Tag: Matthew

The Rock and the Stumbling Block: Lessons from Peter’s Journey

In Matthew 16:13-23, we see one of the most remarkable shifts in a disciple’s relationship with Jesus. It begins with Simon Peter’s stunning confession that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. Jesus blesses Peter and renames him: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (v.18). But just moments later, Peter rebukes Jesus for predicting His suffering and death, and Jesus responds with one of the harshest rebukes in Scripture: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns” (v.23).

How do we reconcile these two events? How can Peter, in one moment, be called the foundation of the future church, and in the next, be likened to Satan? These contrasting scenes reveal deep truths about Peter’s journey and the tension in our own Christian lives.

When Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah, he is making a profound statement that demonstrates divine revelation. Jesus emphasizes this by saying, “flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” (v.17). The name change from Simon to Peter (meaning “rock”) symbolizes stability and strength, qualities that will eventually characterize Peter’s leadership in the early church. Jesus’ promise to build His church on Peter is not simply about the man, but about the confession of faith that Peter makes—that Jesus is the Christ.

This moment is a picture of how God often works in our lives: He reveals truths to us and calls us to things we cannot fully grasp in the moment. Peter’s new name is a sign of the leadership role he will grow into, but it doesn’t mean he is fully formed or without weakness. This is crucial for understanding what follows.

Right after Jesus tells the disciples that He must suffer and die, Peter—likely filled with fear and confusion—takes Him aside and rebukes Him: “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” (v.22). Peter’s reaction, while emotionally understandable, is a rejection of Jesus’ mission. He cannot reconcile the idea of a suffering Messiah with his expectations of a victorious one. But by opposing Jesus’ path to the cross, Peter is unknowingly aligning himself with the same temptation Jesus faced in the wilderness—one that would have Him avoid suffering and take a shortcut to glory.

Jesus’ rebuke of Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” is not a dismissal of Peter as His disciple but a sharp reminder of the danger of thinking from a purely human perspective. Jesus had just called Peter a “rock,” but in this moment, Peter becomes a “stumbling block.” The Greek word here, skandalon, refers to something that causes someone to trip. Peter, in his attempt to protect Jesus from suffering, becomes an obstacle to God’s plan of salvation.

Peter’s journey in this passage reflects the Christian experience in many ways. First, like Peter, we often receive divine revelation about who Jesus is and what He calls us to, but we may not fully understand the cost or the process. Peter wanted the glory of the Kingdom without the suffering of the cross. How often do we desire the benefits of following Jesus without embracing the hardships or sacrifices?

Second, Peter’s misstep shows us that it’s possible to be both called by God and still get things wrong. Jesus didn’t retract His promise to build the church on Peter after the rebuke. This is an important reminder: even when we fail, God’s calling on our lives remains. Jesus didn’t discard Peter for his misunderstanding; instead, He corrected him and continued to disciple him.

Finally, this passage teaches us that following Jesus means having “in mind the concerns of God, not human concerns” (v.23). It’s easy to be like Peter, to try to fit God’s plans into our limited perspective. But discipleship requires us to trust Jesus’ wisdom, even when it doesn’t align with our expectations. Peter thought he was helping Jesus by telling Him to avoid suffering, but in reality, he was working against God’s redemptive plan. Similarly, we might resist hardship in our own lives, not realizing that God often uses trials to shape us and accomplish His purposes.

Just as Peter had to learn that God’s ways are not his ways, we, too, must submit to Jesus’ lead, even when it takes us to uncomfortable or difficult places. The “rock” Peter would become was formed through a process of refinement, a journey of stumbling and restoration that mirrors the Christian walk.

Why Isn’t God More Obvious?

It’s a question that people have asked for centuries: If God exists, why isn’t He more obvious? We long for unmistakable signs—something dramatic to shake us out of doubt or unbelief. But this very demand for a sign is addressed by Jesus Himself in both Mark 8:11-13 and Matthew 16:1-4. When the Pharisees approached Jesus, demanding a sign from heaven to prove who He was, His response was blunt: “No sign will be given to you except the sign of Jonah.” Essentially, Jesus was saying that if they couldn’t see what was already in front of them, no further proof would change their minds.

