had other plans. “You have too many warriors with you,” the Lord said. “If I let all of you fight, the Israelites will boast that they saved themselves by their own strength.”

So God instructed Gideon to send home anyone who was afraid. Twenty-two thousand men left. Ten thousand remained.

Then God said again, “There are still too many.” He told Gideon to take the men to the water and watch them drink. Those who lapped the water like dogs were dismissed; those who cupped the water in their hands to drink were chosen. Only 300 remained.

Three hundred against an army “as a swarm of locusts” (Judges 7:12). From a human standpoint, it was absurd. But God was making a point: victory belongs to Him alone.

Armed with nothing more than trumpets, clay jars, and torches, Gideon and his men surrounded the enemy camp by night. At Gideon’s signal, they blew their trumpets, broke the jars, and shouted, “A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!”

The Midianites, terrified and confused, turned on one another and fled. Not a single Israelite sword was needed to start the victory. God’s power, not human strength, brought deliverance.
It’s one of the most amazing stories in all of Scripture, a reminder that God’s ways often defy human logic. He reduces armies, redefines strategies, and works through weakness so that His glory shines brightest.

Conclusion
The story of Gideon leaves us with several timeless truths:

1. When God makes a promise, He keeps it—no matter how impossible the odds appear.
   God doesn’t rely on numbers, resources, or experience. He works through faith and obedience.
2. God often calls us to difficult tasks that may challenge our comfort or relationships.
   Gideon had to tear down his father’s idols before he could lead his nation. Likewise, we may need to confront our own idols—security, approval, or fear—before we can fully obey God.
3. God chooses ordinary people to accomplish extraordinary things.
   Gideon was a fearful farmer, not a battle-hardened warrior. Yet through him, God brought freedom to His people.

There’s more to Gideon’s story, his later years, his struggles, and his flaws. But even in those, we see God’s mercy and sovereignty.

Gideon reminds us that God is not looking for perfection; He’s looking for availability. The Lord still takes ordinary men and women and uses them to display His extraordinary power.
So, if you ever feel unqualified, remember Gideon. Remember that the God who called him is the same God who calls you. He delights in taking our weakness and turning it into a testimony of His strength.

Be encouraged today, trusting that when God calls, He will also equip. No matter how small your role may seem, it matters deeply to Him.
​
Be faithful. Be available. And like Gideon, trust that God can do far more through your obedience than you could ever accomplish through your own strength.
 


[1] Daniel Isaac Block, Judges, Ruth, vol. 6, The New American Commentary (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1999), 253.

 
Introduction
Last week, we looked at Romans 15:1–13 and saw how it serves as a bridge between theology and personal expression. Paul urges believers to follow Christ’s example by bearing with one another in love, primarily where differences in conviction exist. He reminds them that real strength is shown not in asserting one’s freedom but in using it to build others up. Christ’s selfless obedience and servant heart model the kind of unity God desires for His people—a unity that surpasses culture, background, and personal preference. Through shared faith and hope, both Jew and Gentile are called to glorify God with one mind and one voice.

As Paul moves into the closing chapter of his letter, he reminds his readers that this spirit of mutual love and encouragement sets the stage for what follows. Romans 16 becomes a living example of how Paul’s theology becomes personal—it’s expressed in the warmth of his greetings to those who have lived out gospel unity in practical, relational ways.

Romans 16:1–2

Paul begins his conclusion by commending Phoebe to the Roman church. Phoebe isn’t mentioned anywhere else in the New Testament, but from what Paul says about her, she appears to be a prominent and trusted member of the church in Cenchreae, a port city near Corinth. She was actively involved in ministry and was planning a trip to Rome. Paul commends her for her faithful service to other Christians and asks the believers in Rome to provide her with whatever assistance she needs.

Paul calls her a deacon (Greek: diakonos) of the church in Cenchreae. The term may indeed refer to a specific office, as it does in Philippians 1:1, though it can also mean “minister” or “servant,” describing one who actively serves the church. Either way, it is a title of honor. Phoebe was not a passive member of the congregation—she was engaged in the ministry of the gospel.

