Outdo One Another in Showing Honour

Summary of my sermon, based on Romans 12:9-13. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on March 2, 2025.

The world has its own way of defining honor—bravery in battle, sacrifices made for others, accomplishments that inspire awe. Just think of Telesforo Trinidad. Most of us had never heard his name, but the US Navy did something extraordinary in his memory. They decided to name a warship after him—one of their most powerful destroyers. Why? Because in 1915, after surviving a deadly boiler explosion aboard the USS San Diego, he ran back—twice—into the fire and smoke to rescue two fellow sailors. And he did this not in the heat of combat but during peacetime. That’s the kind of gallantry that earned him the Medal of Honor, an award given only to those who go above and beyond the call of duty. His story reminds us that true honor often looks like self-sacrifice and courage, even when no one is watching.

That’s the kind of example that easily earns respect. When someone risks their life or achieves something extraordinary, we naturally want to honor them. But in the Kingdom of God, things work differently. As followers of Christ, we’re not just called to recognize those moments of greatness—we’re called to outdo one another in showing honor. That’s not just about giving credit where it’s due. It’s about a radical kind of love that seeks to lift others up whether or not the world thinks they deserve it. Romans 12:10 tells us, “Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” It’s not a suggestion; it’s a command. It’s how we love genuinely, with the kind of affection that sees each other as family.

Paul doesn’t just say, “Love one another”—he says to do it with brotherly affection. That’s the love you have for your family. You don’t love your kids because they always behave. You love them because they’re yours. In Christ, we’ve been adopted into the same spiritual family. Ephesians 2:19 says we’re no longer strangers but members of the household of God. That means our love for one another should be deep, genuine, and rooted in shared identity. And if we love like that, then honoring each other becomes an extension of that love. It’s not something we tack on—it’s how love expresses itself.

And then there’s that fascinating word: outdo. Paul could’ve said “honor one another,” and left it at that. But he ups the ante. He says we should try to outdo each other in this. In other words, if someone honors you, you try to go even further in honoring them back—not to boast, but because Christ has loved you so deeply that you can’t help but overflow it onto others. It’s not a competition of pride, but a pursuit of humility. It flips the world’s values upside down. Where the world wants to be better than, Scripture calls us to be better at lifting others up.

Of course, it’s easy to show honor to someone who seems worthy of it. Think of the benefits Medal of Honor recipients receive: higher pensions, free education for their kids, even a tradition where they’re saluted by generals. But the real challenge is this: how do we honor someone who doesn’t seem worthy? What if someone hasn’t done anything particularly impressive? Or worse—what if they’ve hurt you or disappointed you?

That’s where Philippians 4:8 comes in. Paul says to focus on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. That means we look for the good in others—even when it’s hard to find. And when someone truly is in the wrong, honoring them might mean lovingly confronting them. James 5:19–20 tells us that turning someone back from sin is a way to save them and cover a multitude of sins. In that moment, your honor isn’t about flattery or praise. It’s about loving them enough to help them return to truth.

Peter doesn’t leave room for exceptions either. “Honor everyone,” he writes in 1 Peter 2:17. Everyone. Not just the people you like. Not just Christians. Not just the ones who seem honorable. And yes, that includes even the emperor—most likely Nero at the time—a man known for his cruelty. That’s how upside down God’s Kingdom is. We show love and respect because God made people in His image, not because they’ve earned it.

Now let’s be honest. That kind of love isn’t natural. When we’re hurt, we want to withhold honor. But the gospel reminds us that we didn’t deserve honor either. We infinitely dishonored God. And yet, Romans 5:8 says that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” He honored us in the most profound way—by laying down His life. If God can show us that kind of mercy, surely we can extend a measure of it to others.

To love like this, to honor like this, requires grace. It means letting go of our pride. It means dying to self. But when we do it, we don’t just reflect kindness—we reflect Jesus. We become ambassadors for Christ, showing the world a different way to live. So let’s outdo one another—not in achievement, not in accolades, but in showing honor.

The Transfiguration

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 9:28-36. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 20, 2024.

The stories of Moses and the Tent of Meeting in Exodus set the stage for understanding one of the most awe-inspiring moments in the Gospels: the transfiguration of Jesus. Moses had a unique intimacy with God, described as speaking “face to face” (Exodus 33:11), though not literally seeing God’s face. When Moses asked to see God’s glory, the Lord hid him in the cleft of a rock, allowing him only a glimpse of His back while proclaiming His merciful and gracious character (Exodus 34:5–6). The effect of this divine encounter was visible—Moses’ face shone so brightly that the Israelites were afraid, and he had to wear a veil (Exodus 34:29–30).

Fast forward to the New Testament, and we find Jesus ascending a mountain with Peter, James, and John. There, His divine glory was revealed. Luke 9:29 describes, “The appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white.” Unlike Moses, whose face reflected God’s glory, Jesus radiated His own glory, for He is God. This moment wasn’t just a display of divine splendor; it was a confirmation of His identity and mission.

The appearance of Moses and Elijah with Jesus on the mountain deepens the significance. Moses, the great lawgiver, and Elijah, the great prophet, represent the Law and the Prophets—both pointing to Jesus. They spoke with Him about His “departure” (Luke 9:31), a reference to His impending death and resurrection. This affirmed that Jesus’ mission to suffer and die wasn’t a departure from God’s plan but its fulfillment. Isaiah 53 foretells this: “He was pierced for our transgressions… and with his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).

Peter, in his zeal, misunderstood the event. Suggesting tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah (Luke 9:33), he seemed to place Jesus on equal footing with the other two. But the voice of God corrected this: “This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to him!” (Luke 9:35). This declaration echoes through Scripture, affirming Jesus’ unique status as God’s Son and the culmination of all the Law and Prophets.

The imagery here connects back to the Old Testament. The cloud that enveloped them recalls the Shekinah glory, the visible presence of God, which guided Israel and filled the temple (Exodus 13:21; 1 Kings 8:10). In Jesus, God’s glory is no longer distant or veiled—it has become incarnate. As John 1:14 proclaims, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory.”

The transfiguration is not merely an isolated miracle; it’s a powerful affirmation of Jesus’ divine nature and His purpose to redeem humanity. Like the disciples, we can sometimes misunderstand or undervalue His glory, but Scripture calls us to see Jesus for who He truly is: the Son of God, the Savior, and the fulfillment of God’s eternal plan. In Him, the full radiance of God’s glory shines, not to terrify, but to invite us into His presence.