Revived by Grace, Ready for Glory

There’s not a single doctrine in the Bible more precious or important to the human soul than salvation. And there’s not a single word more central to salvation than grace. Think about that.

The God who spoke galaxies into existence leaned down into our broken mess to rescue sinners like us—sinners chained up by sin, dead in spirit, and headed for an eternity separated from Him in a real place called hell. If you want one word to describe that rescue, it’s this: grace.

But here’s the deal—salvation is not just beautiful; it’s also badly misunderstood. Especially when it comes to how the work of Christ actually applies to sinners. Our culture hates the idea that Jesus is the only way to God. That sounds too narrow, too restrictive, too intolerant. It sounds unloving, even unworthy of the kind of God we’d rather imagine instead of the God who is.

And so, three big ideas dominate today’s religious landscape when we start talking about salvation.

First, there’s universalism—and its cousin, pluralism. This is the belief that there are many roads to God, maybe even an unlimited number of them. The idea goes like this: all roads eventually lead to heaven, so in the end everybody’s good. It’s popular among liberal theologians, New Age thinkers, and a culture that wants spirituality without surrender.

This kind of thinking shows up in the writings of theologian John Hick. He flat out says most New Testament scholars don’t really believe Jesus ever claimed to be God in the flesh. According to him, the old belief that only Christians are saved has been tossed aside by much of the theological world. Instead, he argues that there’s a universal moral outlook—a sort of baseline goodness—that’s found in all religions. And if we can embody that outlook with love and compassion, then that’s what salvation really is.

Hick goes on to say that the core teachings of the world’s religions aren’t actually in conflict—they’re just different human perspectives on the same divine reality. In his mind, we’re not clashing over truth; we’re simply describing God from different angles. He even suggests we’re living in a moment of “paradigm shift”—a new way of thinking about Christianity altogether.

But here’s the problem: when you flatten out the gospel into nothing more than a call to “be good” or “be compassionate,” you lose the very heart of salvation. Jesus didn’t come just to hand us a moral checklist. He came to die in our place, rise again, and reconcile us to the Father. Salvation is not found in our love—it’s found in His.

Second, there’s what’s called inclusivism. Now, inclusivism sounds good at first because it starts in the right place: Jesus is the only Savior. But here’s where it veers off—it teaches that a person can be saved by Jesus without ever actually trusting in Him personally.

How? By responding positively to the light they have—through nature, through conscience, maybe even through another religion. The idea is that while other faiths don’t get the full picture of God, the little bit of truth they do have is enough to save them. Karl Rahner, a Catholic theologian, even coined the phrase “anonymous Christians” to describe folks who never confess Christ but supposedly live out enough goodness to show they belong to Him. Not surprisingly, this view often ends up drifting toward a kind of works-based salvation.

Thinkers like Clark Pinnock and John Sanders champion this perspective. Pinnock argues that while Jesus’ work is unique, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s exclusive. He suggests God is active all over the world, even outside the church, and that people who sincerely seek God without ever hearing of Jesus will still have an opportunity to be covered by Christ’s blood. Sanders goes even further, saying that God applies the work of Christ to people who’ve never heard the gospel—as long as they respond in some kind of “faith” to the general revelation they’ve received in creation and conscience.

Now, listen—this sounds compassionate. It sounds generous. But here’s the problem: it guts the urgency of the gospel and waters down the very mission Jesus gave us.

If people can be saved without ever hearing or trusting Christ, then why did He command us to take the gospel to the nations? Why did He die and rise again if there were other ways? Inclusivism makes salvation about our searching instead of Christ’s saving. And that’s not good news—it’s no gospel at all.

Finally, we come to exclusivism. And this is not some fringe idea—this has been the position of the church for most of its history. This is the orthodox, evangelical conviction: salvation comes only through personal faith in Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord.

Now, that doesn’t mean God is unjust or unkind to those who never reach an age of understanding—like infants or young children—or to those who are incapable of moral discernment, like the mentally disabled. Evangelicals have long affirmed that these precious ones are covered by the mercy and saving grace of God. But exclusivism does mean this: Jesus alone is the one and only Savior. Period.

