Alasdair MacIntyre thinks we may be entering a “new dark ages” when it comes to virtue. That may be so, but not for the people of God. Even when we’re feeling morally bankrupt and tempted to throw up our hands in defeat, God leads us forward in Christlikeness—even despite ourselves.

This sermon explores 2 Peter 1:1-21. It includes a word of encouragement to people who feel like they’re not as far along the path as they want to be, and also some specific help moving forward along the “ladder of faith,” seven qualities Peter highlights for Christians who are growing in the knowledge of Jesus.

Christlikeness through you is overflow from Christ in you. Let’s learn together.

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Can the Devil use pride and focusing too exclusively on yourself to inflate worry in your life? Yes.

He can, he does, he will.

Worry loves to make you question the past, fear the future, and doubt God in the present, so that you are forever frantic and mentally somewhere else. However, by focusing on Jesus, and by clothing yourself with humility, you can successfully resist the ways he is prowling around you and trying to sow destruction in your life.

This sermon unpacks 1 Peter 5:1-14 and addresses worry and anxiety, humility, and an antidote to the Devil. Instead of giving him an open door, let’s be alert, informed, and proactive. A deep heart-rest in the sovereign care of our Good Shepherd is possible.

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“I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth…”

We have begun using The Apostles’ Creed in our worship services. We have always used it, but not every Sunday. Recently, however, we have been saying it each and every week.

Why?

First, some background.

The Apostles’ Creed is just that—a creed. In Latin, the word “credo” means “I believe.” It is, therefore, a succinct statement of key Christian beliefs. It helps define orthodoxy, meaning right-belief.

These aren’t just peripheral beliefs, either. Think of them like rumble strips on the highway. They keep us on track. If we wander away from them, we have veered from the historic faith and into a theological ditch.

The Creed is three-fold. Section one is about God the Father. Section two is about God the Son (Jesus). Section three is about God the Holy Spirit.

Tim Keller once said that if we abandon these beliefs, we have gone outside the “boundary” of the Christian faith. Similarly, J.I. Packer said that if the Bible is like a map, then the Creed is the simplified version of that map—short, succinct, and to-the-point.[1]

Despite popular misconception, it was not written by the apostles. The confusion is understandable. After all, it has “apostles” in the title, and there are roughly twelve statements, corresponding to the original twelve apostles.

However, it is named The Apostles’ Creed because it reflects apostolic teaching. In other words, it passes on teaching that is faithful to the apostles who walked and talked with Jesus himself.[2]

The various statements in the Creed are rooted in the New Testament teachings, and were in use by the year 100 A.D. These statements served as the basis for various other Creeds in the early centuries, like the Creed of Hippolytus (c.215), the Creed of Marcellus (340), and the Creed of Rufinus (c.404).

It was also customary in the early centuries for Christians to study and memorize the Creed as they prepared for baptism. At a time when many people were illiterate, memorizing the Creed ensured that you would always have it with you, no matter where you were or what you were going through.

Further, when various competing beliefs emerged, you could distinguish the true faith from imposters by seeing whether or not they agreed with the Creed.

One of the appealing things about the Creed is how widely it is used. Anglicans use it, Presbyterians use it, Methodists use it, Lutherans use it, and Roman Catholics use it. Baptists affirm it’s teaching, but don’t tend to use creeds in worship services.

The eastern church doesn’t tend to use The Apostles’ Creed, favouring the Nicene Creed instead. (That’s a longer story for another day.) Even still, it’s broad use around the world reminds us that as followers of Jesus we are unified in him as a part of a church which is truly universal in scope. On any given Sunday, millions upon millions of Christians all over the world are confessing their faith in the words of The Apostles’ Creed.

Many churches use creeds not only for teaching, but specifically in their Sunday services. Like some other denominations, Presbyterians are “confessional.” They place an emphasis on confessing the faith aloud and in public. 1 Timothy 6:12 comes to mind. That is where Paul says: “Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

Stating one’s faith aloud in worship is a proclamation—a declaration, even—of one’s saving beliefs while surrounded by an unbelieving world, and even by the powers of darkness. With humble confidence, we will not be silent.

