Tag: Faith and Humility

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Bear with One Another

Summary of my sermon, based on Colossians 3:12-15. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on December 7, 2025.

Resilience is an interesting attribute in dire situations. It’s something celebrated across cultures, and it’s the kind of thing people make movies about. Take the story of Louis Zamperini. His life was told in the book—and later the film—Unbroken. Zamperini was a bit of a delinquent as a youth, but he got into long-distance running and competed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Then World War II began. In 1941 he joined the U.S. Army Air Corps and became a bombardier in the Pacific, flying missions against Japanese-held islands. During a search-and-rescue mission his plane had mechanical failure and crashed. He and two others survived on a small life raft, fighting off sharks and nearly capsizing in a typhoon. On the 47th day they reached land—the Marshall Islands—only to be captured by the Japanese. They were tortured, malnourished, and beaten as prisoners of war for years until the war ended. Even after release, Zamperini struggled with what we now call PTSD, but eventually he attended a Billy Graham crusade and gave his life to Christ. That began a different kind of journey—a different kind of resilience.

His story is awe-inspiring, but it turns out most people actually have a high “baseline resilience.” Studies show that the majority who suffer trauma don’t end up with severe, chronic psychiatric issues; many do bounce back with family, community, and professional support, and some even find growth and meaning through what they endured. I’m not minimizing trauma—those who carry lingering effects like PTSD need care, not stigma—but for the vast majority, our God-given capacity to recover is real.

Interestingly, the opposite often shows up with things that aren’t catastrophic. For example, 80–95% of people who lose weight regain it within two years. When it comes to endurance in everyday disciplines—dieting, sustained lifestyle change—we’re not so resilient. Another area is relationships. “Cutting out toxicity” is the buzzword now—cutting off toxic bosses, coworkers, friends, even family. I read pieces after the 2024 U.S. election asking whether to invite relatives who voted for the other party to Thanksgiving. Now, there’s a difference between toxicity and abuse; abuse should never be tolerated. But on a lot of plain differences and offenses, our age seems increasingly unwilling to endure.

That is the opposite of what our passage teaches. We’re in our series on the “one another” commands; this is our eighth, since we’ve been doing one on the first Sunday each month. Today’s command is “bear with one another” (Colossians 3:12–15). Paul tells us, as God’s chosen, holy, and beloved, to put on compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another; and if anyone has a complaint against another, forgiving each other as the Lord has forgiven us (Colossians 3:12–15). We tend to hear “bear with one another” and think, “Just put up with little annoyances for the sake of peace.” But Paul ties it to real forgiveness when real hurt has happened. This is more than personality quirks. It’s learning to endure and forgive when we’ve actually been wronged.

In Romans, Paul frames it this way: “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves,” seeking our neighbor’s good to build them up (Romans 15:1–2). That implies closeness. If we truly function as a family, conflict will happen. You actually have to care to get hurt. I’d be more concerned if a church never had conflict—it might mean we’ve stopped engaging from the heart. So we must bear with the failings of others.

There are limits, though, because the aim is to build up (Romans 15:2). Some things shouldn’t be “endured.” Abuse must never be endured. And habitual, unrepentant sin must not be ignored; it destroys witness and may reveal salvation issues. Hebrews warns that if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, we face judgment (Hebrews 10:26–27). That’s why Jesus and the apostles give the church a process for discipline: not to shame, but to rescue. If we “bear with” ongoing, unrepentant sin, we may miss the chance to call someone to the gospel.

A recent example of courage here is what happened in the Southern Baptist Convention removing Saddleback Church from fellowship over theology—specifically complementarian convictions about the pastoral office. Saddleback started with solid theology, but over time some positions were revised using a hermeneutic that treats certain biblical commands as merely first-century cultural. Where does that end? If Scripture is culture-bound wherever we feel tension, what guards us from drifting on issues like the sanctity of life? The SBC chose to uphold what they are convinced Scripture teaches, even though Saddleback is a very large church. The point isn’t to relitigate that vote here, but to say: bearing with one another doesn’t mean papering over serious doctrinal or moral departures. Love sometimes looks like hard, humble clarity.

