Not on Fox.
Not on the peacock channel.
Not on C-SPAN or ESPN.
Not a stock market report.
Not a weather forecast.
Not stale news.
Not fake news.
Not bad news.
Good news.
The gospel is not a broadcast that fades after the commercial break. It’s not spin for ratings or another voice in the noise. It’s the announcement of a historical event — the central act of God in history.
It is His Story.
Not her story.
Not my story.
Not your story.
And it’s not a compilation of fictional characters or cave-dwelling reflections. The gospel is not stitched together from legends. It is news — historical news — the record of real places, real people, real events that turned the world upside down.
Luke opens his Gospel by saying, “I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught” (Luke 1:3–4). That is not how myths begin. That is how history is recorded.
History stands marked in time by the life and death of Christ. Every calendar, every century, every generation is split by His story — before Christ and after Christ. No other figure, no other act, has carved itself so deeply into the record of time. For believers, Calvary is not just a date on the timeline. It is the axis of the universe — where justice and mercy met, and love had the final word.
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Why This Series
Over the next few weeks, we’re going to look at six foundations that Adventists have long called “pillars.” But let me be clear: these are not walls to keep people out. They are windows to help us see Jesus more clearly.
The Sabbath. The Second Coming. The Sanctuary and Judgment. The Three Angels’ Messages. The State of the Dead.
Each of these stands in Scripture. Each has its place in Adventist preaching. But unless they are grounded in the gospel, they collapse under their own weight.
That’s why we begin here. Everything that will be preached in the following weeks is grounded in this first message.
The good news of Jesus is the fuel for all six foundations.
Without the gospel, the Sabbath is just a day off. Without the cross, the judgment is only terror. Without Christ’s love, the Second Coming is nothing to long for. Without His victory, the resurrection is just wishful thinking.
So we start where we must: the gospel first.
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Past, Future, Present
The good news isn’t just an idea for today — it’s a story that spans past, future, and present.
Faith is anchored in the past: God’s mighty acts in history — creation, the Exodus, the cross, the resurrection.
Hope is fastened to the future: God’s promises of the Second Coming, the resurrection, the new earth.
Love is lived in the present: the abiding reality of Christ’s Spirit in us, right now.
Faith remembers.
Hope anticipates.
Love abides.
Jesus Himself put it this way: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).
The Way — the path God has already opened.
The Truth — the promise God has spoken about what is to come.
The Life — God’s love pulsing in us today.
And Paul ties it together in 1 Corinthians 13: “Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Why? Because in the end, it is not about my shaky love for God but God’s unstoppable love for me. That’s good news.
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The Danger of Losing Sight
Lose your connection to the past, and you cut yourself off from the acts of God in history. Your faith drifts. You forget the cross, the empty tomb, the exodus, the miracles, the mighty works that anchor trust.
Lose sight of the future, and you shrink to the small world of today’s troubles. Without the Second Coming, without resurrection hope, life collapses into survival and distraction.
Lose the present experience of God’s love, and you may know the facts of the past and the promises of the future, but your heart is empty. You walk like a branch cut off from the vine.
You lose your connection to your past and lose sight of the future goal, leaving you aimless in your quest for purpose and fulfillment.
That is why this first message matters. The gospel holds past, future, and present together in Christ.
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The Built-In Cry for Justice
But let’s get personal. Every one of us comes wired with a sense of justice. You don’t have to teach children to complain when they feel cheated. Hand out cookies unevenly, and the protest rises within seconds.
Author Gary Haugen once described it this way: “If I wanted to teach math to a classroom of six-year-olds, I would begin each day by distributing a delicious snack — unevenly. Then I would simply wait. Within minutes the kids who got less would produce a perfect mathematical proof of the injustice, and the ones who got more would vigorously rebut it.”
Children don’t need a lecture to feel injustice. They come wired for it.
And we adults are no different.
Think of driving: when someone else speeds past us, we hope a patrol car pulls them over. But when we’re late for work and driving a little too fast? Well, that’s different.
We judge others by their actions but ourselves by our intentions. Our passion for justice is strong — until it costs us.
We saw this instinct play out in a viral moment at a Philadelphia Phillies game. A home-run ball landed in the stands. A father caught it and handed it to his little boy. Almost instantly a woman insisted the ball was hers and tried to take it. The dad quietly let it go to keep the peace. The moment hit social media like a firestorm. Millions were demanding justice — “Give the boy his ball!” Others admired the father’s calm mercy.
In that one scene, the world saw what we’re talking about tonight: the deep, built-in cry for justice, and the surprising beauty of mercy that yields its rights.
Why do we feel this so strongly? Because we bear God’s image. The God of the Bible is a God of justice, and He built that sense into us.
But here’s the problem: our justice is faulty and selfish. God’s justice is perfect.
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The Holiness of God and the Sinfulness of Man
And that brings us to the core problem.
The Bible talks about sin over 700 times, and if you add words like transgression and iniquity, well over a thousand.
Sin means missing the mark of God’s standard.