This practice is not new. Deuteronomy 6:4-9 was used by the ancient Jews as a kind of Creed which was spoken twice a day. Even within the New Testament, certain passages were most likely used as creeds during worship services, or possibly poetic hymns. Two examples are Philippians 2:5-11 and Colossians 1:15-20.

In addition to confessing one’s faith aloud, a “confessional” tradition aligns itself with ecumenical creeds and other agreed-upon statements, always subordinate to the Bible. Elders and pastors often vow to uphold these beliefs.

Today, when we use one of the historic creeds, we are standing in a long line of Christ-followers who have lived and died by these same beliefs. Worship fads come and go. Hymns and praise songs change, as does the shape, size and décor of buildings. Instruments evolve and preachers come and go. Not so with Scripture or creeds.

Speaking of life and death, the long-standing and life-giving rootedness of the Creed is not insignificant. Tom Long describes how creeds can seem like rote and authoritarian statements if we’re not thoughtful about what we’re doing or what they mean. In contrast, he says they are more accurately described as “blood-stained wisdom wrung from [the] centuries…”[3]

With that in mind, the statements in The Apostles’ Creed are hills worth dying on. And many have.

Eugene Peterson recalls a man who was curious about Christianity. He started coming to worship services at his church. He just stood there in silence on Sunday morning as the rest of the congregation said The Apostles’ Creed.

Then one day Peterson noticed that the man said the first line in the Creed “I believe,” but that was it. A few Sundays later he added the rest of the first line. As the weeks went on, he added more and more lines. Eventually he confessed the whole thing, took ownership of his new faith, and was baptized.[4]

Fred Craddock once said that you don’t really know what you believe until you hear yourself say it.[5] I’m not so sure I believe that. But what I like about his statement is that true Christian faith isn’t just a private experience. It certainly is that, but it isn’t only that. It’s also public. It is things we think, but also things we say and things we do, not just ideas we silently affirm. When we say creeds in worship, we are declaring publicly our faith in the God of the Bible, and committing—or re-committing—ourselves to live by those beliefs.

I recently came across an article by Adam Callaway called, “Why the Apostles’ Creed Still Matters.” In it, he said something that makes a lot of sense for the times in which we live: “In a fragmented, polarized world, the Apostles’ Creed reminds believers that there is one faith that unites them across denominational and cultural lines. Whether recited in a small rural congregation or a larger city church, its words draw Christians together in shared confession. It helps us maintain unity amidst denominational diversity.”[6]

Well said.

So, why do we say it in church? All of the above. Proverbs 12:3 says: “the root of the righteous will never be moved.” Let’s root ourselves in the eternal Word of God, and in the creeds which keep those truths top-of-mind and on the tips of our tongues.

Let’s end with the Creed itself:

“I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried;
he descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again;
he ascended into heaven,
he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
and he will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.”
Amen.

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[1] J.I. Packer, Growing in Christ (Wheaton: Crossway, 1994), 19.

[2] See the discussion about origins in: John H. Leith, ed., Creeds of the Church, 3rd ed. (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1982), 22ff.

[3] Tomas G. Long, Preaching From Memory to Hope (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 63.

[4] Eugene Peterson, The Pastor: A Memoir (HarperOne, 2012), 256.

[5] Fred Craddock, Craddock Stories (St. Louis: Chalice, 2001), 113.

[6] Adam Callaway, “Why the Apostles’ Creed Still Matters.” The Gospel Coalition Canada. Posted here on June 18, 2026.

In addition to feature talks, interviews and sermons, on this podcast I sometimes include prayers that I’ve led during worship services.

What I’ve discovered is that there is a great hunger for prayer. Prayer seems simple enough, but it can sometimes be deceptively difficulty—at least if we want to be sincere in what we are doing as we come before a God who is, at the same time, righteous, loving, almighty, holy, and close.

