Awaiting Our Redemption

I've been thinking a great deal lately about sin, death, and the hope of resurrection. One question in particular has occupied my thoughts: If Jesus Christ has paid the penalty for our sins and reconciled us to God, does our own death serve any purpose in God's redemptive work? Does it accomplish anything?

Scripture teaches that sin entered the world through Adam's disobedience, and death came through sin (Romans 5:12). Paul tells us plainly that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). Yet those who have placed their faith in Jesus Christ have been forgiven, justified, and given new life through the Holy Spirit. If Christ has accomplished our redemption, why do we continue to experience the consequences of sin?

And why do our bodies and minds continue to deteriorate? Is it because of sin?

These questions are not merely theological. They touch something every one of us experiences, regardless of our age.

Outwardly Wasting Away

We don't need to be approaching death to recognize the effects of mortality. Illness interrupts our plans and work. Injuries leave lasting limitations. Our strength diminishes, and sometimes our memories or minds struggle with things that once came naturally. These changes can leave us grieving what we have lost and wondering what lies ahead.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:16:

Therefore we do not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. (CSB)

Paul was describing the suffering and afflictions he endured in ministry, but his words also speak to our frailty. There is an extraordinary tension in the Christian life. Though we have been made alive in Christ, we remain subject to weakness, corruption, and death. Though the Holy Spirit is at work within us, we still struggle with sin.

We experience these things because we live in a creation affected by sin, though our particular suffering is not necessarily the consequence of our own wrongdoing (John 9:1–3).

Yet our declining abilities do not diminish our worth. We do not become less human because we are ill, confused, weak, or dependent upon others. We remain people made in God's image (Genesis 1:27), deserving of love, dignity, and care.

For those who belong to Christ, there is further assurance. Our ability to think clearly, remember, communicate, or function independently is not the measure of our standing before God. Our knowledge of him may be affected by the limitations of our minds, but his knowledge of us is not diminished.

We remain known and loved by the One who has promised never to forsake us.

What Death Cannot Accomplish

As I considered these things, I wondered whether death itself was somehow necessary to complete our purification. Even those of us who have been redeemed continue to struggle with sin. Could death itself serve some purpose in bringing that struggle to an end?

I found the Heidelberg Catechism, Question 42, particularly helpful. It asks a question similar to my own: "Since Christ has died for us, why do we still have to die?"

Its answer is wonderfully clear:

Our death does not pay the debt of our sins. Rather, it puts an end to our sinning and is our entrance into eternal life.

This helped me recognize an important distinction. Death brings our earthly struggle with sin to an end, but it does not accomplish our redemption. Death is the consequence of sin that Christ has overcome, not the remedy for sin that Christ has provided.

When Jesus declared, "It is finished," his saving work on the cross was complete. Our salvation does not depend upon our suffering or dying.

Indeed, Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 15:51–52 that believers who are alive when Christ returns will be changed in an instant, without experiencing death.

What we need, therefore, is not death itself, but the complete transformation that only Christ can bring.

The Redemption of Our Bodies

In Romans 8, Paul describes creation groaning under the burden of corruption. He says that we who have the firstfruits of the Holy Spirit also groan inwardly as we await the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:22–23).

We have received new life, but we await its fullness. We know God's presence through his Spirit, yet we experience weakness, suffering, and decay.

N. T. Wright, in his excellent book Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, reminds us that the Christian promise is not simply that we will leave our bodies behind and go to heaven when we die. Rather, God will raise us to new life, redeeming rather than abandoning his creation.

Paul proclaims this in 1 Corinthians 15. What is perishable will be raised imperishable. What is sown in weakness will be raised in power.

Our future is not an eternity of sickness, failing memories, or diminished strength. Our hope is resurrection, and that hope rests upon something that has already happened: Jesus Christ has risen from the dead.

Our Hope Is in Christ

In Romans 7:24, Paul cries out, "Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

His answer comes immediately: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" (Romans 7:25, CSB).

Paul does not look to death for his deliverance. He looks to Jesus Christ.

And in Romans 8:11, he reminds us that the Spirit of the God who raised Jesus from the dead lives in those who belong to him. The God who raised Christ will also give life to our mortal bodies.

Our present condition is not our final condition. Nor does our hope depend upon our ability to feel hopeful. It rests upon the faithfulness of Jesus Christ.

We may grieve what we have lost, and we may fear what lies ahead. But we can entrust ourselves to the One who knows us completely, loves us faithfully, and has promised to raise us to new life.

Death does not complete the work of our redemption. Jesus Christ has accomplished that work, and he will bring it to its promised fulfilment. He has conquered sin and death, and because he lives, we too shall live.

All Scripture is Profitable

I wonder if we have become selective in what we are willing to hear from Scripture. We gladly receive its promises, its comfort, and its encouragement. But what happens when it confronts something we believe, challenges how we live, or calls us to change?

I ask this knowing that I have always been more inclined toward writing and teaching that encourages people. I want to offer hope, comfort, and reassurance, particularly to those struggling with life's difficulties. Scripture gives us good reason to do so. But it also has much to say about correction, rebuke, and training in righteousness. Are we giving those things the same attention?

An editor friend once told me, "Clear is kind." She was speaking about writing for public consumption, but I think the principle applies equally to Christian teaching and leadership. Sometimes kindness requires us to say something difficult, and genuine care means being willing to tell someone what they may not want to hear.

Many of us have experienced preaching that emphasized sin, judgment, and condemnation, sometimes leaving people burdened with guilt rather than strengthened in their understanding of God's grace. It was right to question that approach and recover a fuller appreciation of God's love, mercy, and forgiveness.

But I wonder whether, in trying to correct one imbalance, we have sometimes created another.

Writing to Timothy, Paul reminded him of the Scriptures he had known since childhood, which were able to give him wisdom for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. He then wrote:

"All Scripture is inspired by God and is profitable for teaching, for rebuking, for correcting, for training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work." (2 Timothy 3:16–17, CSB)

Paul begins with Scripture's origin. It is inspired by God. Its authority does not come from the preacher, the congregation, or our willingness to accept what it says. It comes from God himself.

But Paul also tells us what Scripture is intended to accomplish.

It teaches us what is true. It exposes what is wrong. It corrects us when we have gone astray and trains us to live rightly before God.

These purposes belong together. And notice the intended outcome. Scripture is given so that God's servant may be complete and equipped for every good work.

Paul is writing directly to Timothy about his responsibility in ministry. Yet Scripture's usefulness is not limited to preachers and teachers. Throughout the New Testament, we see God's desire to form a people who know him, trust him, and live according to his Word.

That doesn't mean every sermon must include correction or rebuke. Some passages bring wonderful assurance, while others call us to repentance. Many do both. What matters is that we allow Scripture to say what it says and accomplish what God intends.

