Gospel-Centered

Core Values: Wk.1

Good morning, church. If you have your Bible—and I hope you do—go ahead and grab it and make your way to Colossians chapter 1.

We’re starting a brand-new series today called The Church: Core Values, and here’s the heartbeat behind it: we don’t want to just do church—we want to be the kind of church Jesus actually died to create.

We don’t just want to be a church that people enjoy attending. We don’t just want a church that feels familiar or comfortable. We don’t even just want a church that’s busy and active. We want to be the kind of church Jesus actually died to create.

Think about that for a moment. Jesus did not go to the cross so we could gather once a week, sing a few songs, hear a message, and then return to life as usual. He didn’t shed His blood to produce an organization or maintain a religious routine. He gave His life to redeem a people—to reconcile sinners to God and to one another—to form a body that would live under His lordship and for His glory.

And church, that’s not just theology—that’s what we’re getting to witness today. For the second week in a row, at the end of this service, we’re going to celebrate baptism. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a visible reminder that the gospel is not just something we talk about—it’s something God is still doing. Lives are being changed. Dead hearts are being made alive. Sinners are being reconciled to God through Jesus Christ.

Baptism doesn’t save anyone—but it boldly declares that salvation has already taken place. It’s a picture of death to the old life and resurrection to new life in Christ. And it’s exactly why we’re starting this series where we are—because when a church is truly gospel-centered, the gospel doesn’t stay on the page. It is lived out.

So before we talk about methods or ministries, before we talk about structures or strategies, we’re going to look at Jesus—because everything begins and ends with Him.

The church is not a human invention. It’s not built on charisma, creativity, or clever leadership. The church exists because Jesus purchased it with His blood. Which means He gets to define it. He gets to set the priorities. He gets to determine what matters most.

And that’s why this series matters. Because if we’re not careful, churches can slowly drift. Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just subtly. The gospel can move from the center to the edge. Jesus can go from being the focus to being the assumption. And eventually, we can be doing a lot of church things without being deeply shaped by the gospel that gave birth to the church in the first place.

We can gather together and it be more social club then learning God’s Word, and learning how to live on God’s way, while advancing God’s mission.

So before we talk about methods, before we talk about ministries, before we talk about mission, we have to ask: Is Jesus still at the center of everything we are and everything we do? Because when the gospel is at the center, it shapes how we worship, how we serve, how we love one another, how we endure suffering, and how we engage the world.

Voddie Baucham once said— It is vital that we get the gospel right, because if we don’t, there are people out there, including ourselves, who will be fooled into thinking they are right with God, when in fact they are at enmity with God.

Notice he says— “It is vital that we get the gospel right…”—not mostly right, not close enough, not well-intended. Right. Because when the gospel is wrong, the danger isn’t just confusion—the danger is deception.

And here’s the scary part: people can sincerely believe they are right with God… and still be wrong.

You can be in church. You can know the language. When to raise your hand in worship, when to say Amen. You can clean up your behavior. You can serve, give, attend, and agree with all the right things—

—and still be at enmity with God.

Why? Because the gospel isn’t about what we do for God. It’s about what God has done for us in Christ. And the moment we shift our confidence—even a little—from Jesus to ourselves, from the cross to our performance, from grace to effort, we are no longer standing on the gospel. We’re standing on sand.

Jerry Vines- Lot of people are going to miss heaven by 18 inches.

That’s why this matters so much. A watered-down gospel doesn’t usually send people running away from church—it keeps them sitting in the pew convinced they’re safe when they’re not. It creates a false peace. A false assurance. A Christianity without repentance. A salvation without a Savior.

The modern church is producing passionate people with empty heads who love the Jesus they don’t know very well.

That’s why we’re starting here. Not because it’s the easiest value. Not because it’s the most familiar. But because it’s the most foundational. Everything begins and ends with Jesus.

And that’s why we’re diving into Colossians 1 this morning.

Colossians 1:15–20 is widely considered by scholars to be one of the earliest Christian creeds—a confession of faith the early church used to declare who Jesus is.

Its just a statement of belief. What makes me laugh is that some churches, don’t believe in creeds. The restoration movement— a lot of those churches for Christ. Their saying is no creed but the Bible...which is a creed. and the Bible has creeds in it. Like Colossians 1:15-20.