So how do we rightly bear with one another when real hurt (but not abuse or entrenched sin) is involved? Paul already gave us the clothing to put on: compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience (Colossians 3:12). Compassion and kindness mean more than gritting our teeth; they move toward the other’s good. Humility and meekness remember that today I’m bearing with your failings; tomorrow you may be bearing with mine. Patience is the bedrock of Christlike endurance.

“Above all,” Paul says, “put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony,” and “let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,” since we were called to peace in one body—and be thankful (Colossians 3:14–15). That throws us back to the first sermon in this series: “love one another.” Love is the only way the one-another commands actually happen. The problem is that love is hard, especially if we’ve absorbed a transactional view: I love you because you benefit me. When the benefit dries up, so does the love. But Jesus says the greatest love lays down its life for friends (John 15:13). Biblical love is sacrificial and others-focused. Paul’s famous description of love—patient, kind, not envious or boastful, not rude or self-seeking, not irritable or resentful; rejoicing with the truth; bearing, believing, hoping, and enduring all things—confronted a divided church (1 Corinthians 13:4–7). That’s the kind of love that makes real bearing possible.

We can’t manufacture that love. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:19–21). So we have to keep cultivating our hearts in the love of God—stirring our affections for Christ in the ways that most help us: worship, prayer, meditation, study of the Word. As we come to Advent, pick up the devotional if you haven’t. Let it help you set your heart on Christ’s first coming and long for his second. And let the peace of Christ rule in your heart (Colossians 3:15). He is the Prince of Peace, and by his death, burial, and resurrection he has made peace for us with God. Without Christ’s peace within, this kind of love will feel impossible. If you don’t know him, I invite you to come to him—let his peace rule in your heart today. And if you do know him, be thankful. This is what we remember at the Lord’s Supper: Advent’s hope, the cross’s grace, and the promise of his return. Only through the gospel can we truly love God and one another, and only with that love can we bear with one another in a way that honors Christ.

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The Least is Great

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 9:43b-50. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 10, 2024.

In Asian dramas, especially Korean and Japanese ones, a powerful scene often plays out: a chairman or politician arrives, and employees line up, bowing in reverence. The greater the person’s importance, the larger the crowd bowing. It’s a striking display of honor that mirrors how societies worldwide esteem power, wealth, or status. Many aspire to such honor, imagining what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of such reverence. Yet, as believers in Christ, we know this pursuit of worldly greatness is not the way of Jesus.

In Luke 9:43-45, the disciples witness Jesus’ astounding power. After casting out a demon that others couldn’t, “they were all marveling at everything he was doing” (Luke 9:43, ESV). Amid the crowd’s awe, Jesus speaks to his disciples, saying, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men” (Luke 9:44, ESV). The people marvel at Jesus, yet the same people would soon betray Him. This contrast between marveling and betrayal is profound.

Even today, many, like Jordan Peterson, admire Jesus’ teachings for their practical wisdom but stop short of recognizing Him as Lord. They see Jesus as useful for human flourishing, not as the Savior who delivers us through His suffering and death. This was also the disciples’ struggle—they expected a conquering Messiah to overthrow Rome, not a servant who would suffer and die. They failed to understand that Jesus was ushering in a kingdom not built on worldly power but on humility and sacrificial love.

Jesus confronts their misunderstanding with a powerful lesson. As the disciples argue about who among them is the greatest—a debate laced with irony given their recent failures—Jesus places a child by His side and says, “Whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me. For he who is least among you all is the one who is great” (Luke 9:48, ESV). In their culture, children symbolized the lowest, most dependent members of society. By elevating the least, Jesus flips worldly ideas of greatness upside down.

This countercultural view of greatness challenges our sinful nature. We instinctively seek to elevate ourselves, replaying arguments in our minds where we always emerge victorious. At the heart of sin is “I,” our desire to make much of ourselves. But the gospel calls us to something radically different. Philippians 2:5-8 reminds us of Christ, who, “though he was in the form of God… emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant… He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (ESV). True greatness is found in humility and service, modeled perfectly by Jesus.

How do we combat our self-centeredness? By making much of Christ. As John the Baptist said, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30, ESV). Greatness in God’s kingdom is not about demanding others bow to us but bowing in humility before God and serving others in love.

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The Centurion’s Servant

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:1-10. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on May 19, 2024.

