“Christ, Not Shadows”

Ever buy a ‘deal’ that cracked under pressure—a knock-off tool, an online part that ‘almost’ fit? Looked right on the label. Failed the first use.

We all know the frustration of confusing a substitute for the real. In West Texas, picture a pump jack’s shadow at sunset—long, impressive. But that shadow can’t pull a drop from the ground. The shadow points to something real, but it can’t actually do the work.

That’s Paul’s picture in Colossians 2: shadows of religion versus the substance—Christ. The believers in Colossae were being pressured to live by shadows—religious rules, rituals, and appearances that looked holy but had no power to change the heart. And Paul says, don’t trade the substance for the shadow. Don’t cling to what looks religious when Christ himself is the reality.

Here’s where it gets close to home. We may not be tempted to keep Jewish food laws or religious festivals, but we know the pull of shadows.

For some, the shadow is rule-keeping—‘I check the boxes, so I’m good.’

For others, the shadow is image—‘If folks think I’m solid, I must be.’

For others, the shadow is experience—‘If I feel a moment, I’m secure.’

But Paul says those things are only shadows. They may look safe, they may feel impressive, but they can’t save, they can’t transform, and they can’t hold you steady. Shadows are empty if they aren’t anchored in Christ.

Here’s the danger: shadows can numb you. You can feel busy with God and still be drifting from Christ. They can give you the illusion of depth without the reality of Christ.

So here’s the question we’ve got to wrestle with:

Are we living in the shadow, or in the substance?

Are we clinging to rules, rituals, and appearances, or to Christ himself?

So Paul starts here: Christ—not legalism—defines your standing with God.

Colossians 2:16–17 ESV

Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.

Christ, not legalism, defines your standing with God

Paul is speaking into a very real pressure the Colossian believers were facing. False teachers were saying, “If you really want to be spiritual, you need to keep certain rules. You need to follow the old Jewish calendar. You need to avoid certain foods. You need to observe holy days.” In other words they were saying: ‘Jesus is good—but not enough. Add rules.’ That’s the lie.

Paul says: don’t let anyone judge you by that. Why? Because those things were shadows. They weren’t bad in themselves. God gave the dietary laws, the festivals, the Sabbath—all of them pointed forward. They were meant to cast a shadow that would one day reveal the substance. And the substance is Christ.

Think of it like this: when you’re waiting at the airport for someone you love to walk off the plane, you might see their shadow first as they round the corner. The shadow tells you they’re close. But when they step into view, do you hug the shadow? Of course not—you embrace the person. The shadow served its purpose, but it’s not the substance.

That’s what Paul is saying here. Don’t hug the shadow. Don’t cling to rules when Christ himself has come. Your standing with God is not based on what you eat, what days you observe, or how well you check religious boxes. It’s based on Christ—and Christ alone.

Here in Midland, many of you know the difference between paperwork and possession. If you’re buying land or closing on a house, you may get stacks of documents—contracts, lien releases, title deeds. They matter. But all of them point to the real thing: ownership. You wouldn’t frame the paperwork and never move in. You’d step into the house, because that’s the point.

In the same way, all the Old Testament rules and rituals were paperwork pointing to Christ. But once Christ has come, you don’t need to keep clinging to the paperwork. You live in the reality.

Here’s the danger for us: we may not feel pressure to keep Jewish festivals, but legalism is alive and well in West Texas.

It shows up when we say, ‘Dress like this to be spiritual.’

When we think, ‘I checked Sunday off; God’s happy now.’

When we compare, ‘At least I’m better than them.’

Legalism creeps in any time we ground our standing with God in what we do, instead of what Christ has already done.

And Paul says: Don’t let anyone judge you by that. Don’t let legalism define your relationship with God. Your hope is not in how perfectly you keep rules, but in how completely Christ has saved you.

Loved ones, that should set you free. Some of you live under the constant weight of “never enough.” Never read enough, never prayed enough, never served enough. The enemy loves to use legalism to make you feel like God’s love is always just out of reach.

But hear the gospel: Christ is enough. The cross was sufficient. Your standing with God rests not on your performance but on Jesus’ perfection.

So let me ask you: are you clinging to shadows—or to the substance? Are you measuring your faith by outward checklists—or by inward trust in Christ?

Don’t hug the shadow. Hold on to Christ.

Paul turns the diamond: another counterfeit sparkles—mysticism.

Colossians 2:18–19 ESV

Let no one disqualify you, insisting on asceticism and worship of angels, going on in detail about visions, puffed up without reason by his sensuous mind, and not holding fast to the Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God.

Christ, Not Mysticism, Is the Source of Spiritual Life

The false teachers in Colossae were selling an upgrade package to Christianity. They said: “If you want the deeper life, if you really want to be spiritual, you need mystical experiences—visions, angels, hidden knowledge.” Ordinary Christians, in their eyes, were JV players. The truly spiritual people had “seen” something others hadn’t.

