Gospel Truth in a Broken Culture

It’s a rare gift to meet a man who knows who he is and why he’s here. Saul of Tarsus—yeah, the guy we now call the apostle Paul—was one of those men. But he didn’t start off that way. Before he was planting churches and writing Scripture, he was hunting Christians and wrecking lives. Acts 7 says when Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was stoned to death, the mob dropped their coats at Saul’s feet like he was the coat check at a murder scene.

But here’s the good news: Jesus had other plans.

While Saul was breathing threats and marching down the Damascus road with blood in his eyes, Jesus showed up—resurrected, glorified, and full of mercy. And in a moment, the terrorist became a theologian. God didn’t just save him from hell—He saved him for something. Same as you and me. We aren’t just saved to sit—we’re saved to serve.

And that’s where the book of Titus comes in. Paul kicks off this short but loaded letter with one of his longest intros. Only three chapters, 46 verses, but it’s like trying to drink truth from a fire hydrant. This little book is a duet of doctrine and deeds, belief and behavior, theology and testimony. It’s Paul saying, “If you believe right, you’ll live right.”

Its part of the pastoral epistles but really its how to live out what we believe—its not just for pastors and church leaderhsip- its a Holy Spirit-inspired blueprint for how to build a church that doesn’t just exist but endures for the glory of God.

As we are about to read in these opening lines, Paul reminds us of four things: who he is, how salvation works, why preaching matters, and who Titus is—the young pastor he’s pouring into.

So here’s the question for us: do we know who we are and why we’re here?

Because I promise you this—God doesn’t waste grace. We were created on purpose for a purpose.

We are going to read Titus 1:1-4

Titus 1:1–4 ESV

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth, which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior; To Titus, my true child in a common faith: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior.

Prayer

Lets just go back and we are going to unpack this line by line. Titus 1:1

Titus 1:1 ESV

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth, which accords with godliness,

“Paul”—a name that literally means small, little, or humble. That was his Roman name, and some scholars think he may have taken it in honor of his first Gentile convert, Sergius Paulus, back in Acts 13. Either way, it’s fitting. Because the man who once puffed out his religious chest as Saul the Pharisee became Paul the servant—the man who said, “I am the least of the apostles… the chief of sinners… but by the grace of God, I am what I am.”

Paul wasn’t just a preacher. He was the greatest missionary-theologian the world’s ever seen—and he didn’t see any contradiction between the two. Deep doctrine and daily mission walked hand in hand in his life.

By the time he wrote these pastoral letters, Paul was older. His body was wearing down. His eyesight may have been fading. But don’t miss this—his spiritual vision had never been sharper. He saw himself with gospel clarity: not just who he was in the flesh, but who he was in Christ.

And friend, when you know who you are in Christ, the world can’t label you, your past can’t chain you, and your weakness can’t stop you. That’s the kind of vision we need. The kind that sees Jesus clearly… and then sees everything else through Him.

Paul kicks off by calling himself “an apostle of Jesus Christ.” Now that word apostle—it’s got some weight to it. In Scripture, it’s used in both a narrow and a wide sense. Technically, it refers to the Twelve—the original disciples who walked with Jesus, watched Him die, saw Him rise, and stood there as He ascended into heaven. Eyewitnesses. First-hand accounts.

Paul wasn’t part of that original 12. He didn’t meet Jesus on a dusty Galilean road—he met Him on the Damascus one. That’s why Paul calls himself the one “abnormally born” in 1 Corinthians 15. God called him into that office in a different way and at a different time, but make no mistake—Jesus called him all the same.

But apostle isn’t just a title reserved for the spiritual hall of fame. In its broader sense, it simply means “sent one.” And that part? That’s all of us. Every believer in Jesus has been called and sent. You might not have had a blinding light and a voice from heaven, but if you’ve been saved by Jesus, you’ve been sent by Jesus.

So don’t think this word is just about Paul’s credentials. It’s a reminder of your commission. You’re not just here to sit in a pew—you’re here to be sent on mission with the gospel. You’re an everyday missionary, carrying the name of Christ into your neighborhood, your workplace, your school, and your home.

You may not be the apostle Paul, but if you’re in Christ, you’re a “sent one” too. So go walk like it.

We are Slaves

One of the big takeaways I took from the Pastor at Student Life Camp. We were created on purpose and for a purpose.

And that there is meaning to life because if there wasn’t we wouldn’t be looking for it.

You don’t look for things that you don’t know exist. We wouldn’t have a desire for it. We have a desire to know the meaning of life. We wouldn’t desire food if food did not exist.

If food didn’t exist we wouldn’t get hungry. We desire food because we get hungry.

