Tag: Justice and Grace

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The Heart of God’s Offer of Forgiveness

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 23:26-49. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on Good Friday – April 3, 2026.

The crucifixion narrative in the Gospel of Luke provides a highly detailed theological and historical account of the execution of Jesus Christ. When analyzing this text alongside parallel synoptic accounts, specific details emerge that validate the historical authenticity of the event. A prominent example is the conscription of Simon of Cyrene to carry the cross. From a purely narrative perspective, this detail appears extraneous. If the gospels were fabricated theological fiction, the authors likely would have depicted the protagonist demonstrating supernatural endurance by carrying the cross the entire distance. However, physiological realities dictate that a trauma victim subjected to severe Roman scourging would be physically incapable of transporting a heavy wooden beam. The random conscription of a bystander aligns precisely with established Roman execution protocols. This behavioral realism confirms that the gospel writers were documenting objective historical events rather than constructing idealized myths.

Beyond historical validation, the crucifixion sequence underscores a central theme unique to Luke’s gospel: the deliberate inclusion of marginalized outsiders into the Kingdom of God. Throughout his documented ministry, Jesus consistently challenged the religious establishment by associating with outcasts. This trajectory culminates at the cross during his interaction with the two condemned criminals. Both men faced identical lethal circumstances, yet their responses established a definitive binary. One criminal mocked Jesus, demanding immediate physical deliverance. The other acknowledged his own culpability, recognized Jesus’s innocence, and requested entrance into his kingdom. The immediate guarantee of salvation to the repentant criminal demonstrates that justification is executed purely through faith, operating completely independently of accumulated moral works, institutional religious practices, or past behavior.

The timing of this specific conversion is frequently misinterpreted as a theological justification for delaying religious commitment until the end of life. Analytically, this is a flawed premise. The executed criminal did not systematically delay a faith response; the crucifixion likely represented his first genuine exposure to Christ. Furthermore, utilizing this narrative to plan a delayed conversion assumes guaranteed future opportunities, ignoring the statistical unpredictability of mortality. The functional purpose of the criminal’s narrative is not to endorse delayed repentance, but to illustrate that there is no neutral position regarding the cross. Observers either reject the sacrifice entirely or accept it unconditionally.

The theological magnitude of the crucifixion is visually represented by the tearing of the temple curtain. Under the parameters of the Old Covenant, this heavy veil restricted access to the Holy of Holies, limiting direct divine interaction to the high priest. The physical tearing of this barrier at the exact moment of Christ’s death signifies the permanent obsolescence of the localized, exclusionary temple system. The Messiah’s sacrifice acted as the ultimate mediation, establishing direct, unrestricted access to God for all humanity and extending the covenant beyond the Jewish nation to the global population.

Finally, the varied reactions of the execution witnesses highlight the insufficiency of mere emotional responses to the gospel. The Roman centurion, who actively managed the execution detail, objectively recognized and declared Jesus’s innocence. Simultaneously, the assembled crowds observed the spectacle and returned home beating their breasts in profound sorrow. However, neither cognitive recognition of an unjust execution nor intense emotional distress equates to biblical salvation. The necessary response to the cross is explicit faith. For those who exercise this faith, the subsequent mandate is a life characterized by active gratitude. The cross cannot be treated as a passive historical symbol; it demands a measurable lifestyle transformation. Believers are required to mirror the humility and sacrifice demonstrated by Christ, actively reallocating their time, resources, and operational focus to serve others, thereby reflecting the reality of the crucifixion in their daily routines.

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Never Forget His Rescue

Summary of my sermon, based on Micah 6. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on December 21, 2025.

Like many kids who grew up in Canada, I took piano through the Royal Conservatory system. What I remember most about exams was the repertoire: fifteen to twenty minutes of music committed to memory. There’s only one way to do that—practice. Parents know the drill: “Practice, because we’re paying for those lessons!” It isn’t just music. At work there are tasks you do so often you barely think about them, and others you have to look up because you don’t do them regularly. Skill sticks with repetition; neglect leads to forgetfulness. That principle also applies to our spiritual life: if we don’t practice our faith—if we don’t remember and rehearse God’s works and ways—we forget.

Israel’s history shows this. In the wilderness, Moses kept urging the people to remember the things their eyes had seen and to keep God’s commandments (Deut 4; 8). Yet not long after entering the land, they forgot and did what was evil in the Lord’s sight (Judg 3:7). Think about all God had done: the plagues in Egypt, the Red Sea crossing, daily provision in the desert (even their sandals didn’t wear out), the Jordan River parted, Jericho’s walls falling. Still, they forgot—and forgetting led to idolatry.

Fast-forward about five hundred years to Micah. We’ve been in this little book throughout Advent. Micah prophesied to Judah while the northern kingdom was already falling to Assyria. He confronted Judah’s idolatry and the social injustice of wealthy landowners stealing the land of the poor (Mic 1–2). He called out corrupt rulers and even prophets who sold “words from God” for a price (Mic 3). Judgment would come—the land would be lost. Yet every message of judgment was paired with hope: a preserved remnant, the mountain of the Lord lifted up, nations streaming to God, weapons turned into tools, peace established (Mic 4). We even heard the promise that the ruler would come from Bethlehem (Mic 5:2). Two full cycles: judgment and restoration.