Transgression means crossing a line God drew.
Iniquity means twisting what is right.
Sin isn’t only actions — it’s thoughts, desires, motives. It’s measured by God’s character, not by human opinion.
Romans 3 puts it bluntly: “None is righteous, no, not one… all have turned aside… no one does good, not even one.”
Even if we “only” sinned three times a day — a stray thought, a sharp word — that’s more than 1,000 sins a year. Multiply that by a lifetime and the number climbs beyond counting.
Sin is serious because of whom it offends. An insult against a neighbor is bad; striking a president would be far worse. Sin is an offense against the infinitely holy God.
Isaiah saw this in a vision. He writes:
“I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up… and the seraphim called, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory’” (Isaiah 6:1–3).
Holiness means absolute moral purity — not the slightest taint of sin. A blazing, white-hot perfection.
Isaiah’s reaction?
“Woe is me! I am lost; I am a man of unclean lips… for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:5).
If the prophet of God trembled, how can we stand? Even the best person we know is as far below God’s holiness as the longest long jump is short of spanning the Grand Canyon
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The Crimson Thread
The story of salvation is the crimson thread that binds the entire biblical record into one grand theme.
From Eden’s garments of skin,
to the lamb on Abraham’s altar,
to the blood on Israel’s doorposts,
to the sacrifices in the sanctuary,
to the cross on Calvary’s hill —
one scarlet line runs through it all.
The theme of the Bible is Jesus, and how He died to save man.
Genesis doesn’t stand alone. The prophets aren’t just fiery voices. The Gospels aren’t isolated biographies. The epistles aren’t random letters. From beginning to end, the Bible sings one song: salvation through the Lamb of God.
And that brings us to the central dilemma the crimson thread addresses.
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God’s Dilemma — Justice and Mercy
The Bible declares two truths side by side:
God is just.
God is merciful.
God is just, and justice demands that sin be punished. He cannot ignore wrongdoing. If He did, the universe would collapse into chaos.
But God is also merciful, and mercy longs to forgive. He delights in steadfast love. He is slow to anger, abounding in compassion.
The tension is inescapable: how can God show mercy to lawbreakers and still be just?
Human attempts fall short.
We excuse sin: “Everybody does it.”
We minimize sin: “It’s not that bad.”
We try to outweigh sin: “I’ve done some wrong, but I’ve also done a lot of good.”
But none of these satisfy perfect justice. A traffic judge doesn’t dismiss a ticket because of all the other times you drove the speed limit.
Our good deeds cannot cancel our violations. Our own efforts cannot bridge the infinite gap between human sin and divine holiness.
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The Cross: Where Justice and Mercy Meet
Enter Jesus.
John the Baptist saw Him coming and declared, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).
Isaiah had foretold it centuries earlier:
“He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed. The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:5–6).
At Calvary, justice and mercy collided.
Luke 23 records it. Pilate declared Jesus innocent three times. Yet the crowd shouted, “Crucify Him!” They released a murderer and condemned the only perfectly righteous man who ever lived.
“When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified Him” (Luke 23:33).
Mockers sneered, “Save Yourself!” But Jesus refused, because He came to save us. He could not save Himself and us.
Two criminals hung beside Him. One joined the mockers. The other prayed, “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” And Jesus promised, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”
At the cross, the holy God did the unthinkable: He punished sin fully and forgave sinners freely — at the same time.
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The Great Exchange
What happened there?
Jesus took our sin — all of it.
He gave us His righteousness — all of it.
He bore the wrath we deserved so we could enjoy the welcome He deserved.
Paul put it this way: “For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
This is the heart of the gospel. Nothing else explains how a holy God can embrace unholy people without compromising His justice.
When Jesus cried from the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30), He wasn’t sighing in defeat. He was announcing that the debt was paid in full. Justice satisfied. Mercy extended. Sin conquered. Salvation secured.
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Through It All
That’s why generations of believers have been able to sing, “Through it all, I’ve learned to trust in Jesus; I’ve learned to trust in God.”
The Christian life is not about trusting ourselves — our promises, our performance, our persistence. It is about trusting Him — His promises, His performance, His persistence.
Through it all, through trials and triumphs, through losses and gains, through joy and sorrow, the believer can look back and say:
“I learned to trust in Jesus. I learned to trust in God.”
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Ordinary Spirit-Filled Disciples
And here’s the part we must not miss: this gospel doesn’t just save extraordinary saints; it transforms ordinary people.
God isn’t ultimately looking for buildings packed with crowds. He is looking for people filled with His Spirit.
Most of them will never preach from a pulpit or trend online. They are garden-variety believers — plain Joes and Janes who quietly love Jesus, raise families, work honest jobs, and live out the gospel in everyday faithfulness.
Their lives of dedication may never make headlines, but they shine with the glory of Christ.
This is what Jesus meant in Matthew 25:40: “Truly I say to you, whatever you did for one of the least of these My brothers and sisters, you did it unto Me.”
When you care for the overlooked.
When you forgive the undeserving.