C.S. Lewis said- If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.

This place isn’t our home. Heaven is our home. And while we are on this earth our purpose is to glorify God. For His good works.

He made each and everyone of us with unique abilities to give God the glory.

John 10:10 ESV

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Abundantly- to the full.

and our life is at its fullest when we are doing that.

I think of Chriots of Fire when I think about what it means to live the abundant life for Christ .

His name was Eric Liddell. Born to missionary parents in China, raised in Scotland, and built like a man born to move, Eric wasn’t just fast—he was blazing. The world called him “The Flying Scotsman.” And in the early 1920s, Eric was on track to become an Olympic legend. Literally. He qualified to run the 100-meter dash in the 1924 Paris Olympics—his best event, the one everyone said he’d win. He would win the first gold metal in running for his country.

But then the schedule came out. The 100-meter final? It was set for a Sunday.

And Eric said, “I won’t run.”

Now to the world, that made zero sense. He trained for years. This was his moment. But Eric had already decided in his heart that Sunday—the Lord’s Day—was for worship, not for racing. And he wasn’t about to compromise that for a medal, a spotlight, or even a nation’s expectations.

So, he bowed out. Headlines exploded. Critics howled. But Eric didn’t flinch. Why? Because he wasn’t running for the applause of men—he was running for the glory of God.

But here’s the twist. Instead of the 100-meter, Eric signed up for the 400-meter. It wasn’t his best event. It wasn’t even close. But when he stepped up to the line, something divine was happening.

A trainer from the American team slipped him a note before the race. It said, “Those who honor Me, I will honor.” That’s 1 Samuel 2:30.

And against all odds, he didn’t just win. He crushed it. Olympic gold. World record. History made.

But that wasn’t the end of his story. Eric didn’t stay in the spotlight. He went back to China, back to the mission field, where his heart had always been. And years later, he died in a Japanese internment camp, still serving, still faithful.

Eric Liddell once said, “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”

That’s the kind of life I want to live. One that feels God’s pleasure—not because I’m chasing medals or moments, but because I’m chasing His glory.

So let me ask you—what race are you running? And who are you running it for?

Because the gold fades. The fame dies. But the glory of God? That’s worth everything.

and here is the thing- we are all going to be slaves to something. You are either a servant of God or a servant of sin. The word servant is also used a slave.

A doulos isn’t an intern or a volunteer. A doulos is owned. Their life isn’t their own. They take orders. In Matthew 8:9, the Roman centurion says it plain: “I tell my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” That’s what it means to be a servant—immediate obedience to the voice of the master.

And that’s exactly how Paul saw himself.

Paul opens his letter by calling himself a “slave of God.” Now that’s not a title we toss around much these days, but Paul wore it like a badge of honor. And what’s wild is this—this is the only time he says “slave of God.” Most of the time, he says “slave of Christ.” But for Paul, that distinction didn’t matter. God the Father, God the Son—same Lord, same Master, same mission.

Paul knew exactly who he belonged to. He wasn’t his own anymore. He’d been bought—purchased—by the blood of Jesus. That’s what Peter says in 1 Peter 1: “not with silver or gold… but with the precious blood of Christ.” And because of that, Paul didn’t just serve God—he belonged to Him.

He called himself a slave. That’s humility. That’s gospel-shaped identity. And if we’re in Christ, that’s us too. We don’t belong to ourselves—we’ve been bought with a price (1 Cor. 6:19–20).

2. We are sent

Paul calls himself “an apostle of Jesus Christ.” Now that word apostle is one of those loaded words in Scripture. Technically, it refers to the Twelve—the original disciples who walked with Jesus, watched Him die, saw Him rise, and stood there when He ascended into heaven. They were the eyewitnesses, the foundation-layers of the church.

Paul wasn’t part of that group. He wasn’t at the Last Supper or the empty tomb. In fact, when the gospel was spreading, Paul was on the other team—trying to shut it down. But then Jesus showed up. Not in Galilee, but on the Damascus road. And everything changed.

But there’s also a broader meaning to that word apostle. It simply means “sent one.” And that’s not just Paul—that’s us too. If you’ve been saved by Jesus, you’ve been sent by Jesus. You may not be writing Scripture, but you are carrying His name, His message, and His mission into the places He’s put you.

So when Paul says he’s an apostle, he’s not just pulling rank. He’s reminding us of who we are too—people sent with purpose, on mission with the gospel, called to live for something far bigger than ourselves.

Because in the end, it’s not just about where we go—it’s about who we represent.

And again- our life is most fullest when we are living out our pupose.

