Untitled Sermon

Today we’re beginning a new journey as a church through the Gospel of Mark, specifically the first 8 chapters this fall. But we’re not only reading Mark as a historical account of Jesus — we’re looking at the story through the lens of a rule of life.

A rule of life is not a list of rules to follow. The word “rule” comes from regula, like a trellis in a vineyard — a structure that helps life grow and flourish. We want to notice the habits and rhythms of Jesus in this Gospel, and then ask: How might we build a trellis in our own lives so that we can abide, remain, in Christ and actually live in his way?

Over the next few months, I hope and pray we’ll not only learn more about Jesus, but also grow in living like him — not just on Sundays, but in the everyday rhythms of our lives, if Jesus were living our lives in our shoes, in our homes, our friendships, our schools, our jobs, our everyday ordinary interactions.

This morning we’re going to be taking a look at the first 15 verses of chpater one and in this we’ll find a kind of rythm and frameowrk to begin to conisder incorporating. As we try on these practices and make them a rgeular part of our lives over the next few months, how might this not only change the way we live our lives, the way we see the world around us but as we change, we can’t help but change the world around us as we offer the hope of Jesus that naturally bubbles up and bubbles out as we live our liveds hand in hand with him. IMagine how this could change us, our families, our firends, our classmaters and co-wrokers, one interaction, one conversation, one step, one day at a time. So often we think this has to be big and flashy, but so much of life in lived in samll ordinary moments. Let’s see how God might be inviting us to reframe those moments as supernatural oporutnites to experience his kingdom transofrmation and shre that with others.

Again, I’d like to suggest some of these as something to consider trying on. If we try to take them all up at once, we’ll inevitably fail. As we listen together this morning, what’s one practice God might be invting you to consider this week?

Alright, with that farmework in mind, let’s jump in with some prayer.

Before we dive in, let’s pray.

Mark 1:1–5 “The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God, as it is written in Isaiah the prophet: “I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way”— “a voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’ ” And so John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.”

Mark 1:6–10 “John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.”

Mark 1:11–15 “And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him. After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!””

Ok, there’s a lot packed into these 15 verses. We’re going to check these out a few verses at a time, starting in verse one where we see the gospel is a way of life.

The Gospel as a Way of Life (Mark 1:1)

Mark starts his whole story with these words:

“The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God…We could spend a whole morning just on that one line and if we did that we’d probably be deep diving the book of Mark for the rest of our lives.

Mark isn’t just giving us an opening title. He’s making a massive claim: that what God began in Genesis — the story of creation — is now beginning again in Jesus. This is “the beginning.” Just like Genesis said, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” now Mark says, “In the beginning of the good news about Jesus…” He’s saying that this story is a new creation story. God is doing something as big as when he first spoke light into darkness.

And this “good news” — in Greek it’s the word euangelion — was a phrase people in Mark’s day would’ve recognized. It was used in the Roman Empire to announce a new emperor or a great military victory: “Good news! Rome has triumphed! Caesar reigns!” It was like breaking news flashing across the ancient world.

But Mark takes this euangelion word and says, “No, no, no. The real good news isn’t about Caesar or Rome’s power. The real good news is Jesus. He is the Messiah, the Son of God, the true King.”

The gospel, the good news, isn’t just something to believe, it’s a life to live.

[SLIDE] Jesus is not just information to agree with — he is the pattern of life we’re invited to embody.

The earliest disciples didn’t treat Jesus like a podcast they subscribed to, or a book club they joined once a week. They rearranged their whole lives around him. They walked with him, ate with him, prayed with him, copied his habits.

And to be clear, this was different and simpler to do with a flesh and body person. Jesus invited them personally and they said yes. They saw him, they walked with him. We need to be clear that following an invisible Jesus today can be really complex and difficult.

This gospel way of life means arranging our very lives to be centered on the teachings of Jesus.

If you go back to the Old Testament, you see this isn’t a brand-new idea. God has always been calling his people not just to believe in him, but to live a certain way.

Think about Israel in the wilderness after the Exodus. God didn’t just give them the Ten Commandments to memorize; he gave them rhythms — Sabbath every week, festivals every year, sacrifices, prayers, daily practices that ordered their whole lives around God’s presence. That was their “rule of life.”