In his book about prayer, Tim Keller writes: “Prayer is awe, intimacy, struggle—yet the way to reality.”[i] He goes on to say further: “Prayer is simply connecting Jesus to your absolute helplessness, your sense of fragility and dependence.”[ii]

The prayer I’m about to share with you is from the closing worship service at the General Assembly of my denomination. I was invited to participate by the preacher, and a friend of mine, Joe Bae of Vaughn Community Church. The instrumentation in the background is from Jonathan Cho, Josh Kim and the praise team at St. Timothy Presbyterian Church in Etobicoke, Ontario.

“Prayer is awe, intimacy, struggle—yet the way to reality.”

Let’s pray:

Lord God the Almighty, you are a corpse-raising God.
Dust into flesh.
Hope rising from pools of violent blood.
In you all things are actually possible.
Where we are stubborn and self-centred—you are wise.
Where we are foggy and distracted—you are steadfast.
Jesus, remember us (All: When you come into your kingdom)

Come, Holy Spirit.
Shatter our strategic plans and schemes
when they don’t align with the flight of your will.
So often we manoeuvre and doubt and decide—
as if the tomb was full, not empty.
Turn down the noise in our ears
and the disobedient cries from within
that are so at home in our flesh,
and re-calibrate our hearts.
Bring us into alignment with the frequency of a Father
who showers generosity on a world worth dying for.
Jesus, remember us (All: When you come into your kingdom)

Give us the kind of hope that inflates our hearts with Christlike courage
in the face of a scheming, cocky adversary, the deceiving one.
Give us the kind of hope that drips—no, oozes—from our churches
with food for the hungry,
healing for the fractured,
liberation for the demonized,
friendship for the lonely,
truth for a new generation who long to live under a banner that matters.
Give us such hope in the days to come
that it will soar unhindered from our churches, households, and hearts—
all for the glory of a shepherd who never sleeps
in the cause of his lambs and kingdom.
Jesus, remember us (All: When you come into your kingdom)

All these things we pray in the name of Jesus Christ—
raised ruling, renovating, soon to return, Amen.

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[i] Timothy Keller, Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God (New York: Dutton, 2014), 32.
[ii] Ibid., 128.

What do we all have in common? Some people say “death and taxes.” True! But there’s more. Generally speaking, we all like to be happy and don’t like to be sad. We want to have lives that matter.

And, unfortunately, we all experience suffering. 

This sermon isn’t about why we suffer, but about how we should approach suffering. Our perspective about life changes our experience of life.

I unpack 1 Peter 4:1-19, discuss what it says about faithful suffering, and then apply eight insights to our own lives.

It was Corrie ten Boom who said: “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

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You’ve probably heard about Bill C-9. I recently saw a post from a political influencer south of the border who said that Canada had “banned the Bible.”

Sounds pretty dramatic. But is it true? Or is it political posturing? Is it fear-mongering? Is it government over-reach? Is it click bait? Is it the beast? Is it based in reality?

To explain, let me back up a bit. And as you read or listen to this, please keep in mind that I’m not a lawyer. I’m a pastor.

Here’s the full title of the Bill: “Bill C-9: An Act to amend the Criminal Code (hate propaganda, hate crime and access to religious or cultural places).” It is sometimes referred to as the Combatting Hate Act.

The Canadian Justice Department provides this summary: “Bill C-9 would amend the Criminal Code to propose new offences to better protect access to religious, cultural and other specified places, and to address hate-motivated crimes.”

I’m going to unpack this a little bit a time. I’m then going to explain the reason this Bill was proposed in the first place—after all, these things don’t tend to get proposed in a vacuum. Finally, I’ll share whether or not I think there is any sort of real threat to our faith or freedoms in Canada.

