God has the Final Say

1 Peter 4:12-19

Step-up announcement

Alright church, at this time we want to pause and acknowledge and celebrate a milestone in the lives of some of the young people who attended VBS with us this week…

I’d like to invite our students who just finished 5th grade to come forward and join me right here at the front. Go ahead and come on up!

These students are stepping into a brand-new chapter—middle school—and we, as their church family, want to take a moment to acknowledge it, celebrate it, and pray over them.

This next season is full of change. New schools. New challenges. New friendships. But also new opportunities to grow deeper in their walk with Jesus. And that’s what today is about.

Now parents and adults—let me say this clearly: I am not the spiritual leader of your home. That’s your role. God has called you to that. But hear me—Churchers are not here to replace you; we’re here to walk with you. To come alongside you as you raise up sons and daughters to know Jesus, love Jesus, and follow Jesus.

And our prayer—our deepest prayer—is that each of these students would come to know Christ as their Lord and Savior if they haven’t already… that they’d take the next step of obedience in baptism… and then keep walking boldly into whatever God is calling them to—whether that’s at their lunch table, on their ball team, in their neighborhood, or one day in full-time ministry or the mission field.

So today, we’re marking this moment by gifting each of them a Teen Study Bible.

When you encounter things that are contrary to God’s Word, it’s not God’s Word that is wrong. God’s Word is the ultimate truth in this world and the best way to stand firm in the faith is to know what the Bible says.

God’s Word is alive and active, sharper then any two-edge sword. It’s powerful, and it’s our guide no matter what comes their way.

So, lets go ahead and distribute the Bible to the students.

and let me introduce these students to yall and then we are going to pray:

Church, can we celebrate them together?

Let’s pray together.

Father, thank You for these students. Thank You for the story You are writing in their lives. We ask that You would go before them as they step into this next season. Help them to walk in truth, cling to Your Word, and shine the light of Christ wherever they go. Give them strength when they feel overwhelmed, peace when they feel anxious, and boldness to stand for You. And help us, their church family, to support them well and keep pointing them back to Jesus. We pray all this in His name—Amen.

SERMON

Good morning, Church. Go ahead and grab your Bibles and make your way to 1 Peter 4. Go ahead and get there and I will be there in just a minute.

What a beautiful week we are just coming out of. We had Kids learning about Jesus everynight through lessons, songs, crafts, rec, even the food. I cannot thank those that helped, gave, and prayed enough for making VBS such a success. Continue to pray for those little ones and their families.

and while it was a beautiful week it did not come without heart ache.

Our dear Brother Kenny went home to be with the Lord. And while we feel the weight of his absence, we also cling to the hope we have in Christ. Because what feels like loss to us is gain for him. Right now—Kenny is with Jesus. Fully healed. Fully whole. Worshiping in a way we can’t even imagine. So we grieve… but not without hope.

We miss him, but we rejoice knowing he is in the presence of the One he loved most.

This is our 8th week in the book of 1st Peter and we will finish it off but- let me tell you- I’ve been wrestling through this book every single week.

I’ve been asking the Lord, “Lord, why this book? Lord, why this book right now?” Lord, week after week, it’s suffering. Hardship. Trials. “Lord, can’t I preach something lighter? Lord, can’t I preach on something that feels a little more encouraging?”

And the Lord impressed this on my heart: What could be more encouraging than knowing how to walk through the hardest parts of life with your eyes fixed on Me?

That’s the message. That’s the hope.

Not that life will always be easy, but that He will always be enough.

Every single one of have gone through times of hardship- or we just got through a season of hardship- or we are about to enter into a season of hardship.

Now I don't know about you, but I didn’t grow up praying for suffering. I prayed for blessing. I prayed for favor. I prayed for Chick-fil-A to open on Sundays.

But then I met Jesus.

And Jesus didn’t just save me from something—He saved me into something.

Into a life that sometimes hurts. Into a calling that often cuts. Into a faith that walks headfirst into the fire—not around it.