Paul also calls her “our sister,” reminding the Roman believers that she is part of the same spiritual family. There is a threefold purpose in Paul’s commendation:

1. “Welcome her in the Lord as one who is worthy of honor among God’s people.” This welcome likely included receiving Phoebe into their fellowship, but it may also have meant helping her find housing, food, and other practical support.
2. “Help her in whatever she needs.” Though Paul doesn’t specify her need, it’s possible that Phoebe required legal or logistical assistance while in Rome.
3. “She has been helpful to many, and especially to me.” This statement reveals that Phoebe was likely a woman of means who used her resources to support the church and the apostle Paul personally.
   
   

It’s widely believed that Phoebe carried Paul’s letter to the Roman church herself. In that case, this commendation served as her letter of introduction—a standard and essential practice in the ancient world, meant to identify trusted messengers and protect the church from impostors.
Phoebe’s inclusion here is significant. She represents countless faithful servants in the church—men and women who labor quietly behind the scenes, yet whose service strengthens the whole body of Christ.

Romans 16:3–16

Paul continues with a remarkable list of personal greetings. He names twenty-six individuals, two households, and three house churches. This greeting is more than just a roll call; it’s a portrait of the early church at work. Paul’s reference to these coworkers by name shows that he did not serve Christ in isolation. Ministry was never a solo effort for Paul—it was built on relationships, cooperation, and mutual encouragement.

If Paul, the great apostle to the Gentiles, needed such a network of helpers, how much more do we? No one is meant to serve Christ alone.

This passage gives us a beautiful picture of the diversity and unity of the early church.

Diverse
The church in Rome was a mixture of backgrounds, ethnicities, and social classes. Paul’s greetings show that the congregation included both Jews and Gentiles (for example, Priscilla and Aquila, Andronicus and Junia, and Herodion were Jewish names). The others, mostly Greek names, reflect Gentile believers.

The church was also diverse in social status. Some names (Ampliatus, Urbanus, Hermes, Philologus, and Julia) were common among enslaved people. In contrast, others may have belonged to freedmen or those of noble status (such as Rufus, possibly the son of Simon of Cyrene who carried Jesus’ cross).

And the church was diverse in gender—nine of the twenty-six individuals mentioned are women. That’s a remarkable number in the context of the ancient world. These women were not bystanders; they were leaders, patrons, and workers in the gospel.

Paul’s final instruction in verse 16, to “greet one another with a sacred (holy) kiss,” reflects the closeness of their fellowship. The kiss was a standard cultural greeting, but here it takes on sacred meaning—it symbolizes peace, forgiveness, and unity among believers.

Unified
Despite their diversity, Paul’s greetings also reveal a deep sense of unity. Over and over, he refers to his friends as being “in Christ” or “in the Lord.” This phrase defines their identity. What joined them together wasn’t shared ethnicity or background but their shared relationship with Jesus.

Paul also uses familial language, calling them “brother” or “sister.” He mentions that they are “fellow workers” and even “fellow sufferers.” These shared experiences—laboring and suffering together—bound the early Christians into a deep spiritual family.

It’s worth noting that many of these believers hosted house churches, which Paul references at least six times. These homes became centers of worship, prayer, and fellowship. Though the Roman church was spread out across the city, it was united by love, faith, and a common mission.

This section reminds us that the church, at its best, is both diverse and united—a community of different people drawn together by one Lord, one Spirit, and one gospel.

Romans 16:17–20

After this series of greetings, Paul suddenly shifts tone. His voice moves from affectionate to urgent as he issues a warning. “Watch out for people who cause divisions and upset people’s faith by teaching things contrary to what you have been taught.”

This transition may seem abrupt, but it makes perfect sense. Having just celebrated the unity of the church, Paul now warns against anything that would threaten it. The gospel brings people together; false teaching tears them apart.