Paul says: don’t buy it. Why? Because those experiences, however flashy, are disconnected from Christ. They might impress people. They might feel thrilling. But they don’t actually connect you to God. They puff up the mind, but they don’t nourish the soul.

It’s like confusing a good fireworks show for real light. On July 4th, fireworks light up the Midland sky—bright, loud, unforgettable. But they last a few seconds and then fade. They can’t give light to live by. For that, you need the sun.

Mystical experiences can feel explosive. They may even stir deep emotions. But Paul says they’re fireworks—Christ is the sun. He’s the steady, daily light and warmth our souls actually need.

This temptation to settle for less shows up today in a few ways:

Some Christians chase emotional highs. They measure their spiritual health by whether worship “feels powerful” or whether they’ve had a fresh “experience.” But Paul says spiritual depth isn’t measured by goosebumps—it’s measured by staying connected to Christ.

Others look for secret insight. Whether it’s a fringe teaching on YouTube, a dream, or a new “prophetic word,” they want something “beyond” Scripture. But Paul says the fullness of God’s wisdom is in Christ—and Christ is revealed in the Word.

Still others seek intermediaries. In Colossae, it was angels. Today, it might be celebrity teachers, “spiritual influencers,” or even personal heroes. But Paul says Christ is the Head—we don’t need go-betweens.

Paul gives a powerful image. He says the false teachers are “not holding fast to the Head.” Who’s the Head? Christ. The church is his body, joined together, nourished, strengthened, growing—but only if we stay connected to him.

Cut a limb off from the head—it can’t live. Detach a Christian from Christ—and activity continues, but life doesn’t.

Loved ones, don’t confuse mystical flashes with spiritual growth. Christ is the source. He’s not a step on the ladder to God—he’s the whole ladder. He’s not the appetizer—he’s the meal. He’s not the warm-up act—he’s the main event.

So let me ask: are you holding fast to Christ, or chasing shadows of experience? Do you measure your walk with God by your feelings, your visions, your influencers—or by your connection to Jesus, the Head?

Paul says real growth comes “from God,” through Christ. And that growth shows up in the whole body—knit together in love, nourished by the Word, strengthened by the Spirit.

That’s the heartbeat: Christ, not mysticism, is the source of spiritual life.

Paul drops the hammer with a question…

Colossians 2:20–23 ESV

If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations— “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.

Christ, Not Asceticism, Brings True Transformation

Here’s the big idea: external rules can control behavior for a while, but they can’t change the heart. The Colossians were being told, “Real holiness is about what you don’t touch, don’t eat, don’t enjoy.” It looked serious. It sounded holy. But Paul says: it doesn’t work. It’s powerless against sin.

Crash diets can shrink the number without changing the appetite. Self-denial can restrain sin; only Christ can remove it.

Paul says that’s what legalistic rules do. They might suppress sin temporarily, but they don’t stop it. They can’t touch the root.

We don’t use the word much, but we practice asceticism whenever we believe:

“If I avoid all the bad stuff, I’ll be holy.”

“If I’m strict enough, I’ll finally conquer sin.”

“If I’m miserable, I must be closer to God.”

That’s self-made religion. It confuses self-denial with Christ-denial. It puts the focus on human effort instead of Christ’s finished work.

Paul’s point is blunt: asceticism looks wise but is worthless. It can’t stop sin. Why? Because sin isn’t just in our hands or stomachs—it’s in our hearts. And only Christ can give a new heart.

He says: “If with Christ you died… why do you still live as if you belong to the old world?” In other words: If Christ already set you free, why would you crawl back under rules that can’t save? If Christ gave you life, why act like you’re still dead?

True transformation doesn’t come from “don’t handle, don’t taste.” It comes from dying with Christ and rising with him. His death cuts off sin’s claim on you. His resurrection gives you new life and new desires.

Loved ones, rules can’t make you holy. Only Jesus can. Disciplines like fasting, giving, and self-control are good—if they point you to Christ. But if they become the main thing, they’re just shadows.

Holiness isn’t avoiding life; it’s abiding in Christ. Real transformation doesn’t come from gritting your teeth—it comes from surrendering your heart.

So let me ask: are you trying to fight sin with rules, or with Christ? Are you leaning on “don’t touch, don’t taste,” or are you leaning on Jesus, who died and rose for you?

Here’s the truth: only Christ has the power to crucify old desires and raise new ones. Only Christ can make dead hearts alive. Only Christ can transform you from the inside out.

That’s the heartbeat: Christ, not asceticism, brings true transformation.

So what do we do with all of this? Paul has been clear: the Colossians didn’t need diets, holy days, visions, or rules to add to Jesus. And you don’t either. In Christ you already have fullness, forgiveness, and victory.

But if we’re honest, every one of us is tempted to chase shadows.

Some of us lean toward religious shadows. We may not celebrate Old Testament festivals, but we can fall into the trap of thinking church attendance, moral effort, or ministry activity makes us acceptable before God. And when we miss a Sunday or stumble in a sin, we feel condemned—as though Christ’s cross wasn’t enough. But loved ones, hear this:

Don’t chase shadows—hold fast to Christ.

Others lean toward mystical shadows. We long for spiritual fireworks, and we can start to feel like God is far away unless we’ve had a goosebump experience. But Christ is the Head—he is near, whether you feel it or not.

Still others lean toward rule-based shadows. We think stricter boundaries will finally break the cycle of sin. And yes, self-control matters. But rules alone can’t crucify the flesh. Only Christ can.

So let me make this practical for us here in Midland.

At work: Don’t let success or failure on the job determine your worth. Success and promotions don’t justify. Jesus does. Stay rooted in him.

At home: don’t chase the Christmas-card version of your family. Be knit in love, not polished for likes.

At church: routines help, but Christ is the point. If the routine replaces Christ, it’s a shadow.

Here’s how you hold fast to Christ this week:

Sink into Scripture. 10 unhurried minutes with Jesus before the inbox.

Stay close to the body. One prayer with a believer before you leave campus today.

Shift your gratitude. Three Christ-centered thank-you’s before bed.

And let me say this to someone who’s weary: you don’t have to chase shadows anymore. You don’t need to prove yourself. You don’t need to add to Christ. He is enough. The fullness of God dwells in him, and you are filled in him.

So church family, let’s leave behind the shadows. Let’s not measure our faith by rules, rituals, or appearances. Let’s measure it by whether we’re holding fast to Christ.

Here’s the bottom line: Don’t chase shadows—hold fast to Christ.

Loved ones, let’s step back and take this in. Shadows always point to something greater. The shadow of a mesquite tree points to the tree itself. The shadow of a pump jack at sunset points to the machine that’s still moving in the field. Shadows are real—but they are never the substance.

Paul says all those rules, rituals, and regulations were shadows. They pointed to something greater. And that “something” is actually a Someone—Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

The festivals pointed to his work on the cross. The sacrifices pointed to his once-for-all death. The Sabbath pointed to the rest he gives our souls. The visions and mystical experiences pointed to his very presence. The rules pointed to the holiness that only he can create within us.

And here’s the good news: the Substance has come. Christ is here.

That means you don’t have to live in the shadows anymore. You don’t have to keep trying to prove yourself with religion. You don’t have to chase experiences or checklists to feel secure. Christ is enough.

Let me press in: The King of the universe saw you in your sin. He knew the record of debt against you was long and undeniable. And yet he came down, lived without sin, died in your place, and rose again to triumph over sin, death, and the devil.

At the cross, your debt was nailed there. Paid in full. At the empty tomb, your hope was secured. Christ is alive. He is the Head. He is supreme. He is Savior. He is Lord. And he is inviting you not into shadows, but into his very life.

Think of it this way: imagine trying to hug the shadow of a loved one instead of the person themselves. That’s what it’s like to cling to religion, rituals, or rules instead of Christ. But today you can embrace him—the real Savior, not the shadow.

And when you do, everything changes. You are forgiven. You are filled. You are free. That’s what Paul wants you to know. That’s what I want you to experience.

So how do we respond? Paul doesn’t just write theology for us to admire. He writes truth that demands a response.

First, if you have never trusted Christ, today is your day. Don’t keep clinging to shadows. Don’t keep chasing substitutes that can’t hold the weight of your soul. Jesus Christ has done everything necessary for your salvation. He bore your sin. He canceled your debt. He triumphed over your enemies.

If you’ve never trusted Christ, this is your moment. Pray from your heart: “Lord Jesus, I believe you died for my sins and rose again. I turn from my sin and self-rule. Forgive me. Take my life. Make me yours. You are my Savior and Lord.” Then tell someone before you leave—and take your next step in baptism, declaring to the world that you are buried with Christ and raised with him to new life. Shadows can’t do that. Only Christ can.

Believer, trade the shadow for the Substance again today. Say: ‘Christ, you are my life. I hold fast to you.’ Then practice it this week:

Personally: Each morning, pray: “Jesus, I choose to hold fast to you today.” Name the shadow that tempts you—success, comfort, image, rules—and lay it down.

Relationally: Encourage someone else to stay close to Christ. Ask them: “What’s pulling at your heart right now?” Pray for them. Be a ligament that holds the body together.

Publicly: If you’ve trusted Christ but never been baptized, take that step. Don’t let fear or hesitation hold you back. Baptism isn’t a shadow—it’s your public ‘I belong to Jesus.’ If today you trust him, come to the front or see any one of us here after the service—we’ll set your baptism date today.

And for all of us: remember the bottom line. Paul’s message, my message, our mission—it’s simple but life-changing:

Don’t chase shadows—hold fast to Christ.

That’s how we will be a church that lives out our mission: helping people become more like Christ. Not by adding rules, rituals, or substitutes, but by holding on to him—the real Savior, the true substance, the One who is supreme.

So let’s not leave here chasing shadows. Let’s leave here clinging to Christ, full of gratitude, full of faith, and full of hope.

Church family, say it with me one more time: Don’t chase shadows—hold fast to Christ.