If you aren’t using your gifts, talents and abilites, for the Lord then you aren’t living out your purpose for the Lord.

Think about this- are submarines doing what they are supposed to be doing if they are on land?

No, not even a little bit. They are doing what they are called to do when they are in the water doing what they are designed to do.

Its the same for us.

We are sent- the great commission is for all christians- you don’t have to go around the world but you at least should be going to your dinner table. If you are doing the bare minimum, is there any wonder why we are fully and completely satisified in our relationship with the Lord?

Its amazing how better life is when we are doing what the Lord is calling us to do.

When we are in the Word- when we are in prayer- when we are seeking and finding.

3. We are selected

In the rest of verse 1, Paul spells out why he was called—and it’s not just about him. This purpose is one we all share as believers. So lean in and don’t miss it: Paul says his apostleship exists for the sake of the faith of God’s elect. Right there, in that one phrase, you’ve got both human responsibility and divine sovereignty, standing side by side like old friends.

Paul didn’t see any tension between the two. No theological tug-of-war. He understood that salvation, from beginning to end, is the work of God’s sovereign grace (Ephesians 2:8; Hebrews 12:2). And at the same time, he knew no one is saved without repenting and believing the gospel. Yet everyone who does repent and believe? Saved. No exceptions. (Romans 10:13)

Paul was what you might call a theological compatibilist. He believed that God elects and predestines people to salvation, but does it in such a way that never cancels out human responsibility. People are still called to believe. They are still accountable to respond.

Charles Spurgeon put it best when he said, “I never reconcile two friends.” God’s sovereignty and man’s responsibility—those aren’t enemies. They’re traveling companions in the story of redemption, both clearly taught in the Word of God. So we don’t have to untangle them—we just need to trust them.

And here's the thing: Paul wasn’t soft on either side. He fiercely defended the sovereignty of God, and he carried a burning passion for evangelism and missions. Why?

Because he knew the purpose of our ministry isn’t just to talk theology—

it’s to proclaim the gospel, to see the lost come to faith, and to make disciples from every nation under heaven.

That’s why Paul was called. That’s why we’ve been sent. To preach Jesus. To call people to faith. And to trust God with the saving.

4. We are sanctified

Paul makes it clear that saving faith isn’t the finish line—it’s the starting block. The faith of those who belong to God has a purpose. It moves us toward a full knowledge of the truth, and that truth leads to a changed life. Godliness isn’t optional. It’s the natural outflow of the gospel taking root in someone’s heart.

In Christianity, right belief and right living are always connected. You can’t truly know the truth and remain unchanged by it. As one commentator put it, “A profession of the truth which allows an individual to live in ungodliness is a spurious profession.” In other words, if what we claim to believe doesn’t affect how we live, then we probably don’t believe it at all.

The gospel leads to godliness. What we believe will shape how we behave, and how we behave reveals what we truly believe.

Vance Havner, in his usual straight-shooting way, once said, “We are challenged these days, but not changed; convicted, but not converted. We hear, but do not; and thereby we deceive ourselves.” That’s a word we still need today.

As children of God, we are called to live lives marked by holiness—lives that are pure, set apart, and unmistakably different. That’s not legalism. That’s gospel transformation.

This is what maturity in Christ looks like. And this is the other side of our calling—not just to see the lost saved, but to see believers grow in godliness. As servants of God, we exist to proclaim the truth that saves and to cultivate the kind of faith that produces a life that shines for His glory.

Now look back at Titus 1:2-3

Titus 1:2–3 ESV

in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior;

5. We are Witnesses.

Paul, in just a few words, taps into one of the greatest promises in all of Scripture—and he hangs it all on the unshakable character of God. There’s this beautiful chain reaction he lays out: saving faith leads to knowing the truth, the truth leads to godliness, and all of it rests on the rock-solid hope of eternal life. That’s not just good theology—that’s a gospel promise that’ll preach.

And that word hope? It’s not wishful thinking. It’s not crossing your fingers and hoping for the best. Biblical hope is a confident expectation—a settled certainty about something you don’t fully see yet but absolutely know is coming. And what is that hope? Eternal life. The very life of God in us.

It’s life that goes on forever in quantity—and life that is rich, full, and Christ-filled in quality. As Paul says elsewhere, it’s “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col. 1:27).

And here’s the good news: that hope rests on the promise of a God who cannot lie. Let that sink in. Everything in this world might shift, shake, or deceive—but not Him. Not ever. His promises are anchored in His character. He is truth itself.

That’s a sharp contrast to the enemy of our souls—Satan, “the father of lies” (John 8:44). And even the culture Paul was writing into—the Cretans, whom he says in verse 12 were “always liars.” But God? He never lies, never changes, never breaks a promise. When He says eternal life is ours, we can bank on it.