Why, then, does Jesus reject the Pharisees’ request for a sign, and what does that say about us today? First, we have to understand that the Pharisees weren’t looking for evidence out of an earnest desire to believe. They had already seen countless miracles—healings, exorcisms, and even resurrections—but refused to acknowledge the significance of what was happening. The request for a sign wasn’t about seeking truth; it was a way to test or trap Jesus, hoping to discredit Him. Their hearts were hardened, and even the clearest revelation wouldn’t have softened them.

Jesus’ response was not an unwillingness to demonstrate His power but rather a statement that God’s work cannot be reduced to spectacle. He had already shown them who He was through His life and ministry, and yet they remained blind. This is why the “sign of Jonah”—a reference to His future resurrection—was the ultimate sign they would receive. If they couldn’t see the truth in His words and works, not even the resurrection would open their eyes.

This speaks directly to the question of why God isn’t more obvious. In many ways, He is obvious. The beauty and order of creation, the intricacy of the human conscience, the life and death of Jesus, and the power of Scripture are all profound revelations of God. But like the Pharisees, many of us demand something more, not because we lack evidence, but because we struggle with the implications of surrendering to that evidence. The desire for a more “obvious” God often stems from a reluctance to submit to Him.

The issue, then, is not God’s hiddenness but our willingness to see Him. We may claim to seek clarity, but the deeper question is whether we truly want to find Him. As Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matthew 5:8).

In a world filled with distractions, it’s easy to look past the everyday ways that God reveals Himself. We may not get the signs we think we need, but we have something better: the life of Christ, the testimony of Scripture, and the witness of transformed lives.

So, why isn’t God more obvious? Perhaps the better question is: Are we willing to see Him as He has revealed Himself? If we continually ask for more signs without acting on what we’ve already been given, we’re not so different from the Pharisees. And just as Jesus called them to repentance, He calls us to trust what has already been shown—the cross, the resurrection, and His ongoing work in the world.

Lip Service or Heart Change? Jesus’ Warning to the Religious

In Matthew 15:1-20 and Mark 7:1-23, Jesus confronts the religious leaders of His day about a dangerous tendency: the elevation of tradition over God’s Word. The Pharisees, known for their outward righteousness and strict adherence to religious customs, were scandalized by Jesus’ disciples eating without performing the ceremonial washing of hands. This wasn’t about hygiene; it was about adhering to centuries-old rituals. But Jesus saw through their pretense, and His response was direct: “You nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition” (Matthew 15:6).

This conflict between tradition and Scripture is not unique to the Pharisees. It’s easy to fall into a routine of religion—of doing things simply because they’ve always been done that way. Even well-meaning Christians can get caught up in traditions, whether it’s how church services are run, what worship styles are “acceptable,” or even what particular language we use in prayer. There’s comfort in the familiar, but when the familiar takes priority over the truth of God’s Word, we’ve crossed a dangerous line.

Jesus rebukes the religious leaders for honoring God with their lips, but having hearts far from Him (Matthew 15:8). This kind of empty, outward obedience is worse than worthless—it leads people further from the truth. We see this today when traditions or legalistic practices become more important than the Gospel itself, creating a spiritual environment where rules are followed but relationships with God remain shallow. In such cases, faith becomes about what people see, not about true heart change.

The real issue is not tradition itself. Traditions can be helpful, meaningful, and God-honoring. The danger comes when we rely on these traditions as our guide instead of Scripture. We must continually ask ourselves whether our practices, habits, and routines are helping us grow closer to God—or are they simply comfortable patterns that make us feel righteous without actually engaging with Him?

The antidote to this religious drift is found in allowing Scripture to continually refine and direct us. As Jesus explains in the passage, it is not the outward actions that defile a person, but the state of the heart (Mark 7:20-23). True worship, as Jesus teaches, is not about rigidly following traditions but about an inward transformation that leads to a pure heart.

