,Introduction
Some people we naturally gravitate toward, and others we tend to avoid. Sometimes it is because of their background. Sometimes it is because of their reputation. Sometimes they believe or live differently than we do, or simply make us uncomfortable.
Whether we admit it or not, we sometimes judge people before we ever really know them. We know something about their past, lifestyle, politics, religion, or reputation, and we already “have them figured out.”
Jesus didn't operate that way.
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus continually encounters people many avoided. He talks with them, listens to them, eats with them, asks them questions, and tells them the truth. Jesus never ignores sin or pretends that people's choices don't matter, but neither does he allow someone's past, reputation, ethnicity, gender, or social standing to keep him from engaging them.
John 4 gives us an example of this.
Jesus travels through Samaria, stops at a well, and begins a conversation with a woman. That doesn't sound particularly significant to us today. But when we understand who she was, who Jesus was, and the cultural and religious barriers between them, the conversation becomes remarkable.
She was a Samaritan. She was a woman. Her personal life was complicated. Jesus already knew her story.
Yet he talked with her.
More than that, he had a theological conversation with her about eternal life, worship, God's nature, and the Messiah. In the middle of that conversation, Jesus offers her something she didn't even realize she needed: living water.
Before we look at their conversation, we need to understand a little about Samaria and why this encounter may seem unusual to modern readers.
Background to Samaria
Before we begin, I will give some background on Samaria and the Samaritan people because it helps us understand how significant this encounter is. Their history goes back to when Israel was divided into two kingdoms after Solomon's reign. The Northern Kingdom was called Israel, and the Southern Kingdom was called Judah. Samaria eventually became the Northern Kingdom's capital.
In 722 BC, the Assyrians conquered the Northern Kingdom and deported many of its inhabitants. The Assyrians also brought foreign people into the region, and over time those who remained intermarried and blended religious practices occured. Eventually, the Samaritans developed a distinct religious identity. They accepted the Pentateuch, the first five books of Moses, as Scripture, but unlike the Jews, they did not worship at the Temple in Jerusalem. Instead, they made Mount Gerizim their center of worship.
By the time of Jesus, there was a long history of hostility between Jews and Samaritans. There were significant ethnic, cultural, and religious differences between them, and John makes this clear when he tells us that “Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans” (John 4:9). This background is important because it helps us understand that what happens next is much more than Jesus simply stopping at a well and asking for a drink of water.
The Woman at the Well
One of the first things I notice about this conversation is how similar it is to Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus in the previous chapter. Both involve a personal encounter with Jesus, and in each case Jesus uses everyday language and symbolism to point to a deeper spiritual truth. With Nicodemus, Jesus speaks of being born again; with the Samaritan woman, Jesus speaks of living water. Both initially misunderstand what Jesus is saying because they think in physical terms while Jesus speaks of spiritual realities.
However, the differences between Nicodemus and this woman are just as important as the similarities. Nicodemus was a Jewish man, a Pharisee, and a respected religious leader. On the surface, he seemed to have everything going for him, yet Jesus told him he needed to be born again. The woman at the well was a Samaritan, a woman, and someone with a complicated personal history. Yet Jesus told her she needed the living water that only he could provide. When I look at these two encounters side by side, I see that Jesus is for all people. He is for those who seem to have everything together, and he is for those whose lives are messy and complicated. Both need what only Jesus can give.
14:1–9:
Once the Pharisees heard about Jesus’ growing popularity in Judea, Jesus headed north toward Galilee. Verse 4 says, “he had to pass through Samaria.” Going through Samaria was a direct route from Judea to Galilee, but John’s wording may suggest something more. Throughout his Gospel, John often presents Jesus as carrying out the Father's will and purpose. So perhaps Jesus “had to” go through Samaria not because of geography, but because a divine purpose lay behind this encounter.
Around noon, Jesus comes to Jacob’s well tired and thirsty from his journey. It was near the land associated with Jacob and Joseph, which gives the setting an important connection to Israel’s history. John also gives us a very human picture of Jesus here. He is tired from walking; it is the middle of the day, and he is thirsty. Then a Samaritan woman comes to draw water, and Jesus asks her for a drink.
Without understanding the culture and history, we might think nothing of this conversation. But the woman herself immediately recognizes how unusual it is. She asks, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” Several social barriers separated Jesus and this woman. He is Jewish, and she is Samaritan; he is a man, and she is a woman; and, as we discover later, her personal life was complicated. Yet none of those things prevent Jesus from engaging her in conversation.
Some suggest the woman came to the well at noon because she was shunned by the other women in her community. That is certainly possible, especially given what we later learn about her life, but John does not tell us why she came at that time or why she was alone. John does make clear, however, that this encounter crossed significant social and religious boundaries. Jesus asks her for water, and she is surprised that a Jewish man would even ask a Samaritan woman for a drink. John wants us to understand that this is not an ordinary conversation.
Vv. 10–18
The woman has no idea who is standing in front of her. Jesus tells her that if she knew the gift of God and who it was, she would ask him for “living water.” The term “living water” could literally mean fresh or flowing water, so naturally the woman thinks Jesus is talking about physical water. She even points out that Jesus has nothing with which to draw water from the well.
Jesus, however, speaks spiritually. As D. A. Carson explains, the living water represents the satisfying eternal life that comes through the Spirit and that only Jesus, the Messiah and Savior of the world, can provide. Like Nicodemus, the woman initially misunderstands Jesus because she thinks physically while Jesus speaks of a spiritual reality.
In vv. 13–14, Jesus explains that everyone who drinks physical water will eventually become thirsty again, but the water he gives will become “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” Physical water can only satisfy temporarily. You can drink as much as you want, but eventually you'll become thirsty again. The same is true of so many things we look to for satisfaction in life. We look for fulfillment in possessions, money, relationships, substances, food, success, or whatever else we think will finally satisfy us, but eventually we become thirsty again. Jesus offers what the world cannot give: the living water of eternal life through the Spirit.
The woman wants this water, but Jesus turns the conversation to her personal life and tells her to call her husband. When she says she has no husband, Jesus reveals that he already knows her story: she has had five husbands, and the man she is currently with is not her husband. What stands out to me is that Jesus knew all of this before he even asked her for a drink. He knew her past and her present situation, yet he still speaks with her and offers her living water. Jesus does not ignore the reality of her life or pretend that sin does not matter, but neither does he allow her past to keep him from offering her grace. Coming to Jesus means we will eventually have to confront the truth about ourselves, but we do so in the presence of the One who already knows us and still offers us living water.
Verses 19–26
After Jesus reveals that he knows about her personal life, the woman responds, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet.” She raises a major theological disagreement between Jews and Samaritans: Where is the proper place to worship God? The Samaritans worshiped on Mount Gerizim, while the Jews worshiped at the Temple in Jerusalem.
Sometimes we assume the woman changes the subject because Jesus has gotten too close to her personal life, and maybe that is what she is doing. But John never actually tells us that. We do know she asks Jesus a legitimate theological question, and Jesus takes it seriously. He doesn't brush her off or act as though theology is something she wouldn't understand. Instead, he engages this Samaritan woman in a serious conversation about worship, the Father, Spirit, truth, and ultimately the Messiah.
Jesus tells her, “The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth.” The issue is becoming much greater than whether someone worships on Mount Gerizim or in Jerusalem. Jesus points to a time when worship will no longer be defined by one mountain or building. True worship centers on God and is made possible through what God is doing through Christ and the Spirit.
The woman tells Jesus that she knows the Messiah is coming and that when he comes, “he will proclaim all things to us.” Jesus responds, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” Consider the conversation that has just taken place. Jesus has crossed ethnic, religious, cultural, and gender barriers to speak with this woman. He knows her entire story, yet he neither avoids nor dismisses her. Instead, he talks with her about some of the deepest theological issues in John’s Gospel and then reveals his identity to her.
This is one of the things I find so significant about this encounter. Jesus sees this woman as more than a Samaritan, more than her relationship history, and more than any reputation she may have had. He sees someone who needs the same thing Nicodemus needed and the same thing every one of us needs: the life that only he can give.
Application and Conclusion
As we conclude today, I think we can take home several simple truths from Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well.
1. Jesus is for everyone. John gives us Nicodemus in chapter 3 and the Samaritan woman in chapter 4. They could hardly be more different, yet both need Jesus. Wealthy or poor, religious or irreligious, Jew or Gentile, respected or rejected, none of those things place someone beyond the reach of Jesus. That does not mean everyone will receive what Jesus offers, because many will reject him, but the living water is offered to people we might never expect.
2. When we truly encounter Jesus, we cannot remain the same. Jesus knew this woman's story before the conversation ever began. He knew the good, the bad, and the complicated parts, yet he still offered her living water. At the same time, he did not leave her personal life untouched. An encounter with Jesus involves grace, but it also involves truth. We will never be sin-free in this life, but when Jesus changes us, sin should no longer be something we simply accept and embrace without conviction or repentance.
3. The living water Jesus gives changes more than where we worship; it changes how we live. God is not confined to a church building or a particular place. Through the Holy Spirit, his presence is with his people wherever they go. That means our relationship with God is not something we turn on when we walk into church and turn off when we leave. If we have received the living water Jesus offers, then our faith should affect every area of our lives, at home, at work, at school, at church, and everywhere else God has placed us.
The Samaritan woman came to the well looking for ordinary water, but she encountered Jesus and was offered something much greater. And the same invitation is still offered today. Jesus knows our stories; he knows our past, and he knows the things we would rather keep hidden. Yet he still invites us to come to him and receive the living water that only he can give.