The Justice Department provides the following explanation. Keep in mind that government jargon can be a bit thick, so let’s read it slowly:

“The proposed amendments in the Bill would create four new criminal offences:

(1) an intimidation offence that prohibits conduct that is intended to provoke a state of fear in another person to impede them from accessing religious or cultural institutions and other specified places;

(2) an offence that prohibits the intentional obstruction of a person’s lawful access to such places;

(3) a hate crime offence to more explicitly denounce hate-motivated crime; and

(4) an offence that prohibits wilfully promoting hatred against any identifiable group by displaying, in any public place, certain hate or terrorist symbols.”

The Bill was proposed by the governing Liberals. As I mentioned earlier, these things don’t tend to materialize in a vacuum. Hate crimes are on the rise in Canada. More specifically, the Bill was proposed to protect people in the Jewish community in Quebec from harassment by some Muslim extremists.

In Montreal, an imam (the Muslim equivalent of a pastor or rabbi) called for the extermination of “Zionist aggressors” during a public prayer service. That phrase is sometimes used to speak about perceived Israeli imperialism, and then carelessly applied to all Jews no matter where they live or what they believe.

So far, the bill sounds pretty reasonable. So, what’s the problem?

From what I’ve seen, most of the concern has to do with the removal of the “good faith” defense. This refers to when someone expresses an opinion based on a religious subject, or an opinion based on a belief in a religious text. For example, if I am teaching about subject X and someone accuses me of a hate crime, there is an exemption for me because I am teaching about a religious text and am doing so “in good faith”—i.e. with a sincere desire to explain and not with the intent to cause harm.

If the good faith exemption is removed, it means that it can be easier to accuse someone of promoting hatred. This is concerning in a culture like ours where religious views are often in the minority, and increasingly unpopular. Could Bill C-9 be used to suppress or silence religious voices that don’t go along with the majority view?

Let me provide a more specific example. If I am teaching about Genesis 2:24 or Matthew 19:5 where Jesus speaks about marriage between a man and a woman, if the good faith exemption is removed, could I be convicted of hate by saying that God’s design for marriage is between one man and one woman? To quote the Evangelical Fellowship of Canada who has been closely monitoring the Bill: “The proposal to remove the good faith religious belief defence is being put on the table at a time when minority religious beliefs on marriage, sexuality and gender are increasingly marginalized and frequently described as hateful.”[i]

I’ve heard it argued that this is not the intent of the Bill. Perhaps. But a law is made up of words, not the intentions of someone sitting in an office somewhere.

My colleague Paul Carter asks if the bill is a shield or a sword.[ii] That’s a good way for us to think through how it may have been intended versus how it may actually be used. We have been told that it is intended to be a shield for persecuted minority groups, but could it be used as a sword by those in the majority who want to silence religious voices that disagree with their own? Only time will tell.

From what I understand, there is also another concern. As it currently stands, a provincial attorney general needs to sign-off on a charge about a hate crime before it is brought forward. However, the Bill proposes to remove this too, making it possible for local law enforcement or a private individual to bring forward such a charge, even when their charge may be unreasonable. This could make accusations more frequent and disruptive, regardless of whether they have any valid basis.

Further, there’s a concern with the definition of “hate.” In an online petition created in January 2026, the Evangelical Fellowship of Canada expressed concern about the definition and encouraged the government to change course and adopt the language of the Supreme Court in the Keegstra decision. There, hatred means an emotion “of an intense and extreme nature that is clearly associated with vilification and detestation… predicated on destruction… that belies reason.”

The Christian Legal Fellowship has also expressed concern about the Bill’s definition of hatred in the briefing they provided to the Canadian senate.[iii]

In light of all of this, should we be worried?

First, personally, I’m not terribly worried. Jesus encouraged us to trust God day-by-day. No one knows what tomorrow will bring. One day, he will return and make all things new. Until then, we keep moving forward as his hands and feet.

Second, if the Bill is used as a shield, then it may well be used for good. In fact, there are many things we can support in the Bill, such as access to spaces and the protection of minority groups from extremists. Christians began as a persecuted minority. Along with the Lord’s instruction to love others, this compels us to sympathize with those who may be vulnerable and to advocate for their well-being.