Now I know that doesn't sell well in a self-help culture. But listen: the Christian life is not about avoiding the fire. It’s about learning how to walk through it with your eyes on the One who holds the flames in His hand.

Jesus, never promised the easy life. Jesus never promised health, wealth, and happiness. Jesus said you will suffer and hated for His namesake. He didn’t promise the easy life. He promised the abundant life.

As C. S. Lewis once said "God whispers in our pleasures, but shouts in our pains."

Here’s what he meant—when life is good, when the sun is shining, and everything feels like it’s falling into place, God’s voice is still there... but it’s easy to miss.

It’s like a whisper. Because let’s be honest—when things are going our way, we’re not always listening. We think we’ve got this. We don’t got this but we think we do.

We assume the blessings are normal, that we’re cruising just fine on our own.

But pain? Pain gets your attention.

When the bottom falls out, when the diagnosis comes, when the phone call changes everything—that’s when we start listening. That’s when God’s voice isn’t just a whisper anymore... it’s a shout. Not because He’s angry. Not because He’s cruel. But because He loves us too much to let us drift.

Pain is often the megaphone God uses to wake up a world that’s sleeping.

So if you're walking through something hard today, maybe—just maybe—it’s not because God is far away. Maybe it’s because He’s closer than you realize, and He’s calling out to you louder than ever.

Not to punish you. Not because he is cruel. But to rescue you. To draw you back to Himself.

To remind you that His presence is not just for the mountaintop—it's for the valley too.

Billy Graham once said: Mountaintops are for views and inspiration, but fruit is grown in the valleys.

So, if you are currently walking through the valley- know that God is with you and this time of life can be used for God’s glory maybe not in the moment but down the road.

So, we all of this in mind- I want us to read 1 Peter 4:12-19 and see what the Lord has in store for us this morning.

1 Peter 4:12–19 ESV

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name. For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And “If the righteous is scarcely saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?” Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.

That is the Word of the Lord- Praise be to God.

Let’s pray.

As you’ll recall, Peter's writing this letter to a group of believers who are in the thick of it. People who are being mocked, excluded, beaten, and even burned—literally.

And this is Peter’s message to them: Don’t be surprised.

Because this—this suffering, this hardship, this fire—is not a detour from God’s plan.It is the plan.

I don’t know about you, but I like comfortable Christianity. I like safe. I like predictable. But Peter says, “If you really belong to Jesus, you're going to feel the heat.”

Not because God is against you—but because He’s with you. Because He’s forming something in you that comfort never could.

This isn’t a warning—it’s a word of encouragement to believers who are feeling the weight of a world that doesn’t understand them, maybe even hates them. And Peter’s reminding us: God is still in control, and He still has the final say.

So what do we do when the suffering shows up? What do we hold on to when the fire feels like it’s burning everything down?

Peter gives us four anchors in the storm. Four truths to hold tight when the heat turns up.

Here they are:

Step into the fire with Jesus.

Bearing the Name in the Blaze.

Let the fire purify, not paralyze.

Trust the hands that hold the flame.

Let’s walk through them together.

In our remining time together, I want to walk through those 4 truths.

1. Step into the Fire with Jesus.

These early Christians had bought into a misunderstanding—a quiet assumption that following Jesus meant escaping suffering. They thought hardship was some kind of strange detour, like it didn’t belong on the Christian road map.

But Peter’s writing to shake them awake—to remind them: suffering isn’t a glitch in the system. It’s part of the calling.

If you’ve yoked your life to Jesus—if you bear His name, walk in His ways, and reflect His light in a world that loves the dark—then suffering isn’t just possible, it’s promised. Peter is saying, “Don’t be surprised when the fire shows up.”

Jesus told us in John 15 that the world hated Him, and it’s going to hate those who belong to Him too. This is the cost of covenant. We’ve been united with Christ—not just in His life, but in His suffering.