What often happened though was that they engaged in the rhythms, they checked the boxes without the relationship. They did the motions, but their hearts drifted. The prophets kept saying: “You’re fasting, but you’re ignoring the poor. You’re making sacrifices, but your hearts are far from God.”

Now Jesus comes and says, “Here’s the real good news: I am the presence of God with you. I am the new way of life.” Where Israel failed to keep the rhythms, Jesus fulfills them perfectly.

So when Mark says, “the beginning of the good news,” he’s saying: this is God’s new Exodus, God’s new creation, God’s new way of life.

We all live by some kind of rule of life, whether we realize it or not.

For example, my iPhone seems to have its own rule of life for me. It tells me every Sunday morning how many hours I spent on my screen this week. Anybody else hate that feature? It’s like my phone is trying to be my pastor. “Your screen time was up 27% this week. Do better next week!”

Or maybe you’ve got a rhythm of checking email first thing in the morning before you’ve even said “Good morning” to God. Or maybe your rhythm is three cups of coffee before you can even imagine being kind to another human being. (That one might be me some mornings…)

The point is: we already have rhythms. We already have habits. The question is: are they forming us into people who look more like Jesus, or less like him?

So as we go through Mark, we’re invited to ask not only: “What do I think about Jesus?” but also: “How can I shape my actual day-to-day life to look like his?”

The gospel is not just news to believe, it’s a way of life.

Ok, we made it through verse one. Next we take a look at the next few verses and see a rhythm of repentance.

Preparing the Way: A Rhythm of Repentance (Mark 1:2–8)

Mark doesn’t waste any time. He goes straight from the opening line to quoting the prophets:

“I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way—a voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’”

This is Isaiah’s language, and Mark is saying: This is what God promised long ago. The story you’ve been waiting for is finally happening.

And then comes John the Baptist, out in the wilderness, wearing camel’s hair, eating locusts and honey. Let’s be honest: if John the Baptist walked into our church lobby today, we’d probably call security. Or at the very least, someone would say, “Hey John, we’ve got donuts and coffee in the café, you don’t have to eat bugs.” Because again, the story of the gospel is so sitnking surprising, God uses so many unpexcted eccentric people we’d probably raise our eyebrows at today.

John had this one job: to prepare the way. And he did it by calling people to repentance.

I imagine some of us might think of repentance as a one-time event. Like: “I repented when I became a Christian, so I checked that box.” Biblically, repentance is not a checkbox — it’s a rhythm.

[SLIDE] Repentance is a daily turning back to God.

IMagine a compass. Like an actual one, not one of our phones. If you’re trying to follow a compass that is even just one degree off and you keep walking, you’ll end up miles from where you intended to go. Repentance is God’s gift that keeps re-aligning our hearts toward him.

And that’s why John called Israel into the water. He was saying: “You can’t just rely on your religious background. You can’t just coast on being part of Abraham’s family. Every single one of you has to come face-to-face with your sin, turn from it, and turn back toward God.”

That was offensive to many Jews at the time, because baptism was usually for Gentile converts. For John to say that Israel itself needed to repent and be baptized? That was radical. It was like saying: “You may think you’re in in your identity as Isaraelites, but you need the same turning around as outsiders.”

Repentance, turning from our sin and back to God, is still the entry point into the life of Jesus, and it never stops being the rhythm that keeps us close to him.

This is the pattern we see all through the Old Testament. God rescues his people, they worship for a little while, and then — they wander off. They get distracted, or proud, or idolatrous, and God sends prophets to call them back. Over and over, the rhythm of the Israelite’s life with God was rescue, wandering, repentance, restoration.

What Joh is doing here isn’t inventing something new — he’s calling God’s people back into the rhythm they’ve always needed of humble repentance and daily dependence.

And let’s be honest: we need that rhythm too. I don’t know about you, but I get off track al the time. I don’t usually wake up in the morning saying, “You know what I want to do today? Sin boldly against God, choose my way over His over and over again.” I wake up and immediately begin stressing over my day. Or I snap at someone I love because I’m distracted in my own thoughts and not living in the present moment. Or I get so wrapped up in my to-do list that I don’t actually invite God into my schedule until the day is almost over.

Anybody else? Or is it just me?