Third, if the Bill is used as a sword, then there may be problems. I think it’s unwise for the government to remove the good faith exemption, especially at a time when biblical views are increasingly unpopular.

Fourth, we should increasingly expect persecution for our beliefs. We’re not in Kansas anymore. As Jesus said in John 15:20: “If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” Brothers and sisters, we have backbones for a reason.

Lastly, let’s not get distracted. Instead, let’s be steadfast in grace and truth. Have courage, stand firm on the word of God, and love others quickly and deeply.

Let me end with this comment from the Christian Legal Fellowship. This is what they said in their submission to the Senate Committee on Human Rights:

It is through the open expression of our disagreement that we can show our concern and care for each other, by highlighting possible paths to a better life in our collective search for truth.[iv]

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[i] As posted on their website under the ‘talking points’ section: https://files.evangelicalfellowship.ca/si/Abuse/Talking-Points-for-Good-Faith-Religious-Defense-Nov-2025.pdf

[ii] How Worried Should We Be About Bill C-9?” Posted at https://ca.thegospelcoalition.org/columns/ad-fontes/how-worried-should-we-be-about-bill-c-9/ on December 8, 2025.

[iii] “Bill C-9: CLF Submits Brief to Senate Committee,” May 27, 2026: https://www.christianlegalfellowship.org/blog/billc9senatebrief

[iv] “Bill C-9: CLF Submits Brief to Senate Committee,” ibid.

Jesus was radical.

We forgot that—for a while, anyway. The idea of “Jesus, meek and mild” was widespread. It was encapsulated in mid-tempo hymns that felt mostly happy, and in artwork of a glowing man who showed up on bookmarks and posters in church basements.

When you see Jesus holding a lamb, talking about forgiveness, or praying in solitude, he seems very content with this simplistic caricature—a merciful man in a world of sun where no one ever disagrees.

But didn’t Jesus do those things? Yes, of course. But he didn’t only do those things. Let’s widen our lens and zoom out to see more of the picture.

He held lambs—while wolves prowled nearby. He talked about forgiveness—while insisting on repentance. He prayed in solitude—only to embody his Father’s will in the public square to confront hypocrisy and Satan himself.

Jesus, the loving warrior for his Father’s will.

Today, there is a return to the radicality of Jesus. Liberals talk about it, as do conservatives, even if they disagree about his core message and mission.

He loved his enemies and told us to do the same. That was—and is—radical.

He spoke of himself as both human and divine. That was—and is—radical.

He taught about heaven, hell, the kingdom of God, and himself as the only door to redemption. That was—and is—radical.

He confronted and cast out actual demons, and told his disciples to do the same. That was—and is—radical.

He forgave his accusers and those who mocked him. That was—and is—radical.

He defeated death on the cross and walked out of the empty tomb in triumphant victory. Radical.

He said he would come back to judge, save, and to usher in the new heavens and the new earth. Radical.

But this post isn’t just about Jesus. It’s about you and me.

I could certainly suggest that we be radical in the footsteps of our Master. And so we should. We too should love enemies, affirm both the humanity and divinity of Jesus, stand firm in bold truth, engage in spiritual warfare, practice surprising forgiveness, and pray for his return and the renewal of all things.

But this isn’t about that, either.

This is about expressing our devotion to God in a way that appears radical in the eyes of an apathetic or lukewarm world. It is expressing heightened devotion to God and allowing his Spirit to shape your heart and mind more closely to his.

Let’s me be clear. Do we have to do the things I’m about to suggest in this exact way? No. But in a world of comfort and convenience, adopting one of them may be just what the Good Doctor ordered. If we’re looking to go deeper—and aren’t we all?—the answer may be to jump into the deep end, not skim the surface with our toes.

If you’re new to Bible memorization, this may seem over-the-top. However, our spiritual ancestors regularly memorized large portions of Scripture. In a time before the internet, and even before most people had a personal Bible in their backpack, having Scripture in your head was a powerful (and portable) way to take God’s will with you.