Paul didn’t sugarcoat it with Timothy either. He said flat out in 2 Timothy 3:12, “Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Not might be. Not probably. Will.

And listen, if you’re discipling somebody—your child, a new believer, a friend just coming to faith—don’t skip this part. Don’t let them think walking with Jesus means life’s gonna be all green lights and answered prayers.

Teach them early: following Jesus means carrying a cross. Suffering will come. But God is in it. And He’s working through it.

Paul didn’t sugarcoat it and neither did Peter when he wrote this to the Christians living in exile.

He calls it what it is: fiery trials.

They arent having a bad day. Not a rough patch. Not experiencing “a little spiritual resistance.” No, its like a smelting furnace—like when metal gets thrown into the fire so all the junk rises to the surface and the good stuff gets left behind.

That’s the imagery Peter uses to describe what these early believers were walking through.

And when Peter writes this letter—he’s not speaking hypothetically.

This is right around the time Nero sets Rome on fire and blames the Christians. That’s not just metaphorical fire—that’s literal, “Christians are being used a tiki torches to light the roads kind of fire.

So when Peter uses the word purosis (fiery ordeal), it lands hard. Because their faith wasn’t just being challenged; it was being refined.

And isn’t that what fire does? In Scripture, fire is never wasted. It either consumes the offering or purifies the metal. It represents the holiness of God, the presence of God. And it also reveals what’s real- what will last.

Now let’s also state the obvious—not every hard thing is a fiery trial. Some stuff just comes with being human in a sinful word.

Flat tires. Long lines. Slow drivers in the left lane. Tourists feeding the seagulls at the beach.

and sometimes we start the fire ourselves. We light the match. We pour the gasoline. Sin will do that. Pride will do that. Disobedience has a way of striking the flint.

But even then—God can redeem it.

G. Campbell Morgan once said, “It is a very remarkable thing that the church of Christ persecuted has been the church of Christ pure. The church of Christ patronized has always been the church of Christ impure.”

What G. Campbell Morgan is plainly saying is that fire purifies, but comfort corrupts.

So maybe—just maybe—the fire you’re walking through right now isn’t meant to destroy you. It’s not punishment. It’s not pointless. It’s a refining process.

The presence of fire doesn’t mean the absence of God. In fact, all throughout Scripture, fire often marks His presence.

When Moses encountered God, it was in a bush that was burning but not consumed. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into the furnace, God didn’t stand outside the flames offering distant encouragement—He stepped into the fire with them.

Maybe that’s what God is doing in your life right now. He’s burning away the things that were never meant to define you—your pride, your fear, your need for control, your idol of comfort. And when the fire has done its work, what remains is something far more precious: a deeper faith, a refined trust, and a life that reflects Jesus more clearly.

That’s also why we go.

In just a few days, we are sending a mission team to Ecuador. And make no mistake—we’re not going because it’s comfortable. We’re not going because we need a break or a vacation. We’re going because this is what Jesus commanded His disciples to do: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19).

And this isn’t just a command for them back then—it’s the call for us right now. Every follower of Jesus is called to carry the gospel, whether it’s across the street or across the globe. And sometimes, obedience to that call will take us straight through the fire.

God doesn’t always lead us around the hard things. Sometimes, He walks us straight through them. But He never leaves us alone in the middle of it.

That truth has been proven time and time again by faithful men and women who went before us. One of those men was Adoniram Judson.

Judson was one of the very first American missionaries—he left everything behind in the early 1800s to take the gospel to Burma, which is now modern-day Myanmar. He didn’t go for comfort. He didn’t go for applause. He went because he believed that the nations needed to hear about Jesus.

And the cost? It was steep.

He buried multiple children in the Burmese soil. He watched his first wife, Ann, die on the mission field. He spent 17 months in a Burmese prison—shackled, beaten, and starved. He suffered from depression and discouragement. At one point, he even dug his own grave, convinced he would soon die.