The Bible doesn’t leave wiggle room here. John 14:6—Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” Acts 4:12 proclaims, “There is salvation in no one else.” And 1 Timothy 2:5 reminds us that “there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” If there was another way, why would the Father send His only Son to the cross? The cross itself is God’s great testimony that Jesus is the exclusive way to Him.

And how does the world hear that testimony? Through the preaching of the gospel. Romans 10 is clear—faith comes by hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ. That’s why missions matter. That’s why evangelism matters. That’s why we can’t shrug off the Great Commission.

Scripture gives us the full, breathtaking picture of this salvation:

In John 3, Jesus talks about being born again.

In Romans 3, Paul unpacks justification by faith.

In 2 Corinthians 5, we learn about reconciliation with God.

In Galatians 3, deliverance from the curse of the law.

Hebrews 7–10 shows us Jesus as our great High Priest who offers a perfect sacrifice once and for all.

1 John 2:2 and 4:10 declare His atoning work—He is the propitiation for our sins.

And Titus 2:11–15 reminds us that the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation and teaching us to live for His glory.

When you boil it all down, salvation is about grace and glory. And both of those are summed up in one person: Jesus. He is the One full of grace and truth. He is the glory of God revealed. And He is the only way.

So what I want us to do is read Titus 2:11-15 and we are going to unpack it in our time together tonight.

Titus 2:11–15 “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. Declare these things; exhort and rebuke with all authority. Let no one disregard you.”

God’s Grace Teaches Us How to Live Titus 2:11–12

That little word “for” at the start of verse 11 is doing some heavy lifting. It’s tying the big gospel truths of verses 11–14 to the practical instructions Paul just gave in verses 1–10. In other words, the “how” of Christian living is always anchored in the “what” of God’s grace.

This is important- its key—because it means the commands of God are never divorced from the grace of God.

Paul is saying, “Here’s why you can live this way: because God’s grace has appeared.” Behavior and belief aren’t enemies—they’re woven together in this beautiful gospel fabric. What God calls you to do is possible only because of what He has already done for you and in you through Christ.

Grace doesn’t just save you—it trains you. It pulls you out of sin’s grip, and then it teaches you how to walk in holiness. The very thing God demands, His grace provides. That’s the power of the gospel.

God’s Grace Has Come to Us (Titus 2:11)

When Paul says “the grace of God,” he’s talking about the unearned, undeserved, cannot-be-bought kindness of God. His mercy. His compassion. His goodness poured out on sinners who could never deserve it. And Paul says this grace has appeared.

Grace isn’t just a doctrine—it’s a person. Jesus showed up. He brought salvation. No grace, no salvation. Period. And the good news? It’s appeared “for all people.” No tribe, no tongue, no neighbor, no co-worker is outside His reach. That’s why we keep praying for “one more.”

Who’s the one person in your life that you’re begging God to save? Because if grace can reach you, it can reach them too.

And yes, even your one more might be that guy who drives 10 miles under the speed limit in the left lane. If grace can break the chains of sin, it can break the chains of slow driving too.

As Mounce put it, “Grace is a one-word summary of God’s saving act in Christ, given freely to sinners who believe.” Grace isn’t an idea. It’s not just a doctrine to memorize. Grace has a name. His name is Jesus.

And notice this—Paul says this grace has appeared “for all people.” That means no tribe, no tongue, no nation, no person is left out. Jesus’ atonement is sufficient for every sin ever committed. Every single person is savable because of Him. Those who reject Him will do so by stepping over a blood-stained cross with their name on it. But don’t miss this—by His very nature, our God is a saving God.

That means this gospel is for you. It’s for me. It’s for the whole world. Hallelujah! What a Savior!

God’s Grace Must Change Us (Titus 2:12)

There’s been a long-running debate among evangelicals called the “Lordship Salvation” controversy. At its most extreme, some who oppose lordship salvation have claimed things like:

Repentance isn’t necessary for salvation.

Faith is nothing more than agreeing with a set of facts.

Conversion doesn’t involve the will.

Salvation and discipleship should be separated—good works may or may not follow faith.

A saved person can fall into apostasy because of what they call “dead faith” (a twisting of James 2:14–26).

But Paul’s words in Titus 2:12 cut right through that confusion. As Mounce put it, this verse delivers the death blow to any theology that tries to separate salvation from obedience to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Salvation is not perfection—but it is a new direction. Grace doesn’t just forgive you; it reroutes your whole life.

