Introduction

Welcome, dear friends. I’m so glad you’re here. Some of us walked in this morning with hearts blazing hot; others with barely a flicker. If faith were a fireplace, some of us are warming our hands, and others are cupping the last little coal, begging it to glow again. Life can be like that. A long week, sharp words, old habits, new pressures—before we know it, the flame that once danced in our chest fades to a faint ember.

Years ago, I watched a campfire sputter under a thin drizzle. It didn’t go out in a dramatic instant. It just quieted, crackle by crackle, smoke replacing flame, warmth giving way to chill. Isn’t that how it happens in the soul? Rarely with a blowout. More often with a slow leak. Not with scandal, but with subtlety. Not with a roar, but with a whisper. We keep the vocabulary of faith, but somehow lose the velocity of obedience. We can say the right things—and still miss the living Heart behind them.

Our Lord is kind; He is also candid. He loves us too much to leave us dim and distant. Today, through Paul’s words to Titus, He places a gentle hand beneath our chins and lifts our gaze. He invites us to consider a faith that is more than talk, more than polish, more than posts and platitudes. He wants to give us a faith that burns bright in the dark.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That sentence startles and steadies me. Die to what? To the quiet compromises that smother the flame. Die to the applause that replaces prayer. Die to the mask that looks holy while the heart grows cold. But there is life on the other side of that dying. There’s a fire that won’t go out. A steady, sturdy, Spirit-breathed blaze.

This message will call out three realities we all face sooner or later. First, the danger of an outward religion that actually denies God—a mouth full of creed, but hands empty of compassion. Second, the subtle slide of quiet compromises—those small surrenders that sap the soul and suffocate the flame. And third, the beauty and boldness of costly obedience—the kind that keeps the fire, feeds the fire, and fans the fire for the world to see. Not a harsh call, but a hopeful one. Not a scolding, but a shepherd’s nudge. Remember, our Savior does not break the bruised reed or snuff the smoldering wick. He breathes on it. He brings it back.

Maybe you’ve been stuck between what you say you believe and what your calendar, your choices, your checkbook, or your browser actually believe. You’re not alone. Grace meets us there—not to leave us there, but to lead us further in. Perhaps you can remember when love for Jesus felt like sunrise and song, when obedience wasn’t a burden but a blessing. Take heart. He is near. The Spirit still kindles coals and coaxes them into flame.

Before we continue, let’s hear the Word that will guide us today.

Titus 1:16 (KJV) “They profess that they know God; but in works they deny him, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate.”

Strong words, yes. But think of them as a good doctor’s diagnosis—truthful, timely, and aimed at healing. It’s not about guilt for yesterday; it’s about grace for today. The Lord is inviting us to trade the pose for power, the surface for substance, the hollow for holy. He is ready to set our hearts aflame again.

Let me ask you a few simple questions, the kind that open a window and let in some fresh air. Have your words ever run ahead of your obedience? Has the applause of people ever mattered more than the approval of God? Are there quiet corners of compromise you’ve been tolerating, telling yourself they’re small while they are steadily stealing your strength? And do you remember how good it felt—the clean, clear, bright good—when you did the hard thing because it was the holy thing?

Friend, if your soul is cold, the Savior has a match. If your courage is thin, the Spirit has wind. If your witness has wandered, the Father has a welcome. Let’s bring Him our inconsistencies, not to be shamed, but to be changed. Let’s bring Him our embers, not to be scolded, but to be stirred. This is a good moment for a new start.

Father, we come to You with honest hearts. Some of us are tired, some tangled, some timid, and some tempted. But all of us are thirsty for You. Search us and show us where our lips and lives don’t yet match. Forgive us for the quiet compromises that dim our devotion. Breathe on the embers within us. Kindle what is cold, cleanse what is stained, and strengthen what is weak. Give us grace to hear Your Word and courage to obey it, even when it costs us. Align our words with our works, our creeds with our choices, our praise with our practice. Let the light of Jesus shine in us and through us, for His glory and the good of those around us. In the name of Jesus, our Savior and King. Amen.

