Category: Hebrews

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Stir Up and Encourage One Another

Summary of my sermon, based on Hebrews 10:19-25. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on January 4, 2026.

Our confidence before God doesn’t come from a spiritual “winning streak” or perfect routines, but from Jesus. Think about confidence the way a team’s championship odds change: they move when wins are on the board. In the Christian life, the decisive win is Christ’s finished work—not our day-to-day highs and lows. He lived sinlessly, died in our place, rose in power, and now brings us into the Father’s presence.

“Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus… let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith” (Hebrews 10:19, 22, ESV). That is the bedrock of assurance.

Why did we ever need such confidence? Because God’s holiness and our sin create a real separation. In the Old Testament, only the high priest entered the Holy of Holies, only once a year, and only with cleansing and sacrifice (see Leviticus 16). The tabernacle curtain embodied that barrier. But when Jesus died, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matthew 27:51, ESV). By His blood, the way is open. Now we draw near with hearts made clean and bodies washed (Hebrews 10:22).

Two distortions erode that gift. First, “Jesus plus.” We start believing we’re accepted because of Jesus and our devotions, attendance, giving, or serving. Those are good fruits, but they are not the root. We don’t add to the cross; we respond to it. Second, trusting the strength of our faith rather than the Savior. Doubts come, trials shake us, and we worry our weak faith disqualifies us. But even “faith like a grain of mustard seed” moves mountains (Matthew 17:20, ESV). Like the desperate father, we pray, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24, ESV). Our confidence rests in Christ Himself; He strengthens and guards us.

On that foundation, Hebrews gives a clear, practical call: “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23, ESV). And then: “Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works” (v. 24). That little phrase “consider how” matters. It’s intentional attention, not accidental encouragement. To “consider” is to notice a brother’s burdens, a sister’s gifts, and think creatively about what would actually help them take the next step toward love and obedience.

That kind of thoughtful care requires proximity. So Hebrews adds: “not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:25, ESV). Streaming is a grace when illness, weather, or distance intervene; but as a rule, embodied fellowship is the ordinary means God uses to grow us. In the room we see each other’s eyes, hear the real tone beneath the “I’m fine,” and obey the Spirit’s nudge to pray, serve, give, or simply listen. The church isn’t a content platform; it’s a Spirit-filled people.

So what does “considering how to stir up” look like this week? Notice who seemed weary on Sunday, who rejoiced, who was missing. Act with a text, a call, a visit, a meal, a prayer, or a practical offer to help. Aim at love and good works; encouragement isn’t mere compliments, it’s oxygen for obedience.

And when we gather at the Lord’s Table, we rehearse the source of our confidence again: Christ’s body given, Christ’s blood shed—for you, for us. Communion is not a reward for the strong but nourishment for the weak who are clinging to Jesus. It recenters our assurance on His finished work, and it rekindles our commitment to “one another” life.

Come boldly—not because you’re on a roll, but because Jesus reigns. Hold fast—not because you never wobble, but because He never wavers. And look around the room—there’s someone God is asking you to “consider” this week. Encourage them toward love and good works until the Day dawns.

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Daring to Draw Near

Summary of my sermon, based on Hebrews 4:14-16. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 10, 2025.

Hebrews 4:14–16 is one of the richest invitations in Scripture: “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

The word “dare” might make us think of childish games or thrill-seeking stunts, but in the Christian life, daring takes on a holy meaning. To “dare to draw near” is not reckless—it’s courageous faith. It’s coming boldly before God because Jesus, our great High Priest, has made the way open.

In the Old Testament, the high priest was the mediator between God and Israel. Only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, could he enter the Holy of Holies to offer a sacrifice for the sins of the people. The regulations were strict: he had to be from the line of Aaron, be without physical defect, and follow detailed purity laws. Even then, before stepping into God’s presence, he had to atone for his own sins through an elaborate, bloody ritual. If he entered carelessly or unworthily, he would die in the presence of a holy God.

But Jesus is different. He is called the “great” High Priest because He did not just offer a yearly sacrifice—He offered Himself once and for all. His death, burial, and resurrection completed the work forever. As Hebrews 10:12 says, “When Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God.” There is no need for repetition; His work is finished.

Even more, Jesus is not a distant priest. He knows our struggles. He was tempted in every way, yet without sin. He knows hunger, exhaustion, loneliness, betrayal, grief, and physical pain. He faced the schemes of the devil and the sting of abandonment. When we bring our burdens—whether guilt from past mistakes, physical ailments, mental battles, or spiritual struggles—He understands. He doesn’t merely offer mercy from afar; He offers it with the compassion of one who has walked our path.

Because of this, we can pray boldly. Prayer can be hard—our minds wander, our words fail—but we are not left without help. We can use the prayers of faithful believers from the past, the written words of saints who poured out their hearts to God. Tools like “The Valley of Vision” or daily liturgies can guide us. We can also use practical reminders, like praying in concentric circles—starting with family, then our church and workplace, then the wider world.

Whatever method we use, the heart of it is this: Jesus has opened the way. We can dare to approach the throne of grace with confidence, knowing we will find mercy and help in our time of need. The One who receives us there knows exactly what we are going through—and He will never turn us away.