Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed something lately. It seems like the world is full of experts—especially when it comes to how everyone else should live their lives. You’ve got your social media gurus, your armchair quarterbacks, and yes, even those folks who somehow know exactly what Jesus would tweet if He had a Twitter account.
Let me ask you this: have you ever walked into a room, maybe a family gathering, maybe a church, and felt like you were walking into the Lion's Den? You know what I mean—the moment you step inside, you can just feel those eyes on you, judging, analyzing, wondering if you’re wearing the right thing, saying the right thing, believing the right thing. I don’t know about you, but that’s not my idea of a good time.
Now, as a pastor, I get asked a lot about what the hardest part of my job is. Some people think it’s writing sermons. Others think it’s managing all the different personalities in a church. But you know what really keeps me up at night? It’s when I see someone finally muster up the courage to walk through these doors, looking for hope, looking for community, looking for a place where they can be themselves—and then they run into that one person who’s doing "Jesus’ work" all wrong.
I’ll be honest with you, there are times when I wish I could shake that person—maybe even slap them, just a little! (But don’t worry, I’m not about to start a slapping ministry!) But here’s the thing: when we let judgment take over, we’re not just pushing people away from church—we’re pushing them away from Jesus.
Now, I know this is sounding a little heavy, but I promise we’re going somewhere with this. Today, we’re going to dig into what it means to be the church that Jesus called us to be. We’re going to talk about love, judgment, and why it’s so much easier to hate than to love—and why we need to do the harder thing.
So buckle up, because we’re about to take a wild ride through some truths that might just make us squirm a little.
So here we are, a bunch of imperfect people gathered in this place, trying to figure out what it means to follow Jesus in a world that’s constantly changing. And let’s be real—sometimes, it feels like the church is still playing catch-up. We’ve got the same gospel, the same message of love and grace that Jesus gave us over 2,000 years ago, but we’re living in a time where technology, social media, and cultural shifts are reshaping the way people see the world—and the church.
Now, let’s talk about this for a minute. Technology, for all its benefits, has given us some new ways to be distant while pretending to be connected. We can tweet, post, and comment from behind a screen, and somehow that makes it easier to throw stones without ever having to look someone in the eye. And you know what’s scary? Some folks out there are doing this in the name of Jesus. They think they’re defending the faith, but in reality, they’re just pushing people away.
Imagine this: someone finally gets the courage to step through these doors, maybe for the first time in years. They’ve had a rough go, life’s been beating them down, and they’re looking for a place to catch their breath, to find some peace, maybe even some hope. And what do they find? A welcoming smile? Or do they bump into someone who’s too busy being a “Jesus” warrior, ready to tell them how they’re doing everything wrong?
Here’s the kicker—Jesus didn’t call us to be His social media defenders. He didn’t ask us to be the morality police, handing out tickets for every little misstep. He called us to love. To be the kind of people who, when someone walks through those doors, they feel like they’ve just come home. Not to a house full of critics, but to a family that’s ready to embrace them, flaws and all.
Now, loving people? That’s hard work. It’s messy, it’s complicated, and it doesn’t always come with easy answers. But if we’re going to be the church that Jesus intended, we’ve got to stop worrying so much about fixing people and start focusing on loving them.
So, what does that look like? How do we become a church that people want to be a part of, not just because it’s what they’re "supposed" to do, but because it’s where they feel loved and accepted?
Alright, so we’ve laid the groundwork: we know that loving people is tough, and that the church can sometimes stumble when it comes to making folks feel welcome. But here’s where it gets really interesting—what does love actually look like in action?
Let’s face it, it’s easy to say “love your neighbor” when your neighbor looks like you, thinks like you, and maybe even votes like you. But what about when your neighbor is the guy who cut you off in traffic, or took your parking spot this morning. Or God forbid took your pew. Or the person who’s spreading gossip about you at work? What about when they walk into this church with a whole different set of beliefs or life experiences that don’t quite match up with yours? That’s when loving your neighbor gets real.
I want you to picture something for a moment. Imagine that you’re standing at the entrance of this church, and you see someone walk in who’s clearly out of place. Maybe they’ve got tattoos, or piercings, or they’re dressed in a way that’s far from the “Sunday best” you’re used to. What’s your first reaction? Do you feel that little twinge of judgment? Do you wonder if they belong here? Or do you see them the way Jesus would—a beloved child of God, in need of grace just like the rest of us?