Paul shows us how grace instructs us:

Negatively: it teaches us to say “no” to godlessness and worldly passions.

Positively: it calls us to live with self-control toward ourselves, righteousness toward others, and godliness toward God.

And notice this—it’s not something we wait for in eternity. We’re called to live this way right now, in this present age.

Grace isn’t just the pardon of sin; it’s the power to change.

Grace doesn’t just save us from hell—it teaches us how to live in the here and now. Like a coach who won’t let you quit, grace says “deny godlessness and worldly lusts” and “live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives.”

That’s discipleship. Grace is the coach, and discipleship is the gym where we train. It’s not about perfection—but it is about direction. We don’t lift the same five-pound dumbbell for ten years. We grow. We walk with Jesus together, sharpening each other, spurring each other on.

(Humorous aside: because let’s be honest, nobody wants to be the spiritual version of that guy at gym who spends more time texting on the bench than actually lifting. Grace trains us to grow strong, not stay stuck.)

And here’s the best part—it’s all by grace. Not my power. Not my discipline. Not my brilliance. His grace breaks the power of canceled sin. His grace saves, and His grace transforms. When we abide- he abides.

That’s why Paul can say: grace teaches us how to live.

God’s Grace Teaches Us Where We Should Look (Titus 2:13)

Paul just told us in verse 12 how to live in this present age—but don’t miss the hope in verse 13. Grace doesn’t just train us for life down here; it keeps our eyes fixed on what’s coming. This world isn’t our home. This isn’t our final stop.

Like Abraham, we’re “looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Heb. 11:10). And we’re waiting for Jesus, the One “who rescues us from the coming wrath” (1 Thess. 1:10). That’s where grace points us.

Grace doesn’t just say “live different now.” Grace whispers “look up—your Savior is coming.”

We Know What to Look For: His Coming

As we live in this present age, Paul says we are called to wait. But this isn’t passive, arms-crossed waiting. The word here means eager, confident expectation—like a kid on Christmas morning leaning forward with eyes wide open.

We’re not just living in the present—we’re waiting with hope. “The blessed hope … the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”

Grace has already appeared, and glory is going to appear. Past grace fuels present obedience while we wait for future glory.

Church revitalization is built on that hope. We’re not longing for “the good old days” of Cedar Bay. We’re longing for the day Jesus cracks the sky and makes all things new. Until then, we don’t retreat. We don’t rust out. We press forward. We look up. We pray with expectation.

The first appearing shows us grace that saves. The second appearing promises glory that will shine. So we live in the tension of the already and the not yet—redeemed by grace, longing for glory. With eyes fixed upward, our one true hope is clear: He is coming again.

We Know Whom to Look For: Our Savior

When we look toward heaven, we’re not waiting for something—we’re waiting for someone. Not Gabriel. Not Michael. Not any of the angelic host. They won’t do. They can’t do. What we need, what we long for, can only be met in one person: “our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

This is one of the clearest declarations in all of Scripture about the deity of Jesus. And it stands shoulder to shoulder with other bold testimonies—John 20:28, Romans 9:5, Hebrews 1:8, 2 Peter 1:1, and 1 John 5:20. The Bible doesn’t whisper about who Jesus is—it shouts it.

He is not our greater God, as though there’s some scale of divinity. No—He is our great God. Period. The Creator and Sustainer of all things. The object of our worship. The forgiver of sins. The final Judge. The One who hears our prayers. The fullness of God wrapped in flesh (Col. 2:9).

And He is our Savior—our Deliverer, our Redeemer, our Rescuer. He is Jesus, the Christ—the Anointed One promised in the Old Testament and revealed in the New. He came once in grace, and He’s coming again in glory.

So God’s grace not only teaches us how to live—it teaches us where to look and whom to look for as we wait. And His name is Jesus.

God’s Grace Teaches Us Who Is Lord (Titus 2:14)

Salvation isn’t one-dimensional. The Bible speaks of it in three tenses:

Past: we have been delivered from sin’s penalty—that’s justification.

Present: we are being delivered from sin’s power—that’s sanctification.

Future: we will be delivered from sin’s presence—that’s glorification.