But Judson didn’t quit. He stayed. He prayed. He endured the fire.

And by the grace of God, when he died, he left behind a thriving church, a completed Burmese Bible translation, and seeds of faith that would grow into a gospel movement that still bears fruit today.

Judson once said, “The future is as bright as the promises of God.”

So Church—if you’re walking into the fire, don’t lose heart. If you’re following Jesus into hard places- know this: you’re in good company. Because Jesus went first. And He walks with you still. and we can step into the fire knowing that Christ is with us.

Secondly.

2. Bearing the Name in the Blaze.

Peter straight-up says, “If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed.” And let’s be honest—that’s not how the world defines blessing. We’re told blessing looks like applause, promotions, followers, and smooth sailing. But Peter flips the whole thing on its head. He says real blessing—the kind that matters—looks like being mocked for following Jesus. It looks like carrying His name when the world tries to rip it off you.

So if people roll their eyes at your convictions... If they whisper behind your back because you live by the Word of God... If your faith makes you the odd one out at school, work, or even your own family...

Peter says: Don’t hang your head. Lift it.

Because you’re not just bearing your own cross—you’re bearing His name. And that’s an honor.

The early believers got this. They were accused of everything under the sun: cannibalism—because of the Lord’s Supper... sexual immorality—because of “love feasts”… being homewreckers—because following Jesus split families apart… atheists—because they wouldn’t bow to idols… traitors—because they refused to say, “Caesar is lord.” Some were even blamed for starting fires and ending the world. But through all of that, they didn’t run from the name of Jesus. They clung to it.

The early church wasn’t just marked by what they believed—they were marked by what they were willing to endure for the name of Jesus. They didn’t bend under pressure or cave to the culture. And that legacy of faith didn’t end in the first century. It carried on—generation after generation—through men and women who chose faith over fear, courage over comfort, and conviction over compromise.

One of those men was Thomas Hawkes. A name you might not hear in your average history class, but one that Heaven knows well.

Thomas Hawkes was a young father, a nobleman, and more importantly—a faithful follower of Jesus in 16th-century England, right in the thick of Queen Mary’s bloody persecution.

You may know her as “Bloody Mary” and she didn’t earn that nickname for nothing. She was rounding up Protestants and burning them to death.

One of those Protestants was Thomas Hawkes.

They gave him chance after chance to save his own life—to conform, to compromise, to cave. But Hawkes stood firm. And when asked if he would deny his faith to escape the flames, his answer was simple: “No. I am no changeling.”

So they sentenced him to burn.

But before they lit the fire, some of his brothers in the faith asked him to give them a sign. “If the pain is bearable… if Christ sustains you in the fire, raise your hands toward Heaven.”

And so the fire was lit. And the flames roared. And the crowd watched, waiting, weeping.

As the skin melted and the fire consumed his body… As the pain screamed louder than the crowd ever could…

the people thought him dead. Suddenly and contrary to all expectation, Thomas, mindful of the promise he had made to his friends, raised his hands still burning with flames high above his head

then suddenly—he lifted his burning hands High. and clapped. Not once. But slowly, deliberately, three times.

Like a man in worship. Like a man who knew the fire didn’t have the final word. Like a man whose name was written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.

Thomas Hawkes didn’t just endure the blaze—he exalted Christ in it. He bore the name of Jesus all the way through the flames. Because he knew that this world wasn’t his home. Because he believed that to live is Christ, but to die is gain. Because fire may burn the body—but it can’t touch a soul held by Jesus.

So Church, hear me: Don’t trade the name of Jesus for the approval of the world. Don’t silence your witness to save your comfort. Let the life of Thomas Hawkes remind you— That even in the blaze, Jesus is worth it.

3. Let the fire purify, not paralyze.

Sometimes truth presses down in order to lift us up.

In 1 Peter 4:17–18, he says, “For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And ‘If the righteous is scarcely saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?’”

Now why would God start with us—His church? Why would He let the fire fall here first?