When you serve without applause.
That is fruit that lasts — because it flows from His life within you.
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A Different Kind of Fruit-Bearing
The gospel redefines fruit.
The world prizes output — numbers, followers, sales, statistics. Even churches can fall into measuring success by attendance or programs. But Jesus never commanded His disciples to count fruit.
In John 15 He didn’t say, “Go bear fruit and you will abide.” He said, “Abide in Me, and you will bear much fruit.”
The order matters. Fruit is the overflow of connection, not the requirement for connection. Branches don’t strain to push out grapes; they simply remain attached, and the life of the vine flows through them.
The Christian life is not frantic production. It is steady connection. Not straining, but remaining.
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Section 3
So how do we live in this reality? How do ordinary disciples like us carry the weight of so great a salvation?
The answer comes from Jesus Himself in John 15: “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in Me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.”
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Abiding in Christ
The Christian life is not about adding up accomplishments. It is about connection. A branch has no life in itself. Its one task is to remain attached.
The Greek word Jesus used, meno, means to remain, to stay, to endure. It is the word of dwelling.
Our English word abide comes from Old English abidan — to stay put, to stick with it. You can almost hear it in the vows of marriage: to stay, to remain, to abide.
And here’s a beautiful echo. In Arabic, there’s a word that sounds very similar — abadan — which means “forever” or “never ending.” The languages aren’t historically connected, but the resonance is striking. Jesus wasn’t inviting His disciples to a weekend visit. He was calling them to a forever home in Him.
Abiding is not a quick stop, not a seasonal habit, not a part-time residency. It is a permanent union.
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Fruit as Overflow, Not Effort
And notice what Jesus did not say. He did not say, “Go strain to produce fruit, and then you will abide.” He said, “Abide in Me, and you will bear much fruit.”
The order matters. Fruit is not commanded; it is promised. It is the inevitable overflow of abiding in Christ.
Branches don’t groan and strain to push out grapes. They simply remain connected, and the life of the vine flows through them.
This is how the Christian life works. Transformation is not a reward for effort; it is the by-product of intimacy. The fruit is not the proof of our grit; it is the proof of His grace.
Numbers and crowds may impress us. But what delights Jesus is not a stadium full of spectators but a people full of His Spirit.
That is why the measure of a church is not how many seats are filled but how many lives are Spirit-filled. Not how many programs run, but how many hearts abide.
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Faith, Hope, and Love Revisited
And this brings us back to the trio we touched on earlier. The gospel binds past, future, and present.
Faith anchors us to the past. We remember God’s mighty acts. We trust that Calvary really happened, that the tomb really was empty.
Hope pulls us toward the future. We look forward to the return of Christ, to the resurrection, to the new creation.
Love holds us in the present. It is not our shaky love for God, but God’s steadfast love poured into us through the Spirit.
Faith remembers.
Hope anticipates.
Love abides.
Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
The Way — the past path God has opened.
The Truth — the future promise that cannot fail.
The Life — the present reality of Christ alive in us.
And Paul’s words tie the bow: “Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Why is love the greatest? Because in the end, faith will become sight, hope will be fulfilled, but love will never end.
And not my faltering love for God, but His faithful love for me.
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The Good News
This is the good news. Not stale news. Not fake news. Not rumor or speculation. It is historical news, eternal news, personal news.
History stands marked by the life and death of Christ. His story, not hers, not yours, not mine.
The story of salvation is the crimson thread that binds the entire Bible into one grand theme. The Lamb of God has taken away the sin of the world.
And now His life flows through all who abide in Him.
Through it all, I have learned to trust in Jesus. Through it all, I have learned to trust in God.
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The Call
So the question is not whether you have fruit to prove yourself. The question is: Are you abiding?
Have you brought your sins — your whole stack of unpaid tickets — to the cross and left them there? Have you trusted the Savior who already bore them?
This is not about tallying victories or presenting achievements. It is about surrendering to the One who already won.
The gospel is not a self-help plan. It is not advice for living. It is news — good news.
Jesus Christ has done it. He has finished it. He has opened the way, secured the truth, given the life.
Will you rest in Him? Will you trust Him? Will you abide in Him?
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<< Series Review
Because when you do, everything else begins to make sense.
Next week, we will step into what Scripture calls God’s courtroom. That word “judgment” can sound terrifying. But in light of the cross, it becomes good news.
The verdict was already secured at Calvary. The judgment is not God hunting for reasons to exclude you. It is God opening the books before the universe to vindicate His justice and mercy.
Then we will move into the Sabbath and the Second Coming — rest and hope tied together. Rest for today because of what Christ has finished; hope for tomorrow because of what He has promised.
And finally we will come to the Final Call — the everlasting gospel proclaimed in the Three Angels’ Messages, the truth about death, the hope of resurrection, the freedom from deception.
But it all begins here, with the gospel first. The cross where justice and mercy met. The love of God that endures. The life of Christ that flows.
Faith for yesterday.
Hope for tomorrow.
Love for today.
And the greatest of these is love.
