Who Does Jesus Call Blessed?

When Jesus began the Sermon on the Mount, He started with a word that most of us think we understand.

“Blessed”

  • Blessed are the poor in spirit.
  • Blessed are those who mourn.
  • Blessed are the meek.
  • Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

The problem is that the word “blessed” can be misleading. For many of us, it has become a religious catch-all term. We use it to describe a new job, a healthy family, a successful ministry, or a season when life seems to be going our way.

But Jesus’ listeners would have heard something much richer.

The Greek word for blessed in the Beatitudes is makarios, which echoes the Hebrew word ashrei. This is not the usual Hebrew word for blessing. That word is barukh, which refers to the blessing that God gives. Ashrei is something different. It is a wisdom word. It is the word someone uses when looking at another person’s life, saying, “Now that’s the good life.”

The book of Psalms opens this way: “Blessed (ashrei) is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked…” (Psalm 1:1)

The idea is not that God is pronouncing a blessing. Rather, the psalmist is observing a life that is flourishing under God’s care and saying, “Look at that person. What a fortunate way to live.”

For centuries, ashrei pointed to people whose lives looked enviable. They were secure. Stable. Flourishing. They had found life as God intended it.

Then Jesus stood before a crowd of ordinary Galileans and started applying the word to people nobody envied.  He took this familiar word and turned it upside down.

Or perhaps right side up.

The Surprise of the Beatitudes

Imagine standing on that hillside in Galilee.  Who had likely gathered around Jesus?  Not Rome’s elite.  Not the wealthy landowners.  Not the religious leaders.  Not the people everyone assumed were especially favored by God.

The crowd was filled with ordinary people. Many were poor. Some were sick. Others carried grief, disappointment, shame, or uncertainty. They lived under Roman occupation. They lived under the heavy-handedness of the religious system.  They struggled to make ends meet. Most would never have been considered examples of the good life.

And then Jesus began speaking.  “Ashrei are the poor in spirit.”

What?

What if Jesus were not primarily describing virtues to achieve?  What if He were identifying people who assume they don’t qualify for God’s kingdom? Dallas Willard suggested that the Beatitudes are less about spiritual achievement and more about kingdom availability.

Jesus continued: Ashrei are those who mourn.  Ashrei are the meek, etc. 

Nobody looked at a grieving person and said, “That’s the good life.”  Nobody looked at the powerless and said, “That’s who I want to become.”  Nobody looked at the persecuted and thought, “They are the fortunate ones.”

Yet Jesus did.

Why?

Because he was not simply describing people’s circumstances. He was revealing what God was doing in their midst.

More Than a List of Virtues

Many Christians read the Beatitudes as a list of virtues to pursue.

Be humble. Be meek. Be merciful. Be pure in heart.

There is certainly a place for that reading. The qualities Jesus describes should characterize His followers.

But I do not think that was Jesus’ starting point.

The Beatitudes were not addressed to spiritual superstars.  They were addressed to people who may have assumed they were disqualified.  The people who look at their lives and thought, “Surely God’s kingdom is for someone else.”

Jesus said otherwise.

The kingdom belongs to these people, too.  In fact, it is arriving among them.  One of the most fascinating aspects of the Beatitudes is that Jesus identified people whom society would not normally associate with flourishing.

The Beatitudes are a list of the kingdom’s surprising citizens.

Even more, they are a list of surprised citizens – people who never imagined they would find themselves included in God’s kingdom

A Word for the “Disqualified”

Perhaps this is why the Beatitudes can continue to resonate so deeply.  Many of us spend our lives feeling like we are on the outside looking in.

We compare ourselves to others.  We measure our spiritual lives against people who seem more mature.  We assume God’s favor belongs to those who are stronger, wiser, more successful, or more put-together.

The Beatitudes challenge those assumptions.

Jesus began His most famous sermon by identifying people who do not appear blessed and declaring that God’s kingdom was arriving among them.

Not someday.  Now!

The Good News of Ashrei

The primary question Jesus is answering is not: “What qualities should I develop?”  The primary question is: “Who belongs in the kingdom of God?”

The Beatitudes are an invitation to see the world through kingdom eyes.  They reveal that God’s definition of flourishing differs dramatically from our own.

This is why the Beatitudes can never be reduced to something other than what they are – kingdom announcements.  Jesus declares that God’s reign is breaking into places where people least expect to find it.

Before He tells us what kingdom life looks like, He tells us who the kingdom is for.  And the answer is wonderfully surprising.

The people least likely to claim a seat at the table are often the very people Jesus invites to sit down first.  That is the scandal of the Beatitudes. That’s the scandal of the Kingdom.

And that is the good news.  Very good news!

Before We Climb the Mountain

In the coming weeks, we’ll be digging into Jesus’ Manifesto, the Sermon on the Mount.  The Sermon is arguably Jesus’ most famous body of teaching.  Even people who know very little about Christianity have heard pieces of it.

  • “Blessed are the peacemakers.”
  • “Love your enemies.”
  • “Turn the other cheek.”
  • “Do not worry about tomorrow.”

These words have shaped cultures, inspired movements, challenged assumptions, and comforted countless people through the centuries.

Yet familiarity can sometimes keep us from hearing what Jesus was actually saying.  Before we begin walking through the Sermon itself, I think it will be helpful to spend a little time considering the context.

Some Context…

So, let’s spend a little time considering the four narratives that house the story of Jesus – the four Gospels (remembering that gospel = euangelion = good news).  Where did these four accounts come from, and who were the evangelists who authored them?

The four Gospels were written within the lifetime of people who had seen and heard Jesus.

An important thing to consider.

Matthew was not merely an observer of Jesus’ ministry; he was one of the disciples personally called by Jesus. His Gospel reflects the testimony of someone – a hated tax collector – whose life had been profoundly altered by the One he followed.

Mark likely recorded the recollections of the apostle Peter, another disciple personally called by Jesus.  His life, too, was profoundly transformed by Jesus.  Luke carefully investigated the events he recorded, drawing upon eyewitness testimony and earlier written accounts. John, writing later than the others, offered the reflections of yet another eyewitness who had spent years walking with Jesus.

Why does this matter?

Take a moment and ponder the richness of these four narratives.  Imagine the time spent recalling experiences, stories, and feelings – looking for the right words to express them.  Imagine remembering and capturing three years of your life in a way that would inspire your readers?  That’s what we have here – way more than information.  So it matters!