That’s why repentance isn’t just for the “big sins.” It’s a daily rhythm. It’s the practice of noticing when my heart has drifted, and turning back to God — again and again. And again friends this isn’t meant to be some kind of check-list, something we just do to earn anything. Jesus is the Good news, we’ll see this as we walk through his story. We’re invited to live in the story of the good news built on a system of supports that reminds us who and whose we are.

In fact, Martin Luther said in the very first of his 95 Theses that “all of the Christian life is repentance.” It’s not just the front door of the faith; it’s the living room, the kitchen, the whole house.

As we begin to build a rule of life, a set of rhythms, as we begin to structure our lives around prayer, Scripture, Sabbath, and all the other rhythms of Jesus, we have to start here: humbly turning back to God, every single day.

And here’s the beauty: repentance doesn’t make God love us, it’s not about earning anything. Repentance opens us up to receive the love God already has for us. It keeps our hearts soft, teachable, and tender.

So here’s a practice you might try this week: end each day with a simple prayer of examen. Just a few quiet minutes asking,

“Where did I notice God’s presence today?”

“Where did I resist him?”

Here is a QR code to an examen if you’d like to listen to one. This is a simple and helpful practice we can all engage with right now for just five minutes. I’d like to ask all of us if we might consider trying this out once or twice this week. When you came in, you received a sheet taht include this and a few other ideas to get started this week. Let’s go slow though, friends. There’s a reason I asked us to consider doing this once or twice this week. Because this isn’t about checking off a list, it’s about building a deeper connection slowly and building up habits takes time and intetionality. Deal?

Next: let’s take a look at Jesus getting baptized.

Baptism & Identity: Living from the Father’s Love (Mark 1:9–11)

And then it happens. Jesus himself enters the water.

Think about that. God incarnate — the eternal Son, the sinless one — humbly steps into the Jordan River alongside everybody else. If there’s anyone who doesn’t need baptism, it’s Jesus. And here he is, going under the water, identifying fully with us, with our weakness, with our humanity. This is Emmanuel — God with us — fully God and fully human.

Vereses 9-11 Mark 1:9–11 “At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.””

Notice the order. Jesus hasn’t started any kind of pubic ministry yet. We don’t know much about the first 30 years of his life. Before Jesus does a single miracle, before he preaches a single sermon, before he calls a single disciple, the Father declares: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

Identity Before Activity

Jesus begins his ministry not with striving, but with receiving love. This isn’t how we write epic stories, is it? WE imagine the Messiah coming in some big way, doing some epic kind of action. We imagine ministry beginning with action: Jesus healing someone, sharing a mic drop sermon, walking on water, and then hear the Father’s applause. That’s how our culture works: you earn your approval. You prove yourself.

[SLIDE] Our culture says: “You are what you do.” The Father says: “You are my kid, and I really love you.”

Can you imagine how different our lives would be if we actually lived like that? If the first voice we listened to every morning wasn’t the email inbox, or the performance review at work, or the mirror in the bathroom, but the Father saying: “You are mine. You are loved. You bring me joy — just because you exist.”

Is this how we live? I don’t know about you, but I tend to live like: “I’m God’s beloved… as long as I don’t mess it up.”

It’s like the Father’s voice says: “You are my beloved child…” and then I imagine a little asterisk at the bottom: “Offer not valid if you lose your patience while driving, forget your kid’s lunch, or binge Netflix instead of praying.”

Jesus hadn’t done anything yet. The Father’s voice of love wasn’t a paycheck he earned — it was the foundation he lived from.

And if we belong to Jesus, the same is true for us. The Father says over our lives: “You are my son. You are my daughter. I love you. And I’m pleased with you.”

This has been one of the hardest lessons for me to actually live. For years in ministry, I would start my day by grabbing my laptop and checking emails. It was like I was asking the world: “Tell me who I am today. Am I needed? Am I useful? Am I successful? Who’s mad at me? Where do I need to clean up a mess or make amends?”

But slowly, God’s been teaching me to start my mornings differently. Before I look at anyone else’s expectations, I sit quietly for a few minutes and let God remind me: “You’re my beloved. Before you preach a sermon. Before you write an email. Before you succeed or fail. Before you do a thing. You are mine, and I love you.”