Paul touches all three right here in Titus 2. In verses 11 and 14, he points to the penalty of sin that Christ paid in full. In verses 12 and 14, he shows us how grace is breaking the power of sin in our everyday lives. And in verse 13, he lifts our eyes to the future, when sin’s very presence will be gone forever.

And all of it—past, present, and future—rests on the finished work of Christ. Verse 14 puts that work on display like a diamond in the light. It’s here we see the fourfold portrait of our Savior: the one who gave Himself, redeemed us, purified us, and made us His own people.

Grace doesn’t just tell us what He’s done—it declares who He is. Jesus Christ is Lord.

Jesus Paid for Us

Paul says Jesus “gave Himself for us.” Don’t rush past that. Nobody took His life from Him. He laid it down. And He didn’t die as a victim—He died as a substitute. His death was vicarious, meaning He stood in our place. His death was substitutionary, meaning He took what we deserved so we could get what only He deserved.

Why did He give Himself? Paul says, “to redeem us from all lawlessness.” That’s the language of freedom. Redemption means a price was paid to set a captive free. And the price wasn’t silver or gold—it was His own blood (cf. Matt. 20:28; Acts 20:28; 1 Tim. 2:6; 1 Pet. 1:18–19).

Ellis J. Crum captured it in those simple words: He paid a debt He did not owe, I owed a debt I could not pay.

That’s the gospel in one line. Jesus Himself said it this way: “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). And Paul sums it up in 2 Corinthians 5:21: “He made the One who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.”

Jesus paid it all. For us. For you.

Jesus Purifies Us

Jesus didn’t just pay for us—He purifies us, He possesses us, and He prepares us. We are His people, His possession, eager to do good works. That’s the fuel for revitalization.

A church that knows it belongs to Jesus doesn’t waste time trying to impress the world—it’s too busy serving Him and praying for the world to know Him.

And that’s what discipleship and revitalization look like. Once we were “unfit for any good work” (1:16). Now grace flips the script—we’re zealous for good works. Because His work on the cross fuels our works in the world.

Sin makes us guilty and filthy. Grace makes us forgiven and pure. and we are fit for His good works.

This is what God promised in the new covenant: “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean. I will cleanse you from all your impurities and all your idols” (Ezek. 36:25). And that promise is fulfilled at the cross. By His substitutionary death, Jesus makes the guilty innocent, and the unclean spotless.

That means when somebody at church asks you to serve, the right answer is never, “Well, I’ll pray about it”—that’s just Baptist code for “No.” Grace makes us eager, not hesitant.

Jesus Possesses Us

But He didn’t just buy us and clean us up—He made us His own. Paul says Christ redeemed us “for Himself a people for His own possession.” That’s Exodus 19:5 language, echoed again by Peter in 1 Peter 2:9–10: “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His possession … once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people.”

This is the security of the gospel. Once we were Satan’s, but now we belong to the Son. Once we were ruled by sin, now we are held by the Savior. Once we were strangers, but now we are family.

As the old hymn puts it:

Now I belong to Jesus, Jesus belongs to me. Not for the years of time alone, But for eternity.

That’s the promise of grace—Jesus paid for us, Jesus purifies us, and Jesus possesses us.

Jesus Prepares Us

If we belong to Him, then we don’t just sit back—we step forward with a holy passion. Paul says we should be “eager to do good works.” That word eager means fired up, zealous, consumed with the desire to live for the One who gave Himself for us.

This is the exact opposite of the Cretans Paul mentioned back in 1:16. They were “unfit for any good work.” But grace flips the script. The redeemed don’t avoid good works—we run toward them. Why? Because our works aren’t about earning salvation; they’re our joyful response to salvation. His work on the cross fuels our works in the world.

Grace doesn’t just save us for heaven—it prepares us for a new kind of life here and now. A life marked by zeal for Jesus, daily obedience, and Spirit-filled service. Grace teaches us who is Lord, and then grace empowers us to live like it.

God’s Grace Teaches Us What We Should Learn (Titus 2:15)

Paul wraps up chapter 2 with a charge that is as strong as it gets. John MacArthur calls this verse “one of the clearest and strongest statements in Scripture about the spiritual authority of men whom God calls to minister His Word and shepherd His people.”