For years, whenever I worked with students, I wanted them to wrestle with a foundational question: Who is Jesus Christ, and why might I want to follow him?

I wanted them to understand why the Gospels mattered. Simply telling them they were important wasn’t going to cut it.  I wanted them to crawl into the stories and experience Jesus!

So, I would bring a box of my journals into the room and invite students to read entries from various years of my life. Afterward, I would ask, “What do you know about me now that you didn’t know ten minutes ago?”

(Their responses were always quite interesting.)

Then I would show them a photo of my grandchildren and pose a hypothetical question: What if something tragic happened to me and those grandchildren never had the opportunity to know me personally?  How might they learn who their grandfather was?

Eventually, someone would say it.  “They could read your journals.”

Mic drop!

The Gospels are not private journals, but they serve a similar purpose. They preserve the testimony of people who knew Jesus, walked with him, listened to him, and devoted the rest of their lives to telling others about him.

The Gospel writers were not detached observers. They were participants. They had encountered Jesus personally, and their lives had never been the same.  And because of their testimony, we can still hear His voice today.

Jan Brueghel the Elder’s Sermon on the Mount (circa 1598)

More Than a One-Time Sermon

The Sermon on the Mount is found primarily in the gospel of Matthew, chapters 5–7, with a shorter but related version appearing in Luke 6. Only Matthew and Luke record such a sermon in this form. 

Many of us have been influenced by Hollywood portrayals of the Sermon on the Mount. The popular television series The Chosen depicts it as a singular, dramatic event, and it may well have been exactly that.

But there is something important to consider.

The themes and teachings found in the Sermon on the Mount appear throughout the Gospels. We encounter them in various settings, conversations, and moments in Jesus’ ministry.

That should not surprise us.

Most effective communicators return repeatedly to their central message. Good teachers often have a handful of foundational themes that they express in different ways over the years. Jesus appears to have done the same thing.

The Sermon on the Mount may be the most concentrated collection of Jesus’ teaching, but it is not an isolated collection of ideas. Rather, it provides a window into the message he proclaimed throughout his public ministry.

As we move through this series, we’ll focus on Matthew’s version of the Sermon. 

Reading the Sermon Through Kingdom Eyes

One more thing is worth mentioning as we begin: Our recent conversations about the kingdom of God must travel with us into this series.

One of the challenges of reading the Sermon on the Mount is that we can mistake it for a collection of moral instructions. We hear “love your enemies,” “do not judge,” or “turn the other cheek,” and immediately begin asking, How do I do that?  

But before asking how, we should ask why.

Jesus did not begin his ministry by announcing a new ethical system. He announced that the kingdom of God had drawn near.

The Sermon on the Mount is rooted in that announcement. It describes what life looks like when God’s reign is welcomed and reveals the character of people learning to live under the loving rule of the King.  The Sermon on the Mount is not primarily about what people should do. It is about the kind of people God’s kingdom is forming.

If the kingdom is the message, the Sermon is one of the clearest pictures of kingdom life. 

An Invitation

As we begin this journey together, my hope is not simply that we will study a famous sermon.

My hope is that we will encounter Jesus.

We’ll wrestle with his words. We’ll allow them to challenge us. We’ll let them expose assumptions we didn’t know we had. And perhaps, along the way, we’ll discover that the Sermon on the Mount is not merely something to be admired.

It is an invitation into the life of the kingdom.

So, before we climb the mountain, let’s remember whose voice we are about to hear.

Jesus’ Manifesto

The Word Makes Us Nervous

The word manifesto makes some Christians nervous.  It sounds political. Ideological. Revolutionary. Maybe even dangerous.

For many, the word conjures images of angry movements, cultural upheaval, or ideological extremism. In our modern moment, “manifesto” often feels politically charged before we even define it. Some immediately associate the term with revolutionary movements on the far left or far right, with propaganda, coercion, or attempts to seize cultural power.

And to be fair, history has certainly produced destructive manifestos. Some have fueled oppression, violence, nationalism, or utopian visions untethered from humility and love. So, the hesitation is understandable.

When we view a manifesto in a category that belongs exclusively to political radicals and cultural revolutionaries, rather than recognizing it more broadly as a public declaration of vision, convictions, and way of life, we have flattened the value of the term.  It then becomes difficult to recognize that Jesus Himself spoke in ways that were deeply public, deeply disruptive, and deeply challenging to the social and religious assumptions of His day – manifesto-like.

I recently read about a pastor preaching a message focused on The Sermon on the Mount. Afterward, one of the church leaders confronted him about his “woke ideologies.” The pastor responded that he had simply been repeating the words of Jesus. The man replied, “Not my Jesus.”

Whether the story is apocryphal or not, it captures something revealing about our moment. We have become so discipled by modern political categories that the teachings of Jesus can sound foreign – even threatening – when heard without the filters we normally place on them.

A Domesticated Jesus?

Perhaps part of our discomfort is that we have grown accustomed to thinking of Jesus primarily in private and personal terms – as though His teachings were mainly about individual spirituality or moral inspiration rather than the announcement of an entirely different kind of kingdom and humanity.  In a sense, we have domesticated Jesus.

When Jesus ascended a hillside in Galilee, sat down with His disciples, and began speaking about blessing, enemies, lust, anger, money, anxiety, prayer, power, integrity, retaliation, and the kingdom of God, He was not offering detached religious reflections for private inspiration. He was announcing an entirely different way of being human under the reign of God.

In many ways, the Sermon on the Mount reads like a manifesto.

What Manifestos Actually Do

A manifesto is a public declaration of vision, values, convictions, and way of life. It names what is wrong with the present order and calls people into an alternative reality. Manifestos challenge assumptions. They form identity. They summon allegiance. They announce that another way is possible.

The Declaration of Independence functioned as a manifesto. It publicly declared that the existing relationship with the British crown was no longer acceptable, articulated foundational convictions about human dignity and governance, and called for an entirely new national identity to emerge.

Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses served as a manifesto for reform within the Church. What began as an academic dispute became a public challenge to corruption, spiritual abuse, and distorted theology. Luther was not merely complaining; he was calling people back to a different understanding of the gospel and authority.

Likewise, The Rule of Saint Benedict functioned as a manifesto for an alternative kind of community. Benedict laid out rhythms, values, practices, and shared commitments that shaped how people would live together under the lordship of Christ. It was not simply theoretical theology. It was an embodied vision.

