“Christ Over All”

Who’s really in charge?

That’s a question that shapes so much of our lives. You see it at work—everyone knows who’s in charge of the schedule or the big decisions. You see it in families—someone takes the lead in how the house runs. And you definitely see it here in Midland. In the oil industry, leadership can change fast. A company’s direction—and the jobs of thousands—can shift with one decision from the top. Who’s in charge matters.

A good boss can make work life a joy. A poor one can make it a nightmare. A good leader can guide a community forward. A poor one can stall it—or worse, set it back. Authority matters. Some of you have lived under bad authority—and it left scars. Others under good authority—and it gave life. What if the One in charge wasn’t just powerful, but good? Not just strong, but loving? Not just in control, but for you?

That’s why we sometimes ask—even in the church: Who’s really in charge here? Is it the pastor? The deacons? The members? The truth is, every one of those roles matters, but none of them are ultimately in charge. And that’s good news—because if any human were ultimate, we’d be in trouble.

And that’s not just a church question—that’s a life question. Who gets to call the shots? Who sets the course? Who defines what really matters?

In Colossians 1:15–23, Paul answers that question with one of the clearest, boldest, most breathtaking pictures of Jesus in all of Scripture. He shows us Christ isn’t just important. He isn’t just helpful. He isn’t one leader among many. He is supreme. He is preeminent. He is over all.

And church family, that’s the message we need as we step into this new season together. Because you may be excited about me as your new pastor—and I’m grateful—but our eyes must stay fixed on who truly matters: Jesus Christ, who is over all.

But here’s where the struggle comes in. If we’re honest, we don’t always live like Christ is over all. We know it in theory, but in practice, other “lords” start to creep in.

Think about it. In Midland, many measure their worth by the price of oil. When it’s high, optimism. When it’s low, anxiety. Without realizing it, the market starts calling the shots in our hearts.

Or maybe it’s success. the next promotion, the next win becomes the thing that drives us. Or comfort—where we quietly arrange life so nothing interrupts our plans. Or image—where we care more about how we look on the outside than who we’re becoming on the inside.

And if you think this through, whatever sits at the center of your life becomes your functional “lord.” It sets the direction. It defines the priorities. It makes the calls. And here’s the problem: none of those things can bear the weight of being ultimate. Success fades. Comfort disappears. The market shifts. Image cracks.

And here’s the tragedy: every false lord takes from you. They demand more, and they give back less. But Christ—he gives himself. Every other lord enslaves; only Christ sets free.

So let me put the question to you plainly: If Jesus isn’t supreme in your life, then who—or what—is?

That’s the tension Paul addresses in Colossians. These believers were tempted to add other powers, other influences, other authorities alongside Jesus. And Paul says: No. Christ isn’t just one option among many. He is before all things, above all things, over all things.

Which brings us right into this powerful passage—Colossians 1:15–23.

Colossians 1:15–17 ESV

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

Christ is Over All Creation

Paul begins with a breathtaking declaration: Jesus is the image of the invisible God. God, whom no one has seen in fullness, has made himself visible in Christ. If you want to know what God is like, you don’t need to speculate, search the stars, or sift through philosophies—look at Jesus. He is not a copy, not a reflection, not a representative—he is God himself revealed in human form. Loved ones, do you hear that? If you want to know what God is like, look at Jesus. Not a shadow, not a rumor, not a reflection—the very face of God.

Then Paul calls him the “firstborn of all creation.” This doesn’t mean Jesus was created—Scripture is clear that he is eternal (John 1:1, Hebrews 1:2). “Firstborn” in the ancient world was about position, not chronology. The firstborn son received authority, inheritance, and honor. Paul is saying: Jesus is the rightful heir of everything in creation. He is supreme in rank and authority because he himself is Creator.

And then Paul builds his argument with sweeping clarity:

By him all things were created.

Through him all things were created.

For him all things were created.

That covers everything—from galaxies to gravel, from oil reserves deep under the Permian Basin to the dust storms that sweep across West Texas skies. Nothing is outside his authorship. Nothing is exempt from his lordship.

And notice the scope: “things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities.” Paul is saying—don’t think too small. Christ’s supremacy extends not only to what you can touch and see, but to unseen realities: governments, spiritual beings, angelic hosts. All of it owes its existence to him.

Paul adds two breathtaking statements. First—Jesus is before all things. That means he is eternal. The One who has no beginning. Existing before creation itself. And then: In him all things hold together. He is not just Creator—he is Sustainer.

Think of it this way. In Midland, we understand what happens when infrastructure fails. Many of us remember when the electric grid went down during Snowvid and life ground to a halt. When water lines rupture, families scramble for the basics. When supply chains break down, the shelves empty fast. We live with the awareness that systems must be maintained—or everything falls apart.