Notice the rhythm—Paul fires off four imperatives in rapid succession: “speak … encourage … rebuke … let no one disregard you.” That’s not timid. That’s not optional. That’s Spirit-filled authority.

But here’s the key: Titus could speak with authority because he was standing under authority. The authority of the message rests in the authority of the One it proclaims—our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

So what should we learn? That God’s Word is not just something to nod along with—it’s something to submit to, be shaped by, and be sent out with. Grace has appeared, grace is training us, grace points us forward, grace makes us His—and now grace calls us to listen, learn, and live it out with authority.

Learn Doctrine Paul says Titus is to “say” or “speak” these things—and not just once, but continually. What things? Certainly the truths of 2:11–14, but really the whole letter, packed full of sound teaching (1:9; 2:1). Why? Because believers need to know what they believe—about who Jesus is, what salvation is, what the church is, and where history is headed. Grace doesn’t grow in the soil of ignorance—it grows in the soil of truth.

Learn Duty Fourteen imperatives run through Titus, and four of them land right here. Paul tells Titus to encourage—to come alongside and challenge believers to live faithfully while we wait for “the blessed hope” (2:13). That’s our duty before God and man: to live out the gospel we proclaim.

Learn Discernment But encouragement isn’t the only call. Paul also says, rebuke. Encouragement pushes the faithful forward; rebuke pulls the unfaithful back from danger. And when we rebuke, we don’t do it timidly or apologetically. We do it with authority—not our authority, but Christ’s. Shepherds don’t just feed sheep—they protect them. Sometimes love looks like a gentle nudge, and sometimes it looks like a firm hand pulling someone away from a cliff.

Learn Dedication And make no mistake—speaking the truth won’t win you popularity points. It takes courage, conviction, and what I’d call “Christ-confidence.” Paul tells Titus not to let anyone disregard him. Not arrogance. Not pride. But holy boldness. Because when your eyes are fixed upward—on your great God and Savior Jesus Christ—you won’t be intimidated by the naysayers looking down on you.

Conclusion

Titus 2 shows us that the grace of God is not just what saves us—it’s what sustains us. Grace is the foundation for godly living right here, right now. And that grace is anchored in two unshakable realities: Christ’s past work on the cross and His promised future return.

Martin Luther once said, “I live as though Christ died yesterday, rose again today, and is coming again tomorrow.” That’s it. That’s the Christian life. Thats the tension we live in—between the grace of His first coming and the glory of His second coming. Yesterday, the cross. Today, the resurrection. Tomorrow, His return. And right now? Godly living fueled by amazing grace.

And until He comes, we pray. We don’t just pray safe prayers like “God, bless this food” (though, yes, He can bless Chick-fil-A waffle fries). We pray bold prayers. We pray for that one more—the coworker, the neighbor, the grandchild, the student, the friend. We pray for them by name, because grace has appeared for all people, and we believe His grace can reach them too. Who’s your one more? Don’t stop praying. Don’t stop inviting. Don’t stop believing.

And until He comes, we disciple. Grace isn’t just fire insurance from hell—it’s training ground for holiness. That’s why discipleship matters. One believer walking alongside another, helping them learn to say no to ungodliness and yes to Jesus. That’s why we need small groups. That’s why we open our Bibles together. That’s why we hold each other accountable. Because grace trains us.

And until He comes, we serve. Not reluctantly. Not when it’s convenient. But eager. Zealous. Fired up to do good works because Jesus has done the greatest work for us. And listen—serving in the local church isn’t punishment, it’s privilege. It’s one of the ways God breathes fresh life into His people.

And that’s where revitalization comes in. Cedar Bay doesn’t need a new gimmick or a shiny program—it needs God’s grace and God’s people stepping up in obedience. Grace makes dead things live again. Grace raises broken sinners and grace can raise a weary church.

So hear me—His amazing grace is enough for one more. Enough for you. Enough for me. Enough to breathe fresh life into Cedar Bay.

The grace of God has appeared—that’s His first coming. The glory of God will appear—that’s His second coming. And right now, between those two appearings, we get the joy of living lives that make much of Jesus.

And I don’t know about you, but I’m so glad that wonderful grace reached me. Aren’t you glad it reached you? Aren’t you glad it’s still reaching one more?