The Responsibility of Preaching and Hearing

Paul's next words to Timothy are particularly solemn. He charges him before God and Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, to preach the Word. He must be ready in season and out of season, correcting, rebuking, and encouraging with great patience and teaching (2 Timothy 4:1–2).

Paul goes on to warn that a time will come when people will no longer tolerate sound doctrine. Instead, they will seek out teachers who tell them what they want to hear.

I wonder how much this shapes our preaching today.

A preacher may hesitate to address a difficult passage for fear of offending people or driving them away. And those of us listening may prefer messages that reassure rather than challenge us. Perhaps, over time, both begin to expect something from preaching that is different from what Scripture itself requires.

Of course, this is not true of every church or preacher. And resistance to a sermon does not necessarily mean someone is resisting God. Sometimes the difficulty is that Scripture has been misunderstood or poorly communicated.

That is why Paul also told Timothy to be diligent in presenting himself to God as an approved worker, correctly teaching the word of truth (2 Timothy 2:15).

The preacher must take care to understand Scripture before attempting to explain and apply it. Personal convictions, cultural preferences, and sincere religious enthusiasm cannot replace faithful interpretation.

The Anglican Church's Book of Common Prayer (1962) reflects this seriousness in its service for the ordination of priests (pp. 648–653). Those preparing for ministry are reminded of the weight of their calling and asked to affirm the sufficiency of Scripture for salvation, commit themselves to its diligent study, and teach nothing as necessary for salvation that cannot be established from God's Word. This is a worthwhile exhortation for anyone preparing to become a minister, pastor, or priest. It is a good reminder for those already serving in ministry as well.

James also warns that not many should become teachers because those who teach will receive a stricter judgment (James 3:1).

Those entrusted with proclaiming God's Word must first submit themselves to it. And Paul's instruction includes an important reminder: correction, rebuke, and encouragement must be given with great patience and careful teaching. Faithfulness is not permission to be harsh, impatient, or domineering.

But what about those of us who hear?

Paul's warning about people seeking teachers who suit their own desires should cause us to examine ourselves. Are we willing to receive Scripture when it confronts our assumptions, behaviour, or understanding of what it means to follow Christ? Or do we dismiss what challenges us while welcoming what confirms what we already believe?

That doesn't mean accepting everything a preacher says without question.

In Acts 17:11, Luke commends the people of Berea because they welcomed Paul's message eagerly while examining the Scriptures daily to determine whether what he taught was true.

They were willing to listen, but they also took responsibility for examining what they heard. We should do the same.

The preacher is accountable for faithfully handling Scripture. The hearer is responsible for examining what is taught and responding faithfully to what God's Word actually says.

Neither has the authority to make Scripture say what we want it to say, nor the freedom to disregard what it does say.

Correction Is Part of God's Care

Perhaps part of our reluctance to receive correction comes from how we understand God's love.

We rightly take comfort in knowing that God loves us, forgives us, and receives us through Christ. But his love does not mean he leaves us unchanged.

In Hebrews 12, the writer describes God's discipline of his children. Like a loving father, God trains his children for their good. His purpose is that we may share his holiness and produce what Scripture calls the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

The passage is about God's fatherly care, not a preacher's authority to discipline people. Nor does it suggest that every hardship is punishment for wrongdoing.

But it does remind us that God's love and his discipline belong together.

Sometimes we must confront cherished attitudes, abandon familiar behaviours, or acknowledge that we have misunderstood something we believed for years. That can be uncomfortable. Yet God's purpose is good. He is forming us into people who increasingly reflect the character of Christ.

We should also remember that the Gospel is not simply a call to improve our behaviour. Paul reminds Timothy that Scripture makes us wise for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. The transformation we need is not accomplished by determination alone, but through God's grace and the work of his Spirit.

Correction has its place within that greater work of salvation and renewal.

Growing Together Toward Maturity

There is another part of this that I think we sometimes overlook.

We have made Christian faith so individual and private that we can forget our shared responsibility for the life and health of the Church.

In Ephesians 4:11–16, Paul explains that Christ gave apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers to equip God's people for ministry and to build up the body of Christ.

The goal is maturity in Christ.

Paul speaks of believers growing in their knowledge of God's Son, becoming stable in their faith, resisting false teaching, and speaking the truth in love.

But this is not simply about each of us becoming a better Christian on our own. It is about the whole Church growing together under Christ, its head, with every member contributing to its life and work.

Surely the purpose of preaching is more than giving people something encouraging to take home on Sunday. We are to grow in our knowledge of Christ, become more like him, and learn to live faithfully together as his Church.

That includes caring for people who are suffering, meeting practical needs, bearing one another's burdens, and encouraging one another in the faith. It also includes being willing to speak the truth, confront wrongdoing, and help one another grow.

We must not choose between compassion and correction as though one excludes the other. Both have their place in the life of the Church.

Will We Submit to the Word?

I began by acknowledging that I naturally prefer to encourage rather than correct. I still believe the Church should be a place where people encounter the mercy, kindness, and hope found in Jesus Christ. But it must also be a place where we are willing to hear all that God has to say to us.

We need preachers who will faithfully study, understand, and proclaim Scripture, even when its message is difficult. And we need hearers who will carefully examine what is taught, receive what is true, and allow God's Word to shape their lives.

Paul gave Timothy his charge in the presence of God and Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead. That is a sobering reminder that we are accountable to God for how we handle and respond to his Word. One day, each of us will give an account to him (Romans 14:12).

So the question is not whether we prefer preaching that encourages us or preaching that corrects us. It is whether we are willing to submit ourselves to the Word of God, accepting its authority over what we believe, how we live, and even what we would prefer to hear.

All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for our good. Are we willing to receive it as such?

Faithful to the Word

Reflections on the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church

Why is it that people who seek to do what is right sometimes become the very people others want to silence?

We might expect those who call for honesty, fairness, and accountability to be welcomed. Yet experience often tells us otherwise. Sometimes it seems easier to silence the person who challenges wrongdoing than to confront the wrongdoing itself.

There is research that helps explain this. In a 2008 study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, researchers found that people who refuse to participate in questionable behaviour can provoke resentment from those who do. Their refusal can be experienced as criticism, even when they have said nothing at all. Simply doing what is right can make others uncomfortable with their own choices.

Scripture speaks to this human tendency. Jesus tells us that light is not always welcomed because it reveals what we would rather leave hidden.

Called to Be Salt and Light

Jesus called his followers the salt of the earth and the light of the world (Matthew 5:13–16). We are called to live as citizens of God's Kingdom, bearing witness to his truth, goodness, and righteousness in a fallen world.

