Tag: Worship

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More Than Words

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 11:1-13. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on April 13, 2025.

It’s funny how easily we can overlook what’s right in front of us just because it’s familiar. A friend of mine who’s been living in Japan for years admitted that I, as a tourist, had seen more of his adopted home than he had. I think the same could be said for a lot of us and our own city. We miss the wonder, the beauty, the significance of things simply because we’ve seen them too often. And sometimes, that same kind of dullness happens with Scripture—especially with passages we know by heart, like the Lord’s Prayer. That’s why looking at the version in Luke 11 is so refreshing. It’s a little different than the version we’re used to from Matthew 6, and that difference wakes us up to its meaning again.

In Luke 11, Jesus is responding to a personal request from one of His disciples: “Lord, teach us to pray.” It’s not a sermon to the crowds like in Matthew; it’s a conversation with someone close to Him. That context matters. It tells us that prayer isn’t just a performance or a public discipline—it’s relational. It’s intimate. And the very first word Jesus uses shows us just how intimate prayer is supposed to be: “Father.” That one word would have shocked the disciples. The God whose name was so holy it couldn’t even be spoken aloud is being addressed like a parent? This wasn’t how people talked to God. In fact, throughout the Old Testament, God is only referred to as “Father” about fifteen times, and almost always in the collective sense—as the Father of Israel. Jesus, on the other hand, refers to God as Father around 250 times in the New Testament. And each time, it carries a sense of closeness that had never been seen before.

But just because Jesus invites us to intimacy with God doesn’t mean we lose our reverence. That’s the tension we often get wrong. I remember hearing someone open a public prayer with “Hey God,” and it struck me—even as a teenager—as disrespectful. It felt like the pendulum had swung too far in the direction of casual. Then there’s the idea of calling God “Daddy,” based on the Aramaic word “Abba.” But that term was used not just by little children but by adults as well—it wasn’t baby talk; it was just the everyday word for “father.” So yes, God is close. Yes, He is familiar. But He is still God. That’s why the next line matters so much: “Hallowed be your name.” To hallow something is to set it apart, to recognize its sacredness. We’re not making God holy by saying this; we’re acknowledging His holiness. We are worshiping.

That distinction between praise and worship is subtle but important. Praise celebrates what God has done—His works, His blessings, His victories. Worship, on the other hand, is about who He is—His character, His nature. And both have their place in prayer. Praise can prepare our hearts for worship. It helps us focus on God’s character by reflecting on how His character has shown up in our lives. When we say, “Hallowed be your name,” we’re doing just that—we’re stepping into worship, affirming God’s holiness, and aligning our hearts with who He is.

Then we move to “Your kingdom come.” This is where our longing for God’s rule comes into play. It’s an act of trust—a declaration that we believe in His justice, His order, and His plan. We know His kingdom is already here in part, and we’re also waiting for the day when it will come in full. This line holds both present faith and future hope. It reminds us that we’re living in the “already and not yet” of God’s reign. And it realigns us—it pulls our eyes off our own agendas and toward God’s bigger picture.

“Give us each day our daily bread.” This is about provision, yes, but it’s also about dependence. Every day we come to God, acknowledging that He is the one who sustains us. It echoes Philippians 4:19, which promises that God will supply all our needs. Not our wants. Not our fantasies. But what we need. And the fact that Jesus tells us to ask for daily bread, not a lifetime supply, is a reminder that our relationship with God is meant to be ongoing, constant, daily.

“Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.” This part shifts the focus to our relationships—with God and with others. Asking for forgiveness is one thing—but Jesus links it directly to how we treat other people. If we truly understand the grace we’ve been shown, it will overflow in grace toward others. Like in the parable in Matthew 18, the one who’s been forgiven much should be the first to extend mercy. It’s a gut-check for us. Are we holding grudges while asking God for grace?

And finally, “Lead us not into temptation.” This isn’t just a plea to avoid difficulty. It’s a recognition of our weakness. It’s an honest admission that we need God’s help to stay on the path. 1 Corinthians 10:13 assures us that God won’t let us be tempted beyond what we can bear—but we still need to ask for that strength. We still need to be humble enough to say, “God, I can’t do this on my own.”

So this prayer that might feel overly familiar suddenly becomes a rich framework for how we relate to God. It’s not just a script—it’s an outline. A way to approach God with the right heart: as children who are both loved and in awe. Who trust Him with our daily needs, with our future, and with our hearts. Who come to Him intimately, but never casually. Who praise Him, worship Him, and want His name to be made holy—not just in our words, but in our lives.

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Thanks and Giving – From Gratitude to Generosity

Summary of my sermon, based on Colossians 3:15-17. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 13, 2024.

