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).

Repent: Not What You Think It Means


In the previous post in this series, Not What You Think It Means: The Words That Framed Jesus’ Message, we began looking at several words that sit at the very center of Jesus’ proclamation:

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

For many modern readers, words like kingdomrepent, and gospel have become overly familiar. We hear them so often that we assume we know exactly what they mean.

But familiarity can sometimes mask misunderstanding.

In particular, the word repent often carries baggage that may not reflect what Jesus’ original listeners heard. For many people today, the word repent sounds like a stern religious command: feel guilty, confess your sins, and promise to do better.

While repentance certainly involves moral change, that understanding may miss the larger picture of what Jesus was announcing. To see this more clearly, we need to step back and ask a simple question:

What did the word “repent” mean in the world of Jesus?

Seeing Differently

The New Testament word translated repent is the Greek verb metanoeō, with the related noun metanoia. The word comes from two Greek roots:

meta – after, beyond, or change
nous – mind, perception, understanding

At its most basic level, metanoia meant a change of mind. But in Greek thought, the “mind” was not merely intellectual. It referred to the center of perception – how a person understood reality, made judgments, and oriented their life.

Repentance, therefore, described a shift in how someone saw things: a reconsideration of one’s assumptions and a recognition that one’s previous understanding may have been mistaken.

Classical Greek writers used the word this way long before the New Testament. A general might rethink a military strategy, a statesman might reverse a policy after realizing it was misguided, or a person might reconsider a decision after gaining new insight. In those settings, repentance was not primarily religious. It simply meant reconsidering and changing course.

Another Greek word, metamelomai, described emotional regret or remorse. But metanoia focused more on a change in perspective that led to a change in direction.

That distinction matters. Repentance was not primarily about feeling bad. It was about seeing differently.

The Prophets’ Call: Return to the Lord

When Jewish scholars translated the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek (in what we call the Septuagint), they sometimes used metanoeō to translate the Hebrew word shuv, which meant to turn or to return.

In the Old Testament, repentance meant turning back to God – abandoning idols, injustice, and self-reliance and returning to covenant faithfulness. The prophets called Israel to repent not merely by feeling remorse but by reorienting their lives toward Yahweh (cf. Joel 2:12–13; Hosea 14:1–2; Isaiah 55:6–7; Jeremiah 3:12–14; Ezekiel 18:30–32).

“Return to me,” God said through the prophets.

This Hebrew background added an important dimension to the Greek word. Repentance became not only a change of thinking but a relational turning toward God.


What Repentance Meant in Jesus’ World

Now place yourself among the people who first heard Jesus’ words.

John the Baptist had already appeared in the wilderness calling Israel to repentance and warning that God was about to act decisively in history. Then Jesus arrived in Galilee announcing:

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

Notice the order.

Jesus did not simply say, “Repent.” He said repent because something had happened. “The time has come.”  In other words, the long-awaited moment in God’s story with Israel had arrived.

“The kingdom of God has come near.”  God’s reign – the reality Israel had prayed for, longed for, and sung about in the Psalms – was now breaking into history in a new way.

In light of that announcement, Jesus called people to repent. Seen in this context, repentance sounded less like a rebuke and more like an invitation.

It meant something like this: Rethink everything.

The way you understood God’s work in the world.
The way you imagined the kingdom would come.
The way you expected power, victory, and salvation to look.

God was acting – but not in the ways many expected. The kingdom was arriving not through political revolt or military power but through the surprising ministry of Jesus himself. Tax collectors, fishermen, and ordinary villagers began to follow him. The sick were healed. Sinners were welcomed. Outsiders were brought near.

If people wanted to recognize what God was doing, they had to see differently.

They had to repent.

Rethinking Life Under God’s Reign

When Jesus called people to repent, he was not simply telling them to feel sorry for their sins. He was inviting them to adopt a new vision of reality.

Repentance meant allowing one’s assumptions about God, power, righteousness, and identity to be reshaped by the arrival of the kingdom. It meant recognizing that the story many people thought they were living in was not the whole story.

God was doing something new – yet something deeply rooted in the promises of Israel’s Scriptures. To repent was to step into that story. And once someone began to see the world through the lens of God’s kingdom, life inevitably began to change.

Because when we see differently, we live differently.

Part of the challenge for modern readers is that we often hear repentance through the lens of what sociologists call Moralistic Therapeutic Deism1 – the idea that God mainly wants people to be nice, happy, and feel good about themselves. In that framework, repentance shrinks into little more than moral self-improvement. But Jesus’ call to repent was far more disruptive than that – it was an invitation to rethink everything in light of the arriving kingdom.

Repentance as Good News

For many of us, the word repent still carries echoes of accusation or pressure.

But in the mouth of Jesus, repentance was part of the gospel itself. It was an invitation to wake up – to recognize that God’s kingdom had drawn near and that a new way of seeing and living had become possible.

Repentance was not merely about looking backward at past mistakes. It was about turning toward the reality of what God was doing right now.

In other words:

The kingdom was near.  So rethink everything.


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