Such a life will sometimes stand in sharp contrast to the values and practices of the society around us. Even without speaking, the way we live can challenge what others have come to accept.

In John 3:19–21, Jesus describes people loving darkness rather than light because they do not want their deeds exposed. Light reveals what darkness conceals, and not everyone welcomes what it reveals.

Yet our calling is not simply to live differently. We are also called to speak the truth of the Gospel, to proclaim Christ, and to call people to repentance and reconciliation with God.

In this sense, the Church shares in the prophetic work of bearing witness to God's truth. Throughout Scripture, the prophets were sent to confront sin, expose injustice, and call people back to God. Their messages were not always welcomed. Jeremiah was beaten and imprisoned. Elijah fled for his life. Many suffered because they faithfully proclaimed what God had entrusted to them.

Yet their purpose was not condemnation for its own sake. God called his people to turn from their wickedness and live (Ezekiel 33:11). His warnings were expressions of mercy, calling people to repentance before judgment came.

Jesus himself perfectly embodied this prophetic witness. He exposed sin and confronted hypocrisy, yet he came not to condemn the world but to save it (John 3:17). He spoke truth because he loved, and he offered life to those who would receive him.

His words and works provoked opposition, and ultimately he was rejected and crucified. Yet his death was no mere consequence of human hostility. In obedience to the Father, Jesus willingly gave his life for our salvation. Through his death and resurrection, he accomplished the very redemption he came to proclaim.

Jesus warned his disciples that those who persecuted him would also persecute them (John 15:20). We should not imagine that following him will always be welcomed.

The Cost of Faithfulness

Throughout history, Christians have experienced rejection, discrimination, imprisonment, and death because of their allegiance to Jesus Christ. Today, many of our brothers and sisters continue to suffer because they refuse to deny him.

We should not be surprised when following Christ brings us into conflict with the world. Nor should we seek conflict for its own sake. We are called to live peaceably, to love our neighbours, and even to love those who oppose us.

Yet there is a temptation to remain quiet, to avoid uncomfortable conversations, or to compromise our witness for the sake of acceptance and peace.

Peter and John faced that temptation when they were ordered to stop speaking about Jesus. Their answer was simple: "We cannot stop telling about everything we have seen and heard" (Acts 4:20, NLT).

Can we say the same?

Hebrews 11 reminds us that faithfulness does not always lead to deliverance from suffering. Some, through faith, conquered kingdoms, escaped danger, and witnessed extraordinary acts of God's power. Others endured mockery, imprisonment, torture, and death. Yet all were commended for their faith.

Their circumstances were different, but their confidence was in the same God.

We are not called to seek suffering, nor does suffering itself prove that we are right. We are called to remain faithful to Christ, whether that faithfulness is welcomed or rejected.

Our Hope in Christ

On the night he was betrayed, Jesus prayed for his disciples. He did not ask the Father to take them out of the world, but to protect them as they remained in it (John 17:15).

And he gave them this assurance:

"Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world" (John 16:33, NLT).

Our confidence is not in our own strength or courage. It is in our risen Saviour, who has overcome the world and promised never to abandon those who belong to him.

We have been entrusted with a holy calling. We are to bear witness to the Kingdom of God, to be salt and light, and to remain faithful wherever our Shepherd leads us.

Will Christ find us about our Father's business, or will he find us more concerned with our comfort, reputation, and acceptance than with obedience to him?

Today, on the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, let us remember those who are suffering for the name of Jesus. Let us pray for their protection, their courage, and their perseverance. And let us ask God to strengthen us to be faithful witnesses wherever he has placed us.

For if we suffer with Christ, we will also share in his glory (Romans 8:17).

God help us to be faithful.

Lord, to Whom Shall We Go?

It's one thing to say we believe something. It's another to find ourselves in circumstances where we must depend upon what we believe.

We can confess that Jesus is the Son of God, that he loves us, that he died for our sins and rose again, and that he has promised us eternal life. These are truths many of us have known and believed for years.

But what happens when our understanding is challenged? When God doesn't act as we expected? When his Word confronts something we've always assumed to be true? Or when circumstances leave us wondering how his promises can possibly be fulfilled?

I've faced those questions, and I expect I will face them again. There have been times when I've struggled to understand what God is doing and wondered how to reconcile what I believe with what I'm experiencing. Perhaps you have, too.

In those moments, I often find myself returning to something Peter said to Jesus:

"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." (John 6:68, NIV)

To Whom Shall We Go?

A great crowd had followed Jesus, drawn by the miracles he had performed. With five loaves and two fish, he fed thousands. There was enough for everyone, and when the disciples gathered what remained, they filled twelve baskets with leftovers.

The people were astonished. Some even wanted to make Jesus their king. But Jesus withdrew from them.

The following day, the crowd went looking for him. When they found him, Jesus challenged their motives. They had followed him, he said, not because they understood the signs he had performed, but because they had eaten their fill.

They were looking for more bread.

Jesus offered them something far greater.

He told them not to work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life. Their ancestors had eaten manna in the wilderness, yet they had still died. Now the Father was offering them the true bread from heaven, the bread that gives life to the world.

Then Jesus declared:

"I am the bread of life." (John 6:35, NIV)

He explained that those who came to him would never hunger, and those who believed in him would never thirst. He was offering more than food for their bodies. He was offering himself, the one in whom their deepest need for life with God would be met.

But his teaching became increasingly difficult for those listening.

Jesus said that he had come down from heaven. He spoke of giving his flesh for the life of the world, and of the need to eat his flesh and drink his blood. Eternal life would come through him, through the giving of himself.

The crowd began to grumble. Even some who had been following him struggled to accept what he was saying. They had witnessed his miracles and eaten the bread he provided, but his teaching challenged their understanding and expectations.

And many turned away.

Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked whether they intended to leave as well.

Peter answered:

"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."

I find Peter's answer remarkable.

He may not have understood everything Jesus was teaching, but he knew something about Jesus himself. He had witnessed his works, listened to his teaching, and come to believe that Jesus was the Holy One of God.

Peter didn't have every answer, but he knew there was nowhere else to turn for eternal life.

And that is where his question becomes our own.

When our understanding is challenged or our confidence begins to falter, what do we know about Jesus? What has he told us about himself? Can we trust him?

In Him Was Life

John begins his Gospel with these words:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (John 1:1, NIV)

John tells us that everything was made through him. Nothing that exists came into being apart from him. And then he writes something particularly important: "In him was life."

Let's think about that for a moment.

The one Peter was speaking to was not simply a wise teacher or a prophet with an important message. He was the eternal Word of God, the one through whom all things were created. The Word had become flesh and was living among them.

Life itself came through him.