Paul pleads for watchfulness—be on guard for those who distort the truth. Not all disagreements are harmful; some arise from genuine faithfulness to Christ. But the divisions Paul warns about are those caused by people who intentionally twist or reject apostolic teaching.

For Paul, the test of truth is not popularity or personality—it’s faithfulness to the message of Christ as handed down by the apostles. The church must hold firmly to this foundation, preserved for us today in the New Testament.

Paul’s warning grows stronger: “Stay away from them.” There is no holy kiss for these false teachers. Instead, the church must separate from them to preserve the integrity of its witness. Why? Because, Paul says, “Such people are not serving our Lord Christ; they are serving their own personal interests (appetites).” Their motivation is selfishness, not devotion.

By smooth talk and flattering words, they deceive the unsuspecting. Their message sounds appealing, but it lacks truth. It’s a reminder that false teaching rarely enters the church through open rebellion—it slips in quietly, disguised as wisdom or love, appealing to emotion rather than truth.

Yet Paul’s tone quickly turns hopeful. He affirms the faithfulness of the Roman believers: “Everyone knows that you are obedient to the Lord. This makes me very happy.” Still, he encourages them to pair obedience with discernment. “I want you to be wise in doing right and to stay innocent of any wrong.”

In other words, be experts in good and amateurs in evil. The church is not called to be naïve but to cultivate discernment—recognizing what is right and rejecting what is wrong.
Paul closes this section with a powerful promise: “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” The victory of good over evil is assured. Satan’s defeat is inevitable, though not yet complete. Paul reminds them that God Himself will bring peace and victory to His people.

Conclusion
Romans 16 is far more than a list of names—it is a picture of the gospel in action. The Christian faith is not lived in isolation but in community, in shared labor, in friendship, and in vigilance against falsehood. Paul’s closing words remind us that sound doctrine and genuine love belong together.

Phoebe shows us that faithful service, no matter how quiet or unseen, is vital to the work of God. The long list of names shows us that the church is a diverse and unified family. And the final warning reminds us that unity must be protected by truth.

Three Application Points:

1. Value the unseen servants.
   Just as Paul commended Phoebe, we should honor those who serve faithfully behind the scenes. The strength of any church rests not on a few public figures but on the many who quietly love, give, and serve.
2. Celebrate diversity and pursue unity.
   The church thrives when different people—of every background, story, and skill—come together in Christ. Our differences don’t divide us; they display the beauty of God’s grace.
3. Guard the gospel with discernment and love.
   Truth matters. Love matters. One without the other leads to imbalance. The church must always hold fast to sound teaching while extending grace to those who seek the truth sincerely.

​When we live out these truths, the church becomes what God designed it to be—a family of faith marked by love, unity, and watchfulness, waiting together for the day when “the God of peace will soon crush Satan under our feet.”
 

In Romans 14, Paul addresses the tension between believers who differ on secondary matters of conviction—specifically, what they eat, drink, or days of observance. He calls them the “weak” and the “strong,” not to divide them, but to teach them how to live in love. The “strong” understood their freedom in Christ, while the “weak” were often shaped by their past religious backgrounds and still wrestled with certain restrictions. Paul’s message concerning religious liberties must always be guided by love for the weaker believer. The Christian life is not defined by personal liberty or preference but by righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit—the true marks of God’s kingdom.
​
As Paul moves into chapter 15, he continues this theme by urging the strong to bear with the failings of the weak and to follow Christ’s example. Jesus did not please Himself but served others for their good, and His followers are called to do the same. Unity in the church flows from this kind of selfless love. Paul desires that the church in Rome—and by extension, all believers—would live in harmony, “so that with one mind and one voice” they might glorify God. In this way, the church becomes a living picture of the kingdom of God, marked not by pride or division, but by shared grace and mutual encouragement.

Romans 15:1–2

Paul opens chapter 15 with a practical call to action: “We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves.” The question naturally arises—what should the strong do? And what is their responsibility toward the weak?