In a recent incident from Rochester, New York, a District Attorney named Sandra Doorley found herself in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. While driving 55 miles per hour in a 35-mile zone, Doorley was pulled over by a police officer. However, instead of stopping, she continued driving until she reached her home, where the officer confronted her. Doorley, known for her role as a government lawyer prosecuting crimes, refused to comply with the officer’s orders. The situation escalated when she called the town’s police chief, further complicating matters.

This incident quickly sparked controversy, with local and state officials expressing concern over Doorley’s behavior. Her actions were widely criticized as a potential abuse of authority, a stark reminder of how power can sometimes lead to a sense of entitlement. In moments like these, one might ask, “Do you know who I am?” This question, often associated with those in positions of power, serves as a fitting backdrop for the scripture passage we’ll explore today.

As we delve into the Gospel of Luke, we begin a new sermon series here at GCF Toronto, focusing on the concept of the “Upside Down Kingdom.” Previously, we examined Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain, where He taught about living and acting as His disciples. In this sermon, Jesus flipped the world’s expectations upside down: the poor are blessed, enemies are to be loved, and when struck, we are to turn the other cheek. These teachings introduced us to the idea of the “Upside Down Kingdom,” where conventional wisdom is turned on its head.

Today, we see this principle in action as Jesus interacts with those who would typically be considered outsiders. Our story begins with an unusual outsider—a Roman Centurion.

Luke 7:1–2 introduces us to this Centurion: “After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. Now a centurion had a servant who was sick and at the point of death, who was highly valued by him.” The Centurion, a Roman officer in charge of about 100 soldiers, was a figure of authority and power. In our modern context, this might seem insignificant, but in the ancient world, his position was one of considerable influence.

At the peak of the Roman Empire, the army was dispersed across vast territories, and officers like the Centurion had not only military command but also administrative authority over the areas they were stationed. This Centurion, stationed in Capernaum, had developed a strong relationship with the Jewish elders in the region, which becomes evident in their plea to Jesus.

Luke 7:3–5 tells us, “When the centurion heard about Jesus, he sent to him elders of the Jews, asking him to come and heal his servant. And when they came to Jesus, they pleaded with him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation, and he is the one who built us our synagogue.'” The fact that these Jewish elders advocated for a Roman officer, despite their general resentment toward the Romans, speaks volumes about the Centurion’s character.

But even more telling is the Centurion’s attitude toward his dying servant. In Luke 7:2–3, we learn that the Centurion’s servant, better understood as his slave (δοῦλος in Greek), was highly valued by him. The term “valued” here is translated from ἔντιμος, meaning highly regarded, honored, or respected. This wasn’t just any slave; this was someone the Centurion deeply cared for, enough to seek out Jesus for healing.

The Centurion’s desperation reminds me of the story of Andy Kaufman, a comedian who, after being diagnosed with lung cancer, sought out various treatments in vain. His desperation led him to the Philippines, where he sought a fake “psychic surgeon” in a last-ditch effort to be cured. This desperate search for healing mirrors the Centurion’s own situation. However, unlike Kaufman, the Centurion sought out someone real—Jesus, who has the power over life and death.

As Jesus approaches the Centurion’s home, something remarkable happens. In Luke 7:6–7, we read, “And Jesus went with them. When he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends, saying to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed.'” The Centurion, despite his authority, recognizes his unworthiness before Jesus. He understands that Jesus doesn’t even need to be physically present to heal his servant.

In Luke 7:8, the Centurion explains, “For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” The Centurion’s understanding of authority allows him to grasp something that even Jesus’ closest followers had not yet fully understood—Jesus’ authority transcends physical presence.

Jesus is so impressed by the Centurion’s faith that He declares in Luke 7:9, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” The Centurion, a Gentile and Roman officer, demonstrates a faith that surpasses even that of the people of Israel.

This Centurion knew who he truly was in the presence of Jesus, and this recognition led him to a profound faith. In contrast to the earlier story of Sandra Doorley, who relied on her position of power, the Centurion humbled himself before the true authority of Christ.

As we reflect on this passage, let us remember who we are in Christ. As 2 Corinthians 5:17 reminds us, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” In Christ, we find our true identity, one that is not based on our own authority or accomplishments, but on His grace and power.