Before we read it, there are a few things you need to know about this letter.

First, Paul writes Colossians from prison. One of many. He wasn’t locked up because he was violent or reckless. He was imprisoned because he refused to stop proclaiming one simple, dangerous truth: Jesus is Lord—and He is risen from the dead. That confession cost Paul his freedom, his comfort, and eventually his life. But he never backed down.

Second, Paul had never actually met the Colossians. This church wasn’t planted by him directly. It was planted by a brother named Epaphras—a faithful man who had come to faith through Paul’s ministry and then carried the gospel back to his hometown. And at some point, Epaphras shows up to visit Paul in prison and says, “The church is growing… but there are some things that worry me.”

Which leads to the third thing you need to know: this is a straightforward letter, but Paul has two major concerns on his heart.

The first is this: the believers in Colossae were beginning to let the culture around them reshape their understanding of God. Jesus hadn’t been rejected outright—but He had been reduced. He was being treated as important, but not supreme. Helpful, but not sufficient. One voice among many, instead of the Lord over all.

And the second concern is almost personal. The Colossians were confused—and maybe even shaken—by Paul’s suffering. They were asking the question many believers eventually ask: “If Paul is really God’s messenger, why does his life look like this? Why all the pain? Why all the hardship? Why all the prison?”

So Paul writes to do two things.

First, he wants to correct their view of God—not by starting with behavior, but by lifting their eyes to Christ. Before he tells them what to do, he shows them who Jesus is.

And second, he wants to explain why suffering and sacrifice are not signs of gospel failure—but often the very evidence of gospel faithfulness. Paul wants them to understand why he is willing to suffer for Christ—and why, if Jesus truly is who Paul says He is, they should be willing to do the same.

So before Paul addresses false teaching… Before he talks about Christian living… Before he talks about endurance and obedience…

He gives them Jesus.

Because when you see Christ clearly, everything else comes into focus.

The city of Colossae was a fascinating place. It was a prosperous city tucked into a valley in what we would call modern-day Turkey. It sat at a cultural crossroads—busy, diverse, influential. And like most Roman cities, it was deeply religious.

But Roman religion came with a couple of ground rules.

Rule number one: You can worship any god you want. Rome was remarkably tolerant when it came to religion. New gods, old gods, imported gods—no problem.

Rule number two: Just don’t say your god is the only god. Because the moment you claim exclusivity, you create conflict. And conflict threatens power. And Rome was very clear about one thing—Rome was in charge.

So Colossae was filled with temples and shrines to all kinds of gods. The spiritual atmosphere was basically, “Find what works for you.” Sample a little from here, borrow a little from there, and piece together a belief system that fits your life.

I like to call it Build-A-Bear theology—walk down the aisle, grab what feels good, skip what feels uncomfortable, and assemble a god that keeps you happy and prosperous.

And here’s the problem: that mindset didn’t stay outside the church.

That culture seeped in.

The believers in Colossae never rejected Jesus outright. They just added to Him. They believed in Jesus… and rituals. Jesus… and spiritual practices. Jesus… and whatever else promised peace, protection, or prosperity.

It was a “Jesus and” mentality.

Jesus is good—but maybe not enough. Jesus saves—but let’s cover our bases. Jesus is Lord—but let’s supplement Him, just in case.

And that’s the danger, church. Because the most subtle threat to the gospel is not denial—it’s addition. The moment we add something to Jesus, we’re quietly saying that He is insufficient.

That is why we believe in Grace alone through Faith Alone inChrist alone.

RC Sproul put it this way “The gospel is the proclamation of the person and work of Jesus Christ and how those benefits can be applied to us by faith alone.”

In grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone according to Scripture alone for the glory of God alone.

but thats not what the church in Colossae was doing.

They didn’t throw Jesus away. They just reduced Him.

And we can never reduce Jesus and His works in any way. He must be high and lifted up.

So let us read Colossians 1:15-23 and dive into this.

Colossians 1:15–23 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. 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. 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.