1. Be considerate of those who are sensitive or weak in faith.
The strong in faith may be tempted to use their maturity or confidence to dominate or control others, but such behavior is spiritually destructive. Paul tells the stronger believer to bear with—or be considerate of—the one who is still growing in faith and may be easily influenced. The goal is not to manipulate or prove superiority but to walk in patience and gentleness. Christian strength is not measured by how forcefully we express our convictions, but by how graciously we treat those who don’t yet share them.

2. Be selfless
The call of discipleship—and especially of those strong in faith—is a call to the Kingdom of God, not the kingdom of self. Jesus did not come to be served, but to serve. When He calls us to take up our cross and follow Him, it is an invitation to selfless living. It is a declaration of surrender: “Lord, I want to serve You. I want to live for You. I have dreams and desires for my life, but I want You above all else.” This kind of selflessness extends into our relationships with others. Our treatment of those weaker in faith reflects whether we are serving Christ’s kingdom or our own.

3. Help others do what is right and build them up in the Lord.
Paul’s instruction is not a call to people-pleasing but to genuine spiritual encouragement. The “strong” believer “walks in love” when he or she “pleases” rather than “pains” the “weak” believer (cf. 14:15). Love seeks the other’s spiritual good. Paul says the goal of pleasing others is “to build them up.” This means encouraging them in faith, strengthening their walk with Christ, and promoting unity in the body. The “good” of one believer contributes to the health of the entire community. When one member grows, all are strengthened. When one stumbles, all are affected. Thus, our actions toward the weak either build up or tear down the church.

Romans 15:3–4

Paul then answers the question: Why should we be sensitive to the weak and not seek to please only ourselves?

Because Jesus did not seek to please Himself.
He gave Himself for others in obedience to the Father. Philippians 2:7–8 captures this beautifully: “He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a servant and was born as a human being. When He appeared in human form, He humbled Himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.”

Paul also quotes Psalm 69:9, which demonstrates Christ’s refusal to live for His own comfort. “The insults of those who insult You have fallen on Me.” Jesus so fully identified Himself with the will and glory of the Father that the rejection meant for God fell upon Him. Paul may be subtly reminding the “strong” believers that their small sacrifices—such as refraining from certain foods or practices for the sake of others—pale in comparison to the suffering Christ endured for our salvation.

Paul also takes this opportunity to affirm the ongoing value of the Old Testament. Though believers are no longer under the law, Scripture remains essential for teaching, encouragement, and hope. He writes, “For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” The Old Testament still instructs us in righteousness, revealing the character of God and the nature of His promises. It strengthens our faith and gives us endurance as we await the fulfillment of God’s plan in Christ.

Romans 15:5–13

Paul’s teaching culminates in this section with a prayer for unity among believers. His argument unfolds around three central truths.

1. Because we are united in Christ through worship.
Christian unity is ultimately unity in Christ. He is the center of our fellowship, and the closer we draw to Him, the closer we will draw to one another. Paul prays, “May God, who gives this patience and encouragement, help you live in complete harmony with each other, as is fitting for followers of Christ Jesus.” The purpose of this unity is not merely social harmony—it is worship. “So that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” True unity always results in praise. When believers love one another across differences, the world sees a reflection of the reconciling power of the gospel.

2. Because we are accepted by Christ.
Paul echoes his earlier command in Romans 14:1, “Accept other believers who are weak in faith, and don’t argue with them about what they think is right or wrong.” Now he expands the call: “Accept one another, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” Acceptance is not about agreement on every issue—it’s about grace. Christ accepted us while we were still sinners, and now we are called to extend that same grace to others. Both the strong and the weak, Jew and Gentile, are welcomed into the family of God because of what Christ has done. Our unity, therefore, is not built on shared opinions but on shared redemption.

3. Because Christ was a servant to all.
Paul reminds his readers that Christ first came as a servant to the Jews “to show that God is true to the promises He made to their ancestors.” He fulfilled the covenant made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, offering salvation to Israel as the promised Messiah. Yet, Paul also emphasizes that Christ came for the Gentiles “so that they might glorify God for His mercy.” Through His death and resurrection, Jesus tore down the dividing wall of hostility, uniting Jews and Gentiles into one body. What was once separated by law, culture, and history is now reconciled through grace.