Last week I was invited to speak at the chapel service at Calvary Chapel Bible College in Bradenton, FL. I graduated from this school in 1993, and it was a lot of fun speaking with the students in this program. I had the opportunity to speak on 1 Timothy 1:18-20. Below is my transcript.

Introduction
First Timothy is a letter written by the Apostle Paul to Timothy. We know Paul genuinely loved Timothy and shared a close relationship with him. In both letters to Timothy, Paul refers to him in very personal terms. In 1 Timothy 1:18 and 2 Timothy 1:2, depending on the translation, Paul calls Timothy "my son," "my dearly loved son," or "my child." Paul wasn't simply writing to another church leader. He was writing to someone he loved, someone he had invested in, and someone he regarded as his spiritual son.

Paul wrote his first letter to Timothy while he was away, hoping to visit him in Ephesus. Timothy was still relatively young. Anglican pastor and theologian John Stott believed Timothy was probably in his early thirties.

Timothy was a young pastor entrusted with the Gospel and with helping lead the church in Ephesus. Paul writes to him about church order, discipline, worship, leadership, and false teaching. Throughout the letter, Paul offers Timothy practical pastoral advice and encouragement on how to lead effectively for God's glory while remaining faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

In our passage, Paul reminds Timothy of the charge entrusted to him and of the prophecies previously made about him. He says that, from the beginning of his ministry, evidence of God's calling and spiritual gifting had been evident in his life.

Why would Paul remind him of that now? Because sometimes we need to remember God's calling when ministry becomes difficult. Timothy was facing conflict within the church and needed assurance that God had called him to this ministry. Paul wanted Timothy to remember what God had done in his life so that, as Paul says, he could "wage the good warfare." Paul uses similar language later in 1 Timothy 6:12, telling Timothy to "fight the good fight of the faith." This warfare involved defending God's revealed truth against those who would deny or distort it. Timothy wasn't fighting people; this was spiritual warfare. And spiritual warfare requires spiritual weapons, especially, as Paul says elsewhere, "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

Timothy had been left in Ephesus, and now he had to deal with internal disagreement, false teaching, and the challenges of shepherding God's people. Paul tells Timothy to hold on to two things: faith and a good conscience. These two belong together. First, Timothy needed to hold firmly to the faith—the truth he had been taught and entrusted with. If we are going to fight the good fight, we need a solid grasp of what we believe. What you know and believe about God matters because it will eventually affect how you live.

Doctrine determines conduct.
Knowing and holding the truth enables us to fight the good fight faithfully. But Paul doesn't stop with doctrine. He also tells Timothy to maintain a good conscience. Earlier in the chapter, Paul says that the goal of his instruction is "love that comes from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith." Truth and character must remain together.

Paul then gives Timothy two examples of what happens when they don't: Hymenaeus and Alexander. Hymenaeus is most likely the same person Paul mentions elsewhere, who taught that the resurrection had already taken place. Alexander was a common name, so it's harder to determine exactly which Alexander Paul is referring to.

But regardless of exactly who these two men were, Paul tells us what happened to them. They rejected faith and a good conscience and, as a result, "made shipwreck of their faith." What an incredibly vivid picture. Nobody hears the word "shipwreck" and thinks of something positive. A shipwreck is violent and destructive. A ship can be broken apart. Cargo can be lost. Lives can even be lost. Paul uses that image to describe what can happen spiritually when someone continually rejects truth and ignores their conscience. If we continually disregard our conscience, allow sin to remain unconfessed, and refuse to turn from it, it will eventually affect what we believe. What begins as a compromise in how we live can eventually become a compromise in what we believe. That's why Paul tells Timothy to guard both.

Hold onto your faith and your good conscience.
Paul then says he had handed Hymenaeus and Alexander "over to Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme." There are different interpretations of what Paul means. One common understanding is that Paul is referring to excommunication, removing them from the church's fellowship. Since the church is the gathered people of God, removing someone from that fellowship meant sending them back into the world, which Scripture describes as being under Satan's influence.

Another interpretation emphasizes the restorative purpose of Paul's action. The goal wasn't simply punishment. Paul says it was so that they might "learn not to blaspheme." In other words, the discipline was meant to correct them and, hopefully, bring them back to the truth.
Either way, some form of serious church discipline had occurred.

Application
So what does all of this mean for us today?

I can't help but see in this passage one of many examples of Paul, a mature and seasoned man of faith, coming alongside a younger pastor to help him navigate ministry.
Paul admonishes Timothy. He encourages him. He reminds him of his calling. He warns him. He teaches him. Throughout it all, Paul walks alongside Timothy as he shepherds a church grappling with false teaching, conflict, and dissent.

That sounds a lot like mentorship to me. So I want to conclude by discussing mentorship and one person in particular who played that role in my life.
I have had several people throughout my life whom I would consider mentors, but whenever I think about mentorship, one man always comes to mind.

His name is Jim Moelk. Jim was one of three pastors named Jim at the church where I served as a youth minister in Erie, Pennsylvania.

Jim was a friend, confidant, influence, and mentor through and through. The interesting thing is that I never asked Jim to be my mentor. He simply became one. We would regularly meet in his office to pray together, talk about life, and share our ministry desires and goals. Jim would also ask me hard questions. He wanted to make sure I was living with integrity in ministry.

Sometimes he lovingly rebuked me for a bad attitude or for something I had done in ministry that I probably should have thought through more carefully. He gave me advice on how I preached, how I conducted myself, and even how I dressed. I would ask him for insight when preparing sermons, and he even went so far as to help me with my taxes, and by "help me," I mean he pretty much did them for me.

I remember a particular conversation about how I dressed for church. Apparently, one Sunday I showed up looking pretty rough. The next day, Jim came into my office. He didn't embarrass me. He didn't shame me. He didn't berate me for how I looked. He simply talked with me. He explained that, because of the position I held, I needed to take a little more care in how I presented myself. He offered some suggestions, and that was it.

I appreciated what he said and took his advice. It would have been easy to get defensive or offended. "Who are you to tell me how to dress?" But I didn't respond that way because I knew Jim. I knew his heart.

I knew he wasn't trying to control me. He cared about me and wanted me to represent Christ and my ministry well. Because we had a relationship, he had earned the right to speak honestly into my life.
A few years ago, Jim passed away, and I miss him dearly. Even when we lived hundreds of miles apart, he remained a great mentor and friend. His investment in my life played a significant role in shaping the pastor and person I am today. That's what mentorship can do.

I still have mentors in my life today. I also have people I have mentored and, to some degree, continue to mentor.

God has given me gifts. He has given me experiences: good ones, difficult ones, successes, failures, and everything in between. Those experiences aren't only for me. God can use them to help me invest in someone else.

So my challenge for you today is simple:

Find a mentor, and be a mentor. I believe that begins with prayer. Ask God to bring someone into your life who can speak truth into you. Someone who can encourage you, challenge you, pray with you, ask you hard questions, and sometimes tell you something you may not want to hear.

But also ask God: "Who can I do that for?" Who has God placed in your life to encourage? Who can you invest in? Who can benefit from what God has taught you through your experiences? Be sensitive to God's direction, but also be intentional. The church is called the body of Christ for a reason. We need each other. We learn from one another. We encourage one another. We correct one another. We pray for one another. We grow with one another. And we share life with one another. Paul had Timothy. I had Jim.

I want to encourage you today: Find someone who can help you fight the good fight, hold fast to the faith, and maintain a good conscience. Then become that person for someone else. That's God's beautiful design for the church.

As we continue our study of Hebrews, we come to chapter 8, where the author begins to bring together the message, or sermon, he has written up to this point. He reminds us that we have a High Priest, Jesus Christ, who serves on our behalf. In vv. 1–5, he discusses the importance of Christ’s service and where it takes place.

We are told that Jesus could not have served as a priest in the earthly tent, built by human hands, which was only a copy or representation of the heavenly tabernacle. Instead, Jesus serves in the “true tent” built by the Lord. Therefore, His service is superior and intended to mediate a superior covenant.

The second part of this passage (vv. 8–12) quotes Jeremiah 31:31–34, the longest Old Testament quotation in the New Testament. In this section, the author points out the failure of the covenant God made with Israel; not because God failed or was unfaithful, but because the people did not remain faithful to it.

God’s faithfulness, however, led to the promise of a new covenant. This new covenant would not be written merely on the outside but would be inscribed in the minds and written on the hearts of His people. This would bring about a renewed relationship with God, resulting in forgiveness and the promise that He would remember their sins no more. These themes of Christ’s superior priesthood, the new covenant, and God’s faithfulness provide the foundation for what the author develops throughout this chapter.