Prayer

Church, let me just say this plainly: to fully explain Jesus is impossible. Our words fall short. Our minds reach their limit. And our hearts, even at their best, struggle to hold the weight of His glory.

But to ignore Jesus—that’s disastrous. To deny Him—that’s fatal.

That’s why this matters so much.

As I stand here preaching this morning, I’m aware of my own limitations. My speech is too small, my mind is too finite, and my heart is too limited to tell you everything I want to tell you about the Lord Jesus Christ. And yet, Paul gives us a sentence in Colossians 1 that says more than volumes ever could.

Colossians 1:19 ESV

For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,

That verse doesn’t just inform us—it anchors us.

It tells us that when you look at Jesus, you are not seeing part of God, or a glimpse of God, or a representative of God. You are seeing God in His fullness. Everything God is—His power, His holiness, His mercy, His authority—dwells fully in Jesus.

Which means Jesus is not meant to be merely prominent in your life. He is meant to be preeminent.

Jesus doesn’t just show us the way—He is the way. He doesn’t just give life—He is the life. He doesn’t just speak truth—He is the truth.

And that’s why Paul writes the way he does. He’s not giving the Colossians an abstract theology lesson. He’s rescuing them from shrinking Jesus down to something manageable, something supplemental, something they can add to the rest of their lives.

Paul is saying, “No—Jesus stands alone.”

So as we bring this message to a close, here’s what I want you to walk away with. There are three truths we’ve seen about Jesus today—not because we’ve exhausted who He is, but because these truths steady us and shape us.

Jesus is supreme over creation. Jesus is head of the church and reconciler of sinners. And Jesus is the fullness of God who brings us from alienation to reconciliation.

This is Jesus—the One and Only.

And once you see Him rightly, the only appropriate response is surrender. Not partial allegiance. Not casual interest. But full, joyful obedience.

That’s why being a gospel-centered church is not a slogan—it’s survival. Because when Jesus is everything, everything else finds its proper place.

Church, may God give us eyes to see Him clearly, hearts to treasure Him deeply, and lives that reflect His preeminence in all things.

1. Jesus Alone Reveals the Father.

Colossians 1:15–17

Paul begins by taking us straight to the highest possible place. Before he talks about the church, before he talks about behavior, before he talks about endurance, he shows us who Jesus is.

He says Jesus is “the image of the invisible God.”

Look at Colossians 1:15 where Paul says that Jesus is “the image of the invisible God.” That word image matters.

It’s the Greek word icon. It means exact representation. If you are using your Bible, I would underline that word image.

If you want to know what God is like, you don’t look inward, you don’t look at culture, and you don’t look at your preferences—you look at Jesus. He doesn’t just reflect God; He fully reveals God. He is God made visible in human form. What cannot be seen with our eyes is made known through Jesus.

Paul says the same thing again in Colossians 2:9: “For in Him the fullness of the Godhead dwells bodily.” When Scripture speaks of the Godhead, it’s referring to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. The Trinity. And all of that fullness dwells in Jesus.

Which means Jesus has complete authority when it comes to revealing God. You can know that God exists through creation and conscience. You can know about Him in a general sense. But the only way to truly know God as Father is through Jesus Christ.

Jesus alone reveals the Father.

You may want to jot this verse down in the margin of your Bible—Matthew 11:27. Listen to what Jesus says there.

He says that all things have been handed over to Him by the Father, and that no one truly knows the Son except the Father, and no one truly knows the Father except the Son—and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him.

That’s not commentary. That’s not interpretation. That’s Jesus speaking plainly.

And I want you to hear this clearly: what Jesus says there is either true or it isn’t. If that sounds narrow to you, don’t argue with me.

Just open your Bible and read Matthew 11:27 for yourself. Those are the words of Jesus.

Jesus is making an exclusive claim—that you cannot truly know God unless He reveals the Father to you. Apart from Christ, you may have ideas about God. You may sense that He exists. You may even try to worship Him. But without Jesus, you’re not worshiping the true and living God—you’re worshiping a god shaped by your own assumptions.

Jesus is saying, “If you want to know the Father, I must introduce you.” And that’s why Christ alone is the image of the invisible God.