To affirm this truth, Paul cites four Old Testament passages—all highlighting Gentile inclusion and unified worship:

• 2 Samuel 22:50 — David praises God “among the nations,” showing that even Israel’s king envisioned God’s glory extending beyond Israel’s borders.
• Deuteronomy 32:43 — Moses calls the nations to rejoice with God’s people, celebrating divine mercy that reaches beyond one nation.
• Psalm 117:1 — A universal call: “Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol Him, all you peoples.”
• Isaiah 11:10 — Isaiah prophesies that “the root of Jesse” (the Messiah) will rise to rule the nations, and they will place their hope in Him.

Through these texts, Paul demonstrates that God’s plan of redemption has always been global. Christ is the fulfillment of this plan—the hope of both Jew and Gentile, the Savior of all who believe.

Paul closes this section with a beautiful benediction in verse 13:
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Here, Paul gathers the main themes of his message—hope, joy, peace, faith, and the power of the Spirit. He knows the church at Rome faces potential division, yet he prays that their shared faith will overflow into confident hope. When believers live in this Spirit-filled unity, they become a living testimony to the world of the transforming power of God’s kingdom.

Conclusion
As we reflect on Paul’s teaching about relationships between the strong and the weak (Romans 14:1–15:13), it may seem distant from our modern setting, yet the principles remain deeply relevant. Paul presents two values that apply to every church in every generation--faith and love.

First, everything must be done from faith. Each believer must live in accordance with their conscience, shaped and educated by the Word of God. We are called to grow strong in conviction and liberty, grounded in trust that God’s grace is sufficient.

Second, everything must be done in love. Our liberty must never be used to wound or belittle another believer. Those who are strong in faith must serve those who are weak, remembering that each brother and sister is someone for whom Christ died. We honor, not despise them; we build up, not tear down; we respect their convictions even when we do not share them.

A wise guideline has often been repeated in the history of the church:
“In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”

In matters of essential faith—those truths revealed in Scripture—we must stand firm. But in secondary matters, love must prevail. Faith informs our conscience; love respects the conscience of others. Faith grants liberty; love governs how we use it. When the people of God live this way—strong bearing with the weak, all walking in humility and grace—the church truly reflects the beauty of Christ’s kingdom on earth.

 

Paul’s teaching in Romans 13 reminded believers that government authority, though imperfect, is permitted by God and should be honored as far as conscience allows. Writing to Christians with no political influence under Rome, Paul’s point was not to endorse blind obedience, but to encourage respectful submission, so that the church could live in peace and maintain its focus on the gospel. Ultimately, rulers are accountable to God, and our highest allegiance belongs to Christ.

But submission to authority is only part of the picture. Paul moves from responsibilities toward the state to responsibilities within the church itself. In Romans 14, he addresses how believers are to live in harmony with one another despite disagreements over food, drink, and religious observances. The kingdom of God is not about political power or cultural preferences but about righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. And so, Paul urges the church to pursue peace and mutual upbuilding, reminding us that how we treat one another speaks just as loudly of our faith as how we relate to the world outside.

Background – Romans 14:1–16
Before turning to verses 17–19, which is our primary text, it is essential to understand the flow of Romans 14. The first sixteen verses describe how to live at peace with one another. Paul gives a lengthy example of what it means in practice to “live in such a way that you will not cause another believer to stumble and fall.” It concerns the relationship between two groups in the Christian community in Rome, whom he names “the weak” and “the strong.” As Paul puts it, “We who are strong must be considerate of those who are sensitive about things like this.”

Paul is not speaking to those who are weak in will or character, but to those who are weak in faith. He describes how actions and arguments can cause those younger in the faith to stumble, especially regarding Christian liberties. He uses food and the law as examples. He cautions his readers against looking down on or condemning other believers because they differ in minor details of Christian practice and theology. Those considered weak in their faith may have included former idol worshipers who recently converted to Christ, legalists who practiced denial of worldly pleasures out of religious conviction, and Jewish Christians who carried over dietary or ritual practices from their former way of life.