Hebrews 8:1 – 12

V. 1: “The main point” is the sum of what has already been said, including Jesus’ priesthood in 4:14 and His service described in chapters 1, 2, and 3. Therefore, it would not be incorrect to view this statement as a summation of the sermon up to this point. The summation is that “We have a High Priest who sat down in the place of honor beside the throne of the majestic God in heaven.”

The author emphasizes that Jesus’ work is finished by noting that He “sat down.” He is seated at the greatest place of power: the right hand of God. This is the third of six references to the right hand of God in Hebrews, an idea grounded in Psalm 110:1.

A throne represents God’s power and authority, and most Bibles say the “right hand of the throne,” which is a place of honor, respect, and strength. Earlier, the author wrote that the Father declared the Son to have an eternal throne. Therefore, the statement that Jesus is seated at the right hand of God’s throne should not be understood as placing Jesus beside God as somehow less important than God the Father. Rather, it points to the divine authority and power the Son shares with the Father. The “right hand of the throne” aligns with the author’s other descriptions of the Son as fully God and as the One who exercises divine power.

V. 2: Even though Jesus is seated, indicating that His work of offering Himself as a sacrifice is finished, He is still actively working as a minister. His sacrifice was offered once and completed forever (9:26–28), but His ministry continues. This High Priest, who is exalted to the highest place at the throne of the sovereign God, is also a servant.

How does He serve? He serves in the holy place, the true tent that the Lord built, not with human hands: the heavenly tabernacle. There is an interesting connection here. The One who serves in the true tent is also the Lord who created all things (1:10). Jesus, therefore, serves as our High Priest in the heavenly sanctuary established by God Himself, rather than in an earthly tabernacle built by human hands.

V. 3: The author mentions in chapter 5:1 that priests are selected to offer both gifts and sacrifices. These two terms appear throughout Israel’s Scriptures and are not necessarily meant to denote two completely different things. Instead, they help explain the nature of the priest’s responsibility. Both terms remind the reader that offering to God comes at a cost.

An important theological point is also at stake here. With Jesus as our eternal High Priest, God has not completely abandoned the priestly system He established. In both the old and new covenants, the priest offers to God. However, something noteworthy has changed.

Jesus, as our High Priest, also makes an offering, and His offering came at an incredible personal cost. Unlike the Levitical priests, who offered the sacrifices of others, Jesus offered Himself. His sacrifice was personally costly in a way no Levitical sacrifice could ever be. There is also a difference in where His priestly ministry takes place. His ministry is not centered in an earthly sanctuary but in the heavenly sanctuary.

V. 4: The author does not repeat the reasons Jesus could not serve as an earthly priest, but he has already given us two. First, Jesus was not from the tribe designated under the law to serve as priests. He was not a Levite but came from the tribe of Judah (7:14). Second, His priesthood was established by God’s oath in Psalm 110:4 rather than by the requirements of the law (7:28).

Therefore, Jesus would not have met the qualifications to serve as a priest offering gifts and sacrifices in the earthly sanctuary. However, the author does not present this as a problem to be explained away. Instead, it becomes part of his larger argument that Jesus’ priesthood is greater. Jesus does not serve under the earthly priestly system because His priesthood belongs to something greater, which the author will explain further.

V. 5: The priests on earth offered their sacrificial gifts in a place where the system of worship—the tabernacle or tent—was only a copy of the heavenly reality. The Lord established the true holy place in heaven, while the earthly tent served as an example of that greater reality.

Examples can be helpful because they give us a picture of something greater, helping us better understand and respond to the reality behind it. In this case, the tabernacle provides a picture that helps us understand the significance of Christ’s work. The author states that the earthly tent is a shadow of the true heavenly tabernacle, but this should not necessarily be understood negatively. A shadow points beyond itself to something real.

God gave Moses the pattern for the Tabernacle and instructed him to follow it carefully when building the tent and its furnishings on earth. In Exodus 25:8–9, God tells Moses, “Have the people of Israel build me a holy sanctuary so I can live among them. You must build this Tabernacle and its furnishings exactly according to the pattern I will show you.”

Therefore, the earthly tabernacle should not be viewed as a poor or insignificant imitation. It was designed according to the pattern God gave Moses and served an important purpose. The author’s intent is not to show how insignificant the earthly tent was, but to show what it pointed toward. God gave His people an earthly picture to help them begin to understand His holy heavenly dwelling and, ultimately, the greater ministry and final sacrifice offered by Jesus, our High Priest.

V.6: The author now shifts his focus from the place of Jesus’ service to its effect. Jesus’ ministry as our High Priest is superior because He is the mediator of a better covenant. His service as High Priest and the covenant in which He serves are closely connected. Hebrews tells us that this better covenant is established on “better promises.”

The author is not simply placing the law on one side and the old covenant and promises on the other with the new covenant. Both covenants contain laws and promises. God made promises to Abraham that became foundational to His covenant relationship with Israel. Likewise, the better covenant is grounded in God’s promises. One of those promises is found in Psalm 110:4, where God declares that Jesus would be “a priest forever.”

The difference, then, is not that the old covenant had law while the new covenant has promises. Rather, Jesus mediates a better covenant established on better promises, and the author will begin to explain it in the verses that follow.

Vv. 7, 8a: These verses place accountability within both the covenant and the people. God made this covenant with this particular people, so the two are closely connected. The problem was not that God had failed or that His laws were wrong, but that the people did not remain faithful to the covenant. As the author states, God “found fault with the people.”

What is striking is both God’s consistency and His grace. When the people failed to remain faithful to the covenant, God did not give up on His people. Instead, He promised something new. He would establish a new covenant that would accomplish what the first covenant could not.

This change is so significant that the author can speak of a first covenant and a new covenant. God’s standards have not suddenly changed, nor has He abandoned His desire to have a people who belong to Him. What changes is how that covenant relationship is established and experienced, which becomes clear as the author begins quoting Jeremiah 38.

Vv. 8b – 12: The author now cites Jeremiah 31:31–34. Jeremiah addresses the people of Israel, whose ancestors entered the Promised Land with Joshua, settled there, and eventually established their kingdoms. However, because of their continued unfaithfulness to God, they were removed from the land and experienced the wilderness of exile.

Jeremiah describes a people who, through God’s work among them, have turned back to Him in repentance and long to return to the place of His blessing. What follows is an incredible picture of God’s grace. God does not simply wait for His wounded and exiled people to find their way home. He goes out to them, promising to bring them back, restore them, and renew His relationship with them.

This provides the background for the promise of a new covenant. One of the most important aspects of this new covenant, emphasized by the author in verse 12, is God’s promise: “I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.” Through the new covenant, forgiveness is no longer something anticipated through repeated sacrifices but is ultimately accomplished through Jesus.

Because God has established this new covenant, the author concludes that the first covenant has become “obsolete” and is “ready to vanish away” (v. 13). The old covenant, with its earthly sanctuary, priesthood, and sacrificial system, has fulfilled its purpose. This serves as a powerful argument for the readers of Hebrews to hold fast to Jesus rather than return to the apparent safety and familiarity of the old covenant system. If God has fulfilled His promises and established something better through Jesus, going back to what came before would mean turning away from the very thing the old covenant was pointing to.

Conclusion
Hebrews 8 reminds us that we have something far greater in Jesus. He is our High Priest whose sacrifice is finished, but whose ministry on our behalf continues. Because of this, we can rest in the finished work of Jesus rather than trying to earn what He has already accomplished for us. At the same time, we can trust that Jesus is still working on our behalf. His sacrifice is finished, but His ministry is not.

The old covenant, the priesthood, the sacrifices, and the tabernacle all served an important purpose, but they were shadows pointing toward the greater reality found in Christ. Therefore, don’t settle for the shadow when you have the reality. Everything that came before was pointing us toward Jesus.

The new covenant also reminds us to let God’s Word move from our heads to our hearts. God desires more than outward obedience; He wants to transform us from within. And when we fail, we can live as people who have truly been forgiven, holding on to His promise: “I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.”
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Hebrews 8 reveals the faithfulness and grace of God. His people failed to remain faithful to the covenant, but God did not abandon His people. Instead, He provided something better. Through Jesus, He provided a perfect High Priest, a better covenant, and complete forgiveness. The new covenant reminds us that our relationship with God ultimately rests not on our ability to remain perfectly faithful to Him, but on His unwavering faithfulness to us.
 

Introduction
If you have ever stood next to an eighty-thousand-ton cargo or bulk ship and seen the anchor hanging from the bow, it looks incredibly small against the massive wall of steel. I have often wondered how something so small can truly hold all that weight.

In Hebrews 6, the writer addresses believers weighed down by spiritual weariness, drift, and subtle doubt. We know that quiet tension. As years accumulate, careers shift, and the house grows quiet, we easily wonder whether our most meaningful days are behind us or whether life's mounting uncertainties will capsize us.

Yet in maritime reality, an anchor holds not by its own bulk but by the solid ground it grips. When the storm surges, the tension drives the flukes deeper into the seabed, keeping the ship secure.

When life does not go as we planned or hoped, rather than struggling to fix the issues we face and work our way to God, or carrying the anxiety of life's uncertainties, what if we could rest securely in God's promise, anchored in Jesus Christ? That is the opportunity for us today.
Listen this morning not to another religious checklist or self-help advice, but to God's voice, speaking an oath into our weariness and inviting us to discover the rest of being held by Christ.