In the early centuries of the church, Jerome said that new candidates for the pastorate had to memorize all one hundred and fifty psalms. In more modern times, many people have committed hundreds of verses of Scripture to memory. I met a woman at church who memorized the entire Gospel of Mark.

Henri Nouwen considered memorizing many of the psalms so that if he was ever arrested and put in prison, he would always have God’s Word within.[i]

The Sermon on the Mount is widely considered to be the most famous sermon all over the world, regardless of religion. It encapsulates so many of Jesus’ most famous teachings—the beatitudes, love your enemies, The Lord’s Prayer, the narrow path, the golden rule, turn the other cheek, go the second mile, etc.

Start with a few verses at a time. Keep building. As you do, review previous verses. At first, it will seem like a task to be done instead of a devotional practice in which to dwell. However, your memory muscles will get stronger with use, just like physical muscles. When you’re done, and when you have it “locked,” these teachings will become an increasing part of your thinking. You can even start to base your prayers on them—without ever having to open a Bible.

Radical.

The biblical name for this is fasting. It is going with food (or less food), and sometimes drink, for an extended period of time for a greater spiritual purpose. Jesus did it. Paul did it. Anna did it. Ezra did it. Esther did it. Moses did it.

Fasting draws you closer to our Father and to his will, intensifies your prayers, and clarifies your focus.

A “partial” fast is when you modify (lessen) your usual diet, usually for a day, but maintaining liquids. I think this is most appropriate for beginners and for those with limited experience with fasting.

A “normal” fast is going without food but still drinking water. An “absolute” fast is going without both. Like a normal fast, this can be very serious. I wouldn’t suggest them if you’re new to fasting. It’s wise to pray and think deeply about these things. Each person should also consider their personal health and consult a physician if they are unsure about their fitness for fasting. Richard Foster warns: “It must be underscored that the absolute fast is the exception and should never be engaged in unless one has a very clear command from God, and then for not more than three days.”[ii]

What if you built up to a three day fast, perhaps only maintaining liquids and a small meal at dinner?

Radical.

Monastic communities observe the “hours.” These are seven designated times of prayer and worship throughout the day—and also at night. The Night Watch—often called Vigils—occurs in the middle of the night, usually 3:00 a.m.

The night watch happens at the mid-point of the night. “At midnight I rise to praise you, because of your righteous rules” (Psalm 119:62). The ancient rabbis—as well as many modern Christians—think that demonic powers are most active at night. We stand firm in the victory of our risen Lord, and also wait and pray for his return. After all, he will come “like a thief in the night” (1 Thessalonians 5:2).

Many of us have jobs and classes and families and unplanned pressures. Most likely, the prospect of setting your alarm for 3:00 a.m. does not fill you with smiling exuberance. That’s okay. Radicality often has to do with joy, not necessarily happiness. It also has to do with things that are not normal in a world that loves soft beds and things that sparkle.

Think upon Jesus praying through the night (Luke 6:12). What if, when you needed to make a big decision or discern the Lord’s will for your next chapter, you set aside two or three days a week to observe the night watch?

Radical.

Perhaps you don’t think this sounds very radical. Really? In these days of dinging phones and daily schedules which give us a headache just by looking at them, it would be easier for many people to memorize the Sermon on the Mount than to truly rest for a full day.

Historically, we have called this Sabbath. In my experience, people love and long for this, but like trying to slam dunk a basketball in ninth grade, it seems just too far out of reach.

It takes planning, and yes, even scheduling. Think pre-planned or easy meals, notifying others, skipping the mall, going for walks.

And phones off. As I’ve said before, physical rest without mental rest isn’t really rest.

For some, this simply won’t be possible. Life has become a tangled blob. However, even though it may not be (perfectly) possible, what if it was pursued as much as possible? My gut tells me that our lives would be revolutionized, and our spirits refreshed for the abundant life the Lord intends for us.