On one side, the strong in faith believed all foods were clean. On the other hand, the weak in faith believed they were not. So how should the strong act when these two convictions collide? Even though the strong were right, and Paul himself shares their conviction because the Lord Jesus endorsed it, they must not be heavy-handed over the consciences of the weak by imposing their view on them. They must submit to the weaker brother’s conscience (whether right or wrong) and not cause them to act against it. To do otherwise could harm their faith.

In verses 17–19, Paul shifts from these practical matters to the larger doctrine of the Kingdom of God. He argues that whenever the strong insist on using their liberty to eat whatever they like, even at the expense of the weak, they are guilty of misplaced priorities. They are overestimating the importance of diet (which is trivial) and underestimating the importance of the kingdom (which is central).

Romans 14:17–19

There are numerous references throughout Scripture to the Kingdom of God—sometimes referred to as the Kingdom of the Son or the Kingdom of Heaven. This should not surprise us, since the kingdom of God was at the center of Jesus’ message.

The kingdom of God is vast and complex. But what exactly is it? There is no single word or phrase that captures its fullness. Jesus Himself referred to it as a “mystery” or a secret. In Mark 4:11, He said, “The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you, but to those outside, everything comes in parables.”

Yet this mystery has been revealed through Christ. Paul tells us in Colossians 2:1–3: “For I want you to know how greatly I am struggling for you, for those in Laodicea, and for all who have not seen me in person. I want their hearts to be encouraged and joined together in love, so that they may have all the riches of complete understanding and have the knowledge of God’s mystery—Christ. In him are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

The word “kingdom” in Mark 4:11 is the Greek word basileia, which means royal power, kingship, dominion, or rule. It does not primarily describe a geographical territory, but the authority to reign. In the New Testament sense, it refers to the royal authority of Jesus as the triumphant King and Messiah. A kingdom in the ordinary sense is a territory subject to the rule of a king, but biblically, the focus is on the Messiah’s reign itself.

This means the kingdom is not merely a place, like a nation on a map, but is embodied in a person—Jesus Christ, the King. He has come and reigns supreme, yet His eternal kingdom has not been fully established on earth. That remains future.

This is where it can feel confusing. The kingdom of God has already come in part through Jesus, and yet it is still to come in its fullness. Theologians refer to this as the “already and not yet.” The kingdom is present because of Christ’s first coming and the indwelling of His Spirit in believers. But it is still future, awaiting the second coming of Christ when He will establish His visible reign for all eternity.

Luke 17:20–21 captures this tension: “When he was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with something observable; no one will say, “See here!” or “There!” For you see, the kingdom of God is in your midst.’” Jesus was declaring that He Himself was the fulfillment of the kingdom. The King stood before the Pharisees, but they failed to recognize Him.

Jesus’ Teaching on the Kingdom
Jesus often taught about the kingdom through parables—short, vivid stories that use everyday life to reveal eternal truth.

For example, in Matthew 13:31–32 He said: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It’s the smallest of all the seeds, but when grown, it’s taller than the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the sky come and nest in its branches.” The kingdom begins small but grows steadily and expansively.

He also compared the kingdom to leaven (13:33), a hidden treasure (13:44), a merchant seeking pearls (13:45), and a net cast into the sea (13:47–50). Each image highlights a different reality: the kingdom grows, the kingdom is of surpassing worth, and the kingdom gathers people for God’s glory.

The kingdom contains Christ’s body, the Church, and stands at the center of God’s plan. It was so important that the Father sent His Son as the perfect sacrifice so that all who believe might enter it. As believers, we are already part of this kingdom, and God calls us to play a role in its expansion for His glory.

The Future Kingdom
Yet the kingdom is not only a present, personal reality—it is also a future, cosmic event. It will reach its fullness when Christ returns with His angels to gather His elect and establish His throne on the earth.