The Manifesto of the Kingdom

Manifestos do not merely describe ideas. They seek to form people.  And that is precisely what Jesus seemed to be doing in the Sermon on the Mount.

We can easily reduce the Sermon on the Mount to one of three things:

  • impossible moral standards meant to make us feel our need for grace,
  • inspirational sayings suitable for coffee mugs and wall art,
  • or ethical suggestions for especially serious Christians.

But Jesus presented the Sermon as none of those things.  This was the manifesto of the kingdom of God.  Jesus announced a new reality breaking into the world: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”  

God was indeed king.

And the Sermon on the Mount described what life looks like when people actually live under His reign.  This manifesto was radically counter-cultural then, and it remains radically counter-cultural now…

  • Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
  • Love your enemies. 
  • Pray for those who persecute you. 
  • Reject performative religion. 
  • Tell the truth without manipulation. 
  • Refuse vengeance. 
  • Seek first the kingdom. 
  • Do not store up treasures on earth. 
  • Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

None of these fits neatly into modern ideological categories.

Jesus confronted both religious nationalism and moral compromise. He challenged hypocrisy and self-righteousness. He critiqued greed, status-seeking, lust for power, anxiety-driven accumulation, and hatred toward enemies. He called people into a life marked by humility, mercy, purity, courage, integrity, generosity, reconciliation, and radical trust in the Father.

That is not Republican.
That is not Democrat.
That is kingdom.

And perhaps that is why the Sermon still unsettles us.

More Than Private Spirituality

We have become remarkably skilled at admiring Jesus while explaining away the direct implications of His teachings. We sentimentalize the Sermon on the Mount because actually obeying it would require a profound reordering of our lives, priorities, politics, relationships, economics, ambitions, and identities.

Jesus was not merely offering spiritual guidance for getting into heaven someday.  He was forming a people who would embody the life of heaven here and now – “On earth as in heaven.”

A manifesto.

Not enforced through coercion or violence.
Not advanced through domination.
But through surrendered hearts shaped by the reign of God.

In the coming posts, we will spend some time walking through the Sermon on the Mount as Jesus’ kingdom manifesto – not as abstract ideals, but as the invitation into an entirely different way of living in the world.

Kingdom Politics in a Partisan Age

When we hear the word political, our minds often drift toward partisan bickering, campaign ads, and endless fights between the left and the right. Politics, fundamentally, is about how communities govern themselves and pursue human flourishing together – how power is exercised, how justice is pursued, and how public life is ordered.  It concerns the values and structures that shape public life.

Partisanship is narrower. It is allegiance to a party, ideology, tribe, or faction, often reducing reality into “us versus them.” In short, being political is about the common good; being partisan is about taking sides.

That distinction matters when we talk about Jesus.

Whether we recognize it or not, Jesus was profoundly political. He proclaimed a kingdom, confronted systems of power, redefined authority, and announced a new social reality under the reign of God. Yet he consistently resisted being co-opted by the partisan movements of his day.

He did not align himself with the Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians, or Zealots. He transcended them all.

And that frustrated people.

Some wanted Jesus to overthrow Rome. Others wanted him to reinforce the religious establishment. Still others hoped he would baptize their version of nationalism or morality. Jesus refused every attempt to squeeze him into a human political category.

That refusal still frustrates people today.

The Politics of the Kingdom

Jesus’ first public proclamation was deeply political: “The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe the good news.” (Mark 1:15)

In the Roman world, Caesar claimed titles like “Lord” and “Savior.” The empire proclaimed its own “gospel” — good news about the reign of Caesar and the peace of Rome.

So when Jesus announced the kingdom of God, he was declaring an alternative reign, an alternative allegiance, and an alternative vision for human flourishing.  The earliest Christians understood this – when they confessed, “Jesus is Lord,” they were simultaneously declaring, “Caesar is not.”

But Jesus’ politics did not mirror Caesar’s politics.

His kingdom would not advance through domination or violence. It would spread through love, truth, healing, forgiveness, and love of the enemy. Jesus subverted the normal assumptions of political power.

As Stanley Hauerwas often argues, Christians are called to resist the political categories, assumptions, and demands of their age.  The church proclaims that we belong first to another kingdom.

Challenging Power Without Grasping for It

Jesus consistently confronted distorted uses of power.

He overturned tables in the temple because worship had become entangled with exploitation (Matthew 21:12–13). He rebuked leaders who burdened others while refusing to help carry the load (Matthew 23:4). And he taught that leadership in God’s kingdom is about serving, not “lording it over” others (Mark 10:42–45, Luke 22:25–26), contrasted with the politics of earthly kingdoms.

Jesus rejected domination as the pathway to transformation.

That is why he puzzled both the religious establishment and the political revolutionaries of his day. The Zealots wanted revolt. Rome wanted order through force. Jesus chose servanthood.

He taught that greatness looks like humility, leadership looks like sacrifice, and authority looks like washing feet.

Refusing Partisan Co-Option

One of the clearest examples of Jesus resisting partisan co-option came when he was asked whether Jews should pay taxes to Caesar (Matthew 22:15–22).

The question was a trap.

If Jesus endorsed the tax, many Jews would see him as siding with Rome. If he rejected it, Rome could brand him a revolutionary.

Jesus refused the false binary.

“Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s,” he said, “and to God what is God’s.”

With one statement, Jesus acknowledged the limited role of earthly government while also relativizing its authority. Caesar may have his coins, but Caesar does not own human souls.

If coins bear Caesar’s image, human beings bear God’s image.  Our ultimate allegiance belongs to God.

This is why Christians must be careful whenever political parties attempt to claim unquestioned loyalty. The moment the church becomes fully identified with a partisan movement, it risks domesticating the kingdom of God into something far smaller than Jesus intended.

Jesus consistently resisted those kinds of reductions.

After feeding the five thousand, the crowds attempted to “make him king by force.” Jesus withdrew from them (John 6:15). They wanted a Messiah who fit their political expectations.

Jesus would not comply.

The Politics of Radical Human Dignity

Jesus’ politics were also visible in the people he welcomed.