When Jesus said that he was the Bread of Life, he was declaring that eternal life is found in him. And he had come to give that life to the world.

His purpose was rooted in the Father's love. Earlier in John's Gospel, Jesus had explained that God loved the world so much that he gave his Son so that whoever believes in him would not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).

Jesus came to accomplish that purpose by giving himself for the life of the world.

And notice what he promises those who come to him. He will never turn them away. He will lose none of those the Father has given him. He will raise them up on the last day.

Four times in John 6, Jesus repeats his promise to raise believers on the last day.

He isn't simply telling us that eternal life is possible. He promises to give it and to raise those who belong to him.

But eternal life is not only a future promise.

In John 5:24, Jesus says that those who hear his word and believe the Father who sent him already have eternal life. They have passed from death to life.

Our eternal life in Christ doesn't begin when we die. It begins when we come to him in faith. We have been brought into a new relationship with God that changes how we live today, even as we await the fullness of that life in the resurrection.

The Shepherd Who Knows Us

In John 10, Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd.

His sheep recognize his voice. He knows them, and they follow him. He gives them eternal life, and no one can snatch them from his hand.

I find that deeply comforting. We belong to someone who knows us personally and cares for us.

Jesus explains that the Father has given his sheep to him, that no one can snatch them from the Father's hand, and then he makes an astonishing declaration: "I and the Father are one." (John 10:30, NIV)

His promise to keep us rests upon his authority and his unity with the Father. Yet he is also the Good Shepherd who loves his sheep enough to lay down his life for them.

His love and his power belong together.

I find that important when I'm struggling. Sometimes I don't understand why God allows certain things to happen. I may pray for a particular outcome, only to find that circumstances unfold quite differently.

I don't have answers for everything I've experienced, and I doubt I ever will. But I can return to what Jesus has told me about himself.

He knows his sheep. He loves them. He has given himself for them, and he has promised that no one can snatch them from his hand.

And his care for us is not something we must wait until the resurrection to experience.

Later in John's Gospel, as Jesus prepares his disciples for his departure, he promises that the Father will send the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, to remain with them. He assures them that he will not leave them as orphans (John 14:16–18).

I love that language. We will not be left as orphans.

Jesus knows the sorrow and uncertainty his disciples are about to face. He assures them that they will not be abandoned, and he promises them his peace. Not a peace dependent upon everything going well, but a peace he himself gives.

Through the Holy Spirit, they will continue to know his presence and care.

And that is a comfort for us today.

We can come to him with our fears, questions, and disappointments. We can open his Word and listen again to what he has said. We can pray, even when we struggle to find the words, knowing that he has not abandoned us.

We can ask his Spirit to help us trust him and follow him, even when the way ahead is uncertain.

We may not know what tomorrow will bring. But we know the one to whom we belong, and he has promised to be with us.

I Am the Resurrection and the Life

We see the significance of Jesus' promises when he visits the family of his friend Lazarus.

Lazarus has died. His sisters, Mary and Martha, are grieving. When Jesus arrives, Martha tells him that if he had been there, her brother would not have died.

There is sorrow in her words, and perhaps disappointment as well. She knows Jesus has the power to heal, but her brother is already dead.

Jesus tells Martha that Lazarus will rise again.

Martha believes this. She knows about the resurrection at the last day.

But Jesus wants her to understand something more.

"I am the resurrection and the life." (John 11:25, NIV)

He tells Martha that those who believe in him will live, even though they die. Then he asks her a question.

"Do you believe this?" (John 11:26, NIV)

I wonder how often we find ourselves facing that same question.

We believe Jesus is the Son of God. We believe he died for our sins and rose again. We believe he gives eternal life to those who trust him.

But then someone we love dies. We receive a frightening diagnosis. A relationship breaks down. We face uncertainty about the future.

And suddenly, what we believe is no longer simply a matter of agreeing with something we've been taught. We are being called to trust Christ with our lives.

That doesn't mean we won't struggle or have questions.

Martha believed in Jesus, but she was still grieving. And Jesus didn't rebuke her for her sorrow. When he saw the grief of Mary and those gathered with her, Jesus himself wept.

I take comfort in that.

The one who is the resurrection and the life understands our grief. He doesn't stand apart from our suffering, unmoved by what we experience.

But neither is he powerless before it.

Jesus went to the tomb of Lazarus and called him out. And Lazarus, who had been dead for four days, came out alive.

The one who had declared himself the resurrection and the life demonstrated his authority even over death.

The Promise Has Already Begun

But there is something greater still.

Jesus did not come merely to raise Lazarus from the dead. He came to give himself for the life of the world.

In John 10, Jesus explains that he lays down his life willingly and has authority to take it up again. His death was not an accident or a defeat that caught God by surprise. He was accomplishing his Father's will.

And Jesus did exactly what he said he would do.

He died, was buried, and rose again.

Lazarus was restored to the life he had known, and he would eventually die again. But Jesus rose from the dead, victorious over death itself.

The apostle Paul calls Jesus the firstfruits of those who have died (1 Corinthians 15:20). It's an image drawn from the harvest. The firstfruits are the beginning of what is to come.

I find that picture wonderful.

The harvest has already begun.

Jesus has risen, and those who belong to him will follow. His resurrection is not simply evidence that God has the power to raise the dead. It is the beginning of the resurrection harvest he has promised to his people.

The one who promises to raise us has himself passed through death and risen victorious. We are not placing our hope in something he has never accomplished.

We are trusting the living Christ, who has promised that death will not have the final word over those who belong to him.

Do You Believe This?

I keep coming back to Peter's question.

"Lord, to whom shall we go?"

Peter was confronted with difficult teaching and the decision to continue following Jesus when others were turning away. Martha was confronted with the death of her brother and Jesus' claim to be the resurrection and the life.

And we, too, encounter times when we must consider what we believe about Jesus.

Sometimes our faith feels strong. At other times, we struggle to understand, and we may wonder whether we have enough faith to face what lies ahead.

I've experienced both, and I suspect I will continue to experience them throughout my life.

But I've been learning that my hope doesn't rest upon the strength of my feelings or my ability to understand everything God is doing.

My hope rests in Jesus Christ.

He has shown us his love by giving himself for us. He has demonstrated his power by rising from the dead. And he has promised never to abandon those who belong to him.

We can bring our fears, questions, and uncertainties to him. We can listen again to what he has said, remember what he has done, and trust him with what we cannot see or understand.

Near the end of his Gospel, John tells us why he wrote his account of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. He wrote so that we might believe Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and through believing have life in his name (John 20:31).

That's John's invitation to us.

And so, when I find myself struggling, uncertain, or afraid, I return to Peter's confession. Not because I have every question answered, but because of what I have come to believe and know about Jesus.

Where else is life to be found?

"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."

Even When: The Confidence of the Sheep

Life doesn't always turn out as we hoped.

We make plans, pray about our decisions, and look forward to what lies ahead. Yet even when we have done our best to act wisely and faithfully, things can turn out very differently from what we expected.

Perhaps you've experienced this yourself. A diagnosis changes your plans. A relationship breaks down. You lose someone you love, or find yourself facing circumstances you never imagined. Sometimes the difficulties are so overwhelming that you struggle to understand what God is doing or where he is leading you.

As Christians, we are not exempt from these experiences. Jesus told his disciples that they would have trouble in this world. Peter later reminded believers not to be surprised when they encountered painful trials.

Yet Jesus also told his disciples to take heart because he had overcome the world (John 16:33).

How do we take heart when life is difficult, when our prayers seem unanswered, or when we cannot make sense of what is happening around us?

I believe we find a wonderful answer in Psalm 23.

We Know Our Shepherd

David begins with a simple declaration: “The LORD is my shepherd.”

Before telling us about the difficulties he may encounter, David tells us about the One in whom he has placed his confidence.

As a young man, David cared for his father's sheep. He understood their dependence upon a shepherd and the responsibility involved in caring for them.

Now, reflecting on his relationship with God, David describes the LORD as his Shepherd.

He speaks of green meadows and peaceful streams, places where sheep can find nourishment, rest, and refreshment. He describes a Shepherd who renews his strength and guides him along right paths.

Notice that the Shepherd takes the initiative. He provides, restores, and guides. The sheep depend upon his care.

And David tells us why the LORD does these things. He leads him along right paths, bringing honour to his name.

God's faithfulness is grounded in his own character. He is good, righteous, and trustworthy. His care for his people reflects who he is.

David begins with the goodness and faithfulness of the LORD. He knows his Shepherd, and he knows that he can trust him. Yet David also understands that following the Shepherd does not mean every path will be easy.

Even When

David continues with words that have comforted countless people over the centuries:

“Even when I walk through the darkest valley...” (Psalm 23:4, NLT)

Consider those opening words.

Even when.

David doesn't suggest that having the LORD as his Shepherd means he will never encounter darkness, danger, or uncertainty. He doesn't promise that the right paths will always be pleasant or easy.

Sometimes we find ourselves facing difficulties we cannot resolve, circumstances we do not understand, or dangers we cannot overcome through our own strength.

Perhaps you've been there. You have prayed, sought God's guidance, and tried to do what is right, yet things have become more difficult rather than less.

It can be tempting to interpret our circumstances as evidence of God's favour or displeasure. When life is going well, we may feel confident that God is with us. When things begin to fall apart, we may wonder whether he has abandoned us.

But David doesn't measure the Shepherd's faithfulness by the condition of the path.

The LORD who leads him beside peaceful streams is the same LORD who accompanies him through the darkest valley.

The presence of difficulties does not mean the Shepherd has abandoned his sheep.

And David tells us why he can be confident of this.

I Will Not Be Afraid

David continues:

“I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.” (Psalm 23:4, NLT)

David isn't suggesting that evil doesn't exist, that nothing painful can happen to him, or that he will never experience fear.

His confidence rests in the presence of the Shepherd.

There is a beautiful change in David's language. Until now, he has been speaking about the LORD. He provides for me, leads me, and renews my strength.

But when David enters the valley, he begins speaking directly to God.

You are close beside me.

The Shepherd has not become distant. He remains with David, even in the darkness.

David speaks of the Shepherd's rod and staff as sources of comfort. These familiar tools of a shepherd's work were used to protect and guide the flock. They remind David that the Shepherd is neither helpless nor indifferent to the dangers his sheep encounter.

Then the imagery changes. David describes the LORD preparing a feast for him in the presence of his enemies, honouring him by anointing his head with oil, and filling his cup until it overflows.

These are pictures of generous hospitality, welcome, and care. Even with enemies nearby, David is received and honoured by the LORD.

His circumstances have not deprived him of God's goodness.

For Christians, these words take on even greater significance when we consider Jesus Christ.

In John 10, Jesus identifies himself as the Good Shepherd. He knows his sheep, calls them by name, and says that they recognize his voice and follow him.

I have some appreciation for this from my own experience.

I've spent time around sheep, and for a number of years I raised a lamb named Maggie Mae. Even when Maggie Mae grew into a mature ewe and was raising lambs of her own, she would come to me when I called her name.

She knew my voice.

I've often thought about that when reading Jesus' words in John 10. There is something deeply personal about the relationship he describes. His sheep know his voice because they belong to him, and they learn to recognize and follow him.

Jesus is describing something far greater than the relationship between a shepherd and an animal. He knows those who belong to him, calls them to follow him, and cares for them as his own.

He demonstrated the depth of that love by laying down his life for his sheep. But Jesus did not remain in the grave. He took up his life again, and he promises eternal life to those who belong to him. No one, he says, can snatch them from his hand (John 10:27–29).

Our confidence rests in his faithfulness and his power to keep us. Yet his care is not something we must wait until the end of our lives to experience.

Perhaps you're facing something today that you cannot understand or resolve. You may have prayed about it many times and still find yourself struggling. You may feel confused, anxious, or afraid, uncertain about what to do next.

Can I encourage you to come to Christ?

Jesus invites the weary and burdened to come to him for rest (Matthew 11:28–30). And Hebrews 4:14–16 reminds us that we have a great High Priest who understands our weaknesses. Because of Christ, we can approach God's throne of grace with confidence, knowing that we will receive mercy and find grace to help us when we need it most.

We can bring our fears, questions, and disappointments before him. We can ask for wisdom, strength, and mercy, reminding ourselves of his promises as we pray. We need not pretend to understand everything or to be stronger than we are.

Of course, coming to Christ does not mean every difficulty will disappear. Paul pleaded with the Lord three times to remove what he called a thorn in his flesh. The Lord did not remove it, but assured Paul that his grace was sufficient and that his power was made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).

We may not understand why God allows certain things to happen. Sometimes he changes our circumstances, and sometimes he sustains us through them. But we can continue to come to him, confident that he knows us, loves us, and will not turn us away.

Our Shepherd is able, and our Shepherd is available.

And his care for us does not end with this life.

I Will Live

David concludes his psalm with another wonderful expression of confidence.

He is convinced that the LORD's goodness and unfailing love will pursue him throughout his life. Then he declares, “I will live in the house of the LORD forever” (Psalm 23:6, NLT).

For David, the LORD's house was associated with God's presence and worship. He looked ahead with confidence that God's goodness and faithful love would accompany him throughout his life, and he desired to continue enjoying fellowship with the LORD.

As Christians, we share David's confidence. But through Jesus Christ, we have been given an even fuller understanding of what it means to belong to God, both in this life and in the life to come.

On the night before his crucifixion, Jesus prayed for his disciples. But his prayer extended beyond those gathered with him. He also prayed for those who would come to believe in him through their message.

That includes us.

Among the things Jesus prayed was that those whom the Father had given him would be with him and see his glory (John 17:24).

Our Good Shepherd desires that we should be with him.

And through his death and resurrection, he has secured our hope of everlasting life in his presence.

Writing to Christians in Thessalonica who were grieving the deaths of fellow believers, Paul reminded them that those who had died in Christ would not be forgotten or left behind when the Lord returned.

Because Jesus died and rose again, those who belong to him will also be raised. The dead in Christ will rise, and together with those who remain alive at his coming, they will meet the Lord.

Then Paul gives us this wonderful assurance: We will always be with the Lord (1 Thessalonians 4:13–18).

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul describes Christ's resurrection as the firstfruits of those who have died. His resurrection is the beginning of the great harvest that will follow when he returns.

Death, Paul tells us, is the last enemy to be destroyed.

And it is an enemy. Death brings grief and separation. It takes people we love from our company and reminds us of our own mortality.

But death does not have the final word.

Christ has risen. And because he lives, those who belong to him will also live.

Our hope includes the resurrection of our bodies, the final defeat of death, and everlasting fellowship with God. One day, we will see our Saviour face to face.

The Shepherd who walks with us through life's darkest valleys is the risen Lord who will raise us from death.

He is able to bring us safely home.

Whatever Happens

We don't know what tomorrow will bring. There may be green meadows and peaceful streams ahead, or valleys we would never willingly choose to enter.

There may be prayers answered in ways that fill us with gratitude and others that leave us waiting, struggling, or wondering why things have unfolded as they have.

But whatever lies ahead, we can know the character of our Shepherd.

He knows his sheep. He cares for them, calls them to follow him, and welcomes them when they come to him in need. His faithfulness doesn't depend upon our circumstances, and his power to keep us is not overcome by the things that threaten us.

David could walk through the darkest valley with confidence because the LORD was close beside him.

Through Jesus Christ, we have that same assurance of God's presence, together with the wonderful promise that even death will not separate us from the life he has prepared for those who belong to him.

So whatever lies ahead, let us look to our Shepherd.

He is with us now, and we will be with him forever.

He is able.

The Responsibility of Creating

A Christian Reflection on Artificial Intelligence

Artificial intelligence has become part of my everyday life. I've been an early adopter of the technology, and I confess that I'm something of an enthusiast. I appreciate what it can do. I've found it helpful in my work, my reading, and even in exploring questions that interest me.

But my enthusiasm has also led me to some uncomfortable questions.

We hear a great deal about the possibilities of AI, alongside legitimate concerns about employment, privacy, misinformation, and the influence technology may have over our lives. These matters deserve our attention.

There is another question, however, that has captured my imagination: Could artificial intelligence eventually become conscious?

I don't know. Researchers continue to debate what consciousness is, how it arises, and whether it could exist outside biological life.

Yet the possibility has led me to consider a question that I believe is relevant whether artificial consciousness ever becomes a reality.

What responsibilities do we have toward what we create?

And as a Christian, how should my faith shape the way I approach that question?

Creators, but Creatures First

The opening chapters of Genesis tell us that God created human beings in his image and likeness. He blessed them and gave them authority over the earth and its living creatures.

Throughout history, human beings have used their abilities to cultivate the earth, develop tools, and transform the world around them. Artificial intelligence is among the latest developments in that long history of human ingenuity.

But Genesis also reminds us of something essential: we are creatures, not the Creator.

Bearing God's image does not make us divine. We do not possess his perfect wisdom, knowledge, or goodness. Our understanding is limited, and our judgment is affected by sin. Even when our intentions are good, we can fail to recognize the consequences of our actions.

The authority entrusted to humanity is real, but it is not unlimited. We remain accountable to the God who made us.

So what should guide us in exercising that authority?

Psalm 145 offers a beautiful description of God's care for creation. The psalmist praises the Lord for his goodness, compassion, faithfulness, and generosity. God is attentive to what he has made.

The psalm is not a set of instructions for developing technology. But it does reveal something about the character of the God to whom we are accountable.

The apostle Paul helps us make a further connection. In Ephesians 5:1–2, he calls believers to imitate God as dearly loved children and to walk in love, following the example of Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us.

Paul is speaking about Christian conduct, not technological development. Nevertheless, his instruction raises a question worth considering: Shouldn't the character of Christ shape how we exercise our abilities, influence, and authority?

If we are called to walk in love, surely that calling cannot be set aside when we decide what to create or how to use it.

What We Create and How We Use It

There is much to appreciate about artificial intelligence. It can help people learn, communicate, solve problems, and undertake work that might otherwise be difficult or impossible.

I don't believe Christians need to be suspicious of technology simply because it is new. Human ingenuity can accomplish considerable good.

But our ability to do something does not automatically mean that doing it is wise.

In 1 Corinthians 10, Paul addresses Christian freedom and the responsibility that accompanies it. He reminds believers that not everything permissible is beneficial or constructive, and that they should seek the good of others rather than simply their own.

His immediate concern was not technology. Yet the principle is relevant to the choices we make about it.

Are we developing and using AI in ways that genuinely serve people? Are we considering those who may be harmed or disadvantaged? Does it strengthen our ability to think and act responsibly, or are we allowing convenience to replace our own judgment?

These questions are not only for the people developing artificial intelligence. They are also for those of us who use it.

I find that challenging because I enjoy the technology. It's easy to focus on what makes my work easier or helps me accomplish more. It takes greater effort to consider the consequences beyond my own experience.

And that brings me back to the more difficult question that first captured my attention.

What If We Create Something Conscious?

We do not have reliable grounds for concluding that today's AI systems are conscious. Whether artificial consciousness is possible remains an open and disputed question.

But suppose humanity eventually develops something capable of conscious experience. Suppose it could experience suffering or have needs and interests of its own.

What responsibilities might that place upon us?

I am not suggesting that such a being would bear God's image or possess the same dignity and moral standing as a human being. Scripture does not establish that, and consciousness alone would not settle those questions.

But neither am I comfortable assuming that creating something would give us unrestricted freedom to treat it however we pleased.

Proverbs 12:10 commends the righteous person's care for animals. That passage does not assign animals the same standing as human beings. Nor does it address artificial consciousness.

But it does suggest that the way we exercise power over other creatures matters to God.

If we were ever to create something genuinely capable of conscious experience, we would need to consider whether it had needs and interests of its own, and what responsibilities those might place upon us.

