Category: Sermons

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Abraham’s Test and Christ’s Fulfillment

Summary of my sermon, based on Genesis 22:1-14. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship York on August 31, 2025.

Music captures attention, sets the tone, stirs the affections, and helps us remember truth. The Psalms repeatedly command it: “Oh sing to the Lord a new song.” Many Sundays we might forget a sermon outline but carry a line of a hymn all week. That’s not an excuse for poor preaching; it’s a reminder of how powerfully God uses singing in worship.

To think more deeply about worship, we turn to the first mention of the word in Scripture: Genesis 22. There we learn, first, that worship is a response. God speaks, and Abraham answers, “Here I am” (Gen 22:1). We don’t initiate worship; God calls, commands, and invites. Romans 12:1 says, “Therefore… present your bodies… this is your spiritual worship.” The “therefore” points back to who God is (Rom 11:33–36). He deserves it.

Second, worship requires preparation. Abraham rose early, saddled the donkey, split the wood, selected companions, and traveled three days (Gen 22:3–4). Leaders prepare setlists and slides; musicians practice for years. But all of us must also prepare our hearts. Life distracts and wounds. That’s why Jesus says, “Come to me… and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28–30).

Yet here’s the heart of it: Worship is Christ-centered. On the way up Moriah, Abraham told his servants, “I and the boy will go… we will worship, and we will come again” (Gen 22:5). How could he say that when God had commanded him to offer Isaac? Hebrews 11 explains: Abraham considered that God could raise the dead (Heb 11:17–19). And when the knife was raised, God provided a substitute—a ram caught in a thicket (Gen 22:11–13). Moriah points us to Calvary, to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Jesus is our Passover Lamb (John 1:29; 1 Cor 5:7). “He was pierced for our transgressions… and by his wounds we are healed” (Isa 53:5). Because he “became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross,” God “highly exalted him,” so that at the name of Jesus every knee bows and every tongue confesses he is Lord (Phil 2:8–11). We worship Jesus not merely because he inspires us, but because he saved us. The cross is the ground of his unique worthiness and the reason heaven’s song declares, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain” (Rev 5:12).

Left to ourselves, our hearts are “idol factories,” crafting gods in our own image or offering God lip service while our hearts are far away (Matt 15:7–9). The cross changes that. There, Jesus not only purchases our forgiveness; he wins our affection and grants us access. The cross is the objective evidence of God’s love. Whatever burden you carry—grief, doubt, the “dark night of the soul”—hear his invitation: “Come to me… and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). Because God’s wrath was poured out on Jesus, there is none left for those in him. So we don’t just admire Christ—we are drawn to adore him. The Spirit takes the finished work of the Son and turns reluctant people into willing worshipers.

Lift your eyes, then, from Moriah to heaven’s throne room: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain… To him be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” (Rev 5:11–14). That is where our singing on earth is headed.

In summary: Worship begins as God’s call and our response, deepened by intentional preparation. But it finds its center and power in Christ crucified and risen. We worship because of the cross—Jesus is worthy—and we worship through the cross—Jesus makes us willing and able. Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in his wonderful face, and let the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.

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Called to be Free from Anxiety

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:22-34. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 24, 2025.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing” (Luke 12:22–23, ESV). This passage represent a movement from last week’s exhortation, “be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15) to today’s call: do not be anxious. Jesus turns from those who have to those who have not. Whether it is abundance or need, the message is the same: there’s more to life than things. To the rich: don’t hoard, be generous. To the needy: do not be anxious.

Jesus gives three illustrations. First, “Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!” Ravens in Israel were like our city pigeons—plentiful and least appreciated—yet God cares for them. Then Jesus asks, “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” Worry drains your energy and changes nothing. It’s the stress we feel when we can’t control what’s happening.” We cannot do “as small a thing” as add an hour to our lives, but God can. He added not just an hour but fifteen years to Hezekiah’s life: “I have heard your prayer… behold, I will add fifteen years to your life.” Anxiety is the opposite of trusting God.

Second, “Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Grass and flowers are temporary: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” If God so clothes what is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, “O you of little faith”? Again, the call is to trust him.

Third, Jesus redirects priorities: “Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried… Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you.” This echoes the more familiar wording in Matthew 6: “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” This does not mean every Christian should quit work and rely on almsgiving. Some are called to raise support—missionaries, like those who cannot work except in “tent making” situations—but most are not expected to stop earning. Your job may be God’s way of providing for you, your family, the church, and missionaries. The point is priority: seek first the kingdom.

So when Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy… Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old… For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” he is giving the highest standard—a superlative—to make the point. The standard is to put your complete trust in God by making his kingdom the absolute priority. Our priorities are revealed by where our money goes and what we worry about. A “golden child” story illustrates this: where the value is, the resources and thoughts go. Follow your spending and your worries, and you will find your treasure.

When we do not trust God, we lean on ourselves. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths… Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones” (Prov. 3:5–8). Not trusting God leads to being wise in our own eyes, not fearing the Lord, and turning toward evil. Bribery shows how both rich and poor can be tempted—whether out of coveting more or out of desperation. A traffic stop in Makati, a suggested bribe, and a 4,000-peso fine show how easy it is to trust in one’s own power rather than in God, and how such corruption keeps a nation in poverty.

This is a high calling, especially for those in need. But the things of this world are fleeting. “Do not love the world or the things in the world… the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever” (1 John 2:15–17). “If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above… Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Col. 3:1–3). You can try to control everything and be consumed by worry, or you can lay it all at the feet of Jesus.

Hear his invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest… you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28–30). Whether you are in abundance or in need, come to Jesus. His yoke is easy. His burden is light.

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A Test of Our Hearts

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:13-21. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 17, 2025.