Are there areas in your life where tradition has replaced true devotion to God? Ask God to reveal where you might be following rules or practices without true heart change. Let His Word—living and active—continue to shape you from the inside out. Tradition isn’t inherently bad, but it should never replace the transformative power of Scripture.

The Need is the Call

In Mark 6:30-44, Jesus seeks to withdraw with His disciples to a quiet place for rest after their ministry efforts. However, the crowds follow them, and instead of prioritizing the disciples’ need for rest, Jesus is moved with compassion for the people, describing them as “sheep without a shepherd.” He then goes on to feed over 5,000 people.

This passage highlights a tension between personal needs and the needs of others. Jesus recognizes the importance of rest, yet when faced with the physical and spiritual hunger of the crowd, He doesn’t turn them away. He places the needs of the people first, showing that sometimes the call to serve comes when it’s least convenient or expected. His response exemplifies sacrificial service — giving up personal comfort to fulfill the will of the Father.

For us, this example speaks to the reality that the need around us often becomes the call. We might have plans for rest, personal growth, or self-care, but there are moments when the needs of others require immediate attention. Whether it’s an unexpected phone call from someone in need, an interruption in our day, or a last-minute opportunity to serve, Jesus’ response shows us the heart of true servanthood.

However, it’s also important to note that Jesus didn’t neglect rest entirely. Throughout His ministry, He made space for solitude and time with the Father. While the passage emphasizes serving others, it doesn’t negate the necessity of personal rest and renewal. It suggests that discerning when to serve and when to rest is part of following Jesus.

Ultimately, this passage teaches us that true discipleship often involves putting others first. When we see a need, we may be called to step into it, trusting God to multiply our efforts, just as He multiplied the loaves and fish. Like Jesus, we are invited to serve with compassion, even when it costs us something.

The Awe of God

In Matthew 13:53-58, Mark 6:1-13, and Luke 9:1-6, Jesus returns to Nazareth, His hometown, where His ability to perform miracles is limited by the people’s lack of faith. They had grown up with Him and, in their familiarity, couldn’t see beyond the carpenter’s son to recognize the Messiah standing before them. Familiarity had dulled their vision of who Jesus truly was.

This moment reveals how easily something powerful, like our relationship with God, can become routine or lose its significance when we grow too familiar. Just as repeating a word over and over causes it to lose its meaning, we risk losing the wonder and awe of God when our faith becomes mechanical. Jesus’ work was hindered in Nazareth because people had stopped seeing Him as extraordinary.

The challenge for us is similar: have we allowed our relationship with God to become too familiar? Have the powerful truths of His Word and presence become things we merely expect or overlook? Faith isn’t just knowing about God—it’s seeing Him afresh each day, in awe of His greatness.

Jesus said the Kingdom belongs to those with childlike faith, a faith that’s humble, curious, and awestruck. If we find ourselves limiting God because we’ve “heard it all before,” we need to ask Him to reignite that sense of awe, reminding us of His love, His power, and His majesty.

What Happens When Signs Overshadow the Savior?

In the Gospels, we often see Jesus performing miracles, but what’s strange is that after He heals, delivers, or raises the dead, He frequently instructs those involved to tell no one about it. This pattern, known as the Messianic Secret, raises a compelling question: why would Jesus not want people to spread the news about these incredible works?

One possible reason is timing. Jesus knew that His mission to the cross was central to His work on earth, and drawing too much attention to the miracles could lead to premature confrontation with the authorities. If the crowds focused on Him as merely a miracle worker or political messiah, it might derail the real purpose of His coming—to suffer, die, and be resurrected for our sins.

But beyond the timing issue, there is something deeper. Miracles, as extraordinary as they are, were never meant to be the main event in Jesus’ ministry. Miracles are signs, pointers to something greater: the message of the Kingdom of God. This is where the tension arises. In modern church movements like the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR), there’s often an emphasis on signs and wonders. Churches like Bethel in Redding, California, have drawn crowds by emphasizing supernatural manifestations. While these events can be powerful, there’s always the danger of the miracles becoming the focus rather than the deeper spiritual realities to which they point.