Christ is the infrastructure of the universe. He holds the world together. Stars stay in orbit because of him. Molecules align because of him” → “Stars orbit, molecules align—because of him.

And that truth isn’t just cosmic—it’s personal. Some of you feel like your life is unraveling. Work pressures weigh you down. Family tensions fray your peace. Grief or loneliness creeps in like a crack in the foundation. The same Christ who holds galaxies together can hold you together.

He doesn’t just keep creation from collapsing—he can steady your soul.

Some of you came in here today feeling like that. Like you’re barely holding it together.

Hear me: Jesus is holding you.

Here’s an illustration I think will resonate: In Midland, when a pump jack stops, production halts. One small part can halt the whole operation—and families feel it fast. Paychecks stop. Everything depends on that one part holding. But unlike a pump jack, Christ never fails. In him all things hold together—cosmically, historically, personally. Friend, maybe you feel like one part of your life has broken down—and it’s shutting everything else down. Hear me: Jesus never fails.

So here’s the question: If Christ truly holds all creation in his hands, why would we give our allegiance to anyone or anything else? If he is the one who made you, sustains you, and holds you together, why look anywhere else for meaning, security, or identity?

Paul’s point is clear: Jesus is not just part of the story of creation. He is the author of it. He is not just a player in the world’s drama. He is the director and center of it all. And that means he is worthy of our worship, our trust, and our very lives.

Everything else has a beginning—Jesus doesn’t. Everything else depends on something—Jesus depends on nothing. He is over all creation.

If Christ is over creation, then he must be over your life. And that same truth extends into the people of God themselves—his church.

Let’s continue now with what Paul writes in

Colossians 1:18–20 ESV

And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.

Christ is Head of the Church

After exalting Jesus as supreme over creation, Paul now makes the truth intensely personal for the people of God: Christ is the head of the church.

Notice the imagery—Paul calls the church a body. That means we aren’t a business, we’re not a social club, we’re not just a gathering of like-minded people. We are a living body—and every body needs a head. The head directs the body, gives it life, coordinates its movements. Without the head, the body can’t survive. Paul says, “That’s Jesus.” He doesn’t just inspire the church, he directs it. He doesn’t just give us a reason to gather, he gives us life itself.

And Paul goes even further: He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead. In other words, Christ is not only supreme in creation, he is supreme in new creation. His resurrection is the down payment of God’s promise that all who belong to him will be raised. He is firstborn from the dead—first in order, first in priority, first in power. Why? So that, Paul says, “in everything he might be preeminent.”

That word “preeminent” is powerful. It doesn’t just mean Jesus is important. It means he is supreme, unrivaled, without equal, the one at the very top. In every category, Jesus comes first. Over creation. Over resurrection. Over history. Over eternity. Over the church. He is preeminent.

Paul drives it home with a staggering truth: “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” That means Jesus is not just a messenger of God, not just a prophet or a miracle worker. The fullness of God—his glory, his character, his power—dwells in Jesus. You don’t get a slice of God in Christ; you get the whole.

And what does this supreme, preeminent Christ do? Verse 20: “Through him to reconcile to himself all things… making peace by the blood of his cross.”

The One who is head over the church is also the One who reconciles us to God. His supremacy is not cold or distant. It is deeply personal and sacrificial. Jesus rules not by force, but by laying down his life. The supreme Christ took a cross. The head of the church wore a crown of thorns. The Lord of glory hung in shame. The One who spoke galaxies into being let himself be mocked, beaten, and crucified—for us. That’s how you know his supremacy is good news—not just that he reigns, but that he bled. Not just that he rules, but that he redeems. He didn’t demand our blood — he shed his own to make peace. The church belongs to Christ because Christ gave himself for the church.

Now, think about this with me for a moment. In Midland, we know the importance of leadership in systems that require coordination. A drilling operation depends on the control center to monitor, direct, and keep everything running. If the head office fails, if leadership is absent, chaos follows quickly. The rigs don’t keep running on their own. They need direction.

Paul says the church is like that. We don’t run on our own strength. We don’t flourish just because we have gifted leaders, good programs, or strong traditions. We thrive only when we are connected to Christ the head. He supplies the direction. He coordinates the mission. He gives the life.

And here’s the danger: when churches lose sight of the head, they start to drift. They might still look busy, but the body isn’t healthy. It’s like a body without a head—plenty of motion, but no life.

But when a church clings to Christ as its head, something beautiful happens. Life flows. Unity deepens. Mission sharpens. Worship rises. Because we’re no longer living for ourselves—we’re living from the life of Jesus, who reconciled us to God and now directs our steps.