Because He loves us too much to leave us unclean. He’s not just interested in getting you out of hell—He’s committed to getting hell out of you.

He’s preparing a bride without spot or wrinkle. He’s not just saving you for heaven one day; He’s sanctifying you for Himself today.

And sometimes sanctification feels like sweat. Sometimes it feels like sorrow. Sometimes it feels like fire.

Think about Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. The spotless Son of God—God in the flesh—is on His knees under the weight of the will of God. And what does He do? He doesn’t run from the suffering that is to come—He prays through it. “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me. Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done” (Luke 22:42, ESV). And then—He sweats blood. He knows what is about to happen and the suffering He is about to endure for us- that the pressure crushed capillaries beneath His skin. That’s not metaphor. That’s agony.

And yet—He didn’t let the pressur paralyze Him. He was perfectly obedient to His Father’s Will.

See, Jesus didn’t avoid what He knew was coming. He walked straight into it—for me and for you and for anyone who would put their faith in Christ. And now, when God allows us to walk through trials, He’s not abandoning us. He’s not punishing us. He’s loving us.

It’s easy to sit in church and point fingers at the brokenness out there—“God, judge them.”

You know what I’m talking about. We get real comfortable in the pews, singing songs about grace, and then scrolling through the news feed thinking, “Lord, look at this mess. Look at what they're doing. Look at how far they’ve fallen. Judge them, God. Fix them.”

It’s easy to watch someone else’s sin parade down your timeline and start feeling like the Pharisee in Luke 18—“God, I thank you that I’m not like other men.”

It's easy to shake our heads at Hollywood, at D.C., at that one neighbor who always seems to be three beers into a bad decision before lunch.

It’s easy to call out their brokenness while ignoring our own bitterness. To condemn their compromise while cozying up with our own pride.

It’s easy to blast the culture for celebrating sin, while we excuse the gossip that sounds spiritual because we call it a “prayer request.”

It’s easy to rail against the sexual sin out there, while ignoring the lust we’ve nursed in here.

It’s easy to say, “Look at what’s happening in our schools,” while turning a blind eye to what’s happening in our homes.

But Peter’s not having it. He says, “Judgment begins at the household of God.”

We cannot be surprised when a lost and sinful world- looks and acts like a lost and sinful world.

Before we pray for fire to fall on the world, we better be sure we’ve let it burn away the mess in our own hearts.

God’s not calling the church to be the angry judge of the culture—He’s calling the church to be a holy light in the culture.

And if we want revival out there, it’s got to start with repentance in here.

Because here’s the truth—God is way more concerned with the purity of His bride than the performance of the world.

He’s not looking for a church that points fingers—He’s looking for a church that lifts up holy hands.

Not a people who say, “God, judge them,” but a people who pray, “God, start with me.”

But Peter flips the script. He says, “Nope—judgment begins in here.” Why? Because your Father is a good gardener. And good gardeners prune what they love. He’s not trying to cut you down; He’s trying to grow you up. He’s not trying to ruin you; He’s trying to reveal Jesus in you.

So when the fire comes, don’t freeze. Let the fire do what it was sent to do—purify you. Because if He let His own Son sweat blood in the garden for your salvation, you can trust Him with your sanctification.

As Charles Spurgeon said, “God does not refine us with the fire of His judgment to destroy us, but to deliver us from the dross.”

Spurgeon didn’t say it was easy. It’s hard. it’s part of God's refining work. It's not punishment—it’s not worthless, it's preparation and its only temporary.

But for those who don’t know Jesus? Their suffering doesn’t come now—it comes later, and it’s eternal.

You see, what we’re facing now might feel like judgment—but it’s the lighter version. It's the opening scene of God’s final act of redemption. What’s coming for the ungodly, Peter says, is far more severe. Our fire is purifying. Theirs? It's condemning.