Micah 6 opens the final cycle, and we’re back in the courtroom. The Lord summons creation to hear His indictment (Mic 6:1–2). Then He asks His people a piercing question: “What have I done to weary you?” and rehearses His saving acts—bringing them out of Egypt and raising up Moses, Aaron, and Miriam (Mic 6:3–4). He reminds them of the whole Balak–Balaam episode (Num 22–24), when a pagan king hired a prophet to curse Israel and God turned the curse into blessing—deliverance Israel didn’t even see at the time. He points to Shittim and Gilgal, framing the last steps into the land (Mic 6:5). In other words: “I rescued you, led you, protected you—often behind the scenes. How did that become a burden to you?”

Israel’s response reveals how far their hearts have wandered. They try to bargain: “Shall I come with burnt offerings? Calves a year old? Thousands of rams? Ten thousand rivers of oil? My firstborn for my transgression?” (Mic 6:6–7). It’s an escalation that exposes the problem. They see God as a power to be placated, not a Lord to be loved. Worst of all, their final offer—child sacrifice—mimics pagan worship and directly violates God’s law (Lev 18:21). In trying to impress God, they prove they’ve forgotten Him.

Then comes Micah’s famous rebuttal, not plucked out of thin air but spoken into this exact moment: God has already told you what is good and what He requires—to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God (Mic 6:8). It’s not a price list to purchase favor; it’s the posture of a people who truly remember the Lord. Think of Jesus’ parable in Luke 18: the Pharisee who boasts of his religious performance and the tax collector who beats his breast and prays, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” One trusts his offerings; the other trusts God. Only one goes home justified.

Micah 6:8 is a call to action, yes—but it’s also a call to repentance and reliance. On our own we can’t meet God’s standard. Jesus says, “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt 5:48). That command drives us to grace. How can we do justice without first being justified by faith and having peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Rom 5:1)? How can we love kindness without knowing that God’s kindness leads us to repentance (Rom 2:4)? How can we walk humbly with God unless we’re following the One who humbled Himself to the point of death, even death on a cross (Phil 2)?

So how do we keep from forgetting? The same way Moses coached Israel: remember, rehearse, obey. Immerse yourself in Scripture. Practice your faith daily. Not as leverage to “get God” to do what you want, but as gratitude and dependence—because apart from Him we drift. Our world is full of distractions—endless deals, notifications, even good gifts like family and community. Enjoy them, but let them point you back to the Giver. Let this season re-center you on Jesus: Simeon’s words still ring true—our eyes have seen God’s salvation, a light for the nations and the glory of Israel (Luke 2).

And let remembering spill into doing. As a church we’re giving a special “Happy Birthday, Jesus” offering this year toward our benevolence fund to meet needs in our community. It’s one small, concrete way to enact Micah 6:8—justice with kindness, flowing from humble hearts that haven’t forgotten grace.

Church, resist the impulse to bargain with God. Instead, receive His mercy again, and then live it out. Practice your faith so you don’t forget. Do justice—not to earn love, but because you are loved. Love kindness—not to look righteous, but because you’ve been shown mercy. Walk humbly—not to impress God, but because He walks with you. This is what the Lord requires, and this is what Christ enables.

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The Birth of Jesus

Summary of my sermon, based on Matthew 1:18-25. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on Deember 8, 2024.

Scandal. That’s the word that best describes the situation in Matthew 1:18–19.

“Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly.” (Matthew 1:18-19, ESV)

To understand the full weight of this moment, we need to grasp what betrothal meant in the first century. Today, we think of engagement as a promise to marry, but it’s not legally binding. If a couple breaks off an engagement, there’s no legal action required. But in Joseph and Mary’s time, betrothal was much more serious. Families arranged marriages, often when the bride and groom were young. Once betrothed, they were legally bound as husband and wife, even before living together. To break a betrothal, one had to go through a formal divorce.

And this is why Joseph, upon discovering Mary was pregnant, resolved to divorce her. Legally, it was the only way to handle what appeared to be unfaithfulness. In that culture, Mary’s situation wasn’t just embarrassing—it was devastating. A woman found guilty of adultery could be ostracized, rejected, or worse. Even today, pregnancy outside of marriage can be a scandal in certain communities. I remember growing up in a church where “Family Meetings” were called to address situations of church discipline. Though meant for restoration, let’s be honest—some people were just there for the gossip.

Joseph, however, was different. He was both just and gracious. Justice required him to act—he could not simply overlook what seemed like unfaithfulness. Yet he chose to divorce Mary quietly, sparing her from public humiliation. Most of us, when wronged, demand justice. But when we are the ones in the wrong, we beg for mercy. Joseph displayed both justice and grace, reflecting the very character of God.

Romans 3:23 tells us, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” and Romans 6:23 follows with, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” God is just—sin must be punished. But He is also gracious—through Jesus, He provides salvation. Joseph’s response mirrors God’s own justice and mercy.

But then, the revelation came.

“An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’” (Matthew 1:20-21, ESV)

This was no ordinary pregnancy. This was the Incarnation—God becoming man. A mystery beyond human understanding. Joseph obeyed immediately, taking Mary as his wife and naming the child Jesus. Just as Joseph responded to God’s revelation, we, too, must obey God’s Word, for it is His revelation to us.