Jesus never wanted the works He performed to distract from the real mission. In fact, He consistently framed His miracles within the context of repentance and faith. The people He healed, the demons He cast out, and the dead He raised all pointed to His divine authority to forgive sin and usher in the Kingdom of God. The miracles alone weren’t the point—the real message was the Good News that the Kingdom was breaking in.

Consider how this might apply to us today. Are we more interested in the “show” of Christianity—seeking blessings, miracles, and experiences—or in the substance of the Gospel? Jesus is concerned with transforming hearts, not just with external displays of power. His desire is for us to follow Him, not because He can perform miracles, but because He is the Savior.

So what about us? When we hear stories of healing or deliverance, do we praise the miracle, or do we worship the God behind it? Do we get caught up in the excitement of signs, or are we allowing those signs to lead us deeper into a relationship with Christ? Jesus’ call is clear—seek first His Kingdom. Miracles, signs, and wonders can only take us so far; it’s the Gospel of repentance and faith that changes our hearts and brings eternal life.

In modern Christian culture, there is a subtle danger of becoming spectators, seeking out experiences that make us feel closer to God while avoiding the hard truths of surrender and repentance. The Messianic Secret reminds us that Jesus didn’t come to build a spectacle—He came to save us from sin. And sometimes, that means quietly following Him, not for what He does for us, but for who He is.

Looking Isn’t Seeing, and Hearing Isn’t Listening

The disciples’ experience on the stormy sea teaches us a profound truth: we can look right at something and not truly see it. In Matthew 13, Jesus tells parables, and while the crowds hear Him, few really listen. Similarly, on the boat in Luke 8, the disciples see Jesus perform miracles but don’t fully understand what they’re witnessing. Even though they’d already seen Jesus heal the sick and cast out demons, they still didn’t expect Him to calm the storm with just a word. When the wind died down, they were shocked: “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey Him!” (Luke 8:25).

The first lesson here is that it’s okay not to understand everything we see or hear at first. Like the disciples, we may have moments where we look at the world or even at God’s work and find ourselves confused. We might wonder why things happen the way they do or question God’s plans. That’s natural. But the key is what the disciples did next—they asked questions. Jesus’ closest followers were allowed to ask, to seek clarity about the parables and the mysteries of the Kingdom. When we seek God, asking questions and searching for understanding, we open ourselves up to receiving answers in time.

This brings us to the second takeaway: we must trust Jesus in the storms of life, even when we don’t fully understand. The disciples’ fear of the storm mirrored their fear of uncertainty—how could Jesus allow this to happen? But Jesus wasn’t simply focused on their safety; He was focused on their faith. He rebukes them for their lack of it, saying, “Where is your faith?” (Luke 8:25). Jesus never promised a storm-free life, but He did promise that He would be with us in the storm, and that’s where trust comes in.

William Lane Craig once said that God’s ultimate goal is not to provide a “comfortable home for His human pets,” but to accomplish His kingdom purposes, which sometimes means allowing difficulty. This perspective transforms our expectations. We may not have an easy life, but we know that God’s promises are trustworthy, and His goals go beyond our immediate comfort—they’re about His eternal Kingdom.

Just as the disciples didn’t understand at first how Jesus could have control over the forces of nature, we don’t always see how God is working in the chaos of our lives. But we do know enough: Jesus is with us, and His plans are good. In time, everything will be made clear, just as a lamp is brought out to shine and illuminate the darkness (Mark 4:21-23).

So, when we don’t understand, let’s keep asking questions, and let’s trust Him through the storm. After all, as Paul said, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8)—a far greater comfort than any temporary earthly relief.

What is the Unforgivable Sin?

When Jesus warned about the unforgivable sin, it raised a question that has troubled many believers: What exactly is this sin that cannot be forgiven? As we look deeper into His words from Mark 3:28-30 and Matthew 12:31-32, we see that He refers to “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit” as something from which there is no return.

Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is not a fleeting thought, a moment of doubt, or even a single bad decision. It’s a deliberate, hardened rejection of the Holy Spirit’s testimony about Jesus. In the specific context of Mark 3, Jesus is responding to the Pharisees who accuse Him of casting out demons by the power of Satan. Essentially, they are witnessing the power of God right in front of them and, instead of accepting it, they attribute it to the devil.

This sin is so serious because it reflects a heart that is completely closed off to God’s work, refusing to recognize His grace and power. When we reject the very Spirit who brings conviction, repentance, and forgiveness, we cut ourselves off from the possibility of being forgiven. The Spirit’s work is to point to Jesus, to testify of His salvation, and when that testimony is consistently, willfully rejected, we are left with no other means of reconciliation with God.

But what does this mean for us today? It’s important to understand that this sin is not about a specific word or action in a moment of weakness. Blaspheming the Holy Spirit is about a continual, unrepentant stance against God. It’s choosing to remain in opposition to Him, attributing His good work to evil, and closing your heart to His grace.

The thought of an unforgivable sin can be unsettling, but if you are concerned that you’ve committed it, that very concern shows you have not. A heart hardened to the Holy Spirit wouldn’t be troubled by such thoughts. The unforgivable sin is a conscious, final rejection of God’s truth, where the heart becomes so resistant that repentance no longer seems possible.

Consider this: the Bible says that “the words you speak will either acquit you or condemn you” (Matthew 12:37). What are the words of a repentant heart? Confession and humility. What are the words of a hardened heart? Denial and rejection. The unforgivable sin is to stand against the work of the Spirit in such a way that, instead of confessing Christ, we attribute His power to evil.

The good news is that for those who turn to God, no sin is beyond His reach. For all the fear that this warning might stir, Jesus extends forgiveness to anyone willing to repent. He is slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to forgive those who seek Him. The unforgivable sin isn’t something that sneaks up on us — it’s a deliberate, hardened choice to turn away from God, even when His truth is made plain.

Forgiven Little, Loving Less: Why You Might Be Missing the Full Picture

In Luke 7:36-50, we find the story of a sinful woman who interrupts a dinner at the house of a Pharisee named Simon. She falls at the feet of Jesus, weeping, and pours expensive perfume on His feet, wiping them with her hair. Simon is shocked that Jesus would allow this woman, known for her sinful reputation, to touch Him. But Jesus uses this moment to teach a profound lesson about forgiveness and love.

Jesus tells a parable about two debtors: one who owes a large debt and another who owes a smaller one. Both debts are forgiven, and Jesus asks Simon which of the two will love the creditor more. Simon answers that it is the one who had the larger debt forgiven. Jesus agrees and says to Simon, “He who is forgiven little, loves little” (Luke 7:47).

This story illustrates an important truth about sin, forgiveness, and love. The woman’s extravagant love for Jesus stems from her awareness of the great debt she owed—her sins were many, and her forgiveness was much. But Simon, who saw himself as righteous, believed he owed little to Jesus. His view of sin was small, and as a result, his love for Jesus was shallow.

A Theology of Sin

At its core, sin is not just bad behavior; it is a rebellion against God, a failure to meet His standard of holiness (Romans 3:23). All of us are born into this state, separated from God (Ephesians 2:1-3). Sin is more than just breaking moral rules—it is the rejection of God’s authority, resulting in both personal and cosmic consequences.

Throughout the Bible, we see the seriousness of sin:

Isaiah 59:2 explains that sin creates a barrier between us and God, cutting off our relationship with Him.
Romans 6:23 tells us that the wages of sin is death—spiritual separation from God that leads to eternal separation unless reconciled through Christ.
James 2:10 reminds us that even if we fail in just one part of the law, we are guilty of breaking all of it.

The Bible’s portrayal of sin makes it clear that every human being is in a state of great need—each of us is a debtor to God. Sin isn’t a small misstep; it’s a complete severance of our relationship with God, one that can only be restored through the grace extended in Christ. Without this understanding, we are likely to minimize the gift of forgiveness that God offers.