So Peter’s essentially saying, “Hey, church—don’t be surprised by the trial. Be sobered by the timeline.” Because when you zoom out and see your suffering through the lens of eternity, you’ll realize it’s not an accident—it’s evidence. Evidence that God’s still at work in you. That He’s sovereign over every flame, every trial.

And here’s the heavy question that Peter’s asking us to wrestle with:

what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?

That’s not meant to scare you—it’s meant to stir something deep in you. To stir you to share the gospel like it matters. To walk in holiness when it’d be easier to compromise. To cling to the grace of God like your life depends on it—because it absolutely does.

That’s what it means to have real faith in the Lord. Not that your good works earn you salvation, but they show the world that salvation has taken root in you. They’re the fruit that says, “He’s changed me.”

Adrian Rogers once said, “If your Christianity costs you nothing, it might be worth exactly that.” And he’s right. The insults may sting, the opposition may come—but those wounds, those scars, they’re not just pain. They’re proof. They’re a reminder that you belong to Jesus.

So keep pressing forward—we cannot stop.

Faith isn’t passive. It doesn’t just believe—it moves. It presses on.

Real faith pushes us to live a life that honors God, to walk worthy.

And the road can get diffcult. But those difficulties? They’re not meant to paralyze you. They’re meant to purify you.

That’s why Paul had to remind Timothy—and every one of us—of this truth in 2 Timothy 1:7: “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

Faith compells us to move forward but fear paralyzes.

That paralyzing weight that tells you to quit or hide or just play it safe? That’s not from your Father.

That’s not how the Spirit of God rolls. He didn’t place fear in you—He placed fire in you. Power. Love. A sound mind. The kind of Spirit that doesn't flinch in the fire but stands firm and says, “God’s still working on me.”

So don’t be paralyzed by the pain. Be purified by it. Don’t let fear freeze you. Let faith fuel you. You’ve been given everything you need to take the next step—so in the power of the Spirit, take it.

Last truth:

4. Trust the hands that hold the flame.

1 Peter 4:19- Therefore let those who suffer according to God's will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.

Now anytime you see the word “therefore” in Scripture, you need to pause and ask yourself, “what is the therefore there for?”. That word is like God’s highlighter—He’s saying, “In light of everything I just said… here’s what you do with it.”

See, we live in a world that loves to speed-read through everything—including the Word of God. But when you slow down, when you linger in the text, when you chew the cud like a cow in the field, that’s when the Holy Spirit starts to whisper. Not in the noise. But in that still, small voice that speaks when your heart is quiet and your mind is fixed on Jesus.

That’s what therefore is doing in this passage. It’s pulling together the weight of what Peter just laid down—especially about suffering—and saying, “Now because of that truth, here’s how you live.” It’s not just a conclusion; it’s a call to action.

It’s the same pattern you see in Romans. Eleven chapters of rich, beautiful doctrine… and then Romans 12 opens with: “Therefore, in view of God’s mercy, offer your bodies as a living sacrifice.” Or in Ephesians—three chapters of gospel truth, and then chapter 4 begins with: “Therefore, walk in a manner worthy of the calling…”

Doctrine always leads to doing. Truth always demands a response.

So when you see a “therefore,” don’t just read it. Let it read you. Ask, “What’s this calling me to believe? What’s this calling me to become? And by the grace of God, what’s this calling me to do?”

Therefore we entrust our souls.

That word entrust in 1 Peter 4:19—it’s not just poetic. It’s actually a banking term. It’s the same thing you do when you deposit a check. You snap a picture on your phone or walk into the bank, fill out the slip, hand over the cash—and then what?

You don’t pace the floor wondering if the bank’s gonna lose it. You don’t keep checking your account every five minutes like they might forget. No—you walk away confident, knowing it’s secure.

That’s the picture Peter’s painting here. He’s saying, hand it over.

Give God your soul like you’re making a deposit in a bank that can’t be broken into. That’s what it means to entrust.

If you don’t fully trust that the deposit was made, you’re going to worry.