Now some people hear this and say, “That sounds narrow-minded.” And to that I respond—good. I am 100% narrow minded when it comes to Jesus.

There are actually a lot of things to be narrow-minded about.

I want my doctor to be narrow-minded when he writes a prescription. I don’t want him guessing. I want my pilot to be narrow-minded. I don’t want him experimenting with the landing gear. I want my banker to be narrow-minded when it comes to my account.

Truth, by its very nature, is narrow.

And when it comes to knowing God, Jesus is not one option among many. He is the image of the invisible God. He alone reveals the Father. There is no alternate route, no backup plan, no side door. The only way to truly know God is through the Lord Jesus Christ.

I love the story of Jesus going to the temple when He was twelve years old. I wish I could have been sitting quietly in a corner, just listening. There He is—this boy—surrounded by the wisest teachers and theologians of the day. They’re asking Him questions, amazed at His understanding.

They might have asked Him, “Son, how old are you?”

And if He had answered fully, He could have said, “On my mother’s side, I’m twelve. On my Father’s side, I’m older than my mother—and just as old as my Father.” Because there was never a time when Jesus was not. He has always been.

On His mother’s side, Jesus grew tired and thirsty. On His Father’s side, He created the oceans, the rivers, the lakes, and the springs—and later He would say, “I am the water of life. If anyone thirsts, come to Me and drink.”

On His mother’s side, He knew hunger. On His Father’s side, He fed the five thousand and said, “I am the bread of life.”

On His mother’s side, He lived in poverty and knew what it was to have no place to lay His head. On His Father’s side, He created the universe and owns the cattle on a thousand hills.

On His mother’s side, with a broken heart, He stood at the tomb of Lazarus and wept. On His Father’s side, He spoke into death itself and said, “Lazarus, come forth,” and a dead man walked out of the grave.

That’s who Jesus is.

Fully man. Fully God. The image of the invisible God.

And if that’s true—and it is—then Jesus doesn’t simply point us toward God. He is the way to God. To know Him is to know the Father. And apart from Him, we’re not discovering truth—we’re just guessing.

That’s why Christ alone stands at the center.

And then Paul says “By him all things were created… all things were created through him and for him.”

What does that actually mean?

Since he is the image of the invisible God, and fully God and fully man.

It means Jesus isn’t part of creation—He stands over it. The only uncreated being is God. Everything else that exists was created. So if everything that was created was created by Jesus, then Jesus Himself cannot be created. Because if Jesus were created, He would have had to create Himself—and that’s impossible.

So Paul’s logic is simple but airtight: Jesus created everything that was created. Therefore, Jesus is uncreated. Which means Jesus is God.

Scholars point out that Colossians 1 intentionally echoes Genesis 1. When Paul says all things were created through Jesus, he’s pointing back to creation itself—where God speaks and creation comes into being. John tells us that Jesus is the Word. Paul is saying the same thing here: Jesus wasn’t just present at creation—He was the active, creating force of it.

Then Paul uses a word that trips people up: “firstborn of all creation.”

Some read that and assume it means Jesus was the first thing God made. But that’s not how the word works. In Scripture, firstborn often refers not to time, but to position—status, authority, supremacy.

When I say my daughter is my firstborn, I mean she was born first. But biblically, the word goes deeper than that. It carries the idea of preeminence. We actually get the idea of a prototype from it.

Jesus is the prototype of creation—the template by which all things were made and the one for whom they exist. Creation wasn’t just made through Him; it was made for Him. Everything finds its meaning, purpose, and end in Christ.

And Paul reinforces this a few verses later when he calls Jesus “the firstborn from the dead.” Now, technically, Jesus wasn’t the first person ever raised from the dead. Others had been raised before Him. But Jesus is the firstborn of resurrection because He is the prototype—the pattern that all future resurrection will follow. His resurrection is not an exception; it’s the beginning.

Paul’s point is this: Jesus is not a piece of your life—He is the point of your life.

If all things were created by Him and for Him, then that includes you. Your life isn’t centered on your comfort, your success, or your plans—it’s centered on Christ. And a gospel-centered church is a church that aligns everything under His authority, joyfully and willingly.