Hebrews 6:13–20

When the author of Hebrews points us to the certainty of God’s covenant, he takes us back to Abraham. In verses 13 through 15, we are reminded that when God made His promise, He swore by Himself because no one was greater. In ancient times, people sealed their agreements with solemn oaths, invoking a higher authority to guarantee their word. Unfortunately, sometimes when a person took an oath, they would look for loopholes when they realized they either couldn’t or didn’t keep it. It was the ultimate sin to take an oath in the name of God and not keep it (Exodus 20: the real meaning of taking the Lord’s name in vain). But God did not look for an escape. He bound Himself to His own holy character. His oath rests entirely on who He is, and because His nature is unchanging, His promise cannot fail.

Abraham discovered this over decades of waiting. In the long seasons of silence, when every biological and human circumstance declared the promise impossible, God remained faithful. Abraham waited patiently, and in God's perfect timing, he received what was promised. His faith journey was not a cakewalk. At times, he tried to “help” God when he felt God wasn’t moving fast enough or that God wasn’t going to fulfill the promise. The fulfillment did not depend on Abraham’s ability to orchestrate the outcome; it rested entirely on the God who keeps His word.

The Rest of Spiritual Maturity
As we mature in our faith, as the author of Hebrews encourages, our perspective begins to shift. In earlier seasons of life, unexpected trials can feel completely consuming. As you navigate the shifting realities of this season, whether that means adjusting to an empty nest, facing sudden health transitions, walking through the uncertainties of retirement, or carrying silent family heartaches, those burdens can easily feel massive and debilitating.

Yet spiritual maturity enables us to look past the sheer scale of the mountain before us and fix our eyes on God's faithfulness. We begin to realize that no matter how big our problems, worries, and anxieties may be, God is infinitely bigger. We are free to rest in the truth that God keeps His promise. You do not have to carry the exhausting pressure of trying to control the outcome; instead, you can rest secure in the keeping power of the One who holds you securely.

The Problem: Our unbelief causes us to doubt God's promise.

The Drift of Weary Hearts
The original recipients of Hebrews were spiritually exhausted and, in some cases, simply lazy. Under the slow burn of hardship and delayed deliverance, spiritual sluggishness set in. Because God’s timing did not align with their expectations, they began to drift. Unbelief quietly convinced them that it was safer to retreat into familiar religious rituals than to continue relying on God’s promise.

The Urge to "Help God Out"
We face that exact temptation today. As seasons shift, whether navigating health scares, caring for aging parents, or watching grown children struggle, the illusion of control slips through our fingers. While we declare that God is faithful, we often live as practical atheists. We act as though God needs our help. We hide behind masks of religious busyness while actively manipulating people and outcomes.

Beneath this anxiety lies the root idol of self-reliance, the craving to remain the master of our own domain. It is an inner pride that whispers that our problems are uniquely difficult or that God cannot be trusted to handle them with the urgency we desire.

Attempting to govern our lives yields bitter fruit. It leads to chronic worry, emotional fatigue, and friction in our relationships as we try to control those around us. We are left with a quiet dread that our self-fashioned anchors cannot bear the weight of our lives.
The world offers two hollow escapes from this anxiety.

The Secular Narrative: Culture tells us to rely entirely on personal grit: "You are the captain of your own fate; take charge." Yet when an unexpected diagnosis or market drop occurs, the illusion of self-determination shatters.

The Moralist Narrative: Religious legalism whispers that we can bargain with God: "Serve harder, pray longer, and put God in your debt." Yet when trials linger, performance either crushes us with false guilt or breeds bitter resentment toward God.

Neither self-reliance nor religious bargaining can anchor a soul. They merely reveal how quickly our unbelief leads us to doubt God's promise.

Conclusion
Throughout the Bible, we read time and again about God making promises and remaining faithful to fulfill them. A Bible teacher at my college used to say, “God said it, I believe it, and that settles it.” This quote has been a core belief in my life since I entered the ministry 30-plus years ago, and it still rings true in my heart today. It’s not always easy, but I am assured that God’s Word is true and that He is faithful to keep His promises.
For many of us, our experiences may not always be easy to face or endure, but when God is with us, His will is accomplished and His promises are fulfilled.
 
As I read this passage, I developed three observations in Hebrews 6 about God’s faithfulness.

1. When God is with you, there is no need to fear. I know, it is easy to say. But time and again, God assures His people that He is with them and that there is no need to fear. This still rings true today. This is why it is important to remain in fellowship and close relationship with God. When God guides us (individually and corporately), He assures us that there is no need to fear because He is sovereign and in control.  
   
   For me, there have been times in my life when God has called me to do things I was afraid to do, and He assured me He is with me. One example is when our family moved from Wisconsin to Florida. I will admit I was nervous, reluctant, and scared to uproot my family from the life we had established in WI. However, in making that move, I was certain and remain certain that, even with the many bumps and the tragic loss of Carrie, God was with us in our decision to move here. Ultimately, I was uncertain but assured that there is no need to fear or worry because He is with us and guiding us. Has it been easy? No, it has not. Circumstances arose that caused me to rethink our move down here, but God has proven He is faithful, and He has kept His promise to us.
   
   
2. When God is with you, there is success. When God is involved, success is guaranteed. Now, I don’t want you to get hung up on the word success. Many people view success as having lots of money, a nice house, an excellent job, and a bright, comfortable future. Certainly, these are perks of success, but in the Kingdom of God, monetary success is not always a sign of God’s blessing.   
   
   The kind of success God gives to his people is tied to our relationship with him and with others. Jesus speaks in Matthew 22:34–37 about loving God and loving people. When all is said and done, ask yourself, have I loved God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength? Have I loved my neighbor as myself? If the answer is yes, then you have lived a successful life. We have nothing if we have everything materially but lack love; we are thus spiritually destitute. God should be your guide; Jesus should be your life, redemption, and transformation.
   
   
3. When God is with you, it is evident to those around you. Is Jesus evident in your life Monday through Sunday? When God is with you, you are changed from the inside out. The way you talk, treat others, conduct business, and live your daily life should point people toward the God you serve and the Jesus who lives in you, not push them away. The ultimate goal is for people to see Jesus in you and desire the Jesus you have in your life. People see something about you that is different from the rest of the world, and they want it for themselves. When God is present and evident in your life, you will display love to others, extend grace and forgiveness in ways you didn’t think you could, and your outlook on life will be one of victory and blessing because the God who is with you is the God of victory and blessing and is trustworthy.  
   
   I assure you this third point is crucial to each of us. Over the years, the number one reason I have heard people say they want nothing to do with God is the actions of His people. Their actions do not convey love, grace, forgiveness, mercy, and even victory. They display the opposite. I pray that this would not be the case for you or me. I pray that the God who IS with us will be displayed in us and evident to those around us. May this be your prayer as well?
   
   

At the end of the day, the promise we need to hold onto is not that life will always be easy, comfortable, or turn out as we planned. The promise is that God will be with us. Hebrews 6 reminds us that when God made His promise to Abraham, He guaranteed it by His own character. God cannot lie, and what He promises, He will fulfill. That is why the writer of Hebrews says we have a hope that is “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”

There will be moments when life feels anything but secure. Circumstances shift. Plans fall apart. People disappoint us. The future grows uncertain. Yet our hope was never meant to be anchored in our circumstances; it is anchored in the unchanging character of God.

Psalm 34:17–18
The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help.
He rescues them from all their troubles.


The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.


Over the past two sessions, we’ve examined two important aspects of grief. Last week, we defined grief and set the purpose of this course: to look honestly at the realities of grief and learn how to walk through it together in a healthy way—what we are calling Good Grief.
Last week, we discussed the words we use with people who are grieving and how even well-intentioned words can sometimes cause more pain than comfort.

Today, I want us to look at something a little bigger: Why are we, as a culture, so bad at grief?
Let me start with a question. If a friend, family member, or loved one expressed concern that someone seemed “stuck” in their grief, how would you respond?

How long is too long to grieve?
And maybe an even more important question: What would “not being stuck” look like? For many people, “not being stuck” means the grieving person has returned to work, started going out again, seems happy, socializes with friends, stops talking about their loss, and no longer cries in public. In other words, they look like their old selves again.

We often equate happiness with health. If someone looks happy, we assume they must be doing well. If they are still sad, still crying, still talking about the person they lost, or still struggling months later, we begin to wonder whether something is wrong. That is because our culture often treats grief as an interruption. It is seen as something that gets in the way of happiness and normal life. Sadness, grief, and pain become problems to be solved rather than experiences to be lived through.

We want grief to be temporary, short-term, and manageable. We want a finish line.
There are certainly situations in which grief becomes so debilitating that someone needs additional professional help and support. But we need to be careful not to assume that ongoing grief means someone is grieving incorrectly. Even the idea that our deepest losses must eventually become something positive can become another burden for grieving people. We hear stories about people who take their pain and use it to help others. That can be beautiful and meaningful, and many people choose to do exactly that.