Worry is when you try to go back and make a withdrawal on what you already handed over.

It’s when you say, “God, I trust You”—but then you lose sleep trying to carry what He already promised to hold.

So leave the diagnosis in His hands. Leave that prodigal child in His care. Stop laboring under the weight of something you were never built to carry.

Stop thinking you are going to let go down- because you aren’t holding Him up.

Jesus didn’t just die to save your soul—He rose again so you could live free from the tyranny of worry.

You can trust Him fully and completely. We can entrust our souls to the faithful creator.

Faithfulness is who God is. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t fail. He’s not like the shifting shadows of this world—up one day, down the next. No, He is steady. Solid. Sure.

Paul said it like this in 2 Timothy 2:13—“If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” In other words, God’s faithfulness isn’t based on your performance. It’s rooted in His very nature. He can’t not be faithful.

That’s why Hebrews 10:23 tells us to “hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” You can anchor your soul in that truth. Because if God said it, He will see it through.

These aren’t just words on a page; they’re a lifeline for every one of us walking through the heat of this world.

Peter’s not writing to people living easy lives—he’s writing to people who know what it’s like to feel the flames, to face the cost of following Jesus. And yet, he points us to a hope that’s stronger than the fire, a Savior who’s closer than the pain, and a God who’s faithful through it all. So as we close this morning, let’s not just hear this truth—let’s respond to it.

Let’s let it move us, change us, and draw us closer to the One who holds us in the fire.

Church, listen—these verses aren’t just a theology lesson; it’s a battle cry. It’s a call to step into the fire with Jesus, to bear His name in the blaze, to let the fire purify you, and to trust the hands that hold the flame. And right now, I believe God is calling some of us to respond—to step out, to surrender, to say “yes” to Jesus in a way you never have before.

Maybe you’re here today, and you’re walking through a fiery trial. The heat’s turned up, and you’re wondering, “God, where are You?”

Hear me: He’s not absent—He’s in the fire with you. He’s shouting through the pain, calling you to trust Him, to lean into Him, to let Him carry what you were never meant to hold.

And maybe, just maybe, today’s the day you stop trying to fight on your own and hand it over to the faithful Creator.

Or maybe you’re here, and you’ve never said “yes” to Jesus. You’ve heard about Him, you’ve sung the songs, but you’ve never truly surrendered your life to Him. Let me tell you something—Jesus didn’t just die to make you a better person. He died to make you new.

He took every sin, every shame, every failure to the cross, and He rose again so you could have life—real, abundant, eternal life. The Bible says in Romans 10:9, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” That’s the gospel. That’s the good news. And it’s for you today.

So here’s what we’re gonna do. In just a moment, we’re gonna have a time of invitation and consecration. This is a sacred moment—a chance to respond to what God’s stirring in your heart. Maybe you need to come to this altar and give your life to Jesus for the first time. Maybe you’re a believer, but you’ve been carrying something God’s asking you to lay down—a worry, a sin, a fear. Or maybe you just need to come and pray for the courage to keep walking through the fire, trusting He’s with you.

The band’s gonna play, and I’m gonna invite you to move. Don’t let fear paralyze you. Don’t let pride hold you back. If God’s speaking to you, step out. Come to this altar. Grab a friend, grab me, grab one of the men or women who will be standing at the altar or just come by yourself and meet Jesus here. This isn’t about religion; it’s about a relationship with the One who stepped into the fire for you.

Let’s pray.

Father, we trust You. We believe You’re faithful, that You’re good, that You’re in the fire with us. Holy Spirit, move in this place. Stir hearts. Draw people to Yourself. For those who don’t know You, let today be the day they say “yes” to Jesus. For those who are weary, give them strength to trust You. For those who are hurting, wrap them in Your presence. We entrust our souls to You, our faithful Creator. Do what only You can do. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Church, the altar is open. If God’s calling you, don’t wait. Come. Step out. Let’s meet Jesus here together.