Jesus is the power of creation. Jesus made everything. That little baby in Matthew 1 is the mighty God of Genesis 1. That little baby on His mother’s breast is the same God who created it all. That’s the reason I said that Jesus, when He was born, was older than His mother and as old as His Father. I don’t believe in evolution, not even a little bit.

When I was younger, I didn’t believe in evolution because the Bible taught otherwise. As I’ve gotten older, I’ll tell you this—I wouldn’t believe it even if I were an atheist. The idea that nothing, plus nobody, somehow equals everything just doesn’t hold up. Think about it for a moment.

Friend, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t say, “It all just happened,” and at the same time say you believe in Jesus. No—it didn’t just happen. He created it all. Scripture tells us plainly that all things were created by Him and for Him.

And if you reject creation by the Lord Jesus Christ, you don’t just have one problem—you have several.

First, you have a problem with Scripture. Because if you can’t trust the Bible when it tells you where you came from, how can you trust it when it tells you where you’re going? And church, we ought to be just as concerned—if not more so—about the destiny of the species as we are about the origin of the species. The real question isn’t just, “How did we get here?” The question is, “Where are you headed?”

But there’s another issue—and this one is even more serious.

If you remove Jesus as Creator, you eventually undermine Jesus as Savior. Because the same Scripture that tells us He made all things is the Scripture that tells us He redeems all things. If Jesus is not Lord over creation, then His authority over salvation begins to unravel.

You can’t pick and choose which parts of Christ you’ll accept. He is not just Redeemer—He is Creator. And the Jesus who made you is the same Jesus who alone can save you.

Which brings us right back to the heart of this message: Christ alone.

Muslims, Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and plenty of others will gladly tell you that Jesus was a great man. A great teacher. A powerful moral example. But the moment you say Jesus is God, the temperature changes. Sometimes sharply.

You want to know why?

Because there is something inherently threatening about Jesus being divine.

If Jesus is a created being—even a super-wise, super-powerful one—then you get to treat Him like a consultant. You can take His teachings, admire His example, and place Him neatly on the shelf next to other religious leaders. You get to decide what you accept and what you ignore.

But if Jesus is God, then everything changes.

If He’s God, He doesn’t advise—He commands. If He’s God, He doesn’t fit into your life—your life fits into Him. If He’s God, He isn’t one voice among many—He is the standard by which everything else is measured.

That’s why the claim is so offensive. Because a divine Jesus doesn’t just inform your life—He reorients it.

Paul says all things were created by Him and for Him. And church, that includes you.

You were created by Jesus—and you were created for Jesus. Let that sink in.

I wasn’t created for a church. I wasn’t created for a role or a title. I was created for Jesus.

Which means my primary purpose in life is not success, comfort, or applause—it’s to know Him, to discover His will, and to live it out.

and some people will say I want to live a life of freedom. Which means they just want to do what they want, when they want, without consequence. I just want to be happy.

and Sin feels like freedom until you try to stop.

And here’s the freeing truth: we will never find true fulfillment, and true freedom until we’re living for the One we were created for.

That’s what it means to be gospel-centered.

The gospel isn’t just how we get saved—it’s how we understand why we exist. When Jesus is Creator and Lord, life finally makes sense. Purpose becomes clear. And instead of asking Jesus to serve our plans, we joyfully surrender to His.

Because when you were made by Him and for Him, the most loving thing you can do is give Him everything.

2. Jesus alone is the Head of the church.

Colossians 1:18–20

Paul keeps climbing higher.

He says, “He is the head of the body, the church.” That word head matters. Jesus is not a consultant to the church. He’s not an honorary figurehead. He’s not the mascot we put on the sign. He is the source of life, direction, authority, and unity.

And here’s the key distinction: Jesus is not someone you put on a list of priorities. He’s the page on which all your priorities are written.

He’s in a class by Himself.

I sometimes think about it like this with my wife. I could say, “You’re at the top of my list of women.” And technically that sounds right—but it’s still wrong. Because she’s not competing on a list. She’s in a category of her own.

Even more so with Jesus.

You were created by Him and for Him. That means He can never be merely an important commitment in your life. He can never be one slice of the pie. He must be first.