Outward religion that denies God

Paul’s words are plain. A person can say big things about God and still live in a way that says the opposite. That gap brings harm. It hurts the soul. It also hurts people who watch our lives and wonder what God is like.

Talk can sound strong. It can use the right words. It can even move a crowd. But talk does not lift a burden. Talk does not feed a neighbor. Talk does not turn from sin at midnight when no one is watching. Talk is easy. Daily choices tell the real story.

When Scripture puts a light on this, it is mercy. It lets us see what is really there. It helps us name what is off. It calls us back to a simple way with God. A clear way. A true way.

“They profess that they know God.” That line shows how easy it is to treat faith like a label. You can say prayers. You can sing strong. You can quote lines. You can even teach. All of that can be good. Yet a mouth can move while the heart stands far away. In the Bible, to know someone is more than facts in the head. It is trust. It is love. It is a bond that shows up in how you live. Think of a friend you know well. You do not only know their name. You know what matters to them. You shape your plans with that in mind. So it is with God. To know Him is to let His ways shape your ways. To know Him is to care about what He cares about. To know Him is to talk with Him and walk with Him, day by day. A person can carry a faith word in the mouth and still keep God at arm’s length. The line in Titus warns us here. It asks us to slow down. It asks, Do I know Him, or do I just know how to talk about Him?

“...but in works they deny him.” The word deny is strong. It means to say, “No, I do not know Him,” by the way we act. Works are not a show. Works are what you choose when you think no one will see. Works are how you treat staff, cash, time, and truth. Works are what you do with power. Works are how you speak when angry. Works are how you respond when you could cut a corner and get ahead. Each of those moments speaks. They either line up with God’s heart, or they push against it. We can sing on the weekend and shade the numbers on Monday. We can post a verse and keep a grudge for years. We can lead a group and still hold on to a secret sin that we feed in the dark. Those choices tell the truth. This is not about earning love. This is about evidence. Real faith bears fruit. Healthy roots draw life and send it into the branches. That is why this line stings. It shows how actions can say, “He is not my Lord.” When that happens, it is time to stop and turn. It is time to ask for help. It is time to bring our steps back under His word.

“...being abominable, and disobedient...” These are hard words. They speak of a heart that starts to like what harms and to resist what heals. Over time sin can twist our taste. Things that once felt off begin to feel normal. Things that once felt bright begin to feel dull. We start to swap the standard. We call harshness bold. We call greed wise. We call lust harmless. We call pride strength. That slow bend shows up as disobedience. God speaks and we shrug. God warns and we bargain. God calls and we stall. The will grows stiff. The ears grow dull. The eyes lose clear sight. This is why Paul uses such heavy terms. He wants us to see that sin is not a toy. It stains. It spreads. It sets in like a stain in cloth that will not wash out with a quick rinse. Only grace can clean that. Only a soft heart can hear and turn. So we ask, Where have I made peace with a habit God calls wrong? Where have I heard His word and set it aside like a memo I plan to read later?

“...and unto every good work reprobate.” That last word means unfit, failing the test, not approved for use. Picture a tool that looks fine on the bench but snaps under weight. Picture a bridge that passes from far away but shakes when the truck crosses. That is what a life looks like when it keeps up a look but refuses God’s way. When a need comes, we are not steady. When a chance to do good opens, we are not ready. We lack strength. We lack skill. We lack the clear mind and steady hands that come from a clean walk with God. Good works are not extra credit. They are what grace trains us to do. They are the shape a saved life takes in the real world. To be unfit for every good work is a deep loss. It means the poor go unfed by our hands. The lonely go unvisited by our feet. The broken go unheard by our ears. The truth goes unspoken by our lips. The church goes unserved by our gifts. The gap is not fixed by louder words. It is healed as we return to simple trust and quick obedience. Then God strengthens what was weak. He makes us ready again for good works in the kitchen, in the office, at school, on the street, and at home.

Quiet compromises that smother the flame

Titus 1:16 points to small choices no one sees ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO