There Is One Gospel

Our main text will be Romans 3:21–31, but this is a topical sermon, so we’ll look at various passages. We typically focus on narrative exposition, but today we’ll spend most of our time in Romans chapter 3. Let’s pray for the Holy Spirit’s illumination before we begin.

I’ve titled this “There Is One Gospel.” Today’s big idea is this: there’s one gospel—God’s righteousness received by faith alone through Christ’s work. We believe the gospel is powerful and foundational to our church. I was thinking, How can I illustrate how foundational the gospel is? The Leaning Tower of Pisa sprang to mind.

The tower has a problem, you know? They erected a colossal stone structure on a foundation a mere ten feet deep. Its base consisted of soft soil—clay, sand, and various compressible materials. By 1178, after three floors had been completed, the tower was already leaning because the ground beneath it had settled unevenly. Work stopped for nearly a century, largely because of wars and political issues. That long pause might have saved the tower by allowing the soil underneath to stabilize.

In 1272, construction resumed. But rather than fixing the tilting foundation, builders compensated for the lean as they constructed the upper floors. They made the columns and arches on one side taller than those on the other, hoping to pull the upper section back toward vertical. That gives the tower its distinctive curved appearance. It took nearly 200 years to complete, finally finishing in 1370.

Despite those adjustments to the upper floors, the tower continued to lean. By 1990, it had reached an angle of about 5.5 degrees from vertical—roughly 15 feet out of plumb at its peak. That’s a significant lean. Officials deemed the situation so hazardous that they prohibited visits. The tower shifted roughly 0.05 inches a year. Not terrible, right? But over time, those tiny 0.05-inch increments accumulated until it ended up a whopping 15 feet from its original vertical position. Finally, in 1990, engineers addressed the problem at its source. They used counterweights and carefully removed small amounts of soil beneath the north side of the foundation, allowing the tower to settle back toward vertical.

Think about that: for centuries, builders tried compensating with adjustments above, but nothing could fix what lay beneath. I think many churches and Christians these days lean either to the right or to the left of the political center, with the center representing what’s considered biblically true. And there is an ever-subtle shift in evangelicalism today away from the gospel. Our first impulse is to tackle the upper floors. Let’s throw money at the issue. Let’s boost our donations. Let’s expand Awana, too, or start another community outreach program. Let’s boost our music and lighting, shore up our social media game, or initiate another ministry project. But why bother decorating the upper floors when the foundation’s falling apart? All these things are simply furnishing upper levels with expensive furniture that will collapse with the building.

Loved ones, I would propose to you—and the Bible proposes to you this morning—that the gospel is the foundation. Some people think the gospel is like a doorway. Once you go through it and enter the building, they assume there are deeper things to explore afterward. But in reality, the gospel itself is always the deepest thing. We never move away from its essence. Paul tells the Colossians, “As you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, so walk in him.” We’re saved by grace through faith alone, in Christ alone. So Paul would ask us the same question he asked the Galatians: Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh? You think you’ve outgrown the gospel? Absolutely not, loved ones. We never outgrow the gospel; we simply grow deeper in it, because it’s the only foundation, and no one can lay another.

Paul turns our attention to this gospel in the book of Romans. In essence, Romans can be seen as a gospel epistle. Many scholars view it as Paul’s magnum opus, his greatest piece of work. And it all starts with the gospel. Most letters back then started cheerfully: “Hi there! How’s it going? Grace and peace be to you from the Lord Jesus Christ.” But Paul begins his first sentence in Romans by saying he is set apart for the gospel. That’s his job description: I’m an apostle of the gospel. Verses 1 through 7 are pretty much one long sentence about the gospel, promised beforehand through the prophets in the Holy Scriptures. It’s about Jesus, declared Son of God through His resurrection.

In verse 15, Paul says he’s eager to preach to the Romans. In verse 16, he declares his thesis: “I’m not ashamed of the gospel,” because it is “the power of God for salvation to those who believe.” Remember, he wrote this to Christians living in the heart of the Roman Empire. And he says, “A crucified Jewish carpenter is nothing to be ashamed of.” In fact, it’s not just that the gospel contains or is part of the power of God; the gospel itself is the power of God unto salvation.

That was always Paul’s pattern. Everywhere he went, he preached the gospel. He told the Corinthians: The Jews demand signs, and the Greeks seek after wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified. Sometimes we reach for experiences, wisdom, or whatever pragmatic gimmick seems to work. But Paul refuses those alternatives so that our faith would not rest in the wisdom of man but in the power of God. And we, too, in this church, will place our confidence in the power of the gospel. We will build upon no other foundation.

Now, the gospel is good news. Before we can appreciate the good news, we must first endure the bad. A doctor must make a diagnosis before prescribing a cure. The lost won’t appreciate the good news until they understand the bad news. In other words, people won’t understand salvation until they realize they need saving from something and someone.

Romans chapter 1, verse 17, says the gospel reveals God’s righteousness. But in verse 18, Paul also tells us of His wrath from heaven. Here Paul builds his case like a prosecutor. The book of Romans reads like a courtroom transcript. Paul presents his case as a skilled lawyer, meticulously and persuasively laying out two exhibits.

Exhibit A, in chapter 1, is the Gentiles. They suppress the truth in unrighteousness, even though creation around them and conscience within them say, “Hey, there is a God.” When you suppress that truth in unrighteousness, you are left without excuse. Yet what do they do? They fail to give God the glory due to Him, substituting idols instead. In chapter 1 alone, God gives them over three times to their sinful cravings.

Exhibit B, in Romans chapter 2, is the Jews. The Jews are saying, “Yeah, Paul, target those dirty, rotten Gentiles!” But then he says, “Hold on, because you’re not getting off the hook either.” Passing judgment on others condemns you too. Just having the law doesn’t mean you keep it. Therefore, you’re condemned as well.

The verdict comes in chapter 3, verses 9 through 20. Both Jews and Greeks have fallen short of the mark, every last one enslaved to sin. Then comes Romans 3:10: “None is righteous, no, not one.” God’s judgment is clear as day: guilty, each and every one of us. We have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin. How many truly righteous people are there? Zero. You doubt it? Even those considered good cannot stand before God on the strength of their good deeds.

Paul starts quoting the Old Testament, beginning with Psalm 14. None is righteous; no one understands or seeks for God. We’re free to choose according to our nature, and what do we choose as sinners? We choose to sin. It’s not until the Holy Spirit draws us to Christ that we seek after God. “All have turned aside; together they have become worthless.” Nobody does good, not a single one. Their throat is an open grave. They use their tongues to deceive, with venomous words dripping from their lips. They’re rife with curses and bitter resentment. Their feet are swift to spill blood; their paths lead to ruin and misery. “The way of peace they have not known.” These are not peaceful people. “There is no fear of God before their eyes”: they are rebellious.

When the law shows us our failings, it silences our excuses and accusations. Every one of us—Jew and Gentile alike—stands condemned. This is the doctrine of total depravity. Total depravity doesn’t mean everyone is as wicked as they could possibly be; it means sin affects and infects every part of us. Our foolish hearts are darkened. The heart is deceitful above all things, and the will tends toward sin. Most importantly, total depravity implies total inability. We can do nothing to merit standing before God. We can’t even exercise the faith He gives us without His power. Those in the flesh cannot please Him, and no one can come to Jesus unless drawn by the Father.

Paul doesn’t merely paint a picture of us being sick. “No,” he says in Ephesians 2:1–3, “we are dead in trespasses and sins; we are by nature children of wrath.” You can coach a sick person to take medicine. You cannot coach a corpse to take medicine. When Jesus arrives at Lazarus’s tomb, He doesn’t propose a better program. Lazarus is dead; Jesus commands him to come out of the tomb. That’s the power of His spoken word. Similarly, in Romans, Paul presents the gospel because we’re spiritually lifeless due to sin and need divine intervention.

The bad news sets the stage for good news, since “gospel” means exactly that. The key to this passage is chapter 3, verse 21: “But now.” Paul uses this turn repeatedly in Ephesians, Galatians, and Romans. Here’s where things change. “But now” shifts us from bad news to the good stuff. We’re in the courtroom. Our collective mouths have been stopped. We stand guilty and justly condemned—but something has happened.

This passage contains the heart of the good news, called euangelion in Greek, a combination of eu, meaning “good,” and angelos, meaning “messenger.” The verb form, evangelizomai, means to announce good news. In ancient times, though, this wasn’t a religious term. Let me give you some ways the word gospel, or euangelion, was used back then.

First, it signified the announcement of a victory. Everybody remembers that marathon runner from ancient Greece. Anyone remember his name? I think he died at the end of his run—yeah, he did. He announced that the Battle of Marathon had been won, hence the term “marathon.” With his final breath, he gasped, “We’ve won, we’ve won,” and then he was gone. Tough luck for him, but great news for everyone else. The word announced a victory—not theirs, though. They hadn’t fought the battle themselves. All they needed was to hear that it had been won. Similarly, Jesus disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame. “Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

This word was also used when a king was born or ascended to his throne. Josephus records cities offering sacrifices in honor of Vespasian’s proclamation and ascension. The Priene inscription from 9 BC celebrates Augustus’s birthday as the beginning of good news for humanity: a king had been born. At Jesus’ birth, recorded in Luke chapter 2, angels proclaim, “I bring tidings of”—what?—“good news!” Today, in the city of David, a Savior is born, Christ the Lord.

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news,” Isaiah 52:7 declares. This verse brought hope to those captive in Babylon, reminding them that God intended to break their chains and guide them back home to Israel. Jesus Himself referenced this prophetic message: “I am anointed to bring good news to the poor ... to proclaim liberty to the captives,” echoing Isaiah 61:1. In His famous Nazareth synagogue address, Jesus proclaimed, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” I am the one who’s come to set captives free.

Fourthly, it’s used when a debt is paid. The Old Testament had a year of Jubilee, when debts were canceled, slaves were freed, and land returned to its original owners. Jesus says in that same synagogue sermon, “This is the year of the Lord’s favor”—when I pay your debt, when I set you free. We know that’s true because, on the cross, Jesus says, “Tetelestai”: it is finished; it is paid in full.

What do these have in common? A battle won, a king born, a prisoner freed, a debt settled. They’re all good news, aren’t they? And they share another thing: someone else did all the work. Someone else won the battle, someone else paid the debt, and someone else unlocked the door to let you out. The good news isn’t advice. Good advice might say, “Here’s how you can help yourself,” but the gospel tells us, “This is what has already been done for you.” It’s not good advice; it’s good news.

Here’s how we get the English word “gospel.” It goes from euangelion in Greek to godspell in Old English—god meaning “good,” and spell meaning “story.” Later, people linked the first syllable with God, because it’s God’s story, His news: the proclamation of what He has done for us in Christ. From Old English godspell we get modern-day “gospel,” God’s good news, the best news ever!

Are you all ready to get into the sermon? That was quite a lengthy introduction, wasn’t it? How much time have we got today? All day.

If you’re taking notes, the gospel is promised in advance in the Scriptures. “But now,” verse 21 says, “the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it.” The Law and the Prophets bear witness to the gospel; it is anticipated in the Scriptures. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15, “For I delivered unto you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures; that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.” Paul makes clear that the gospel is of first importance, the foundation of everything we do. It’s what we stand firm on, what we’re built upon, and what we’re saved by.

In 1 Corinthians 15:1–4, Paul explains it: Jesus died for our sins, was buried, and rose again, just as the Scriptures said. Jesus lived the life we should have lived. Born under the law, He was tempted as we are, yet remained sinless. On the cross, God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us. He died the death we deserve, because “the wages of sin is death.” His burial proved the reality of His death, and He rose for our justification. Paul says all this accords with Scripture.

The gospel was anticipated in the Old Testament. The church didn’t invent it; Jesus Himself said so on the Emmaus road after His resurrection, drawing from Moses and the prophets concerning His death and resurrection. Think of Psalm 22, written a millennium earlier but containing Jesus’ dying words: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It also speaks of pierced hands and feet. And there’s Isaiah 53, some seven centuries before Christ, describing Him being pierced for our sins. He is crushed for our iniquities; upon Him has God laid the iniquity of us all, and He is buried with a rich man in His death.

Consider Psalm 16, verse 10: “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol or let your Holy One see corruption.” Both Peter and Paul preached that Christ’s resurrection fulfilled it. The cross was no Plan B. It was not merely a tragic accident; it was anticipated and foretold in the Scriptures. Jesus’ sacrifice as a Lamb was part of God’s definite plan and foreknowledge before creation began. Our faith stands firm on the promise of a God who predicted the gospel beforehand and fulfilled its events in the course of time.

We also learn this from Galatians chapter 1. Galatians is the only one of Paul’s letters that doesn’t begin with a section of thanksgiving. He goes straight to a rebuke: “Guys, I’m astonished that you’re so quickly deserting him who called you, turning to a different gospel.” He goes on: “Even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed.” Paul is clear: there’s only one gospel, not another. Where does its authority come from? It’s not something Paul made up, or something angels whispered in his ear. He insists, “I received this gospel directly from Jesus Christ.”

There were false teachings in Galatia—not the “social gospel” or the “prosperity gospel,” but a “Jesus plus” theory: believe in Jesus, but also get circumcised and follow Moses’ laws. Today’s “pluses” could be moral improvement, baptism, church activities, family heritage, politics, or personal experiences. But no: we’re saved by God’s grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone, as the Bible alone tells us, all for God’s glory alone.

Verse 22 of Romans 3 says faith is how we receive this gift, not a work by which we earn it. It’s simply opening our hands to accept salvation, believing Jesus is who He claims to be and has done what He promised. Boasting is excluded because one is justified by faith apart from works of the law. God accepts us in Christ because of what Jesus did, not because of anything we could do.

Yet many believers still treat God’s acceptance as a transaction. Many wrestle with the feeling that His love for them waxes and wanes depending on whether it’s a good day or a bad one. But loved ones, listen: you’re forgiven and accepted by faith alone in Christ Jesus. Trust Him for salvation and rest in His complete work.

Here’s why we know that: the Bible puts it plainly. “All have sinned” and fall short of the glory of God, yet we’re justified freely by His grace as a gift. In Greek, “fall short” is in the present tense. We continually fall short of the glory we were created to reflect. That’s a problem indeed. But here’s the good news: we’re justified by faith.

Remember, Paul has led us into a courtroom in the book of Romans. Now he uses a courtroom term: “justified.” It means we are declared righteous. The judge is ready to condemn us, but our advocate, our lawyer, steps up and says, “Judge, you can let them go free because I paid their debt. I took their place.” And the judge says, “My justice is satisfied.” This justification is free and without cause in us. His grace isn’t earned; it’s completely undeserved, and it comes to us through our union with Christ. So, beloved, your status before God isn’t, “I’m getting better; someday I’ll be accepted.” It’s, “You are accepted now.” Salvation is a free gift from God, not earned by works, so no one can boast.

Look at verse 24. We are justified “by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Who made that possible for us? Jesus Christ alone. Redemption is a word we hear in church, but it really means “buying back,” like a ransom. Christ bought our freedom with His blood. It’s like the price paid to free a slave. Jesus said the Son of Man came to give His life as a ransom for many. Someone else had to bear the penalty, and that’s what Jesus accomplished for us through His crucifixion.

The good news is good news because Jesus did something for us we couldn’t do for ourselves. Let me summarize that once more. He lived a life beyond our reach, then died a death that should have been ours. He was buried and rose according to Scripture. The gospel isn’t about Jesus helping those who help themselves—we couldn’t do it ourselves. It’s good news because Jesus did what we couldn’t. That’s why gospel people aren’t proud; they’re humble and grateful. Nobody will stroll or strut into heaven saying, “I deserve this.” We’ll say, “I’m here because of Christ alone.”

And sixthly, God’s wrath is appeased by His blood. This is where we really get deep. In verses 25 and 26, Paul writes: “Whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. ... It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.” Our question is: How can God be just and justify the wicked without compromising His own holiness? The answer lies in the gospel. God put forward His Son to deal with the guilt of sin through the sacrifice of His blood, and we receive Him by faith.

That’s quite a big word, isn’t it? “Propitiation,” really? A propitiation is a sacrifice made to turn away wrath. It’s the very word used for the mercy seat in the tabernacle, where the high priest sprinkled blood on the Day of Atonement. Remember the mercy seat atop the Ark of the Covenant? One day each year, the high priest—and he alone—would go and sprinkle blood before that mercy seat, overshadowed by the cherubim, and make atonement for the sins of the nation.

Paul is saying Jesus Christ is our mercy seat. Jesus Christ is our high priest. Jesus Christ is the sacrifice, and through His sacrifice the wrath of God is appeased. Propitiation means sin is removed, wrath is appeased, and God’s justice is satisfied. John puts it this way in 1 John 4:10: “And this is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” Notice that God put the Son forward; God the Father was no reluctant bystander. Salvation was always a Trinitarian work. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit had agreed in eternity on this plan of salvation. The Father gave Him up to die; the Father provided the sacrifice, and Jesus satisfied the debt we owed.

Verse 25 also says this propitiation is “received by faith.” This shows God’s righteousness at work, “because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins.” So here’s a question: How were people saved before the cross? How did Jesus’ death make atonement for all God’s people—those who came before, those alive now, and those yet to be born? Consider Abraham and David. God forgave them without fully punishing them for their sins. That raises a question about His justice: How can He remain just while justifying the wicked? The answer lies at the cross.

Believers before the cross were saved by looking forward to a Lamb who would come and bear their sins. We, after the cross, are saved by looking back to it. So, as I said, the cross was never Plan B. It was always part of God’s plan to send His Son to bear the sins of His people, past, present, and future. How can God be just and declare the wicked justified? The cross holds the answer: it shows God is both just and the one who justifies. God did not ignore sin or lower His standards. He fulfilled justice by taking our punishment upon Himself. This allows Him to justify everyone who believes in Jesus.

Let’s discuss what the cross isn’t. There are multiple views of the atonement. Let’s put on our big-boy theology pants this morning; you guys can handle it. Blake, Jonathan, and I have talked about different views of the atonement, and Josh and I have discussed them too. Remember propitiation. What does it actually mean?

Some people say, “The cross was just a demonstration of love meant to melt our hearts.” True, the cross showed love, but love is truly seen in what His death achieved. Some suggest, “The cross was just an example; Jesus died as one.” And while that’s true, it goes deeper: “He himself bore our sins on the tree.” The example stands because He made a substitution.

Christus Victor—and I really like this view—says the cross is a victory over Satan, sin, and death. As Pastor Blake read earlier, Christ truly disarmed the powers of darkness and triumphed over them through the cross. The accuser’s charge against us was true, so why is he defeated? Because the cross dealt with our death sentence. The governmental view proposes that God merely demonstrated His hatred of sin without punishing it. But, beloved, a display does not settle sin’s debt. Scripture declares that Christ became sin for us. These perspectives are branches; our focus should be the root: substitution. Penal substitutionary atonement is that root doctrine.

So what did the cross actually accomplish for us? Let’s examine the Scriptures. Jesus offered Himself as a ransom for many. He died for us, the righteous for the unrighteous. Did His death simply make salvation possible, or did it guarantee salvation for those He died for? Here’s what the Scriptures say: by means of His own blood, He secured an eternal redemption (Hebrews 9:12). While we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son—not made reconcilable, but actually reconciled (Romans 5:10). He will save whom? His people from their sins. Not might save, but will save.

Who did Jesus die for? Jesus says in John 10:11, “I lay my life down for my sheep.” Ephesians 5:25 says, “Christ loved the church and gave himself for her.” He bought His bride with His own blood. And who are His people? All who believe and call upon His name. Everyone’s invited. “Whoever comes to me,” Jesus says, “I will never cast out.”

What about the doctrine of election? We believe God has people from every tribe, nation, and tongue. That’s why church planting is so important. That’s why reaching unreached people groups is so crucial—guess who’s waiting for us there? None other than our God! But people can’t be saved until they’ve heard the gospel message, because faith comes from hearing, and hearing comes through God’s word. How can they believe in someone they haven’t heard about? How will they hear without a messenger? And how will we send messengers if we don’t love them ourselves? We are sent to proclaim the good news of the gospel.

On the cross, God exhausted His wrath upon His Son for all His people. So is God still angry at you for your sin? No, He’s not. Do you still bear the weight of your sin, the weight of guilt? No, that’s not the case. Christ’s death has secured your pardon. He is your propitiation, your mercy seat, your sacrifice. He is your priest who intercedes for you. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. Christ drank the bitter cup of condemnation for all His people, and not a single drop of wrath remains for you to drink. Praise God for that.

Therefore, our salvation doesn’t, and never will, rely on what we might do for Him, but on what He has already done for us. That’s the gospel, and that makes it such great news for everyone who believes. Verse 22 made clear there is no distinction in condemnation or salvation, and verse 27 tells us our boasting comes to nothing. Is it by a “law of works,” then—are we saved by our good deeds? No. We believe in the “law of faith”: we’re justified through faith alone.

Or is God the God of the Jews only? Is He not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since there is one God who will justify the circumcised by faith—that is, Jews—and the uncircumcised through faith—that is, Gentiles. Aren’t you glad the gospel is offered to everyone, with no distinction, so that anyone who calls on the Lord’s name will be saved?

Now, people might say, “You’re a Calvinist, so you can’t really preach that.” I respond, “Just watch me.” It’s true that God in His sovereignty and grace chooses some for salvation. It’s also true that He lets others persist in rejection. But it is indeed true that the gospel offers life to all, and anyone who believes and calls on His name will be saved. As Spurgeon puts it, these truths run parallel and often in tension throughout the Bible, but ultimately they’ll meet in eternity. Keep preaching the word.

He’s the God of the Jews; He’s also the God of the Gentiles. There is one God, and we have access through Jesus Christ alone. God shows no favoritism toward Jews, Greeks, slaves, the freeborn, men, or women. We’re all one in Christ. There’s no distinction, and no one is too good for the gospel. Perhaps you’ve got a decent record or grew up as a PK or church kid. You need just as much grace as the hardest sinner you ever knew.

But it works in reverse as well. No one is too bad for the gospel. Maybe you have a past of addiction, or who knows what. You’re not too bad, because the gospel says Jesus came to save sinners. So if you’re a sinner—and that’s all of us, as we saw in chapter 3—good news: Jesus came to save you. He came for people just like us.

Finally, guys, the gospel is anchored in Christ. Where’s boasting? It’s excluded. Who’s going to claim, “I’m saved because God saw that I’d become a good Christian someday”? Absolutely not. If faith were something I contributed to earn salvation, then salvation wouldn’t be by grace. It would be grace plus something I’ve done, grace plus something in me that deserves it. But no, there’s no boasting. We will say with Paul, “I will boast in nothing but the cross of Jesus Christ.”

Loved ones, many churches are trying to build mansions without a foundation. They’re ornate and elaborate; they’ve got all the gimmicks, games, and programs. It’s like the house built on sand. Sooner or later, it’ll collapse. And then there are churches like ours, few and far between, without even a building of our own. Loved ones, if we get the foundation right—if the gospel is the foundation—everything else will fall in line. Let’s not fall into thinking rapid growth is essential. We don’t need the latest programs or trendy church-growth schemes. Our foundation should be the gospel, and we can let God handle our growth. Only He can lay such a foundation, and when storms come, we’ll be anchored firmly. If our foundation is the gospel, we’ll be okay. But if it’s anything else, we’ll end up like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, tilting more and more until we finally collapse.

Now, practically, this shapes Sojourn as a gospel-centered, gospel-saturated church. Knowing the gospel is our foundation and the power of God for salvation, let’s resolve to proclaim it in everything we do, especially in preaching. Every sermon will point to Jesus Christ. We won’t just tell people to “be better,” “feel better,” or “vote better.” Instead, we’ll preach Jesus crucified and risen according to the Scriptures, every single service. We’ll also tell people to repent and believe this gospel. As Spurgeon said, “The sermon without Christ in it is like a loaf of bread without any flour in it.” When we talk about Christ, we’re not just focusing on His ethical teachings; we mean His atoning blood and wondrous satisfaction for human sin.

We proclaim the gospel in worship through adoration, confession, assurances of pardon, and thanksgiving. Our songs and sacraments proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes. We evangelize as ambassadors of Christ, pleading, “Be reconciled to God.” Because we believe the gospel is good news, we’re determined to practice it in our daily lives, reaching out to others, showing love, and helping those in need. Moreover, we depend on prayer and the gospel as God grows the church. We build upon the foundation already laid.

So that’s the gospel, loved ones: promised in Scripture, firm in its authority, embraced by faith, given by grace, made possible by Christ, with God’s wrath appeased by His blood, assured to all who believe, and anchored firmly in Him. That’s like a Puritan sermon with an endless list. But it’s the gospel, our unwavering foundation. Let’s never shy away from it, because it holds the power of God unto salvation for all who believe. Glory to God!

We’re going to ask Pastor Blake to lead us in a time of silent reflection and prayer.

Friends, as you’ve heard the gospel proclaimed this morning, surely there’s some way to apply that medicine to your heart or shine its light into a dark corner of your soul. Let’s take a few moments to reflect silently and pray before the Lord, considering how each of us might do that.

Father, we know the gospel’s power never wanes, nor do we ever fully comprehend it. Yet our love for it may fade. Today, Lord, we pray that You rekindle our passion for the gospel and let its flames burn brightly again. May our affection for Christ grow as we consider what He has done. May we respond even now in refreshed repentance, faith, and love. We pray this in Jesus’ name. And God’s people say, “Amen.” Let’s stand together and sing “Christus Victor.”