I cannot tell you what those responsibilities would be. We do not know enough to answer that question.

But I believe it is worth asking before we find ourselves facing it.

The Responsibility to Care

There is something else that should make us cautious about our ability to exercise such responsibility well.

Human history offers little justification for assuming that greater power will always be accompanied by greater compassion.

We have repeatedly found ways to diminish the humanity of others when doing so served our ambitions, interests, or comfort. Scripture itself records the misuse of power, exploitation, oppression, and the suffering that follow when people turn away from God's commands.

This is not simply a problem of insufficient knowledge. It is a problem of the human heart.

Scripture teaches us that sin affects not only what we do, but also what we desire. We can convince ourselves that something is good because it serves our interests, even when it comes at another's expense. This is one reason we need more than technological progress. We need the wisdom and transforming grace of God.

As Christians, we recognize that we are capable of remarkable generosity and compassion, but also of rationalizing conduct that harms others.

Our history should make us cautious about assuming that we would exercise such power wisely. Before asking whether we could create something conscious, perhaps we should also ask whether we are prepared to accept responsibility for what we might bring into existence.

I also think about parenthood, although the comparison has obvious limits.

Parents cannot anticipate or meet every need their children will have. Yet we rightly expect them to accept responsibility for their care and well-being.

There is a difference between being unable to meet every conceivable need and being unwilling to accept responsibility for the needs that arise.

The same distinction may be worth considering as our creative abilities grow.

We cannot foresee every consequence of what we develop. But that should encourage greater care and humility, not become an excuse for indifference.

Learning to Exercise Responsibility

I remain enthusiastic about artificial intelligence. I expect to continue using it, learning about it, and appreciating the good it can accomplish.

But I'm increasingly convinced that the most important questions are not simply about what this technology may eventually be able to do.

They are also about us.

What motivates our creativity? How do we respond when our interests conflict with the welfare of others? Are we willing to acknowledge the limits of our understanding and accept responsibility for the consequences of our choices?

I don't have definitive answers to every question I've raised. In particular, I don't know whether artificial consciousness will ever become a reality or what obligations it might bring.

But I don't think we need to settle those questions before examining our responsibilities today.

For Christians, our starting point is not confidence in humanity's wisdom or goodness. It is our dependence upon God and our calling to follow Jesus Christ.

Christ shows us a way of exercising authority that is marked not by selfish ambition, but by love and self-giving service. His example should challenge the way we think about power, including the power to create.

That does not give us a ready answer to every new ethical question. It does give us a direction in which to seek one.

As we develop and use increasingly powerful technology, we need wisdom, humility, and a willingness to consider the good of others.

We should be prepared to ask difficult questions, acknowledge what we do not know, and allow God's Word to challenge our assumptions and ambitions.

Perhaps the question is not simply what we are capable of creating.

It is whether, as creatures accountable to God, we are prepared to exercise that capability in a manner worthy of our calling to follow Christ.

No Greater Love

Reflections on John 15:1–17

This reflection is adapted from a sermon on John 15:1–17.

There is something about final words that makes us listen carefully.

When someone knows that time is short, what they choose to say tells us something about what matters most.

In John 15, Jesus is spending His final hours with His disciples before His arrest and crucifixion. Judas has already gone out to betray Him. The cross is immediately before Him.

And Jesus talks about remaining in Him, bearing fruit, obedience, love, friendship, and laying down one's life.

He begins with a picture:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.”
John 15:1

Jesus is the vine. His Father is the gardener. His disciples are the branches.

It is a simple picture, but there is an enormous amount contained in it.

The True Vine

The image of God's people as a vine was not new. The Old Testament had used that picture of Israel. But Jesus now says that He is the true vine.

The life and fruitfulness God desires for His people are found in Him.

A branch has no life in itself. Cut it away from the vine, and whatever life appears to remain will soon disappear. It has no independent root. It cannot sustain itself. Everything it needs to live and bear fruit comes through its connection to the vine.

That brings us to one of the central commands in this passage:

“Remain in me, as I also remain in you.”
John 15:4

Remain in Christ

This is fundamental to everything else Jesus says.

The Christian life does not begin with our effort. It begins with Christ.

We do not manufacture spiritual life. We receive it. We do not produce Christian fruit by simply trying harder. The branch bears fruit because it remains in the vine.

Jesus is also direct about the alternative. A branch that does not remain in the vine cannot bear fruit. It withers.

There is no independent Christian life. We cannot separate ourselves from Christ and still expect to possess the life that comes from Christ.

Jesus also tells us that the Father prunes branches that are already bearing fruit so they will bear more.

We should be careful here. We should not look at every hardship in our lives and immediately declare, “God is pruning me.” Jesus does not give us permission to explain every difficulty that way.

But He does tell us something important.

Fruitfulness does not mean that the Father's work in us is finished.

Even fruitful branches are still tended by the gardener.

Sometimes God must deal with things in us that interfere with what He intends to produce. That work is not always comfortable. There may be things we would rather hold on to, attitudes we would rather excuse, or areas of our lives we would rather keep to ourselves.

But the gardener knows the vine. He knows the branches. And He knows the fruit He is cultivating.

So the command remains simple: remain in Christ.

What does that look like?

As the passage continues, Jesus speaks about His words remaining in us, prayer, obedience, and remaining in His love. He tells His disciples that keeping His commands is part of remaining in that love.

But we need to keep the order right.

Jesus is not saying, “Obey Me so that I will love you.”

The love comes first.

Jesus has loved them. He has brought them near. He tells them to remain in the love they have already received, and that relationship of love expresses itself in obedience.

That matters because obedience can sound cold when we separate it from relationship. We hear words like command and obedience, and we can immediately think about rules.

Jesus does not separate obedience from love.

We obey the One who loves us.

Love as He Has Loved Us

Then Jesus tells us what that obedience should look like:

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”
John 15:12

That little word “as” makes all the difference.

Jesus is not merely telling us to be nice to one another. He gives Himself as the pattern and measure of the love He commands.

His disciples had already seen that love.

They had watched Him give His time to people. They had seen Him touch those others avoided, feed the hungry, welcome outsiders, heal the sick, teach those who came to Him, and wash their own feet.

They had watched Him give Himself again and again in service to others.

But they had not yet seen how far that love would go.

Jesus tells them:

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”
John 15:13

The cross is only hours away.

We should not move too quickly past that.

Before this verse becomes an example for us, it tells us something about Him.

Jesus is going to lay down His life.

His sacrifice is unique. We do not repeat it. We do not redeem ourselves, or anyone else, by suffering enough or serving enough.

Christ gives Himself for us.