Philip Yancey noted that Jesus refused to let institutions interfere with love for actual human beings…

Jesus spoke with a Samaritan woman whom society marginalized ethnically, morally, and religiously. He called Matthew the tax collector and Simon the Zealot into the same circle of disciples. He ate with Pharisees and sinners. He touched lepers, welcomed children, and praised outsiders.[1]

Again and again, Jesus placed people above categories. And every one of these actions carried political implications because they redrew the boundaries of belonging.

The kingdom of God was not built around tribal purity or partisan identity.  It was built around reconciliation.

Why This Matters Now

Following Jesus cannot be apolitical.

To live under the lordship of Christ means caring about justice, truth, peace, mercy, and the ordering of life together. Christians cannot retreat into a privatized faith that ignores public life.

At the same time, Jesus warns us against becoming captive to partisanship.  Paul rebuked believers for dividing themselves into factions:

“One of you says, ‘I follow Paul’; another, ‘I follow Apollos’… Is Christ divided?” (1 Corinthians 1:12–13)

That warning still matters.  Whenever Christians equate the kingdom of God with a political party, ideology, nation, or movement, we shrink the gospel into something tribal.  We tame the radical vision of Jesus.  We begin treating political opponents as enemies to defeat instead of neighbors to love.

N.T. Wright writes that God’s kingdom is the place “where love and justice and truth and mercy and holiness reign unhindered.”[2]  Those realities never fit neatly into partisan categories. The kingdom critiques every party.  Every ideology.  Every ruler.

Including the ones we prefer.

Living as Citizens of Another Kingdom

So the question is not whether Jesus was political.  He clearly was.

The better question is this: How can we be political like Jesus without becoming partisan like the world? That may mean:

  • Speaking truth to power, no matter who holds office.
  • Prioritizing the vulnerable even when it costs us socially or politically.
  • Refusing to demonize those on “the other side.”
  • Caring more about faithfulness than winning.
  • Remembering that our ultimate hope is not found in elections, parties, politicians, or nations, but in the risen Christ.

In a polarized age, the church has an opportunity to model a different kind of public witness – a people shaped not by outrage, fear, or tribalism, but by the ethics of the kingdom of God.  A people who proclaim that Jesus is Lord.

And because Jesus is Lord, no political party ever will be.

[1] Yancey, P. (1995). The Jesus I never knew (International trade paper edition). Zondervan Publishing House.

[2] Wright, N. T. (2004). Matthew for everyone : Part two.  Westminster John Knox Press.

Pulling It All Together: Reading Jesus Through the Right Lens

Over the past several posts in this “Not What You Think It Means” series, we have revisited words that sit at the center of Jesus’ message:

Kingdom.
Repent.
Believe.
Gospel.

At first glance, this may have felt like a long detour into vocabulary. But it was never really about vocabulary. It was about lenses.  Because how we understand those words shapes how we read everything Jesus said and did.

If the gospel is primarily about “how I get to go to heaven,” then we will inevitably read the Gospels through that framework. We might admire Jesus, learn from Him, or worship Him, but we may miss much of what He was actually announcing.

Jesus did not begin His ministry by saying, “Here is how to get to heaven.”  As we’ve seen, Mark summarized Jesus’ message this way:

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the gospel.” (Mark 1:15)

That announcement becomes the interpretive key for everything that follows.  Without that lens, we can easily misread the Gospels.  And certainly not capture the full weight of what the writers wanted their readers to hear.

We May Reduce Jesus to a Sin-Forgiveness Mechanism

If the primary point of Christianity becomes personal afterlife assurance (“after-life” insurance?), Jesus can slowly become reduced to the One who helps us “go to heaven.”

Of course, forgiveness matters deeply. Eternity matters deeply.  But the Gospels reveal Jesus announcing something much larger: the reign of God breaking into the present world.  Once we begin to see that, His words and actions make more sense and take on new meaning.

His miracles were not random supernatural proofs designed merely to convince people that He was divine. They were signs of the kingdom.

Jesus was not merely preparing people for life after death. He was revealing what life under the reign of God looks like right now.

We May Misread the Parables

The parables especially begin to change when viewed through a kingdom lens.  Modern readers often approach parables looking primarily for moral lessons or hidden theological codes. But Jesus repeatedly said:

“The kingdom of God is like…”

That matters.  The parables were helping people imagine what happens when God becomes King…

  • The kingdom was like a mustard seed — small, overlooked, yet growing into something far larger than expected.
  • The kingdom was like yeast in dough — quiet, hidden, yet slowly transforming everything.
  • The kingdom was like a treasure hidden in a field — valuable enough to reorder one’s entire life around it.

Without a kingdom lens, we can flatten these stories into generic encouragements about faith or morality.  But Jesus was describing an entirely new reality breaking into the world.

Even parables of judgment begin to read differently. They are not merely threats about the afterlife. They are warnings about resisting the reign of God that was arriving in their midst.

We May Miss Why Jesus Clashed with Religious Leaders

Without understanding the gospel of the kingdom, Jesus’ confrontations with religious leaders can seem unexpectedly harsh.  Why did He provoke them so often?  Why did Sabbath debates become so intense? Why were they scandalized by what he said and did?

Because Jesus wasn’t merely tweaking religious behavior. He was challenging entire ways of seeing God, power, holiness, and identity.  The kingdom of God was disrupting existing systems. He was inaugurating a radical reorientation of thought and life in light of the reality that God’s reign had come near.

“You have heard it said… but I say to you.”

Jesus continually challenged assumptions about enemies, status, greatness, purity, wealth, retaliation, righteousness, etc.

It was all very scandalous!

The Sermon on the Mount Changes Completely

This may be most obvious with the Sermon on the Mount.  Without a kingdom framework, the Sermon can feel impossible, disconnected from reality, or reduced to inspirational ideals.

Love your enemies.
Turn the other cheek.
Bless those who curse you.
Do not worry.
Seek first the kingdom.

Read through an individualistic “how do I get saved?” framework, these teachings can feel strangely disconnected from the “main point” of Christianity.  But Jesus was describing what life looks like under the reign of God, which is the main point.

The Sermon on the Mount is not random ethics. It’s foundational.  It describes life under God’s rule.  It describes the kind of people God is inviting and forming to participate as workers in his kingdom.  

The Beatitudes suddenly become more than poetic sayings. They become announcements of who the kingdom is available to: the overlooked, the humble, the merciful, the peacemakers.

“Seek first the kingdom of God” stops being a decorative Christian phrase and becomes the framework through which we order our lives.