But helping others is not the purpose of grief. Your pain does not have to become a ministry, a book, a nonprofit, a testimony, or an inspirational story for your grief to have been handled well.

​Sometimes, surviving today is enough.

Is it possible to sit in church for ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years, know all the familiar answers, and still be living on spiritual baby food? Have you ever honestly examined your walk with God and wondered whether you have quietly shifted from actively growing in Christ to coasting on spiritual autopilot? In our culture of low accountability and easy shortcuts, it's easy to show up on Sundays, be fed, go home, and not be challenged or spiritually moved.
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Think of the milk versus solid food analogy that we will look at in a moment. Milk is for infants; it is pre-digested, easy, and requires zero effort to swallow. That is a wonderful gift when you are just a spiritual infant. But solid food is for grown-ups. It takes time, intentional chewing, and a real appetite that builds genuine spiritual strength. The tragedy is never starting on milk; it is remaining content with milk when God has set a banquet before us.

Rather than floating through our faith on spiritual autopilot, what if you invested in your spiritual formation and stepped into the rich maturity of knowing Christ deeply? That is the life-giving opportunity before us today.

Hebrews 5:11 - 14

The Expectation of Growth
When we look at Hebrews 5, God reveals a design for our walk with Him: spiritual life is meant to grow. In verse 12, the author writes, "You have been believers so long now that you ought to be teaching others." Notice the clear expectation. Just as a child is naturally born to grow into healthy adulthood, longstanding faith is meant to yield spiritual wisdom, maturity, and the capacity to nourish others.

In verse 14, the author describes who the mature truly are. They are not people who have memorized facts or spent decades sitting in church pews. The mature are those who, through obedience and discipline, have trained their spirituality to discern good from evil. Maturity in Christ is an ongoing spiritual workout; it is a steady, intentional exercise of the heart that sharpens our discernment as we walk closely with the Lord and feast on His Word.

When we actively pursue maturity, the impact is never limited to a Sunday morning service. It affects every single area of our daily lives.

Spiritual maturity transforms how we live. It changes how we treat one another in our homes, workplaces, and church community. Instead of reacting with frustration, doubt, or self-protection, a maturing believer is empowered to engage others with patience, love, and humility. Even in moments of conflict or mistreatment, maturity gives us the freedom to respond to our enemies with the very grace, mercy, and forgiveness we have received in Christ.

Spiritual maturity is never an abstract concept reserved for textbooks. It is a practical, living reality. As we digest solid spiritual food, our spiritual senses sharpen, and our lives begin to bear the unmistakable fruit of Jesus.

Problem: Our flesh desires complacency and superficial allegiance, resisting genuine maturity in Christ and pursuing our own desires.
Look at how the author of Hebrews diagnoses his readers. They were not brand-new believers struggling to grasp basic concepts; they were believers who had heard the truth for years. Yet the author pauses to deliver a sobering diagnosis: "You are spiritually dull and don’t seem to listen." Their dullness was not an intellectual deficit. It was a conscious choice. They deliberately tuned out the deeper things of God, choosing spiritual infancy because real hearing required more work than they were willing to give.

We face the same pull today. In a world saturated with quick fixes, life hacks, and easy shortcuts, we often resist the hard work of due diligence in God's Word. We want the benefits of spiritual maturity, but when confronted with the patient disciplines of deep study, reflection, and personal application, our flesh seeks an easy out. We settle for superficial allegiance, content to show up, be fed, and return home without letting truth reshape our daily lives.

Beneath this drift lies the quiet idol of ease and laziness. After decades of church life, our hearts are tempted to believe we have already put in our time. We want the standing and respect of seasoned believers without the ongoing investment of sitting humbly at Jesus’ feet. We trade Christ’s vitality for the comfort of coasting.

When we choose spiritual laziness, the consequences can be painful. We slowly drift into isolation from authentic Christian fellowship, grow distant from God, and face the temptation to compromise. Our culture tries to soothe us by shifting the blame outward, suggesting that spiritual dryness is simply the fault of the church, our busyness, or our environment. But shifting blame only keeps us trapped on a diet of baby food, starving our souls of the genuine maturity God desires.

When the author of Hebrews diagnoses sluggishness, he delivers a hard truth wrapped in hope. He tells us they have become dull of hearing, yet notice what he does not say. He does not say they were spiritually deaf, nor does he say God has abandoned them to their inactivity. Dullness of hearing can mean the line of communication is still open. God has not written them off because they have coasted on spiritual autopilot.

In our spiritual dullness, we may have sought shortcuts and settled for spiritual baby food; Jesus refused every shortcut. In our place, He walked a life of wholehearted, attentive obedience to the Father. Where our ears grew sluggish, Jesus listened and obeyed, submitting to the way of sacrifice so that we could be reconciled to God. Because of His extraordinary grace, we are never trapped in our spiritual sluggishness. Christ meets us in our dullness, calling us back into vibrant communion with Himself.

Right before pausing to confront their spiritual drift, the author anchors them in the reality of Jesus as the Great High Priest. Under the old covenant, priests offered repeated, temporary sacrifices that could never permanently secure the heart. But Jesus did something far greater: He did not merely offer an external sacrifice on an altar; He became our sin offering and our ultimate sacrifice once for all.

On the cross, Jesus offered Himself to fully atone for sins, taking upon Himself humanity's complacency, superficial allegiance, and self-absorbed drift. Through His death, resurrection, and ascension, He has granted us permanent, direct access to the Father. We do not have to perform, earn our way, or project an image of having it all together to draw near to God. Jesus has already secured our standing, opening the door for us to enter God's presence with bold confidence.

When this substitutionary grace takes root in our hearts, it completely reorients why we pursue spiritual maturity. Immature religion is always transactional; it pursues Jesus merely to get something from Him. It treats God as a means to an end, showing up only for comfort, relief, or spiritual respectability.

Spiritual maturity transforms our motivation. Because Jesus has secured our standing and granted us direct access to the Father, we no longer relate to God to bargain for blessings; we pursue Him simply to know Him. We are free from the exhausting pressure of religious duty. Resting in the finished work of Christ, we receive the Holy Spirit, who dwells within us and empowers us to leave spiritual infancy behind and cultivate deep, lasting maturity in Him.

Response
In light of this extraordinary grace, we have a life-giving opportunity. Rather than drifting through our faith on spiritual autopilot or settling for the bare minimum, what if we stepped into the rich maturity of knowing Christ deeply?

The Old Way of the flesh tells seasoned believers that decades of church attendance are enough, that we can quietly retire into spiritual retirement and survive on prepackaged baby food. But the New Way of the Spirit invites us into something far more rewarding: because Christ has secured our standing and granted us direct access to the Father, we are now free to take active, joyful responsibility for our spiritual formation.

We see this practical life in verse 14: "Solid food is for those who are mature, who through training have the skill to recognize the difference between right and wrong."

Spiritual maturity is a living capacity exercised through daily communion with God. By grace, we get to train our spiritual senses. We have the privilege of opening the Scriptures with an appetite for solid food, allowing the Spirit to sharpen our discernment so we can navigate our families, workplaces, and relationships with Christlike wisdom.

Mature believers are free to live in daily devotion and obedience simply because we desire to know God more. We do not engage with God’s Word to earn His affection; we engage with His Word because we want to know Him more. Growth is no longer an exhausting obligation we must fulfill; it is a life-giving relationship we get to enjoy.

Resting in Grace over Self-Reliance
The world insists that growth comes through exhausting willpower, rigid self-help techniques, and the drive to prove our worth. Religious moralism adds the crushing weight of having to earn God's favor through our own performance.

The gospel shatters both narratives. Our spiritual growth is rooted solely in grace, not in our self-made works. Because Jesus has accomplished everything on our behalf, we are invited to rest in God's peace. Anchored in that secure love, we are now fully empowered to move beyond spiritual stagnation and actively pursue the deeper things of God.

Conclusion
We began today with an honest question: is it possible to sit in church for decades and still be living on spiritual baby food? Jesus, our great High Priest, did not offer Himself and tear open the veil just so we could remain in the nursery on spiritual autopilot. He gives us direct access to the Father.

Overcoming spiritual laziness or dullness is never about self-generated willpower, nor is it about earning God's approval. You are not left to grow in your own strength. Jesus became the ultimate sacrifice, securing our permanent standing before the Father and giving us His Holy Spirit. Because of His finished work, we are fully empowered by grace to leave complacency behind, step into the deeper things of God, and walk with spiritual senses trained to discern right from wrong.

Today, accept the challenge to take active ownership of your faith. Step away from the bare minimum. In Christ, you are free to feast on God’s Word, deepen your walk, and pursue genuine maturity in Him. 

 Nobody is immune to grief; we all experience it, and it sucks. When we see someone grieving, our natural inclination is to help or “comfort” them. Nobody likes to see someone they love in pain, suffering, and grief. So, we try our best to help. We stumble and fumble, but in our desire to help, we can sometimes make things worse. Unfortunately, our culture is not very good at dealing with or working through grief. In fact, saying modern culture is the only society that has not handled grief well would be a misnomer. We can go all the way back to the book of Job, which many think is the oldest book of the Bible, and see how ineffective people were at supporting others in grief.