Gratitude isn’t just about saying “thank you” and moving on—it’s an active response that shapes our actions. I’ve been thinking about this while remembering a particular flight I took many years ago. Normally, I’m the type to wear shorts on a flight, even in the middle of winter, as I did when I used to fly from the frozen streets of Fort McMurray to tropical destinations. But on one flight back from a mission trip in the Philippines, my attire changed thanks to an unexpected upgrade to business class. Out of gratitude for the experience, I swapped my casual shorts for proper pants. It was a small action, but it reflected my appreciation for the generosity I’d received.

This story reminds me of what Paul teaches in Colossians 3:15-17, where he connects gratitude to specific actions three times. First, he writes, “And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful” (Colossians 3:15, ESV). The “peace of Christ” isn’t just about individual calm or the absence of conflict. It’s much deeper—rooted in the biblical concept of shalom, which encompasses welfare, harmony, and completeness. This peace comes from Jesus, who reconciled us to God through His sacrifice, as Paul explains in Ephesians 2:13-14: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace.”

Knowing this, how can we not feel gratitude? But more importantly, what does that gratitude inspire in us? Paul says this peace should unite us, binding us together as one body. Gratitude for salvation isn’t a passive emotion—it motivates us to live in harmony with others, reflecting the unity Christ calls us to.

Paul goes further in Colossians 3:16: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” Gratitude should also lead us to immerse ourselves in Scripture, not just for our own sake but to share it with others. This sharing happens through teaching, correcting, and even worshiping together in song. It’s a communal expression of thanksgiving, as we gather in unity, centered on the Word of Christ.

Finally, Paul sums it up in Colossians 3:17: “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” This is where gratitude transforms everything—our words, actions, and even our attitude. It’s no longer about obligation but about joyfully responding to God’s grace. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 9:7-8, “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you.”

True gratitude is more than a polite acknowledgment; it’s a life-altering force. It moves us to unity, to immerse ourselves in God’s Word, and to act generously in all that we do. If we truly understand the peace and salvation Jesus has given us, then our gratitude will be visible—not just in our words but in the way we live each day.

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O Come: All You Unfaithful

Summary of my sermon, based on Psalm 14. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 12, 2023.

Last week, our series on the Old Testament, He is Greater, concluded on a somber note. Despite the Israelites’ return from 70 years of Babylonian exile, marked by the rebuilding of Jerusalem and their Temple, Malachi highlighted the Lord’s disputes with them. Their halfhearted worship in the rebuilt temple mirrored the absence of God’s Glory within it.

Haggai 2:3 questions the temple’s diminished glory, setting the stage for a sober end to the Old Testament, transitioning into the 400-year “Intertestamental Period,” marked by God’s silence in biblical revelations. In this period, often bridged by the Apocrypha in some religious texts, there’s a theological gap preceding the Gospels’ narrative.

However, the silence doesn’t imply a void in the historical timeline. Empires, from Assyrians to Seleucids, successively held sway over Israel, shaping the spiritual and political landscape. Amidst this silence, Psalm 14 vividly describes a worldview resonating through the ages.

Psalm 14:1–2 portrays the concept of a ‘fool,’ not as an individual denying God’s existence—a concept almost foreign in biblical times—but as someone acting as if God doesn’t matter. This resonates even today, debunking the assumption that atheism existed in ancient times. There weren’t atheists but many gods and various beliefs.

The fool’s context isn’t intellectual stupidity; rather, it’s about rejecting God’s role in life. This distinction aligns with biblical wisdom—where true knowledge stems from the fear of the Lord (Proverbs 1:7). Richard Dawkins and his New Atheist contemporaries, while perceived as intelligent, miss out on true knowledge by denying God.

Psalm 14:3–4, reiterated by Paul in Romans 3:9–11, declares the universality of human shortcomings. The psalm encapsulates Paul’s early chapters in Romans, outlining humanity’s inclination to act as if God doesn’t exist. However, even in their denial, people intrinsically recognize God’s presence (Romans 1:20).

The rejection of acknowledging God leads to darkened hearts and a pursuit of counterfeit gods—anything taking the central place in life, steering emotions, finances, and actions. This counterfeit pursuit is not confined to the primitive but extends to modern times, where individuals turn to idols that promise fulfillment but fall short.

In a world surrounded by counterfeit gods, Jesus stands as the true beacon. His words in John 12:32–33 and Matthew 11:28–30 extend an invitation—to find rest and fulfillment in Him. Despite humanity’s attempts to deny God or replace Him with idols, Jesus draws us back to Himself, offering genuine fulfillment and rest.

The ancient silence may have echoed for 400 years, but it wasn’t devoid of God’s presence or implications for human behavior. Today, amidst a cacophony of beliefs and pursuits, the call to find genuine solace and meaning remains—within Jesus, the only true source of fulfillment.