Some translations say “preeminent.” That doesn’t just mean first in order—it means foundational. The center. The controlling reality. Everything else derives its meaning from Him.

Paul goes on to say that Jesus is not only the head of the church, but also the reconciler—that through the blood of His cross, God was pleased to reconcile all things to Himself.

That’s the gospel.

Jesus didn’t reconcile us by advice. He didn’t reconcile us by example. He reconciled us by sacrifice.

Which means the church is not built on shared preferences or common interests. The church is built on reconciled sinners, brought back to God by grace. And if reconciliation is at the heart of what Jesus has done for us, then reconciliation must shape how we live with one another.

Grace doesn’t just forgive—it transforms. The gospel doesn’t just save—it sends.

Now let me press this into real life.

Here’s my question for you in this season of our church: Does Jesus truly hold that preeminent position in your life—or is He simply one of many priorities?

In other words, is Jesus important to you… or is He first?

I recently saw a chart from NAMB and the Send Network that deeply disturbed me. It compared first-generation churches with second-generation churches.

What it showed is that when churches get established and settled, there’s a natural inertia that sets in.

and we aren’t a first generation or second generation church.

This church was initially formed in 1948. And we’ve been in this building since 1964.

The church has been around since before the Korean War, and the church building at this location has been around since JFK was assassinated so we’ve been around a minute.

What happens from a 1st generation church to a 2nd is...

They slowly move from mission to maintenance. From reckless faith to institutional comfort.

Here’s the contrast:

First-generation churches say, “Whatever it takes.” Second-generation churches say, “Only what I’m asked to do.”

First-generation churches assume personal responsibility. Second-generation churches assume someone else will handle it.

First-generation churches expect sacrifice. Second-generation churches expect comfort.

First-generation churches see problems and seek solutions. Second-generation churches see problems and complain.

First-generation churches dream about what could be. Second-generation churches see barriers and reasons to quit.

First-generation churches hear God’s voice firsthand and own the vision. Second-generation churches inherit the vision secondhand and question every decision.

First-generation churches step out with bold, reckless trust in God. Second-generation churches sit satisfied in the stability of the institution.

Church, that’s not a leadership issue. That’s a lordship issue.

Because when Jesus is truly the head—when He is preeminent—comfort is never king, safety is never ultimate, and maintenance is never the mission. The gospel that reconciled us calls us outward, calls us forward, and calls us to live lives marked by grace, courage, and obedience.

So the question before us is simple—but searching:

Is Jesus first… or just important?

Because a gospel-centered church doesn’t just believe the right things about Jesus—it orders everything around Him.

Church, it is time for us to regain first-generation faith. That’s what revitalization is really about.

Revitalization isn’t nostalgia. It’s not trying to go backward. It’s not wishing we could relive the “good old days.” Revitalization is asking God to do again what only He can do—through a people who are fully surrendered to Him.

As I’ve been praying through this season and asking the Lord what faithfulness looks like for us right now, I’ve had to admit something about myself. Much of what I enjoy here exists because of someone else’s bold, audacious faith. Long before I ever stood in this place, men and women prayed, gave, sacrificed, and trusted God so that this church could exist.

I’m standing in the fruit of faith I did not personally plant.

And as I’ve reflected on that, my mind has kept going back to Joshua. When Moses passed leadership to him, Joshua inherited incredible accomplishments—but he couldn’t inherit Moses’s faith. Moses’s faith brought the people to the edge of the Promised Land, but Joshua had to step forward with his own trust in God.

That’s the moment we’re in.

We honor the faith of the previous generation. We’re grateful for it. But we cannot live on it. Yesterday’s obedience cannot accomplish today’s mission. The Promised Land in front of us is not land—it’s people. And we will not reach them through borrowed faith.

We need to be a people marked by first-generation faith—showing the same courage, dependence, and obedience to God in our time.

3. Jesus alone is our Reconciliation.

Colossians 1:21–23

After lifting our eyes to who Jesus is—Creator, Lord, Head of the church—Paul brings all of that truth home in a very personal way.

He turns from the cosmic to the individual and says, “And you…”

Christianity is never just abstract theology. It’s personal. The gospel doesn’t stop at declaring who Christ is; it presses into who we were, what He has done, and who we now are because of Him.