And I’ll be honest — on the days when I forget that, I usually end up frenzied, anxious, and cranky. But on the days when I begin with the Father’s voice, the whole day feels different. It’s like I’m not scrambling to become someone; I’m just living out of who I already am. And I’d love to say this is just something that happens in the moring but I’m a slow learner. This kind of practice is something I have to return to over and over again. Yes, it begins with starting ym day a certain way. But a rhythm of relationship requires pushing aside the to do list even for just a few minutes when I notice the frantic pace, the stress, the worry, the fear… and plugging back in.

Practice

So here’s a practice you might try this week:

When you wake up, before you rush into the day, pause for just 30 seconds. Put your feet on the floor, take a breath, and imagine the Father speaking over you the same words he spoke over Jesus:

“You are my son… you are my daughter… whom I love. With you I am well pleased.”

Let your day begin with identity, not performance.

Because if Jesus needed to begin there, so do we.

The Wilderness: Trusting God in Testing (Mark 1:12–13)

So Jesus comes out of the water, dripping wet, fresh from this incredible mountaintop moment of hearing the Father’s love.

And what happens next? Do the heavens part again? Does he get a parade? A ministry launch party? Nope.

Verses 12-13 Mark 1:12–13 “At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.”

That’s it. No details. And we do find some additional details in the accounts in Matthew 4 and Luke 4 about what some of this time looked like. It feels like from a high high to a low low. What we see here is baptism, belovedness, wilderness.

From Mountaintop to Wilderness

Have you ever noticed how quickly life can turn? One moment you’re riding high — things are going well, you feel close to God — and the next moment you’re in a desert season, in a pit, in a dark cave, wondering what on earth happened?

Jesus knows that experience. He goes straight from the waters of baptism into the wilderness of testing.

And here’s the surprising thing: it’s the Spirit who sends him there. Not the devil. Not bad luck. The Spirit of God.

Apparently the wilderness is part of the way God forms us.

Back in Exodus, the Israelites wandered forty years in the wilderness; Jesus goes forty days. Where Israel failed, grumbling and turning to idols, Jesus remains faithful. Jesus didn’t immediately head out into ministry, he needed out into solitude.

It’s like Jesus is rewriting Israel’s story — and ours. He shows us that the wilderness doesn’t have to mean failure; it can become a place of deeper dependence on God.

But wilderness seasons don’t usually feel holy, do they? They just feel hard.

It’s like when your car breaks down the week your kid needs braces. Or when you finally decide to pray more and suddenly you can’t stay awake past 9:00 p.m. Or when you’ve had a great spiritual retreat, and the next day you’re yelling at your family in the kitchen.

The wilderness is where all the illusions get stripped away. You can’t fake it there. You learn whether you really trust God or just the good feelings that come when things are easy.

I can think of a season in my life when I felt like I was in the wilderness. Everything felt dry. My prayers felt like they were bouncing off the ceiling. And I remember thinking: “God, did I do something wrong? Did you leave me? Where are you?”

But over time I realized — God hadn’t abandoned me. He was actually teaching me to rely less on feelings and more on his presence. My roots were going deeper, even though on the surface everything looked barren.

So maybe here’s the invitation:

When we find yourself in a wilderness season — and if you haven’t been there yet, it’ll come eventually — whether it’s spiritual dryness, financial stress, relational strain — instead of assuming God has left us, we get to pause and ask:

“What deeper trust might God be forming in me here?” We can maybe even make it a breath prayer. As you inhale: “Lord, you are with me.” As you exhale: “Even in the wilderness.”

Because if Jesus met God there — so can we.

The Kingdom as the Big Picture (Mark 1:14–15)

So Jesus comes out of the waters of baptism, he’s affirmed as God’s beloved Son, he’s tested in the wilderness… and then Mark tells us what happens next:

“After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. ‘The time has come,’ he said. ‘The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!’”

This is Jesus’ very first sermon. Short, simple, and straight to the point: The time has come. The kingdom of God is here. Repent and believe.

Notice how it ties everything together we’ve just talked about:

Repent — we’ve already seen this with John. It’s not a one-time moment, it’s a rhythm. Turning daily, letting go of sin, re-orienting toward God.

Believe — not just believing ideas in your head, but entrusting your life to this reality that God’s reign, God’s rule, God’s kingdom is actually breaking in here and now.