This morning we turned to Luke 12:13–21. Let’s read together. “Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.’ But he said to him, ‘Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?’ And he said to them, ‘Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.’ And he told them a parable, saying, ‘The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, “What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?” And he said, “I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.’” (Luke 12:13–21, ESV).

Here we see a man come to Jesus with what seems like a fair request. He wanted Jesus to settle a family dispute over inheritance. But notice how Jesus responds. He doesn’t get into the legal details. He doesn’t play the role of arbitrator. Instead, he takes the opportunity to warn the crowd: “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness.”

Why? Because Jesus knows the deeper issue isn’t about inheritance—it’s about the heart. Covetousness. Greed. That subtle sin that convinces us life is found in more possessions, more wealth, more stuff. But Jesus says plainly, “One’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

To drive this home, Jesus tells a parable. A rich man’s land produced so much that he ran out of space to store it. His solution? Tear down the barns he already had and build even bigger ones. His reasoning? “This way I can store up everything for myself and then sit back, relax, and enjoy life.” On the surface, it almost sounds wise. Isn’t this what many of us dream of? Working hard, building security, retiring comfortably, and enjoying the fruit of our labor?

But then comes the shocking twist. God says to him, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” What a powerful reminder. All of the man’s planning, all of his storing, all of his comfort and security—it vanished in an instant. His barns stayed full, but his soul was empty.

Notice something in this parable: the man thought only of himself. In just a few short verses, he refers to himself repeatedly—“my crops, my barns, my grain, my goods, my soul.” Not once does he mention God. Not once does he think of others. His world was centered entirely on himself.

That’s why Jesus calls him a fool. Not because he planned ahead, but because he lived as though life was all about possessions, as though wealth was the ultimate treasure, as though his soul could be satisfied with bigger barns. But death exposed the truth—none of it mattered.

And Jesus closes with this piercing line: “So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.” That’s the heart of the message. Being “rich toward God.”

So what does that mean? It means recognizing God as the giver of everything we have. It means being generous, using our resources for the good of others and the glory of God. It means storing up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust cannot destroy. It means, as James reminds us, holding our plans loosely and saying, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:15, ESV).

And it also means remembering that Jesus is more than someone who settles disputes. The man in verse 13 wanted Jesus to fix his inheritance problem. But Jesus came for something far greater. He came to free us from sin, from greed, from the lie that life is found in what we own. He came to give us true life—life eternal.

This parable confronts us with a sobering question: are we living for bigger barns, or are we living to be rich toward God? Our possessions will one day be left behind. But Christ offers us a treasure that can never be taken away.

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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.

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Welcome One Another

Summary of my sermon, based on Romans 15:7-13. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 3, 2025.

When I arrived at Capernwray, I felt like a fish out of water. Most of the students were from small towns in rural Alberta—white, small-town kids who’d never lived in a city. I was one of only three Asians and definitely the only one from a big city. They nicknamed me “Big City Brown Bear.” Everything about me—from my clothes to my taste in music—set me apart. And yet, despite the differences, I felt completely welcome. Why? Because we all had one thing in common: our faith in Jesus Christ. And when Christ is the center, most differences fade into the background.

That’s how it should be in the church. But the truth is, we often argue about small things—things that shouldn’t divide us. That’s why Paul says in Romans 15:7, “Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” If it were easy to get along, Paul wouldn’t have had to say this. So what was going on?

To understand, we have to look back to Romans 14. There Paul writes, “As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions” (v.1). That phrase “welcome him” is the same verb Paul uses in 15:7. The issue in Rome wasn’t false teaching—it was disagreement over things like food. Some believers felt free to eat anything. Others, whom Paul refers to as “weak in faith,” ate only vegetables.

Why the restriction? Some think they were avoiding meat sacrificed to idols, like the situation Paul addressed in 1 Corinthians 8. But in Rome, the issue likely had more to do with Jewish Christians trying to keep kosher. Because they had been cut off from the Jewish community for following Christ, they couldn’t get kosher meat—and so they stuck with vegetables. These believers were already being marginalized by their own people. And now, some Gentile Christians were judging or even despising them for their dietary convictions.

Paul is clear: this should not be. “Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another?” (Romans 14:4). He reminds both groups that “the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (v.17). In other words, don’t let food or tradition cause division. Focus on what truly matters—life in the Spirit.

What’s remarkable is how gracious Paul is here. In his letter to the Galatians, he’s angry because some were insisting that Gentiles follow the Jewish law to be saved. That, Paul says, is a false gospel. But in Romans, the Jewish Christians weren’t trying to impose their views—they were simply trying to live according to their convictions. And the Gentiles were misjudging them. So Paul urges both groups to stop judging and start welcoming.

Romans 15:7 drives the point home: “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.” Christ didn’t wait until we had perfect theology or the right lifestyle. He welcomed us in grace. And that’s how we’re to welcome others—especially when they see things differently. Paul continues, explaining that Jesus came as the Jewish Messiah to confirm God’s promises, “in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy” (v.9). Then he quotes four Old Testament passages—one each from the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings—showing that Gentiles were always meant to join the Jews in worshiping God.

So what does this mean for us? It’s easy to divide over minor issues—especially convictions that aren’t essential to the Gospel. Protestants have split into countless denominations, often over secondary matters. Even within churches, we can be tempted to look down on each other for our choices—what we listen to, watch, or how we raise our kids. But we’re called to something better.

We need discernment. Paul isn’t saying ignore sin—there’s still a place for lovingly confronting what’s wrong. But he is saying don’t turn personal convictions into dividing lines. Instead, pursue what leads to peace and mutual upbuilding.

That’s why Paul ends with this prayer: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope” (Romans 15:13). Joy, peace, and hope—those are the marks of a church that truly welcomes like Christ.