Paul reminds the Colossians of their past, not to shame them, but to ground them in gratitude. He says they were once alienated from God and hostile in mind. That doesn’t mean they were constantly angry at God—it means their thinking, their desires, and the direction of their lives were oriented away from Him. Sin had created real separation. The issue wasn’t that they needed to try harder; it was that they needed to be reconciled.

And that’s where the heart of the gospel comes in.

Paul says, “But now He has reconciled you in His body of flesh by His death.” Reconciliation means that what was broken has been restored. The relationship severed by sin has been healed by grace. And this reconciliation didn’t happen in theory—it happened through the real, physical death of Jesus on the cross.

A. W. Tozer captured this distinction well when he said, “Modern religion focuses upon filling churches with people. The true gospel emphasizes filling people with God.”

That’s what Paul is describing here. The gospel isn’t about attendance, activity, or outward success.

It’s about sinners being brought back into right relationship with a holy God. It’s about lives being reconciled, hearts being renewed, and people being filled—not with religion—but with God Himself.

Paul goes on to say that because of Christ’s work, believers are now presented holy, blameless, and above reproach before God. That doesn’t mean we never struggle with sin. It means our status has changed. Our standing before God is no longer defined by guilt or hostility, but by grace and peace.

Then Paul adds a word of encouragement and responsibility in verse 23: “If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard.”

He’s not casting doubt on their salvation. He’s calling them to perseverance. He’s reminding them that the Christian life is not about moving past the gospel, but continuing in it. The same gospel that reconciled them is the gospel that sustains them.

To be gospel-centered means we don’t shift our hope—to ourselves, to performance, to culture, or even to church activity. We remain anchored in Christ and in what He has already accomplished.

And when that reconciliation settles deeply into our hearts, it begins to shape how we live. Reconciled people become people of grace. They extend forgiveness. They pursue peace. They live with humility and patience. Their lives start to reflect the reconciliation they’ve received.

So a gospel-centered church is not just a church full of people—it’s a church filled with people who are being continually filled with God. People who remember where they were, rejoice in what Christ has done, and remain steadfast in the hope of the gospel that has brought them from alienation to reconciliation.

That is the life Paul is calling us to here—and it’s the life we’re called to live together as the church.

As we begin to wrap up this morning, I want to slow us down and come back to the heart of everything we’ve been talking about.

The gospel.

Think about who this Jesus is.

The One who created everything. The One who sustains everything. The One who is the image—the exact representation—of Almighty God. The One who is the firstborn, the highest of all, the Lord of lords and King of kings.

And this Jesus stepped out of heaven and died on a cross.

When you begin to grasp His deity, you start to understand the greatness of His death. Because His deity is what makes His death meaningful. And at the same time, His death is what makes His deity knowable to us.

People die every day. But this was different.

As the old hymn says, “That God, the mighty Maker, died for man, the creature’s sin.” The blood poured out at Calvary was not ordinary blood—it was the blood of the very Son of God.

Jesus was the God-man. Fully man—just as man as if He were not God at all. Fully God—just as God as if He were not man at all. Not half and half. Not one without the other. But God in human flesh.

Born of a virgin. Living a sinless life. Dying with a broken heart for sinners like us.

The One who created every seed, every shrub, every tree, every limb—was nailed to a tree. The One who carved out the oceans, formed every lake, pond, stream, and spring—cried out, “I thirst.” The One who flung the sun into space and ignited it with a word—stood beneath its scorching heat, suffering under a Middle Eastern sky.

This is the wonder of the gospel.

The Creator became the sacrifice. The Sustainer laid down His life. The King wore a crown of thorns.

And when you see that clearly, the cross stops being familiar—and becomes breathtaking again.

Let me tell you something, church. When Jesus created the universe, do you know how He did it?

With a word.

He didn’t struggle. He didn’t labor. He didn’t experiment. He simply spoke—and it was so. He said, “Let it be,” and there it was. Galaxies, stars, and worlds brought into existence by the power of His voice. Creation didn’t cost Him effort—it responded to His authority.