A Small View of Sin Leads to a Small Love for God

Jesus’ point to Simon—and to us—is that the way we view our sin directly impacts how we relate to God. When we minimize sin, we minimize the need for God’s grace. This results in a shallow, distant relationship with Him. If we think our sin is small, we’ll see Jesus as little more than a moral teacher or good example. But if we understand the depth of our need, we will respond with deep gratitude, just as the woman in Luke 7 did.

The truth is, we all owe a great debt—whether we realize it or not. The woman in this story knew her need for forgiveness, and her love for Jesus reflected her awareness of how much she had been forgiven. Simon, in contrast, saw no great need for forgiveness and, consequently, showed little love.

Why This is Good News

Here’s the beauty of this story: Jesus doesn’t rebuke the woman for her past or even for the nature of her sins. Instead, He honors her act of love and forgives her because of her faith. This tells us that no matter how great our sin, God’s forgiveness is greater. But it also serves as a reminder that if we don’t fully acknowledge our need for forgiveness, we may miss out on the depth of the relationship God wants to have with us.

The challenge for us today is to ask: How do I view my sin? Do I minimize it, thinking of myself as mostly good and only in need of minor forgiveness? Or do I recognize the profound debt I owe—a debt that Christ paid in full? Those who are forgiven much, love much. And the truth is, we have all been forgiven much. If we fail to see the greatness of God’s grace, it is because we have too small a view of sin.

The great news is that we are not left to bear the weight of our sin. Jesus has already borne it for us. When we understand this, it transforms our relationship with God, just as it did for the woman at the feet of Jesus. The more we grasp the depth of our forgiveness, the more we will love Him in return.

Crushing Anxiety: Jesus’ Challenge to a Control-Obsessed Culture

Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 6:34 to “not worry about tomorrow” may seem nearly impossible to apply in today’s fast-paced, future-oriented culture. The demands of work, family, finances, and even church life often leave us anxious about what lies ahead. But this command speaks just as powerfully now as it did to His original audience. In their day, many struggled to meet daily needs, and the future brought uncertainty. Yet Jesus called them, and us, to trust in God’s provision for every day rather than letting tomorrow’s worries rob us of today’s peace.

The anxiety that many of us carry is often a symptom of a deeper issue: our desire for control. We plan meticulously, hoping to safeguard against uncertainty, but when the unexpected happens, the illusion of control crumbles. Jesus’ instruction is a reminder that no matter how well we plan, we can never truly control tomorrow. Instead, He invites us to rest in the knowledge that God holds both today and tomorrow in His hands. It’s not a call to irresponsibility or carelessness but to faith that relinquishes the need to micromanage every outcome.

Jesus provides the antidote to this anxious striving by pointing us toward the care of the Father. He paints a vivid picture of God’s provision in the natural world, how He feeds the birds and clothes the lilies (Matthew 6:26-30), and asks us to trust that we are worth even more to Him. This trust allows us to focus on the present, embracing the moments we are given without being paralyzed by fears of what the future might hold.

This lesson challenges us deeply. In a culture driven by calendars, clocks, and deadlines, Jesus offers a counter-cultural way of living. Instead of obsessing over the uncertainties of tomorrow, we are invited to live each day fully, leaning on God’s grace and provision. Planning is not the problem; it’s when our plans turn into anxieties that we step away from trust. Jesus knew what it was like to be surrounded by demands, yet He continually withdrew to be with the Father, refusing to let the world dictate His peace.

This call to trust extends beyond simply easing our own anxiety; it shapes how we serve others. When we aren’t consumed with worry about the future, we are freed to love, serve, and give more generously in the present. Our confidence in God’s provision becomes a testimony to those around us, pointing to a hope that transcends human concerns.

Jesus’ teaching challenges us to let go of our attempts to control the future and place our trust in God. Each day has its own troubles, but it also has its own grace. As we learn to rest in that grace, we reflect a deeper faith that trusts God for tomorrow—because He’s already there.