Why This Matters Going Forward

This is why we have spent time visiting these foundational words.  We are not merely nuancing definitions. We are learning to read Jesus through the framework He Himself announced.

The kingdom of God has come near.
Repent.
Believe the good news.

From here forward, we are going to revisit Jesus’ teachings, actions, parables, and confrontations through that lens.

Because when the message of Jesus becomes centered primarily on “going to heaven when we die,” Jesus Himself can gradually become reduced to the means of getting there rather than the One announcing and embodying the reign of God breaking into the present world.

And once that happens, discipleship can quietly become optional.

Following Jesus may be treated as an advanced step only for especially committed Christians rather than the normal response to the King and His kingdom. The focus can shift toward securing forgiveness or eternal destiny while leaving the larger invitation of Jesus — “Follow Me” — sitting at the edges of the Christian life.

Ironically, this can also drift toward moralism.

When the kingdom of God is no longer the central framework, the teachings of Jesus become reduced to ethical expectations detached from the life and power of God’s reign. Remember, He called people to become disciples —

Apprentices who would learn to live under the reign of God here and now.

Gospel: Not what you think it means (Part 3)

(Read Part 1 and Part 2 [here] and [here].)

A conversation I haven’t been able to shake

About 10–15 years ago, I had a conversation that has stayed with me.

They said, “I shared the gospel with a co-worker the other day.”

I responded, “That’s great. What exactly did you share?”

They said, “You know… the Roman Road.”

So, I asked, “Isn’t Jesus’ crucifixion central to the Roman Road?”

“Well, yes.”

Then I asked one more question:

“What was the gospel Jesus proclaimed in Mark 1:14–15?”

Pause.

“Hmmm…”

That moment wasn’t about catching someone off guard. It revealed something deeper.

We use the word gospel all the time.
But when pressed – What is it, exactly? – the answers start to drift.

That’s what we began to see in Part 1.
That’s what we pressed into in Part 2.

Now it’s time to attempt to “bring it home.”

When the gospel became something else

Somewhere along the way, the word gospel got reduced.

Not denied.
Not rejected.
Just…shrunk.

Instead of an announcement, it became a formula.
Instead of news, it became a transaction.
Instead of a King and His kingdom, it became a plan for my afterlife.

This didn’t happen overnight. But in the mid-20th century, tools like the Roman Road and the Four Spiritual Laws began to dominate how the gospel was communicated (See the addendum).  These tools weren’t the problem. They were trying to help. They highlighted something essential: that Jesus’ death and resurrection matter for our salvation.

But over time, something subtle happened.  The gospel itself became equated with these presentations.  As Scot McKnight has argued, the gospel was reshaped around helping people make decisions about personal salvation.

And when that happens, the message inevitably narrows.

From gospel to “plan of salvation”

Think about the common thread in most gospel presentations:

  • You are a sinner
  • Sin separates you from God
  • Jesus died for your sins
  • If you believe, you go to heaven

None of that is false.  But is that the gospel?  The good news Jesus proclaimed?

Here’s the tension we can’t ignore: Jesus proclaimed the gospel before He went to the cross.

In Mark 1:14–15, Jesus announced good news.  Not, “I am about to die so you can go to heaven.”  But “The time has come. The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news.”

The gospel Jesus proclaimed was not first about how to get saved.  It was about what God was doing – right then, right there.

What gets lost when we shrink the gospel

When we reduce the gospel to a plan of salvation, the consequences are real – even if unintended.  The focus shifts almost entirely to me – my sin, my decision, my destination.

The story shrinks – from God’s reign breaking into the world to a private spiritual transaction.

And the resurrection? It fades.

I’ve seen this firsthand. I once asked a group of college students what Jesus did at Easter.  They answered, “He died on the cross for our sins.”  I followed up: “And then what?”

“We get to go to heaven.”

They skipped right past the resurrection – the very thing that makes the gospel good news.

This is what Dallas Willard called the gospel of “sin management” – a version of Christianity focused almost entirely on dealing with sin, while leaving transformation and kingdom life largely untouched.

A gospel that fits too easily

There’s another layer to this.

Sociologists Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton described the default belief system of many as Moralistic Therapeutic Deism[1]:

  • God wants you to be a good person
  • God wants you to be happy
  • God helps when needed
  • Good people go to heaven

When the gospel is reduced to “how to go to heaven,” it fits almost seamlessly into that framework. But that is not the gospel Jesus proclaimed.  

Not even close.

The response I held back

In Part 1, I mentioned a Facebook “survey” asking people to define the gospel.

There was one response I held back.

My friend Crystal Kirgiss[2] wrote: 

1. King Jesus reigns.  2. His death and resurrection provide a way for me to be part of his kingdom. (King – and all its implications.  Kingdom – and all its implications.)

Simple.  Clear.  And loaded with meaning.

What’s there – and what’s not

Notice what’s present:

  • A King
  • A Kingdom
  • A present reign
  • A death and resurrection that accomplish something
  • An invitation to participate

Now notice what’s not central:

  • A formula
  • A scripted prayer
  • A primary focus on going to heaven

Again, those ideas aren’t necessarily wrong.  They’re just not the starting point.

The gospel that the early church proclaimed

The earliest Christian message was not primarily advice about life after death. It was an announcement.  Something had happened.

Jesus is the Messiah.
Jesus was crucified.
Jesus was raised.
Jesus is Lord.

Not someday. Now.

This is why the resurrection is a big deal!

Without it, there is no reigning King.
Without it, there is no kingdom breaking in.
Without it, there is no gospel.

As N. T. Wright has emphasized, the gospel is about what God has done in and through Jesus to become King – and to set the world right.

Why this changes everything

If the gospel is primarily about how I get to heaven, then the Christian life becomes:

  • Make a decision
  • Manage sin
  • Wait for heaven

But if the gospel is the announcement that Jesus is King, then everything shifts. Now:

  • Salvation is how we enter the story
  • Discipleship is not optional
  • The present matters – not just the afterlife
  • Transformation is expected – not just forgiveness

A reduced gospel produces a reduced Christianity. It always has. It always will.

So let’s say it clearly

What is the gospel?

Not a formula.
Not a technique.
Not a sales pitch.

The gospel is an announcement. A declaration:

Jesus Christ is the risen, reigning, rescuing King.[3]

Sit with that for a moment.