Job 1 & 2
Overview of Job. 
In the first few chapters of Job, we read that he was a righteous, wealthy, and blessed man. He had it all… a large family, resources and wealth far beyond measure, and was considered the greatest man of his time. Job had everything going for him: comfort, a daily routine, and a relationship with the Lord.

One day, in response to the accuser’s challenge before God (we will talk more about that later), Job lost his children and his livestock in one fell swoop. In Job 1:20–22, we see Job as a broken and grieving individual as he tore his garments, fell down, and worshiped God. This was an unusual way to grieve, and it is by no means the template for grief, but it was his grief, and he did it in the manner he felt he should. If that wasn’t enough, Job was afflicted with painful boils and sores. To ease his discomfort, he would scrape his scabs and boils with pieces of a broken clay pot. His wife, who offered him no solace, told Job to “curse God and die!”

What follows in the next thirty-plus chapters is that Job’s friends come and try to support him during this dark part of his life. As we see, their words were far from supportive; in fact, they made matters worse. Maybe his friends thought they were helping with their counsel, but were actually harmful and hurtful.

More Than Words
It is extremely difficult to see our loved ones in pain. Those who love us, or we love, struggle to find the right words to comfort our grieving loved ones. Words like “You will feel better one day,” “It won’t always be this difficult,” or the optimistic ones say, “Hey, look to the future; things will only get better.”

Whether we like it or not, everyone has an opinion on grief and feels the need to make things better somehow. This is a natural response. Of course, we want our grieving loved ones to “get better” or not hurt so much. But the reality is there is no “fix” for grief. One-way people try to console or “fix” grief is through words, and often those words, even when intended as comfort, can make the grieving individual feel worse. Let’s be honest, grief makes people feel uncomfortable. Plus, people often think grief is bad because it causes pain. So, we try to say things to make things better. In the process, the one “supporting” those grieving usually feels helpless, awkward, and ridiculous, while the person they are trying to support ends up feeling dismissed and patronized. 

In the end, people may say unhelpful things like…

• “You should feel blessed because you had them in your life for as long as you did.”
• “Death is natural, and it happens to all of us.”
• “They are in a better place now.”
• “When you get through this, you will be a better and stronger person.”
• “Everything happens for a reason.”
• “God needed them more than we did.”
  
  

But if you ever felt angered, offended, or hurt by someone who is trying to give comfort, it’s because of what is implied. In their response, the unspoken conclusion to their statements is… “So, stop feeling how you feel.” What they don’t realize is that by trying to take your pain away, they are dismissing and minimizing the extent of your grief. It is believed that by trying to take someone’s grief and pain away, you are telling them it’s not OK to talk about their grief.

Author Megan Devine, in IT’S OK THAT YOU’RE NOT OK, writes about the “everything happens for a reason” response, “The unspoken second half of the sentence in this case says you needed this somehow. It says that you weren’t aware of what was important in life before this happened.” She continues, “You didn’t need this. You don’t have to grow from it, and you don’t have to put it behind you.”

In our grief, the words we use, and the words spoken to us matter.

The Epistle of James has some wise words to offer to us when it comes to speaking.  James 1:19 says, “Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.” Slow to speak and quick to listen.  Sometimes those grieving just need someone to listen to them and not try to “fix” anything. Sometimes silence and affirmation are the best responses.

James 3
James describes the tongue as a fire, capable of great harm. This warning extends beyond teachers to all believers. Our words, like fire, can cause destruction when used irresponsibly. Many of us have experienced the pain of harsh words spoken to us. Proverbs 18:21 states, "The tongue has the power of life and death." Our words can uplift or tear down, bring healing or inflict wounds.

Evangelist Leonard Ravenhill once said, "Our words reflect what’s in our hearts." What we talk about often reveals our true priorities. How quickly can you tell what someone values by listening to them? James emphasizes that our speech should reflect the God we serve.
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Conclusion
The greatest gift we can give someone who is grieving is permission, the permission to hurt, to cry, to be angry, to ask questions, to tell the same story over and over again, and even to sit in silence. We don’t have to explain their pain or find some spiritual lesson hidden inside of it. We simply need to be willing to enter into that uncomfortable space with them and stay there for a while. Sometimes loving someone well means saying less, listening more, and reminding them through our presence that they don’t have to carry their grief alone.
 
 

1. Can you share a time when someone’s words deeply hurt you when they were intended to encourage you?
2. Why do you think we feel such a strong need to “fix” someone’s grief instead of simply being present with them in it?
3. Job’s friends were at their best when they simply sat with him in silence (Job 2:13). Why can being present and listening sometimes be more powerful than offering advice or explanations?
4. James tells us to be “quick to listen” and “slow to speak.” What would it look like practically to follow that advice when walking alongside someone who is grieving?

 
 

Introduction
Why is it that on our hardest, loneliest days, when grief feels heaviest, physical pain lingers, or our hearts ache in quiet isolation, our first instinct is to pull away and hide from God rather than run straight to Him?

When weakness overtakes us, we often feel like an unwashed traveler standing outside a grand estate in the freezing rain. We see the warm fire through the windows, longing for comfort, yet we hesitate even to knock on the door. We whisper to ourselves that we are a burden, that our insecurity, tears, or failures make us unworthy to enter.

The original recipients of Hebrews knew that exact weariness. Under mounting pressure, they were tempted to retreat into old, comfortable habits and religious self-reliance. We do the same when we suffer in silence. Yet when we feel most vulnerable, Scripture reveals that Jesus, the Son of the house, meets us at the door, hands us His key, and welcomes us inside.

Rather than shrinking back like insecure outsiders in our weakness and grief, what if we approached God's throne with boldness?

Today, you are invited to set down the exhausting weight of trying to be strong enough and to listen expectantly to the voice of our Great High Priest.

Hebrews 4:14–16
Our Christian confidence does not rest solely on our feelings, our energy, or how well our week went. It rests on the reality of who Jesus is and where Jesus is right now. Look at how verse 14 opens: "So then, since we have a great High Priest who has entered heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to what we believe."

In the Old Testament, the high priest was a mortal man who had to offer sacrifices for his own sins before he could represent the people. Once a year, on the Day of Atonement, he slipped behind a thick curtain into the earthly Holy of Holies, in holy fear.

The author of Hebrews declares a magnificent title here: Jesus is our Great High Priest. He did not enter an earthly tent built by human hands. He "passed through the heavens," ascending directly into the Father's presence on our behalf. His sacrifice was complete, His atonement finished, and He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. Because our High Priest is seated in God's presence, our invitation to draw near is settled and permanent. Our boldness is anchored not in our performance but in His finished work.

This truth offers great comfort in our everyday lives. When facing physical hardships, declining health, or the heavy ache of grief and loss, it is easy to wonder whether God feels distant or whether our struggles go unnoticed.

Verse 14 reminds us that our Great High Priest is not an untouchable figure. Jesus is actively at work in our lives today, advocating for us before the Father and speaking to us through His Holy Spirit. We have an eternal Savior who has walked in our shoes, endured our griefs, and understands our vulnerabilities. In every quiet room, at every doctor's appointment, and in every season of sorrow, we are free to rest in the truth that we are represented by a living, sympathetic Savior who invites us near.

The original recipients of this letter knew the weight of hardship. As early Jewish believers facing trial and persecution, they were growing weary. When life became difficult and painful, their instinct was to retreat to the familiar, slipping back into old religious habits and routines where they felt safe and in control. That is why the author urgently warned them not to drift away, pleading with them to hold fast to their faith. Hardship has a way of tempting each of us to retreat from God rather than run to Him.

We wrestle with that same pull today. When seasons of frailty, chronic illness, or the deep sorrow of losing a spouse press in, our default reflex is rarely to draw near.

Instead, we tend to react in one of two ways. Some of us fall into the trap of collapsing in despair, wondering if God has forgotten us, and quietly pull away from prayer because we feel our grief is too heavy. Others default to suppressing their tears, putting on a brave face, and pretending everything is fine. We focus on religious self-reliance, trying to manage our pain in our own strength because we think admitting weakness isn't what strong Christians do.

Underlying both reactions is a quiet heart idol: stubborn self-reliance and the paralyzing fear of being a burden. We tell ourselves that we must stay self-sufficient or that God and the people around us are tired of hearing our cries.

Living under that lie has painful consequences. It breeds loneliness, anxiety, and isolation. When we hide our needs, we miss out on the rich comfort and blessings God wants to pour into our lives through His people.

Our culture only worsens this pain by preaching a gospel of self-made strength: "Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps; never show weakness." But self-reliance is an empty promise. It knows nothing of grace or real community, leaving us exhausted and isolated when our hearts need mercy most.

If our access to God depended on our goodness, emotional strength, or ability to carry our grief, the doors of heaven would remain closed. We cannot reach God by our own strength. In our brokenness and sin, we have no merit to plead before a holy God.

This is why the author of Hebrews lifts our eyes away from our frailties and anchors them on Jesus. Look at verse 15: He is not an unreachable, distant figure looking down on us with detachment. Jesus is fully God and fully man. He entered our world, took on human flesh, and walked through the very temptations, sorrows, and vulnerabilities we face. He knew what it was to weep, to feel physical pain, and to bear loss. Yet in all of this, He lived in obedience; He did not sin.

