Redeeming Grace Fellowship

Why would a king ride a donkey? On the Sunday before his death, crowds in Jerusalem hailed Jesus as king, yet he chose a borrowed colt over a war horse.

John 12:12-19 explains why: centuries earlier, the prophet Zechariah promised a king who would arrive humble, bringing salvation and peace to the nations. Jesus deliberately acted out what had been written.

The crowd wanted a deliverer on their own terms, but Jesus came to rescue them from something worse than Rome. Even his closest followers missed it until the resurrection reframed everything. Strikingly, his enemies admitted the movement was unstoppable: "the world has gone after him."

This passage asks a direct question: do you want Jesus for what he can give, or as the King he is? He will come again as a conquering King, and God graciously opens eyes to see and hearts to trust him. Listen in and hear why Jesus's humble entry matters for you.

Why do people respond so differently to Jesus? In John 12:9-11, a man named Lazarus is alive after being dead, and the crowds come to see him.

The religious leaders' on the other hand plot to kill him. Why? Because his living presence was leading many people to believe in Jesus. Those leaders belonged to a group that denied any resurrection, and here was a walking contradiction of their doctrine and an affront to their leadership.

The Bible's diagnosis is that no amount of evidence can persuade a heart that is hostile to God. Jesus himself taught in a parable that if people won't listen to Moses and the Prophets, they won't be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.

Yet the same passage shows many believing, and the Bible credits that to God, who gives new life. The same voice that called Lazarus out of the tomb still calls today, and it calls you to turn from sin and trust Christ, who bore God's wrath for his people and rose again.

If you're curious, you're in good company: so was the crowd at Bethany. Come and see what Jesus does.

Why would someone pour out a year's wages on a single act of devotion? In John 12:1–8, a woman named Mary does exactly that by anointing Jesus's feet with expensive perfume just days before his death.

One of Jesus's own followers objects, framing his complaint as concern for the poor. But Jesus sees through it: the objection was never about generosity, it was about greed wearing a religious mask. It's an old and uncomfortable truth: people still use faith to cover selfish motives, and

Real worship isn't manufactured; it's a response to being loved first, by a God who gave everything for people who didn't deserve it. Whether you're skeptical of organized religion or genuinely searching, this passage asks a pointed question: what's actually worth everything to you, and why?

Have you ever spoken better than you knew? In John 11:49-57, Caiaphas, the high priest, does exactly that. Alarmed that Jesus' miracles will provoke Rome, he argues that it is better for one man to die for the people than for the whole nation to perish. His motive is self-preservation; his counsel is wicked. Yet John tells us he spoke more than he realized: Jesus would indeed die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the children of God scattered abroad.

In this sermon we see how God uses even the sinful acts of men to accomplish his sovereign purpose of salvation, without ever becoming the author of evil. Where Caiaphas meant a political solution, God meant Christ dying in the place of sinners, satisfying divine justice and securing his people. We also see Jesus, not his enemies, governing the timing of his death as the Passover approaches.

For believers, this is deep assurance that nothing can separate us from Christ's love. For those who have only recited the gospel, it is a call to repent and rest on Christ alone.

What would it take to convince you? Lazarus had been dead four days. Now he was alive, walking, breathing—witnessed by a crowd of mourners who had no reason to lie. So what happened next? In John 11:45-48, we find out.

Some believed. Others walked straight to the religious authorities to report what they'd seen, which set in motion a plot to kill the man who'd just conquered death.

Undeniable proof doesn't guarantee belief and that's actually the point. Jesus performs the most staggering sign in the Gospel of John, and it still isn't enough to produce faith in everyone who sees it. If evidence alone could save us, this crowd would have gone home believers to a person. It didn't work that way because faith was never meant to be a response to enough proof. It's a gift Jesus gives.

Whether you're walking with Christ, wrestling with doubt, or watching from a distance, this text asks the question every honest person has to answer: what will you do with Jesus?

Death is the one certainty no one escapes, and no religion, philosophy, or technology has ever reversed it. Every culture in history has developed its own way of coping with mortality: rituals to honor the dead, philosophies to make peace with the end, medical advances to delay it a little longer. But coping isn't defeating.

In John 11:38-44, Jesus defeats death. A man named Lazarus had been dead four days when Jesus stood outside his tomb and simply said, "Lazarus, come out." And Lazarus did.

Those four days matter. By then, the reality of decay had already set in. What was in that grave was a corpse. Grieving sisters knew this. Weeping watchers could empathize.

If death is real and inevitable, the only question worth asking is whether anyone has actually defeated it. And only one person has: Jesus. Only Jesus can give life to the dead: it's part of why he came. Listen in today and be encouraged and admonished to place your faith in Jesus, the Master of Life.

How close is the God you worship? Some people imagine Jesus as distant, unmoved by what's happening in their lives. In John 11:28-37, we return to Bethany, where Mary falls at Jesus's feet in grief over her brother Lazarus, and where Jesus himself is "deeply moved" and troubled. Then comes one of the shortest, weightiest verses in Scripture: "Jesus wept."

This isn't performance art but a Savior who enters fully into the sorrow of the people he loves: grieving over sin and death even while holding the power to conquer both. Some in the crowd that day saw his tears and were moved. Others, skeptical, asked why he didn't just prevent the death altogether. That same choice still stands in front of every listener.

If you've ever wondered whether God actually cares about what you're carrying, this sermon is for you. Christ is not distant. He weeps with his people, and he came to do far more than merely weep.

Every culture has chased the same impossible dream: a way to outlast death. The Fountain of Youth. The Holy Grail. Today it's gene therapy and anti-aging supplements. Humanity has never stopped looking for an escape from mortality and has never found one.

In John 11:25-27, Jesus makes an amazing claim to a grieving woman about life. The answer isn't a medical intervention: it's himself. "I am the resurrection and the life," he says, using the same language God used to identify himself to Moses centuries earlier. This a claim to divine identity and power over death itself.

Jesus promises that those who trust in him will live even though they die and that they will even never die. This message speaks directly to two universal fears: dying, and dying without hope. Whether you're facing your own mortality or just wondering if there's more to death than an ending, this sermon addresses it head-on: So, do you believe this?

Everyone eventually asks the question this sermon addresses head-on: what happens when someone we love dies, and is there any real hope beyond the grave, or is grief the final word?

John 11:17-24 puts that question in the mouths of two grieving sisters and gives Jesus's answer directly. This is more than vague comfort: Jesus promises that their loved brother, Lazarus, will rise again. Death does not have the last word for him or for those who trust in Jesus.

But there is a hard reality: not everyone experiences this hope but rather the final judgment. Listen in today and consider what it would mean for your own life and death to be secured by someone with power over the grave itself.

Why would anyone walk deliberately toward people who'd just tried to kill him? That's the strange choice Jesus makes in John 11:7-16, heading back toward Jerusalem after escaping arrest and execution, because his friend Lazarus has died.

This short passage raises a question worth reflection: what actually grounds my confidence that will hold up under real pressure?

Even as the disciples make bold declarations, they collapse under the weight of trying circumstances.Bold words aren't worthless, but they're the wrong foundation entirely. Something—or rather someone—has to hold when conviction doesn't.