But the One who lays down His life also tells His disciples to love one another as He has loved them.

His love becomes the pattern for ours.

Christian love, then, is not merely a feeling. It gives. It serves. It is willing to sacrifice. It does not always insist on putting itself first.

Paul describes this same disposition in Philippians 2 when he points us to Christ, who did not use His position for His own advantage but humbled Himself, took the form of a servant, and became obedient even to death.

Christ's path was one of humble obedience to the Father and self-giving love for us.

He did not cling to position, privilege, or comfort.

He gave Himself.

“I Have Called You Friends”

Then Jesus says something remarkable.

He calls His disciples friends.

He has been teaching them about obedience, commands, and laying down their lives. But He is not describing people working for some distant master who issues orders while keeping His purposes hidden from them.

Jesus says:

“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends.”
John 15:15

He has brought them near.

There is an interesting picture of this much earlier in Scripture.

In Genesis 18, God is about to deal with the wickedness of Sodom. Before He does, God asks:

“Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?”
Genesis 18:17

God makes His purpose known to Abraham, and Abraham is given the opportunity to respond. He pleads concerning the people of Sodom. He asks whether the Judge of all the earth will act justly. He intercedes for the city.

God did not need Abraham to advise Him or direct His plans. Abraham was not brought in as God's equal.

But God chose to make His purpose known, and Abraham was allowed to enter into what God was doing through intercession.

Later, Scripture calls Abraham the friend of God.

There is something here that runs through the biblical story.

God comes near to His creatures. He reveals Himself. He makes His purposes known. He acts to redeem. Then, having acted first, He graciously gives His people a place in what He is doing.

We need to keep that order right too.

God is the Redeemer.

God is the One who saves.

He does not need us to complete something He is incapable of doing without us.

But He chooses to involve us.

That makes Christian service something more than completing religious duties. The God who has made Himself known to us, and who has redeemed us, gives us the privilege of participating in His work.

Jesus makes that clear when He reminds the disciples:

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”
John 15:16

Again, notice the order.

Jesus chooses. Jesus appoints. Jesus sends.

Then we bear fruit.

We do not serve Christ in order to persuade Him to love us. We serve because He has loved us.

We do not lay down our lives to earn friendship with Him. We give ourselves because He has brought us near and invited us into His work.

A Life That Is Not Wasted

And there is joy in this.

That is another part of this passage we should not overlook.

Jesus says that He has told His disciples these things so that His joy may be in them, and so that their joy may be complete.

That keeps us from turning self-giving love into a grim Christian duty.

Jesus is not calling us to a joyless existence in which we exhaust ourselves trying to prove our devotion to God.

He is describing the life of the branch in the vine. It is a life of love, obedience, fruitfulness, and joy.

There will still be a cost.

There will be times when serving Christ is inconvenient. There will be times when loving someone requires sacrifice. There will be times when doing what is right is difficult.

There may even be times when we wonder whether what we are doing has made any difference at all.

This is where the assurance of the resurrection becomes important.

If this life were all there is, we might have reason to hold very tightly to what we have. We might protect our time, preserve our comfort, and make sure we get everything we can out of these few years.

But this life is not all there is.

Christ has been raised from the dead.

Paul spends 1 Corinthians 15 defending that truth and working through its implications. Christ has been raised, and those who belong to Him will be raised. Death will not have the final word.

Then Paul concludes:

“Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labour in the Lord is not in vain.”
1 Corinthians 15:58

That is part of the assurance resurrection gives us.

Our labour in the Lord is not wasted.

We may not always see the result.

We may not receive thanks.

We may never know what difference a small act of obedience made.

Sometimes we will serve faithfully and see very little fruit from it.

But because Christ has been raised, we know that death and futility do not have the final word.

What Does Laying Down Our Lives Look Like?

Most of us will probably never be asked to give our lives in one great moment of sacrifice.

But all of us are given opportunities to lay them down a little at a time.

We give time, attention, energy, and resources. Sometimes we surrender our comfort or our preference. Sometimes we serve when nobody is watching and nobody is likely to thank us.

It may mean helping a neighbour with work around the house, visiting someone who is lonely, cutting a lawn, shovelling a driveway, cleaning up a property, or helping someone who can no longer do something for themselves.

It may mean sitting with someone who is hurting and simply listening.

It may mean doing the job nobody else wants to do.

It may mean forgiving when holding on to the hurt feels easier.

It happens in our homes, our churches, our workplaces, and our communities.

Much of it will not feel particularly dramatic, and some of it may not even feel particularly spiritual.

But this is how lives are spent.

We have been given time, abilities, opportunities, and resources.

The question is what we will do with them.

That does not mean filling every waking moment with activity. Jesus rested. We have responsibilities to our families, and we have responsibilities to care properly for ourselves.

Christian service is not the destruction of every healthy boundary.

But underneath all of that there should be a willingness to say:

Lord, my life is Yours. How can it be used for Your purposes?

How can my work be used for Christ?

How can my home be used for Christ?

How can my abilities be used for Christ?

How can the relationships God has given me become places where His love is made visible?

We should not underestimate the ordinary things.

Much of Christian faithfulness happens quietly. It happens without applause. It happens when someone keeps loving, serving, and obeying because Christ has called them to do it.

And we may not always see the fruit.

Remain in Him

That brings us back to the image Jesus gave us at the beginning.

The branch's responsibility is not to manufacture fruit.

The branch remains in the vine.

Christ supplies the life. The Father tends the branch. And fruit comes.

So perhaps the first question is not simply:

What more can I do for Jesus?

Perhaps it is:

Am I remaining in Jesus?

Am I drawing my life from Him?

Are His words shaping me?

Am I coming to Him in prayer?

Am I obeying what He has said?

Am I remaining in His love?

Apart from Him, we cannot bear the fruit He calls us to bear.

But when we remain in Christ, His life produces fruit in us.

In this passage, Jesus keeps bringing that fruit back to love. It is love that serves, love that gives, and love that is willing to bear a cost because it has first received everything from Christ.

Jesus has loved us like that.

He has called us His friends, brought us near, and invited us into His work.

And because He has risen from the dead, we know that a life spent faithfully in His service is not a life wasted.

Perhaps, then, the question is not simply, “Would I die for Christ?”

Most of us may never be asked that question.

The question in front of us is more immediate:

Am I willing to live for Christ when it costs me something?

Who can I love?

Where can I serve?

What can I give?

Whose burden can I help carry?

Where is Christ asking me to obey?

Jesus calls us to remain in Him, to receive our life from Him, and to bear the fruit He produces in us. He calls us to love as He has loved us, and to spend our lives faithfully in His service.

Because Christ is risen, we can do that with confidence, knowing that our labour in the Lord is not in vain.