Where we stumble, Jesus remained faithful. He went to the cross as our willing, unblemished sacrifice, bearing our sin to atone for our rebellion. He broke death’s power in His resurrection and ascended into the heavens to reign at the Father’s right hand as our eternal mediator. Because of His finished sacrifice, the seat of holy judgment has become a welcoming throne of grace.

This divine substitution changes everything about how we relate to God. Recognizing that Jesus took our place is deeply humbling. It strips away all pretense of self-reliance, reminding us that no amount of effort or religious grit could ever earn us an audience with the Father.

Yet at the very same moment, this truth brings relief and liberation. Because Jesus is your Great High Priest, you are free from the exhausting pressure to prove your worth to God. You do not need to hide your tears, mask your physical frailty, or apologize for bringing Him your daily aches and loneliness. You are not an unwelcome burden knocking at the gate; you are a cherished son or daughter brought straight into the house by the Son Himself.

When you rest in what Christ has accomplished, your heart is freed from fear of inadequacy. Jesus lived the sinless life you could not, bore the judgment you could not, and now covers you with His perfect righteousness. In Him, you have received unshakable boldness to enter God's presence at any moment, confident that you will meet only mercy and grace.

We cannot bridge the gap to God by our own strength. In our fallen state, self-reliance leaves us exhausted, and our failures leave us unworthy to draw near. Yet the gospel declares that God did not leave us outside the gate.

Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, entered our human experience. He took on flesh, walked our roads, and tasted our grief, vulnerability, and tears. As verse 15 reminds us, He faced the same tests and trials we do, yet He did not sin. Where we stumble, Jesus walked in obedience. Where we give in to self-protection or despair, He trusted the Father completely. Because He lived the spotless life we could not, He became the perfect, willing sacrifice on the cross for our sins. He bore the penalty for our rebellion, atoned for our failures, and dismantled every wall of guilt that kept us separated from God.
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Jesus did not remain in the grave. He rose bodily in victory, conquered death, and ascended into heaven, where He reigns at the right hand of the Father. He is our Great High Priest, having passed through the heavens on our behalf.

Because His atoning work is finished and forever accepted, the place of divine judgment has become a throne of grace for all who belong to Him. Jesus is not an unreachable or untouchable ruler who looks down on our aging bodies, loneliness, or sorrow with cold detachment. He is our living Mediator, who knows our pain from the inside out and continually advocates for us. Our entrance into God's presence does not depend on our fluctuating feelings or spiritual performance; it is anchored in the living presence of Jesus, who stands in heaven for us.

This substitutionary exchange rewires our hearts from the inside out. Realizing that our standing before God is entirely unearned is deeply humbling—it strips away our stubborn independence and reveals that we bring nothing to the table.

Yet this same truth is infinitely liberating. If our acceptance before God does not rest on our efforts, our weaknesses, physical limitations, and seasons of grief cannot disqualify us. We are freed from the exhausting grind of trying to prove our worth or to maintain a facade of self-sufficiency. Because Jesus has secured our standing once and for all, we are released from shame and invited to rest securely in His finished work, receiving boldness to approach the Father at all times.

Because of what Jesus has accomplished on our behalf, we are new creations, fully welcomed into God's family. We no longer live in fear, hesitation, or doubt about our standing before Him. The invitation in Hebrews 4:16 stands wide open: we are invited to come boldly to the throne of our gracious God, where we receive mercy and find grace to help us in our exact moment of need. We do not have to wonder whether we are welcome; we get to draw near with the joyful confidence of beloved sons and daughters.

This grace completely reorients how we live day to day. The old way of the flesh tempts us to withdraw, carry our grief in silence, and cling to stubborn self-reliance because we dread being a burden to others. But in view of God's grace, we are empowered to lay down that exhausting weight of independence.

When a brother or sister in Christ offers to bring a warm meal, give a ride to an appointment, or sit with you during an hour of loneliness, you are free to receive that care with an open heart. Letting our church family serve us is not a defeat; it is a beautiful opportunity to experience the tangible love of Jesus.

The world constantly preaches a hollow gospel of self-sufficiency: pull yourself up by your bootstraps, put on a brave face, and never let anyone see you struggle. The Gospel offers a far better way. In Christ, you do not have to pretend to be strong in seasons of weakness or force a smile in moments of sorrow. You are free to be entirely authentic. Because our Great High Priest understands every ache and tear, we can bring our honest, unfiltered hearts to Him, resting securely in His welcoming grace.

Conclusion
If you are in Christ, you can truly rest. You never have to hustle to prove your worth, hide your physical frailty, or carry your grief in silence. Jesus is your Great High Priest, who lived, died, rose, and ascended for you. He knows every ache of your heart and remains intimately near through every season—in your quiet moments of joy and in your deepest valleys of sickness, loneliness, or sorrow.
Whatever burdens, weights, struggles, or quiet grief you carry today, you are invited to lay them freely at God's throne of grace. You do not have to pretend to be strong on your own. Step forward with boldness and confidence into your Savior's tender, empathetic embrace, who understands you completely and welcomes you home.

 
Introduction
The first two chapters of Hebrews establish the truth that Jesus is the greatest in all creation. The author highlights Jesus’ humanity and divinity. In our last time together, we discussed how he warns his recipients about the real danger of drifting and falling away from Jesus. He encourages his readers to stay grounded in Jesus, who is the firm foundation of our faith.

Now, the author turns the attention from the angels to Moses.  This is deliberate, since Moses was revered in Judaism as the greatest of all men.  The author does not belittle or speak ill of Moses in any way but shows that even though he was the greatest among all men of Israel, Jesus is still far greater.

Hebrews 3:1 - 6
Vs 1: “Therefore” – Since Jesus destroyed death and is far superior to the angels, he became human, made propitiation for sins, was tempted, and suffered so that he could help those who were tempted and suffering.

The author now gives the readers three identities.  First, they are identified as siblings, “Dear brothers and sisters” – people who are members of the body of Christ and have been consecrated to service to God through Jesus. 

Second, they are recipients of God’s work… Those who are “called to heaven” they are the holy and anointed ones, believers and followers of Christ.

Thirdly, they are sharers, those who are joined and participate together in something. The people the author is addressing are all connected in Christ.

“Think carefully about this” – Consider, direct, or fix your mind on Jesus, who is an “Apostle,” “a messenger,” or “sent one.” He, the sent one, was sent by the Father to earth to accomplish his purposes. He is also our “High Priest,” signifying a sacrificial mission to humanity. As High Priest, he is sent to deal with the problems of humanity’s sins. Jewish sources indicate that the high priest was regarded as the fully accredited representative of God before the people on the solemn Day of Atonement. Although Moses is never designated as an apostle, the conception of him as one called, appointed, and sent by God underlies the term. The title “apostle or messenger and high priest” in Heb 3:1 points to the comparison that will be developed between Jesus and Moses in their office as appointed representatives of God.

Vs 2: “He was faithful to God” - Jesus has always been, is, and will be faithful to God. Moses is also described as faithful. One could argue that Moses was not as faithful as he could have been at times. Yet the writer does not criticize the man honored so highly by the Jews. Thus, he prefers to accept and declare Moses “faithful.” Yet he sees Jesus’ faithfulness as complete.

Vs 3 – 5: Moses was highly revered. He was considered great; as stated before, he was deemed the greatest man of Israel. However, as great as Moses was, Jesus is greater. Moses’ glory did not measure up to Jesus’ glory. How so? Moses was a faithful servant in the House of God, but Jesus was the builder of the house. Jesus, the one who makes the house, is worthy of more honor than the house, no matter how glorious the house may be. Moses was always a member of the people of God (Israel), and nothing more. He was great and honorable among his people, but there was no way he could be anything other than one of them. This is not the case with Jesus! He was more. We have read in previous chapters that Jesus became a true man and could truly call humanity “brothers and sisters.” But we would be mistaken if we stopped at calling him a mere man. Christ is more than man. He is the founder of the church, and the church was continuous with the OT people of God.

The official title “servant” appears only here in the NT and is used to contrast with Jesus; Moses is a servant, and Jesus is the Son of God. In context, it conveys dignity and respect, describing a relationship of affection and trust between Moses and God.

Vs 6:  Jesus is superior in the fact that he is the Son and is appointed to exercise his rule and authority over the house of God.

In 1 Sam 2:35, God promised that he would raise up a faithful priest and he would build a faithful house. This latter promise is taken up in v 6b. The undeniable position of “we are” emphasizes the collective understanding that the church is the “house of God.” We are the church, and Christ is over us.  Because Jesus is a faithful high priest in the service of God, Christians have the right and ability to draw near to God (cf. 4:15–16), and we can openly confess our faith, which is the source of our unshakeable hope.

Hebrews 3:12 - 19
Unbelief: Unbelief is not a lack of faith or trust. It is the refusal to believe God. It leads inevitably to turning away from God in a deliberate act of rejection.

This refusal to believe and disobedience is what kept the Israelites out of the Promised Land. 