I once heard a story about a college student who asked his pastor, “Do you think there’s life on other planets?” The pastor said, “No, I don’t think so.” The student pushed back and said, “You mean with all those billions and billions of planets out there, you don’t think there’s life anywhere else?” The pastor replied, “No, I really don’t.” And the student said, “Then why would God go to all that trouble to make all of that?”

The pastor looked at him and said, “What trouble?”

There was no trouble in creation. God spoke—and it was done.

But there was one place where it cost Him everything.

The only trouble God ever had was Calvary.

Creation cost Him a word. Redemption cost Him His Son.

The same voice that spoke the universe into existence cried out from a cross. The hands that flung stars into space were nailed to wood. The Creator stepped into suffering—not because He had to, but because He loved.

And that’s why the gospel matters. And that’s why Christ alone stands at the center of everything.

Because the God who spoke worlds into being chose to bleed so that sinners could be redeemed.

When Jesus went to the cross, He didn’t simply speak forgiveness into existence. He didn’t just say, “Be forgiven,” and move on. No—by the blood of His cross, He paid the full price for sin. Scripture tells us that God is both just and the justifier of those who believe in Jesus.

God never overlooks sin. Not one half of one sin will ever be ignored. Sin must be dealt with. It must either be pardoned in Christ or punished eternally—but it will never be overlooked. God is holy. Not casually holy. Not partially holy. He is the thrice-holy God of Israel.

And God knew that in order for you to be redeemed, for me to be redeemed, for us to be reconciled, sin had to be paid for. Scripture is clear: “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.” And “the wages of sin is death.”

So picture it this way.

On one side stands sinful humanity—that’s us. Broken. Guilty. Unable to fix what we’ve ruined. On the other side stands a holy and righteous God—pure, just, and perfect. And between us is a chasm—deep, wide, and uncrossable—the chasm of sin.

No amount of effort could bridge it. No amount of religion could span it. No amount of good intentions could close the distance.

So Jesus came to reconcile.

On one side, He laid down the foundation of His deity—fully God. On the other side, He laid down the foundation of His humanity—fully man. Standing in our place. Bearing our sin. Dying the death we deserved.

And with the rough-hewn timbers of a cross, Jesus bridged the gap between a holy God and sinful people.

That’s reconciliation. That’s redemption. That’s grace.

Jesus is the One who reveals the Father. He is the One who rules the universe. And He is the One who reconciles the lost.

And I can say this with confidence and gratitude—I know Him. He is my Savior and my Lord. And my prayer is not just that you would know about Him, but that you would know Him, trust Him, and love Him with all your heart.

Because truly—He is Jesus, the One and Only.

And that’s why the church must be gospel-centered.

A church can be busy without being faithful. It can be full without being transformed. It can be active without being alive. If the gospel is not at the center, the church slowly drifts into performance, preference, and programs. But when the gospel is at the center, everything else finds its proper place—our worship, our mission, our relationships, and our obedience.

A gospel-centered church doesn’t just exist to gather people—it exists to proclaim Christ, make disciples, and see lives changed by grace.

So the question for all of us this morning is simple: What is your next step of obedience?

For some of you, the first step is salvation. You’ve heard the gospel. You understand it. But you’ve never personally trusted Jesus as Lord and Savior. Today, the invitation is to repent, believe, and be reconciled to God.

For others, the next step is baptism. Baptism doesn’t save us—but it boldly declares that salvation has already taken place. It’s the outward display of an inward change. And in just a few minutes, we’re going to celebrate that together—watching brothers and sisters publicly identify with the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus.

And for many of us, the next step is simply to do what God is already calling us to do.

For some, that means joining the church and committing to this body. For others, it means stepping into a small group or Bible study. For some, it’s going on a mission trip. For others, it’s serving, giving, or opening your life to deeper discipleship. And for many, it’s as simple—and as hard—as inviting your one person to church and trusting God with the results.

Obedience looks different for each of us, but the call is the same: don’t stand still.

A gospel-centered church is made up of gospel-obedient people—men and women who don’t just believe the truth, but respond to it.

So as we prepare to celebrate baptism today, let’s not just observe what God is doing in someone else’s life. Let’s ask Him what He wants to do in ours.