Jesus described His second coming this way: “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers and throw them into the furnace of fire; there men will weep and gnash their teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father” (Matthew 13:41–43).

This future kingdom will be a time of eternal refreshing and restitution, when God’s people will live forever in the presence of Christ. For believers, it is the great hope; for those who reject Him, it will be a day of dread.

Gabriel told Mary about this kingdom when he announced Christ’s birth: “Now listen: You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will have no end” (Luke 1:31–33).
This is the kingdom where we will eat and drink at Christ’s table and reign with Him. It is “not of this world,” as Jesus told Pilate in John 18:36: “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered to the Jews.”

The future kingdom will be ushered in at Christ’s return. When the King comes again, His reign will be fully established, His enemies defeated, and His people glorified. What a glorious day that will be!

Conclusion
Paul reminds the Roman believers that the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. This means that when we elevate personal preferences, cultural traditions, or secondary matters above the kingdom, we distort the gospel and risk wounding others in the body of Christ.
So how should we live in light of this truth?

1. Pursue righteousness. Live with integrity before God and others. Let your actions reflect the character of Christ rather than personal liberties.
2. Seek peace. Choose reconciliation over argument, humility over pride, and love over winning an opinion. Peace is not weakness—it is the fruit of the Spirit.
3. Cultivate joy in the Holy Spirit. Joy is not dependent on circumstances or agreement on every issue. It flows from the Spirit’s presence and keeps our focus on Christ, not controversy.
4. Build up one another. Paul says, “So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.” Our words and actions should encourage, strengthen, and bless fellow believers rather than tear them down.
   
   

In other words, the kingdom is about Christ’s rule in our lives and His presence among His people, not about winning debates over food, drink, or secondary matters. When we live this way, the church reflects the reality of the kingdom to a watching world.
Next week, we will continue by examining the remaining verses of chapter 14 and the opening verses of chapter 15, where Paul further elaborates on what it means to bear with one another in love and live for the glory of God.


Reflection Questions
1.     What does Paul mean when he says the kingdom of God is not about eating and drinking?
The kingdom is about righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit rather than external practices.

• Why do we so often elevate preferences or traditions over what truly matters in God’s kingdom?
• How might this shift in focus change the way you view disagreements in the church?
  
  

2.     How do righteousness, peace, and joy shape our life together as the church?
These qualities reveal Christ’s reign in our lives and strengthen unity among believers.

• Which of these three qualities—righteousness, peace, or joy—do you most need to grow in right now?
• How can the Spirit help us reflect these traits in our relationships with other believers?
  
  

3.     Why is it dangerous to insist on our liberties at the expense of others?
It can cause weaker believers to stumble and distract from the kingdom’s true priorities.

• Can you think of a time when exercising your freedom might have harmed someone else’s faith?
• How can humility help us use our freedom in a way that honors Christ and builds others up?

4.     What does it mean to live in the “already and not yet” of God’s kingdom?
The kingdom has come in Christ and through the Spirit, but its fullness awaits His return.

• How does this tension affect the way we live as Christians in the present?
• In what ways can remembering the future kingdom give us hope in our current struggles?

​5.     How do Jesus’ parables help us understand the kingdom of God?
They reveal the kingdom as something of great value that grows steadily and draws people to God.

• Which parable of the kingdom speaks most clearly to you, and why?·
• How can you live in a way that reflects the kingdom’s growth and worth?

6.     Why is peace among believers so important in advancing the kingdom?
Unity in the church reflects the reality of God’s reign to the watching world.

• What obstacles to peace do you see in your own relationships or in your church community?
• What practical step can you take this week to pursue peace with another believer?

​7.     How does the promise of the future kingdom encourage us today?
It gives believers hope of eternal life with Christ and a reminder that His reign is certain.

• How does this hope strengthen you to endure present difficulties or divisions?
• In what ways does the promise of Christ’s return motivate you to live differently now?