Radical.

These are just four ideas.

Do we have to do the things I have suggested in this exact way? No. But in a world of comfort and convenience, they may be just what the Good Doctor ordered. Without his Spirit, nothing we do will move us further along in Christlikeness. But if we’re looking to go deeper—and aren’t we all?—the answer may be to jump into the deep end, not skim the surface with our toes.

Let me end with a story that is both inspiring and troubling. I tell it to you because it is a radical act in the footsteps of a radical Lord.

As I said, to some of you, it may be troubling. Let that be a warning to you. It speaks of a young person being assaulted. It also tells of her exceptional faith and forgiveness, even toward her attacker. This story is not for everyone, but it may also be something you need to hear as we think through the radicality of our Redeemer.

In July 1902 Alessandro Serenelli committed a horrific act of evil. He tried to rape an eleven-year-old girl in a small Italian village. Her name was Maria. My own daughter is twelve. She’s a child. Maria was younger than her.

Alessandro mortally wounded Maria in the process. She died of peritonitis. Bacteria from her intestinal tract leached into her bloodstream and ate her alive. She was suffering greatly during that last day on earth. But she said something before she died. They are words that are so powerful, so loving, so forgiving, and so radical, that they will never be forgotten.

Maria said: “I forgive Alessandro Serenelli, and I want him with me in Heaven forever.”[iii]

Remember that this was an eleven-year old girl. Given that she grew up in a small Italian village in 1902, I’m assuming that she was raised in a devout Roman Catholic home. She probably attended services weekly with her family. In the Eucharist, she was reminded about Jesus’ forgiveness. And over the years, she had probably heard a lot about forgiveness, perhaps as it is described in Colossians 3:13: “as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

“I forgive Alessandro Serenelli, and I want him with me in Heaven forever.”

Radical.

The closing word is with English pastor Charles Simeon: “The truth is not in the middle and not in one extreme, but in both extremes.”[iv]

Sounds about right.

Let’s proclaim and follow Jesus, the loving warrior for his Father’s will.

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[i] Quoted in: Ester De Waal, The Way of Simplicity: The Cistercian Tradition (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1998), 53.

[ii] Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth (New York: Harper & Row, 1978), 43.

[iii] Carlos Martins, The Exorcist Files: True Stories about the Realty of Evil and How to Defeat It (New York: Faith Words, 2024), 131.

[iv] Quoted in: Trevin Wax, The Multi-Directional Leader: Responding Wisely to Challenges from Every Side (The Gospel Coalition, 2021), 30.

Join in with this prayer from the worship service on May 31, 2026. It was said after singing the praise song “Stronger” by Ben Fielding and Reuben Morgan.

Lord God the Almighty,
we just sang that you are Stronger.
Stronger than what?
You, King of souls, are stronger than the hate
that threatens to consume planet earth.
You, King of truth, are stronger than the lies
that steal, kill, and seek to destroy all that is good, true, beautiful.
You, King of grace, are stronger than the sins
that the devil holds over our heads to shame us.
You, King of order, are stronger than the chaos and instability
that cackles and threatens and intimidates.
You, King of wholeheartedness, are stronger than each and every one of us
–which is great news–because your grip is firmly holding us,
even when we feel like we’re barely holding on.
“It is written, Christ is risen, Jesus you are Lord of all.”
Forgive us, for the sin of living
as if you are not Lord of all, but Lord of some.
Some of our thoughts.
Some of our decisions.
Some of our actions.
Some of our time.
We fall flat on our faces and thank you that your word says
you are slow to anger but ah-bound-ing
in a love that is not shallow, but steadfast.
Who are we that you uphold us, forgive us, adopt us, and help us?
Oh right, we’re yours! We’re your kids!
By the fortitude of your unconquerable Spirit,
renovate us under your strong, strong arm,
that we might live each new day knowing you,
not as Lord of some, but as Lord of all.
All these things we pray in the majestic name of Jesus, King of kings,
and together with the words he taught us to pray, saying:
Our Father…

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We live in a digital age. Last year, 720 hours of video was uploaded to YouTube every single minute. Instagram has 3 billion active monthly users.

