“It’s Rare to Hear About Jesus.”
I hear this way too frequently. It isn't dramatic, not an earth-shattering crisis, but it highlights a profound emptiness that can creep into the most sacred of spaces. After officiating a graveside service, I was chatting with the wife of the man who had played the bagpipes. Because of his unique and moving skill, they attend a significant number of funerals across the Northwest, services led by pastors from a wide array of denominations.
With a tone of sincere appreciation, she told me, "We go to so many funerals, and it's rare, so very rare, that we actually hear the name of Jesus mentioned. It was refreshing to hear it today."
Refreshing. To hear the name of Jesus at a Christian funeral. Let that sink in.
It’s a shocking thought, isn’t it? That we who are professional clergy, entrusted with the mysteries of faith and the comfort of the grieving, could get so caught up in the busyness, the routine, the liturgy of sacred services that we go through the motions without truly invoking the One at the heart of it all. How often does the form remain while the vibrant, beating heart of faith—Jesus Himself—is intentionally or unintentionally sidelined?
This isn't an isolated phenomenon, nor is it confined to somber occasions. Just earlier this week, I received a call from someone exploring our church. They were thoughtful, asking insightful questions, and then they posed a critical one: "Are your sermons Christ-centered?" My immediate response was, "If they weren't, I'd have nothing else to talk about!" And that's the honest truth for me. Yet, I've witnessed, as I'm sure many have, countless sermons where the focus drifts. Where good advice is offered, but the specific, saving Gospel of Jesus Christ is omitted, downplayed, or, at best, tagged on as an afterthought.
This isn’t a humble brag. Far from it. I honestly couldn't string together a year's worth of messages, let alone a lifetime of ministry, if it wasn't anchored in Scripture and centered on the Gospel. I'm simply not that interesting. My personal insights on parenting, financial management, or marriage could fill a thimble, and frankly, no one, myself included, needs a "Tim-centered" message. We need more.
The danger lies in offering well-meaning words and great advice that isn’t anchored in the Gospel of Jesus.
I'll never forget an experience in seminary. A classmate, an older student who was already married and who had a few children, delivered a powerful message on marriage. It was practical, relatable, and humorous. He had our undivided attention the whole time. This was during preaching class, and we all anticipated the professor to get up and give him a glowing review. Mentally, I’d given him an A+. Instead, the instructor's feedback left the room stunned.
"That was a great talk," he began, "but it could have been given in a synagogue or at a Rotary Club meeting. You never mentioned Jesus. Lots of good advice, but nothing about the Gospel."
His words were a sharp, necessary corrective. If we don't explicitly connect our words and our worship back to Jesus and His finished work, what are we truly offering? If we don't mention Jesus, it's not a Christian sermon. If we don't mention Jesus, we're not offering true hope. If we don't mention Jesus, we're not pointing people to true life, true meaning, or true transformation. Without Jesus, our words, no matter how eloquent or well-intentioned, risk becoming just more noise and empty rhetoric in a world already saturated with it. We become another TED talk, podcast, or self-help seminar.
This isn't just about sermons or funerals. Throughout my years in ministry, I've heard countless stories from people who have attended weddings, baptisms, and other significant life celebrations, milestones that should be infused with the presence of Christ, where His name was conspicuously absent.
The Great Masquerade: When Religion Poses as Relationship
This tendency to go through religious motions and miss the Gospel is something I learned from Tim Keller. He drew a crucial distinction between "religion" and "the Gospel" in a way that was helpful for me.
Keller often highlighted that religion operates on the principle: "I obey, therefore I'm accepted." We act as though our efforts, our moral performance, and our keeping in line with the rules and rituals of our tradition are the basis for our standing with God. Religious observance like this is often rooted in fear or insecurity. We might use God as a means to an end, wanting God as a path to get the blessings, life, and afterlife we really want. When things go wrong, our response is often anger or bitterness toward God or ourselves, because we feel our "goodness" should entitle us to better. Criticism can be devastating because it threatens our carefully constructed self-image as a "good person." Our prayers are focused on what we want and what God should give us. Our identity and self-worth become tied to how hard we work or how moral we appear.
Richard Lovelace reminds us that if we base our justification (our right standing with God) on our sanctification (our day-to-day working out of our salvation) we become radically insecure. Or, on days when we feel like we’re firing on all 8 cylinders, we may become self-righteous and proud.
The Gospel stands this on its head. The Gospel declares: "I'm accepted, therefore I obey." Acceptance isn't earned; it's a gift, secured by Jesus Christ's life, death, and resurrection. That’s the Gospel! The part so easily left out of our sacred spaces. All obedience and joy flow not from fear or a desire to earn favor, but from a profound sense of gratitude for the finished work of Christ. The motivation is love and a desire to know God more deeply. To delight in Him and resemble Him. We don't obey God to get things from God; we obey to get more of God Himself.
If we understand the Gospel, even when circumstances go wrong, we might struggle, but as we struggle, we still understand that our ultimate standing with God isn't in jeopardy. Like a fussy kid in the middle of a tantrum never doubts for a second that mom or dad will stop being mom or dad. The relationship is secured despite their momentary behavior. God’s love is stronger still, and our connection is even more unshakable.
With Jesus, we can trust in God's fatherly love, even in trials, knowing He uses them for our growth. Criticism is still hard, but our identity isn't built on our performance or even how well we respond to criticism… but on God's unwavering love for us in Christ. Prayer becomes less about controlling the world around us, and more about finding God in the world He is building. Our self-esteem is grounded in something deeper than today’s quiet time and how well I controlled my temper during difficult interactions. It rests in the fact that God calls me "child" and that my name is written by His hand in His book and that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.
Somehow, in our brokenness and belovedness, we find an odd spiritual buoyancy. We are, as Martin Luther famously said, simul justus et peccator, simultaneously sinner and saint. We are so flawed that Christ had to die for us, yet so loved that He went to the cross for the joy set before Him (which in part was us!). This leads to deep humility (we have no grounds for boasting) and profound confidence (our acceptance is secure in Him). Our identity and self-worth are centered on the One who died for us, which cultivates grace and compassion for others, recognizing that we are all saved by grace alone.
If we miss all this, and just keep the religious rules, all we offer people is a dry, lifeless shell.
Why "Good Advice" Isn't Good Enough
The seminary professor's critique and Keller's insights converge on a vital point: "good advice" or moralism, however appealing, is not the Gospel. And only the Gospel, centered on the person and work of Jesus Christ, holds the power for genuine, lasting transformation.
Here’s why simply being "religious" or morally upright falls short:
It Lacks True Power for Change: Religion, based on human effort, ultimately fails because our efforts are never perfect, and our hearts are prone to self-deception. We can try to modify behavior, but we cannot change our fundamental nature. The Gospel, however, introduces God's power. Romans 1:16 reminds us, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile.” This isn't just power for a ticket to heaven, but power for a changed life now.
It Fails to Address the Root Problem: Religion often trims the branches of sin (bad habits, outward actions) but doesn't deal with the root—our alienation from God and the inherent sinfulness that Scripture describes. Jesus came to deal with the root. He didn't just come to make bad people good; He came to make dead people live (Ephesians 2:1-5).
It Can Foster Pride or Despair: If our standing depends on our performance, we'll either become proud and judgmental when we think we're succeeding, or we'll fall into despair and self-condemnation when we inevitably fail. Neither reflects the heart of God. The Gospel, by grounding our worth in Christ's performance, frees us from this destructive cycle, leading to a humble confidence.
It Offers No Ultimate Hope in Suffering: A religion of merit offers little comfort when life unravels. If we believe our goodness earns God's favor, then suffering can feel like a betrayal or a punishment we don't deserve. The Gospel, however, shows us a God who entered into suffering for us in Jesus. It assures us of His presence and ultimate victory over sin and death, giving us a hope that transcends our circumstances (Romans 8:18, 35-39).
It Misses the Relational Core: At its heart, Christianity is not a set of rules or rituals, but a restored relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Religion can keep God at a distance, an impersonal force to be placated or a cosmic vending machine. The Gospel invites us into intimate fellowship with a personal, loving Father. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life—no one comes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6). This is the nonnegotiable claim of the Bible, and it underscores that true spiritual life is found in Him alone.
Beyond the Big Events: Jesus in the Everyday
My life's ambition is to bring not just the name of Jesus, but His character and His presence into all of life. Not just the grand, ceremonial moments like weddings, funerals, and baptisms, but into the messy, mundane, big and little moments that make up the bulk of our lives.
If you're reading this, and if you're part of our church family here at Cascade Christian Reformed Church, chances are that’s what you want too. You don't want to settle for an empty religious experience or a checklist of duties to perform. You want the actual presence of Jesus to be in your marriage, to shape the lives of your children and grandchildren, to be present in your work, your decisions, your joys, and your sorrows—all the stuff of life.
This isn't about some woo-woo meditative practice. It's about a continual, conscious orientation towards Christ. It's asking:
How does Jesus inform my response to this difficult situation at work?
What does it look like to love my spouse as Christ loved the church in this specific disagreement?
How can I reflect the grace of Jesus to my neighbor who believes differently than I do?
Where do I need to depend on Christ's strength rather than my own in this parenting challenge?
How can my use of time and resources honor Jesus as Lord?
For those who feel religiously disconnected, perhaps jaded by past experiences with "church" that felt hollow or judgmental, I want to suggest that what you may have encountered was the shell of religion, not the substance of Christ. The Jesus of the Gospels consistently challenged empty religiosity and offered instead a radical, life-altering relationship with God. He offered living water to those dying of thirst, bread of life to the spiritually famished, and rest to the weary and burdened.
The call is to stop going through the motions. It’s an invitation first, to make sure we bring the name of Jesus into our lives. Then, to ensure that the name of Jesus is not just a word we say, but the reality we live and the hope we cling to.
I am committed to ensuring the name of Jesus is never absent from the services I lead—no wedding, funeral, or church gathering without Him. My challenge to you, then, is this: Will you make a similar resolution to live with His name and His Gospel undeniably present in every facet of your life?
With You,
Pastor Tim