Unbelieving hearts lead to falling away from God.

Vs 13:  The admonition “You must warn each other every day” may assume a daily gathering of the house church, which would provide the occasion for mutual encouragement. Christian fellowship is extremely important because it builds others up in faith and strengthens the body against falling into sin, rebellion, and apostasy.  This encouragement was a daily discipline and was a habitual act.

Vs 16 - 18: The author poses and answers three questions

1. Who were the ones who rebelled and hardened their hearts against God? Moses and the Israelites.
2. Who was God angry with for 40 years?  With sinners, the unfaithful, and those who died in the wilderness.
3. Who did he swear would not enter rest? Those who disobeyed. Sin is self-defeating and prevented Israelites from entering the rest of the Promised Land.

Hebrews 4:1 - 11
God has given the promise of rest.  Those who believe will enter into rest.

Rest
Commandment 4 Sabbath: Exodus 20:8
We do not live under OT rule and law. Jesus fulfilled the law. So, what should the Sabbath look like for us today? I believe, first and foremost, we should continue to take a day of rest from our usual work and activity, and that rest should involve worship. Gathering today to worship is participation in Sabbath rest. The point of the Sabbath is to “stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another.” Resting in the Lord's presence through worship, fellowship, prayer, and communion is what the Sabbath should look like. 

The truth is that we don’t stop working on the Sabbath… Things still need to be done at home and in the church.  Meals need to be cooked, dishes washed, lawns mowed… Children need to be led during the Sunday School hour, babies need to be watched in the Nursery, music needs to be played, etc.  These shouldn’t be burdens, and I get that sometimes they do become burdensome, and when they do, we are to cast that burden onto God, and he will give you the strength and joy you need to complete it for his glory. 
 
Late author and Pastor Tim Keller sums up quite nicely what Sabbath means to us today, where he writes, “Only Jesus offers you a 'finished work' to rest in. In fact, the very definition of a Christian is not just someone who admires Jesus, emulates Jesus, or obeys Jesus. A Christian is someone who ‘rests in his finished work’ instead of your own. Remember, God was only able to rest in Gen 2:1-3 because his work was finished. A Christian is someone who knows that it would be quite all right if he or she died tonight. You've already finished your work--everything that has to happen within your lifetime has happened. The rest is gravy, icing. Gravy and icing is quite tasty, of course--but not absolutely necessary.”  Because of Jesus, essentially our work is finished.  Yes, we labor and toil day after day, but our final rest… our eternal rest is found in Jesus, and I can rest in that.

Vs 12 - 13: “For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.” This weapon is not only for defense but also for striking back. The Word of God is powerful; when Jesus was tempted in the desert, he used it to fend off the devil, and it was sufficient. It is living, active, and transformational. Everything about the Word of God points to Jesus, and Jesus is the fulfillment of the Word of God (I John 1:1). If you are a believer, you must cling to the Word of God; you must know it and love it, for in it is power, salvation, and truth.

The Word of God…
It is LIVING –meaning that it gives and contains life. God’s Word still speaks to the hearts of individuals today.

It is ACTIVE and has power. As I stated already, the Word of God has the power to transform and change individuals for God's glory.
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It is PIERCING, which means it has the power to convict and correct.

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Good Grief

Purpose: To talk to one another about grief.  Whether you are going through grief or have a loved one going through grief, it is important to know that grief is real and it is ever present.  Modern society may see grief as something to fix, but in fact it is something you carry and that stays with you. 

In this course, we will look at the realities of grief and how we can walk in and through it together in a healthy way... Good grief.  This does not mean it will be all puppy dogs and flowers; I can guarantee you this is not the case.  It is a course that will bring up strong emotions, tears, anger, regret, sorrow, doubt, and much more.  Healthy does not mean happy.  Good grief means you are going through the pain in a way that does not paralyze you and keep you in a place of continual desperation and despair.

Introduction
I’m not an expert on grief. I’m just someone learning to live in a life of grief I never planned for.

A textbook definition of grief: The natural psychological and physiological response to loss, particularly the death of a significant person, involving emotional, cognitive, behavioral, social, and physical reactions as a person adapts to the reality of the loss.

A simple definition: What happens to us when someone or something we love is no longer there.

C.S. Lewis writes, “Grief felt so like fear… The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed.”[i]

Until I lost Carrie, I was unaware of the large grieving community that exists. I was too self-focused to fully comprehend that so many others were hurting and grieving. Although I showed empathy whenever I heard of a tragedy, I was also guilty of passively saying the very things I don't like to hear today… “God’s got a plan in all this.”  “This tragedy may have surprised you, but it didn’t surprise God.” “She/He is in a better place now,” and the list goes on. In my self-focused world, I don’t think I was trying to be insensitive, but I was. Words… they can really bite.

Even the way I viewed death was shallow. I knew death was real, but death was certainly not something I needed to focus on. The death of my wife was certainly a foreign concept. Because we both knew, I was supposed to be the one who died first, and that reality was way down the road. Besides, we had plans; we were going to have grandbabies, see our children get married or pursue lifelong careers, we were going to travel together, and we lived our lives as regular normal people do: we argued, we cried together, we loved, we worshiped together, we criticized, we lovingly rebuked, we experienced job loss together, and we supported each other. Ultimately, we had each other, and even though we knew one day death would come, that was in the future… waaay in the future.

Then death came. In one quick moment, death snatched away the one I had spent over 30 years of my life with. I had known her longer than I had not known her. And one moment she was with me, talking, asking what we wanted for dinner, and the next moment she was gone… unresponsive.

I used to think death wasn’t so scary because the Bible tells us not to fear it, but death is scary. I have a new understanding and respect for death because it has knocked on my door and it has taken the one I loved most in this life. Death used to feel far away; now, death doesn’t feel so distant, and I am aware that life is fragile and death can be a real punch to the gut, and it brings the hardest things I have ever had to bear… grief.  Oh. Good ole grief. 

We are Getting it Wrong
The Reality of Grief
Mark Nepo writes in the forward to the book  IT’S OK THAT YOU’RE NOT OK, “In living our (lives), we are here to love and lose. No one knows why. It is just so. If we commit to loving, we will inevitably know loss and grief. If we try to avoid loss and grief, we will never truly love.”[ii]

We can learn from one another. Those who suffer carry a wisdom the rest of us need. We live in a society afraid to feel or to express feelings; this is why it is important to experience love and loss together and authentically.

The way we deal with grief in our culture is broken. The reality is that we all experience grief in some capacity, and the way the world around us views it is not helpful or healthy. When tragedy hits you, your life is forever changed, and how you respond shapes who you are today. Until recently, I can honestly say I did not know how to grieve or how to support and love someone who was grieving. I look back at those loved ones who lost a spouse, and I shudder when I think about how I “cared” for them. When Carrie died, I realized how insensitive I was and how bad a friend and support I was during the darkest days of their lives. I was so convicted by my insensitivity that I apologized to both for not being a good friend or support. Both graciously accepted my apology. From that point, I vowed to grieve well and to support those who are grieving.

Grief is not unique.  How we grieve is. We have all experienced grief and loss.  We’ve also felt misunderstood in our grief and loss. We’ve also been on the other side of grief as we stood by, helpless in the face of someone else’s pain. We say things to try to make people feel better, knowing full well that words can never make anything right. There is no victor in grief. It is common for grieving individuals to feel misunderstood, and for those who love us to feel helpless in the face of grief. Those of us grieving know that we need help and support, but we really don’t know how or what to ask for.

We all want to feel loved and supported in our grief, and we want to help those we love. Unfortunately, we either don’t know how or what to do, or we were just plain taught wrong.  Many of you were probably told at one point, in some capacity or another, to not trust your feelings, suppress them, and get on with life.  This is essentially what most of us are taught… maybe not literally, but certainly implied. Many people see grief as something to be fixed, overcome, or defeated.  We are not taught to see grief as something we should support. Unfortunately, this keeps us from caring for ourselves in our grief and hinders us from supporting those we love.

Our culture has not taught us how to navigate grief with the skills needed to be truly helpful. If we want to work through grief effectively, we must talk about it. We must understand that it is a natural process, not something to suppress, rush, or deny. So many people who are grieving don’t talk about their pain and grief. Sometimes it’s easier to put on a happy face and pretend all is well rather than be honest about our true emotions.
In the weeks to come, my hope is that we can look at the reality of loss, pain, and grief and learn together how to work and walk through grief. To see grief as something that is shouldered throughout life and not something to be fixed. 

Questions

1. What messages have you heard—from family, church, friends, or society—about how a person is “supposed” to grieve?
2. Why do you think we tend to treat grief as a problem that needs to be fixed rather than a reality that needs to be carried?
3. Why do you think we are so uncomfortable with grief, sadness, and loss? Why do we often feel the need to “fix” someone who is grieving?
4. What is something someone has said or done during a time of grief that was genuinely helpful? What is something that was meant to help but actually hurt?
5. If grief is not something we “get over,” what might it mean to grieve well—to learn to carry grief without allowing it to completely paralyze us?

[i] C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 3.

[ii] Megan Devine, It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand (Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2017), xi.