3 billion.

The internet is everywhere—up, down, left, right, and increasingly within.

It is also highly polarizing.

One of the reasons for this polarization is because of how algorithms work. Social media platforms, mobile devices and websites track the kinds of things you watch and listen to. Sometimes they can even track your eye movements to see how long you look at certain things. They feed you more of what they think you like. Why would they do this? One of the major reasons is surely financial. The longer they can keep you engaged, and the more they can get you to return to their app or platform, and the more addicted you get, the more revenue they get.

In terms of the algorithm, let’s use short-form video as an example, whether that be YouTube, TikTok or Instagram Stories. Your feed will be increasingly populated with people who say things you already agree with. This is sometimes referred to as an “echo chamber”—i.e. hearing echoes of your own voice, albeit through different people.

When you only see and hear things you already agree with, it tends to solidify the divide between “us and them.” It also numbs you to the fact that the world is bigger than what your screen is telling you.

With all this in mind, here’s my advice about how to avoid the polarizing effect of the internet: Learn from people who don’t agree with what you already think.

Granted, when people go online, especially in the morning or evening, they are often looking to be entertained. They’re probably not going to be doing comprehensive research or critical analysis of this, that or the other thing. But when we’re in entertainment mode, we tend to be more passive. As a result, we more readily gobble down anything our eyes, ears (and hearts) consume.

The digital world tends to oversimplify people and issues and remove context. It continually re-feeds you with ideas or products it thinks you want more of.

A first step is simply being aware that this is happening. I think it’s also beneficial to be open to learning from people who don’t already agree with what you already think. Why? Because unless you’re deliberate about this, the internet is not going to help you.

Perhaps it has to do with a different political or theological opinion. Perhaps it’s a different news source than your usual default. At the end of the day, you might not change your mind, but you will probably be better informed, less likely to oversimply viewpoints or arguments, and less inclined to think about other people as digital caricatures on a screen.

Let me end with a word about perspective.

Kevin Myers and John C. Maxwell write: “We live in a culture which tends to supersize earthly things and downsize eternal things.”[i] True enough. Our culture makes a big deal about things that won’t last, like money, prestige, and appearance, but tends to neglect things of eternal consequence, like faith and virtue.

Their words can also be applied to this discussion about the polarizing effect of the internet. “We live in a digital culture which tends to supersize things you already like and downsize things you don’t.” But since when is that a recipe for healthy thinking, faithful discernment, and every day wisdom?

Let’s fix our eyes on Jesus, stand on the truth of his Word, advance the kingdom, live out his love in the world, and be unafraid to learn from people who don’t always agree with what we already think.

When we do this, I think we’ll be less naïve, better informed, and wiser for life’s journey—a journey which is usually more complicated and nuanced than we are often led to believe.

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[i] Kevin Myers and John C. Maxwell, Home Run: Learning God’s Game Plan for Life and Leadership (New York: Faith Words, 2014), 198.

There are tough passages in the Bible. Perhaps you’ve come across verses about the necessity of forgiveness, or bloodshed in Canaan, or loving enemies, or sexual holiness, and thought to yourself, ‘Um, I think I’m just going to skip over that part and keep going.’

However, when we look at these passages seriously, it can deepen and mature our faith. That’s what we do in this sermon as we unpack a challenging text in 1 Peter 2:13 – 3:7. The fisherman-turned-apostle instructs his readers about challenging relationships between Emperors and subjects, slaves and masters, and wives and husbands. What if there was more happening in these ancient texts than we often realize? 

Tim Keller says that a sailboat moves swiftly because the sailor honours the boat’s design. “In the same way, humans thrive in certain environments and break down in others.” Let’s honour everyone, and let’s do so in a way that respects the Lord’s design for his people to thrive.

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