Paul says this promise was given “before time began.” Before there was a sunrise or a single star in the sky, God had a plan. Some theologians call it the “covenant of redemption”—the eternal agreement between the Father and the Son. The Father promised the Son a redeemed people, and the Son, in love, promised to lay down His life for them. Before sin entered the world, God had already written the rescue plan.

This wasn’t plan B. Our salvation was never God scrambling to fix a mistake. It was His eternal plan, perfectly designed, perfectly executed, and perfectly trustworthy.

So when we talk about hope—this living, breathing hope of eternal life—it’s not just a doctrine to study. It’s a promise to live by. A promise that stretches from eternity past to eternity future. And it’s anchored in a God who always tells the truth.

You can trust Him. Every word. Every time. Forever.

6. We Have His Word.

The eternal promise of eternal life didn’t stay tucked away in heaven. At just the right moment—right on schedule according to God’s perfect calendar—it broke into time and space.

ESV- In His Proper Time.

The NLT puts it like this: “just the right time.” The HCSB says “in His own time.” The NIV? “At his appointed season.”

However you say it, the point is this: God’s eternal plan showed up exactly when it was supposed to.

God has never ever been late and never been early. He arrives precisly when he means to.

And with that, another powerful link is added to the “chain reaction” of God’s redemptive plan—faith, truth, godliness, hope, and now... proclamation.

God’s promise of eternal life—spoken before time began—entered history through the preaching of His Word. That message, Paul says, was entrusted to him by the command of God our Savior. And here’s the wild part: that same gospel has now been entrusted to us.

Think about that. The eternal plan of salvation—the hope of the world—has been placed in the hands of ordinary people like you and me. Not to keep, but to carry. Not to polish up, but to proclaim.

We are stewards of a divine trust, heralds of a holy message. The gospel we preach isn’t ours to edit or improve—it’s God’s message, given by God’s command, for God’s glory.

This is our calling. This is our commitment. We don’t preach clever ideas, self-help strategies, or trendy philosophies. We preach His Word. We preach His gospel. Others may say it more eloquently, more creatively, even more persuasively—but no one, no one, will ever preach a better gospel.

Because there isn’t one.

Titus 1:4 ESV

To Titus, my true child in a common faith: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior.

So how does Paul land the plane in this greeting? He reminds Titus and us of two things every one of us needs: grace and peace.

Not grace like a pat on the back, and not peace like a moment of calm before the next storm. This is saving grace. Sustaining grace. Peace that anchors the soul, not because the waves stop, but because Jesus is in the boat.

Every night at camp, we had this thing called “church time.” Now don’t let the name fool you—it wasn’t some secret midnight service with candles and a choir. It was just our group huddled up, processing the sermon, asking questions, and diving deeper

Well, one night, one of the students said, “what really hit me was the difference between grace and mercy. Like… grace is God giving us what we don’t deserve, and mercy is Him holding back what we do deserve.”

And I just sat there smiling… because, y’all, it was almost word for word what I had said the day before in our small group. I mean, I could’ve pulled out a tape recorder and hit play. That is such a profound thought! You must have an incredible small group leader/ youth pastor/ pastor…”

But honestly? That’s when it hit me. That’s the win. Because let’s be real—I don’t care if they remember it came from me. I care that they understand it comes from Jesus and if they need to hear it in someone else’s voice thats okay. That’s one of the many reasons for youth camp.

Thats what Paul is echoing to Titues- that grace and peace- They come from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior.

That’s how Paul wraps up his introduction—by centering Titus (and us) not just in truth, but in relationship. The kind of relationship that says, “You’re mine. You belong. You’re not out here on your own trying to carry this weight—I’m with you. I’m in you.”

So here’s the question we’ve got to ask: Are we living like that’s true?

Are we walking in the grace we’ve received? Are we resting in the peace we’ve been given? Are we running this race like people who know who we are, who we belong to, and why we’re here?

Because grace and peace aren’t just a polite greeting—they’re the fuel for the mission. They remind us that the God who saved us is the same God who sends us. And He doesn’t send us empty-handed—He sends us with the gospel. The same gospel that saved Paul, transformed Titus, and is now entrusted to us.

So Cedar Bay, let’s be faithful stewards of what we’ve been given. Let’s preach the gospel with our lips and live it with our lives. Let’s walk in grace. Let’s rest in peace. And let’s run our race—together—for the glory of God and the good of the world.

Because there’s no better gospel. And there’s no greater calling. And the time… is now.