So here’s the question for us in this new season at Fannin Terrace: Will we look to Christ as the true head of this church? Will we remember that the body doesn’t belong to the pastor, the deacons, the committees, or even the members—it belongs to Christ?

Church family, if Jesus is head over all creation and head of the church, then he is head of this church. And our task is not to make him fit our plans, but to fit ourselves to his. He doesn’t exist to bless our vision—we exist to fulfill his.

That’s why Paul says he is preeminent. He is not part of our story—he is the center of it. He is not a player on our team—he is the captain and the goal. He is not a slice of life—he is life itself.

So let’s be clear: Fannin Terrace is not built on me. It’s not built on tradition. It’s not built on buildings or programs. It’s built on Christ, the head of the church, the one who reconciled us to God by the blood of his cross. And if he is the head, then our calling is simple: stay connected, stay surrendered, stay centered in him.

Every leader comes and goes—Jesus remains head. Every church can falter—Jesus never will. He is over his church.

If Christ is over the church, then he must be over our church—this church.

Let’s finish this section by looking at

Colossians 1:21–23 ESV

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister.

Christ Reconciles Us and Holds Us Steady

Paul now makes his supremacy over everything in the universe deeply personal. It’s not just that Christ rules over creation—it’s that he has acted to reconcile sinners like us. Before Christ, Paul says, you were alienated from God—cut off, distant, unable to bridge the gap. Not only that, you were hostile in mind. That means our problem wasn’t just ignorance—it was rebellion. We didn’t want God’s way; we wanted our own. And it showed up in “evil deeds”—the visible fruit of a heart turned inward.

But here’s the gospel: He has now reconciled you. Through Christ’s death, God has taken enemies and made them friends. He has taken rebels and made them sons and daughters. He has taken the guilty and declared them holy, blameless, above reproach. That’s not just forgiveness—it’s transformation of status. From alienated to adopted. From hostile to holy. From condemned to clean.

But Paul adds a critical phrase: “if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel.” He’s not saying salvation rests on your ability to never mess up—he’s saying real reconciliation shows itself in perseverance. If you truly belong to Christ, you’ll keep clinging to Christ.

And here’s where the illustration comes in. Think about driving along the highway where just one moment of inattention can pull you off course - and you drift outside your lane. But steady hands and fixed eyes keep you on the road to your destination. Maybe spiritually you’ve drifted. But the gospel call today is: fix your eyes back on Christ and stay in your lane. And when your hands shake, his don’t. When your eyes blur, his stay fixed. Perseverance is not you holding on to Christ — it’s Christ holding on to you. The grip that holds the stars in orbit is the same grip that holds you.

That’s what Paul is saying here. Don’t drift. Don’t take your eyes off Christ. Stay steady. The road of faith is long, and perseverance is about keeping your focus on Jesus until the end.

But notice the beauty of this: perseverance isn’t ultimately about you white-knuckling your way through the Christian life. It’s not about gritting your teeth and hoping you make it. It’s about clinging to the One who already holds you. The same Christ who reconciled you by his death will keep you by his life. The same Christ who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.

Paul ends this section by reminding the Colossians that this gospel has been “proclaimed in all creation under heaven.” The same gospel that reconciled them is the gospel advancing across the world, bearing fruit in every place it goes. It’s not just their hope—it’s the hope. And it’s yours too.

So let me ask you: are you continuing in that hope? Are you stable and steadfast? Or have you started to drift? Christ has done everything necessary to reconcile you to God—will you now anchor your life in him?

Every attempt to fix yourself falls short—Jesus’ cross makes peace. Every rival hope will fade—Jesus alone holds you steady.

So here’s where Paul has brought us:

Christ is the image of the invisible God.

Christ is the head of the church and the sustainer of all things.

Christ has reconciled us and holds us steady in the hope of the gospel.

That’s not just theology to admire—it’s truth to live under.

And this is where it gets practical for us in Midland. We live in a city that prizes independence, resilience, and making your own way. That wildcatter mindset runs deep here. And there’s good in that grit—it’s built businesses, it’s fueled families, it’s created opportunity. But spiritually, if we’re not careful, that mindset can turn into thinking, “I can do life on my own. I don’t need to depend on anyone—not even God.”

Paul won’t let us go there. He says: Christ is over all, and Christ reconciles all. Which means the most important thing about you is not how independent you are, not how successful you’ve been, not how much you can tough out—but whether you are living under the supremacy of Jesus Christ.

Here’s the bottom line I want you to walk away with today:

Don’t just admire Christ’s supremacy—live under it.