Here’s the thing: Jesus didn’t just hang out with the people who had it all together. He spent time with the outcasts, the sinners, the people who everyone else thought were beyond saving. And He didn’t do it with a checklist of things they needed to change before they could be accepted. He loved them first, and that love is what transformed them.
Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: “But Pastor, doesn’t that mean we’re just letting people do whatever they want? Isn’t there a place for truth and standards?” Absolutely there is. But here’s the catch—truth without love is just noise. It’s a clanging cymbal, as Paul would say. It doesn’t reach people’s hearts, and it certainly doesn’t bring them closer to Jesus.
So, what if we flip the script? What if, instead of focusing on how people don’t measure up to our standards, we focus on loving them exactly where they are? What if we made this church a place where everyone feels like they can belong before they believe, a place where they can wrestle with their doubts and struggles without fear of rejection?
You see, that’s the kind of love that changes lives. That’s the kind of church that makes people want to come back, week after week—not because they’re afraid of what might happen if they don’t, but because they’ve found a place where they’re truly seen, known, and loved.
And here’s the kicker: that’s the kind of love that Jesus is calling each of us to show, not just on Sundays, but every single day. It’s a love that pushes us out of our comfort zones, that challenges us to see the world through the eyes of grace, and that invites others to experience the transforming power of God’s love in their own lives.
So let’s think about what that looks like in practice. How do we start living out this radical, unconditional love in a world that’s often more interested in tearing people down than building them up?
Before we can fully grasp what it means to love people as they are, we first have to understand something that is often misunderstood: sin. It’s a word that carries a lot of weight, isn’t it? It’s one of those things that can make us squirm in our seats a little bit. But here’s the truth we all need to hear—every single one of us is a sinner. And I’m not just talking about the big stuff, the things that make headlines. I’m talking about the everyday, ordinary stuff that we all wrestle with—pride, the anger, the jealousy, the lies, the things we wish we could take back.
Here’s the kicker: No sin is greater than another. That’s right. The gossip you might share after church isn’t any lighter in God’s eyes than the worst thing you can imagine someone doing. We’ve all got our stuff, our baggage, our sins that weigh us down. But the beautiful thing about God’s grace is that it doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t say, “Well, this person’s sin is a little smaller, so they get a pass.” No, grace is for everyone—because we’re all in the same boat.
And that’s where the church comes in. The church isn’t supposed to be a place where we pretend we’ve got it all together. It’s not a museum of saints; it’s a hospital for sinners. It’s a place where we can come as we are—broken, messed up, and in need of healing. And it’s here, in this community, that we find the grace we need to keep going, to keep trying, to keep turning back to God.
So, let’s take this a step further. What if we thought of the church as a “Sinners’ Anonymous” meeting? I mean, think about it. When you walk into a meeting like that, there’s no judgment, no hierarchy of who’s the “worst” sinner in the room. Everyone’s on the same level, and everyone’s there for the same reason—to seek help, to find support, and to experience healing.
In a “Sinners’ Anonymous” meeting, you start by acknowledging the truth about yourself: “Hello, I’m Justin, and I’ve been a sinner for 34 years.” It’s a powerful moment of honesty and humility, and it sets the stage for real transformation. Because it’s only when we acknowledge our brokenness that we can truly open ourselves up to the healing grace of God.
And that’s what I want this church to be—a place where we can all come as we are, without fear of judgment or condemnation. A place where we can be honest about our struggles, where we can admit that we don’t have it all figured out, and where we can find the love and support we need to keep moving forward.
So here’s my challenge to you—let’s be that church. Let’s be the church that welcomes sinners with open arms, that says, “You’re not alone in this. We’re all in this together, and we’re here to help each other along the way.” Let’s be the church that’s known not for its judgment, but for its love. The kind of love that sees beyond the sin and embraces the person.
And let’s not stop there. Let’s take this love out into the world. Because being the church doesn’t end when we walk out those doors. It’s about how we live, how we treat people, how we show grace in our everyday interactions. It’s about being the hands and feet of Jesus in a world that desperately needs to see what real love looks like.
So, as we leave here today, let’s commit to being that kind of church. Let’s commit to loving people as they are, to welcoming sinners without judgment, and to living out the radical, life-changing grace that we’ve all been given. Because that’s what it means to be the church—and that’s what it means to follow Jesus. Amen.