Not just Savior.
King.

Not just forgiving.
Reigning.

Not just future hope.
Present reality.

[1] Smith, C., & Denton, M. L. (2005). Soul searching: The religious and spiritual lives of american teenagers. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press.

[2] Director of Discipleship Content and Partnerships, Young Life

[3] Interestingly, this statement was also provided by Crystal Kirgiss.  In arrived in my inbox via her monthly “Discipleship Postcard” to Young Life staff on April 7, 2026, while I was developing this “Not what you think it means” series.  (See “postcard” above.) 

ADDENDUM. If you are not familiar with the “Roman Road” or the Four Spiritual Laws, here they are…

The Roman Road is an oft-used plan of salvation – getting its name from the fact that it follows a journey through the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Roman Church.  The five core verses typically outline this plan of salvation:

  1. Romans 3:23 – Everyone is a sinner: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”.
  2. Romans 6:23a – The consequence of sin is spiritual death: “For the wages of sin is death”.
  3. Romans 6:23b – God offers a free gift: “But the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord”.
  4. Romans 5:8 – Jesus died for us while we were still sinners: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us”.
  5. Romans 10:9-10, 13 – Confess and believe to be saved: “That if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”

Another well-known plan of salvation is Campus Crusade’s Four Spiritual Laws, developed by founder Bill Bright.  The Laws:

  1. God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life (John 3:16; 10:10).
  2. Man is sinful and separated from God.  Therefore, he cannot know and experience God’s love and plan for his life (Rom. 3:23; 6:23).
  3. Jesus Christ is God’s only provision for man’s sin.  Through him, you can know and experience God’s love and plan for your life (Rom. 5:8; 1 Cor. 15:3 – 6; John 14:6).
  4. We must individually receive Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord; then we can know and experience God’s love and plan for our lives (John 1:12; 3:1 – 8; Eph. 2:8 – 9; Rev. 3:20).

Compared to the Roman Road, a major difference in the Four Spiritual Laws is the addition of language about a wonderful plan for our lives.  McKnight spoke to this addition: “regarding God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life, in 1957 a salesman, Bob Ringer, told Bill Bright that he had to learn to evangelize by beginning on a positive note — sales, he was told, begins with something positive”. (McKnight, S. (2016). The king jesus gospel: the original good news revisited. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.)

Gospel: Not what you think it means (Part 2)

In [Part 1], we began to peel back what we mean when we use the word gospel. We noticed how easily familiarity can mask misunderstanding. We also anchored ourselves in Mark 1:14–15, where Jesus came announcing something – not merely offering a teaching, but proclaiming news – good news, gospel.

Now it’s time to go a layer deeper.  Let’s look at the word itself.

Euangelion: More than a religious word

The Greek word translated “gospel” is euangelion (εὐαγγέλιον). Quite simply, it means “good news.” The term evangelism is derived from euangelion.

But here’s the part many of us miss: This was not originally a religious word.

In the first-century world – both Greek and Roman – euangelion had a very specific kind of meaning. It was used to announce public, world-shaping events. Not private spirituality. Not inner feelings. Not abstract theology.

News.  Important news.  Decisive news.

The kind of news that changes everything

If you lived in that world, you would have heard euangelion used in contexts like these:

  • A great military victory had been won
  • A new king had taken the throne
  • An empire had expanded its rule
  • Peace had been secured after conflict

This was the kind of news that reshaped reality for people.  

There’s a well-known story that captures this: After the Battle of Marathon in 490 BC, a Greek messenger, Pheidippides, ran roughly 25 miles from Marathon to Athens to deliver the euangelion: the Athenians had won. The enemy had been defeated. He arrived, delivered the message, and then collapsed and died.

Why tell that story?  Because it helps us feel the weight of the word.

This wasn’t casual information.
This wasn’t “something to consider.”

This was urgent, history-altering news that demanded to be announced.  After the Greeks defeated the Persians, soldiers feared the Persians would sail to Athens to claim a fake victory. Pheidippides was tasked with running the distance to announce the success. History-altering news, indeed!

Heralds and proclamations

In the ancient world, news like this didn’t spread through social media or even casual conversation. It was formally announced.  Heralds were sent.  They would enter a city and proclaim the euangelion:

“The king has won.”
“The battle is over.”
“A new ruler reigns.”

And the people hearing it weren’t asked for their opinion.  They were being told what had already happened – and what it now meant for them.

Back to Mark

With that in mind, listen again to how Mark opens his account: “This is the Good News about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God.” (Mark 1:1, NLT)

Mark chose that word – euangelion – on purpose.

And then, just a few verses later, he showed Jesus Himself stepping into Galilee proclaiming: “The time has come… The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the euangelion!” (Mark 1:14–15)

This wasn’t random wording.  This was loaded language! Jesus wasn’t simply offering spiritual insight.  He was announcing something had happened.  Something had begun.

So what was the “good news”?

If we hear “gospel” through modern ears, we often reduce it to a formula:

  • You are a sinner
  • Jesus died for your sins
  • Believe this, so you can go to heaven

There is truth there. But if that’s all we hear, we are missing the larger announcement. In the first-century context, the euangelion wasn’t primarily about how to go somewhere after you die.  It was about what had happened here and now.

A new reality had broken in.  A new King was on the scene.  A new kingdom was being established. That’s why Jesus connected euangelion directly to the kingdom of God.

The good news was not just about personal forgiveness – though it certainly includes that.  The good news was that God was becoming King in a new and decisive way, right in their midst. Good news, indeed – especially to those marginalized by the religious system. Systemic marginalization?

If You’ve Been Tracking With Us…

If you’ve been tracking with the earlier posts in this series on the kingdom of God, this should all sound familiar. We noted that when Jesus spoke of the kingdom, He wasn’t pointing to a distant place but announcing a present reality – God’s reign breaking into the here and now.

The gospel, then, is the announcement that this kingdom had arrived in and through Him. In other words, the good news was not separate from the kingdom – it was the proclamation that the long-awaited reign of God had drawn near, just as Jesus said in Mark 1:14–15.

Hearing it as they did

So, try to imagine hearing Jesus for the first time with first-century ears.

You’re used to hearing euangelion when Rome announces victory.
You’re used to hearing it when Caesar’s rule expands.

And now this rabbi from Galilee shows up saying: “The kingdom of God has come near… believe the euangelion.” That would have landed very differently than it does for us.  It would have sounded like a royal announcement.  A claim.

A declaration that something had shifted in the fabric of reality.

So… what do we mean when we say “gospel”?

That’s where I want to leave us.  Not with a neat definition – but with a question.

When you hear the word gospel, what comes to mind?

Has it been reduced to a concept?
A formula?
A set of beliefs?

Or are you beginning to hear it again as news?

Good news!

An announcement that something has already happened – something that changes everything.

And maybe the deeper question:

What might those first hearers have understood that’s lost on us?

Gospel: Not What You Think It Means (Part 1)

We’ve been on a journey since the fall of 2024 – a journey to discover/rediscover the kingdom of God that stood at the very center of Jesus’ message. (See Almost Getting It… and On Earth as in Heaven….)

For me, that journey began nearly 35 years ago, when I first realized that the kingdom of God wasn’t peripheral to Jesus’ teaching – it was the thing. And yet, that realization came with a tension: though Jesus spoke primarily about the kingdom, I struggled to remember hearing much teaching that reflected His focus.

We’ve been lingering – intentionally – on Jesus’ opening proclamation in Mark’s account, slowing down to consider the meaning of the words He chose.

“Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, ‘The time has come, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the gospel.’” (Mark 1:14–15)

We’ve spent time with the kingdom of God, repent and believe. Now it’s time to turn to another word in that sentence – one we use often, perhaps too casually:

Gospel.

And here’s my working hypothesis: “Gospel” may be one of those terms we use regularly without fully understanding what it means – especially as Jesus used it, and as first-century Israelites would have heard it.

If that’s true, then it matters more than we might think. Because if we misunderstand “gospel,” we may also misunderstand:

  • what Jesus was announcing,
  • what He was inviting people into,
  • and how the kingdom of God actually breaks into the present.

A Simple Question

Several years ago, I posted a simple prompt on Facebook:

“In a sentence or two, what is the gospel?“

The responses were thoughtful, sincere, and – perhaps most interestingly – quite diverse.

Here’s a sampling:

  • “God showing eternal, grace-filled, unconditional love in human form through Jesus on earth.”
  • “Jesus is God with us… to show us God’s love, save us from sin, set up God’s kingdom…”
  • “It’s the New Testament telling of Jesus’ life… so that our sins are forgiven.”
  • “The truth.”
  • “The BEST news… that God loves us and has made it possible for us to live a forever life with Him, starting now.”
  • “Jesus died to pay for our sins so that we can be forgiven and go to Heaven…”
  • “A love story.”
  • “My only hope… Jesus living a perfect life, dying in my place…”
  • “Four gospels telling their version of the same story.”
  • “Hope for all!”
  • “Christ’s death and His resurrection.”
  • “The invitation to eternal life.”

Take a moment and sit with these.

What resonates with you?
What feels incomplete?
What makes you pause?

What We Tend to Mean by “Gospel”

As I’ve reflected on these responses, a few general themes begin to emerge.

1. The Gospel as a Message About Personal Salvation
Many responses focused on sin, forgiveness, and eternal life – especially life after death. This framing emphasizes what Jesus has done for me so that I can be saved and go to heaven.

2. The Gospel as an Expression of God’s Love
Others highlighted God’s love story – grace, compassion, and relational restoration. This centers on who God is and how He has acted toward humanity.

3. The Gospel as the Story of Jesus’ Life and Work
Some described the gospel as the narrative itself – the life, teachings, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

4. The Gospel as Good News (in a General Sense)
A few answers stayed closer to the literal meaning – “good news,” “hope,” “truth” – but without always defining what the news is.

All True… But Is That All?

Here’s what’s striking: There is truth in every one of these responses. And yet, if we placed ourselves in Galilee in the first century, standing in the crowd as Jesus spoke these words…

“The time has come. The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the gospel.”

…would the people listening have understood “gospel” primarily in these ways?

Would they have heard:

  • “a plan of personal salvation,”
  • or “a summary of theological truths,”
  • or “a set of writings not yet written”?

Or would something else have come to mind? Something more immediate… more public… more world-shifting?

Before We Define It…

Before we rush to define “gospel,” it may be worth lingering in the tension. Because sometimes the problem isn’t that what we believe is wrong – It’s that it might be too small.

So before moving forward, consider:

  • Which of the responses do you instinctively agree with?
  • Which ones feel incomplete or lacking?
  • Which ones stretch your current understanding?
  • And perhaps most importantly…

What might be missing altogether?

We’ll begin to explore how “gospel” was used in everyday first-century life – and what Jesus’ audience likely heard. Next time.

For now, just sit with the question.

Because what we think the gospel is…
will shape how we hear everything Jesus said.

Believe: Not What You Think It Means

When many people hear the word believe, they think of agreeing that something is true.

Do you believe in gravity?
Do you believe George Washington was the first president?
Do you believe the Earth orbits the sun?

In everyday English, belief usually means accepting a fact or holding an opinion.

But when Jesus announced, “The time has come… The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the gospel.”(Mark 1:15), he was not inviting people merely to accept information about God.

The Greek word translated believe is pisteuō (πιστεύω). And it carries a much richer meaning than simple mental agreement.  It means to trust, rely upon, entrust oneself to, and align one’s life with someone.

In other words, pisteuō is closer to commitment than opinion.

More Than Agreement

The Greek language had ways to describe simple acknowledgment of facts. But pisteuō describes something deeper: placing confidence in someone in a way that shapes one’s actions.

At its heart, the word involves three intertwined ideas:

Trust – placing confidence in someone’s reliability
Reliance – depending on that person
Adherence – orienting one’s life around them

When Jesus called people to “believe the gospel (good news),” he was not asking them merely to agree that the kingdom existed. He was inviting them to trust the king and begin living under his reign.

Belief That Moves Your Feet

One way to understand pisteuō is to notice how belief naturally leads to action.

Imagine standing on the edge of a frozen lake in winter. You might say, “I believe the ice is thick enough.” But if you never step onto the ice, your belief is really just a theory.  Real belief happens when you step out and put your weight on it.  That step – that act of trust – is much closer to the meaning of pisteuō.

Biblical belief is trust that moves your feet.

What Belief Looked Like for Israel

The people who first heard Jesus say “believe the good news” already had a long history of learning what trust in God looked like.  For Israel, belief was never merely intellectual. It was lived out through covenant trust and obedience.

When Abraham left his homeland because God called him to go somewhere he had never seen, that was belief. When Israel stepped into the waters of the Jordan, trusting God to lead them into the land, that was belief. When the prophets called the nation to return to the Lord and trust him rather than political alliances or military strength, they were calling the people back to belief.

In other words, belief meant placing their confidence in God and ordering their lives around his covenant rule.

This helps explain why the Hebrew Scriptures often speak of trusting the Lord rather than simply believing certain truths about him. Faith showed itself in dependence and obedience.

So, when Jesus announced that the kingdom of God had drawn near, he was not introducing a completely new idea. He was calling Israel to renew the very kind of trust God had always sought from his people.

Belief in the First-Century World

There is another dimension to this word that we modern readers sometimes miss.

In the first-century world, belief often carried the sense of loyalty or allegiance. People lived under kings and emperors, and public life involved recognizing and aligning oneself with a ruler’s authority.

To trust a king meant more than believing he existed. It meant acknowledging his rule, relying on his protection, and ordering your life under his authority.

Against that backdrop, the early Christian confession “Jesus is Lord” was profound. It signaled a shift in ultimate loyalty.

Seen in that light, believing in Jesus meant transferring allegiance – entrusting oneself to the king whose kingdom had drawn near.

The Pattern in the New Testament

Throughout the New Testament, belief consistently looks like trustful reliance rather than mere agreement.

In John 5:24, Jesus said that whoever hears his word and believes the one who sent him “has crossed over from death to life.” Belief here describes entrusting oneself to God in a way that results in a change of realm.

In Mark 5:36, when Jairus learned his daughter had died, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” In that moment, belief clearly means trusting Jesus enough to rely on him in the middle of fear.

And in Romans 10:9, belief is paired with the confession “Jesus is Lord,” language that points toward recognizing and entrusting oneself to the authority of the risen king.

Again and again, belief is not merely agreement – it is entrusting oneself to a person.

Hearing Jesus’ Words Again

Now listen again to Jesus’ announcement in Mark 1:15:

“The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the gospel (good news).”

Notice the movement…

First, repent – turn around, reorient your life.
Then believe – place your trust in the good news of God’s reign.

Repentance turns us away from the old order.
Belief entrusts us to the new king.

Jesus was not asking people simply to agree with a message.

He was inviting them to step into a kingdom.

The Question Jesus Still Asks

Over time, the English word believe has become thinner than the biblical idea behind it. Today, someone might say, “I believe in Jesus,” and mean little more than agreeing with certain ideas about him.  Or that he existed.

But in the language of the New Testament, belief carried relational weight.

It meant trusting Jesus.
Relying on him.
Aligning one’s life with his reign.

Not just thinking differently but living differently.  Which means the question Jesus asked in Galilee still echoes today.

Not simply:

“Do you agree with this information about me?”

But rather:

“Will you trust me enough to live as if God’s kingdom is truly here?”

Because in the New Testament, belief is not just something that happens in your head…

It is something that eventually shows up in your life.

Addendum 4/21/2026. It might be important to note that the opposite of pisteuō is not simply unbelief. The opposite, apisteō, implies a refusal to believe, to be incredulous (cf. Mark 16:16, NLT).

A Sweet Aroma

A few years ago, my friend, Crystal Kirgiss, wrote this article for Young Life‘s weekly communique to staff and stakeholders worldwide. It is a perfect reflection as we prepare to celebrate Resurrection Sunday. With her permission, I want to share it with you…

Sometime during what we now call Holy Week, Jesus was eating with His disciples and other friends when a woman approached with an expensive jar filled with expensive perfume. Rather than giving the jar and perfume to Jesus as a gift, like the Magi had 30-some years earlier, the woman shockingly broke the jar open and poured the perfume on Jesus’ head and feet, releasing a sweet aroma.

Essential oils are big business right now. But dousing someone with it during a dinner party is not the norm. We might lightly dab to clear our sinuses or calm our mood. But we do not pour plentifully, no matter what the occasion. This woman, though, poured until there was nothing left to pour.

Jesus’ disciples were neither amused nor impressed.

“What a waste! What nonsense! You could have sold that for good money! You could have made a measurable impact!” Leave it to Jesus’ disciples to deliver a thorough scolding for someone’s act of absolute allegiance and utter worship.

Jesus, though, set the record straight. He called her act beautiful. He praised her — not for something impressive like converting an entire village, or investing and making a profit, or planning and pulling off a large event, or increasing her ministry output. Instead, He praised her for humbly and faithfully anointing Him for burial.

For months, Jesus had been telling His friends He would soon die. Just days earlier, as He’d entered Jerusalem, He’d told them that now was that time. Maybe He’d even talked about it during this very meal.

But this woman seems to be the only one who truly believed what He said, in which case her strange, extravagant act makes great sense — for how else could she possibly respond but to pour onto Jesus the most valuable thing she had, knowing He would soon pour out for all of humanity the most valuable thing He had.

Both Matthew and Mark note that Jesus said to everyone in the room: “I tell you the truth; wherever the good news is preached throughout the world, this woman’s deed will be remembered and discussed.”

But that’s not usually the case. It’s a weird story, after all. And it lacks a neat and tidy takeaway. If we’re always in search of neat and tidy takeaways, Scripture will often disappoint us. But if we’re willing to read it for what it is, and consider the larger story of the Bible, Scripture will always feed us.

At face value, this story is mostly about something a real woman did, in a real place, during a real moment in time, when it was exactly the right thing for her to do in response to Jesus. Are we as aware of things we’re called to do, in this place and at this moment, in response to Jesus? And if that thing is costly, would we be as willing as this woman was to actually do it, knowing others might misunderstand and call us foolish?

As we read the bigger message of God’s Word beyond this story, it becomes clear why this narrative should be remembered and discussed. This woman’s actions are a reminder that in response to Jesus’ death, resurrection, and Lordship, we’re called to break open and pour out the costliest thing we have — our very lives — as we die to ourselves daily, surrender to our Lord, and honor our King. Hopefully, our acts of sacrificial obedience and worship will release a sweet aroma into the world just like the woman’s perfume did thousands of years ago — but now it will be the sweet aroma of Christ Himself.

By Crystal Kirgiss, Director of Discipleship Content and Partnerships, Young Life