Because here’s the danger: it’s possible to nod your head at good theology, sing about Christ’s greatness, even build a reputation for being “spiritual”—and still not be submitting your everyday life to him. And that’s what Paul is pressing in on. The supremacy of Christ isn’t just a doctrine to agree with—it’s a reality to surrender to.

So let me ask you: where do you need to come under the supremacy of Christ today? Is it the deal you’re working on? The anger you’re holding? The secret sin you’ve been excusing? The place you keep saying, ‘Lord, you can have everything except this’?

Loved ones, this isn’t a call to try harder. It’s a call to look higher. Christ over all means Christ over you. Christ over your schedule, Christ over your finances, Christ over your reputation, Christ over your relationships.

If you belong to him, then every part of your life belongs under him. And that’s not bondage—that’s freedom. Because the same Christ who is supreme over creation, supreme over the church, supreme over salvation—is the Christ who loves you, sustains you, and intercedes for you.

So let’s not just admire him from a distance. Let’s live under his supremacy—together.

Church family, sometimes when we hear a passage like Colossians 1, it can feel overwhelming. Christ is supreme over creation, over the church, over salvation—he holds the universe together. And maybe you’re thinking, That’s amazing… but what does that mean for me when I’m just trying to get through the week?

Here’s the hope: if Christ really is supreme, then nothing in your life is outside of his care. Nothing. Not the stress of the oil market. Not the pressure of raising kids in a confusing world. Not the grief that sneaks up on you at night. Not the doctor’s report that makes you afraid of tomorrow. If Christ is supreme over all, then he is supreme over that too.

And here’s the even greater hope: the one who is supreme is also the one who reconciled you by his blood. The King of the universe is not distant—he is personal. He knows your name. He knows your story. And he has already secured your place in his kingdom through the cross and the resurrection.

That means you don’t have to hold it all together—because Christ is holding you together. You don’t have to fear the future—because Christ has already secured your future. You don’t have to wonder if you belong—because Christ has already reconciled you to God.

Think about that: the same Jesus who created the stars is the Jesus who died for you. The same Christ who holds galaxies in orbit is the Christ who holds you in his hand. That’s not just good news—it’s the best news.

So when you walk out these doors today, don’t just carry the weight of your week on your shoulders. Lift your eyes to the one who is supreme. Because if Christ really is over all, then he’s over this—whatever your this may be. And that is good news worth clinging to.

So what do we do with all of this? If Christ is supreme—over creation, over the church, over salvation—how should we respond?

Paul tells us in Colossians 1:23: “if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard.”

So let me ask again: will oil set the tone of your heart, or will Christ? Will success drive you, or will Christ? Will comfort call the shots, or will Christ? Will your image be supreme, or will Christ?

Here’s the bottom line of this message:

If Christ is over all, then he must be over you.

Don’t just admire him—adore him. Don’t just acknowledge him—bow to him. Don’t just agree with him—surrender to him.

Friend, if you’ve never trusted Jesus, why not today? Why not right now, where you sit? The Christ who is over all is calling you to lay down your sin, your striving, your shame—and come to him in faith. He has already made peace by the blood of his cross. You don’t have to fix yourself first. You come, because he has already made a way.

And for every believer here, let’s take one clear step this week. Open Colossians 1, and each day pray one section of this passage—Christ over creation, Christ over the church, Christ over salvation. Let the supremacy of Christ shape your prayers, your perspective, your priorities.

Don’t leave here carrying the weight you brought in. Don’t leave here clinging to the throne of your own life. Christ over all means Christ over you. He is enough. He is supreme. And he is for you. So lay it down. Lift your eyes. And live this week under Christ who is over all.

Closing Prayer

Father in heaven, We come before you today in awe of your Son, Jesus Christ—supreme over creation, supreme over the church, supreme over salvation. Thank you that the one who holds the stars in his hands also holds us in his grace.

Lord, we confess that too often we have admired you from a distance instead of living under your reign. Forgive us for the places where we’ve held on to control, where we’ve chased our own glory instead of bowing to yours.

Today we surrender again. We declare with our hearts and our lives: Christ is over all, and Christ is over me. Take every part of us—our work, our homes, our fears, our future—and bring them under the rule of your Son.

Father, I pray for Fannin Terrace Baptist Church. Make us a people who don’t just sing about your supremacy but live it out daily. Let our neighbors, coworkers, and families see lives that bear fruit, endure with joy, and overflow with thanksgiving—all because Jesus is King.

And Lord, for the one who has never trusted you before—draw them by your Spirit even now. Show them that the supreme Christ is also the saving Christ, who shed his blood to reconcile them to you.

We rest today in this hope: that the same Jesus who is over all will finish the good work he has begun in us. And so, we pray boldly in his mighty name— Amen.