And it’s urgent — “the time has come.” This isn’t some far-off hope, this is today.

And that’s really what a Rule of Life is all about. It’s not just about adding some spiritual disciplines to your calendar so you can feel like a better Christian. It’s about arranging your life to stay awake to this kingdom reality.

Because the kingdom is already happening. The question is: are we tuned in to it?

It’s like when you’re driving and your favorite song comes on the radio, but you’re so distracted with directions or a text message at the stoplight that you don’t even notice until halfway through the chorus. (That’s happened to me more than once!) The song was playing the whole time… I just wasn’t awake to it.

The kingdom of God is like that. Jesus says, “It’s near. It’s here. The time has come.” The invitation is: will we arrange our lives so that we don’t miss it? There are so many things vying for our time and attention, disraction is a clikc away constantly. How might we be invited to be present with what God is up to here and now?

This is why repentance matters. It’s why belovedness matters. That’s why wilderness trust matters. Because together, those rhythms form a life that’s awake to the reality of the kingdom.

Or to put it simply: the Rule of Life is just a way of saying, “I don’t want to miss God’s kingdom when it shows up.”

A Rule of Life: Walking in the Way of Jesus

So do you notice the rhythm forming in Mark’s opening chapter?

First, Repentance. John the Baptist calls us to turn from the old and step into new life. That’s where a rule of life begins — not with perfection, but with humility. Daily returning, daily realigning.

Then, Belovedness. Before Jesus does a single miracle, he hears the Father’s voice: “You are my Son, whom I love.” This is the foundation. Not striving. Not proving. Just receiving.

And then, the Wilderness. Life gets hard, faith gets tested. But it’s in the wilderness that our trust deepens, where our identity gets anchored. Not because it feels easy, but because God is present even there.

This is the pattern of the Christian life. Repentance. Belovedness. Wilderness. And then again — repentance, belovedness, wilderness. Over and over. It’s not just the opening of Mark’s Gospel; it’s the rhythm of following Jesus.

You know what this reminds me of? It’s kind of like doing laundry. (Stay with me.)

You wash the clothes (repentance), you fold them neatly and put them away (belovedness — everything’s in its right place), and then two days later it’s all dirty again (wilderness). And the cycle repeats.

But just like laundry, the point isn’t to escape the cycle; it’s to stay faithful in it. The rhythms shape us over time.

A Final Invitation

So as we begin this journey through Mark, the invitation isn’t just: “What do I think about Jesus?”

It’s: “How can I arrange my life to follow this rhythm — daily turning, daily receiving, daily trusting?”

That’s what a Rule of Life is — not a set of rules to keep, but a pattern of living that keeps us close to Jesus.

And if we walk in these rhythms, then like those first disciples, our lives begin to look more and more like his.

But let’s start small and slow. I know this section has a lot packed in it and shows us multiple rythms to enagage and if we’re not careful here, this can turn into an ocerhwled to do list. This is meant to be slow, inteiontal work. Wherever we find oursleves, if we already have an amazing Rule of Life, how might God be inviting us to add some additional flavoring into it? And if we’re just getting started, what’s one thing, like an examen, we can try this week? If you have the handout, you can take a look at that, I’d like to encourage you to take a moment to consider, we’ll put some ideas up on a slide. Again, this isn’t meant to be another item to add onto your already overloaded schedule. It’s meant to breathe new life into you. When Jesus came back from the wilderness, some amazing things happened as he naturally began to share the message God had placed in his heart. How ight a shift, ever so slightly this week, begin to produce a beautiful green bud of new life in your own life that the people in our ordinary spaces get to watch flourish?

Ministry Time

identity before activity: where are we finding who we are in what we do?

submitting our lives to Jesus, for the first time or recommiting

Today, the invitation is to begin building your trellis — your personal rule of life.

Start small: a daily rhythm of repentance, a morning rhythm of receiving God’s love, a simple rhythm of solitude.

As we journey through Mark together, we’re going to keep noticing Jesus’ rhythms and trying them on ourselves.

Closing

Mark’s gospel is fast-paced — but don’t rush past this beginning.

Repentance, identity, solitude, dependence — these are the very rhythms that shaped Jesus’ life.

And they are the rhythms that can shape yours.