Introduction

Have you ever watched a little child run into a parent’s arms after a long day? No pretense, no posturing—just a leap and a hug. That’s the holy heartbeat of the church: arms open, hearts open, doors open. In a world quick to label and slow to listen, the family of God is called to be the place where the lonely find a name, the weary find a chair, and the guilty discover grace. You belong here. Yes, you. Because Christ has made room for you.

Some of us walked in today carrying burdens nobody else can see. The smile is there, but so is the strain. Others carry scars that still sting when someone brushes against them. Still others carry a secret suspicion: “If they really knew me, would they still want me?” Hear the whisper of the gospel: you are wanted. You are welcomed. You are not an interruption; you are an invitation to God’s glory on display in a community that looks and loves like Jesus.

Tim Keller once said, “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” —Tim Keller. That word accepted is oxygen to a starving soul. Christ’s welcome isn’t stiff or stingy. He doesn’t hold you at arm’s length and keep the receipt. He pulls you close. And when He does, He teaches us how to pull others close too.

Imagine a church where the first thing people feel is not scrutiny but safety, not performance but presence, not a cold shoulder but a warm smile. Imagine a community so captivated by Christ that our worship spills over the rims of our lives into the streets, the schools, the break rooms, and the breakfast tables. This is the melody of Romans 15: Christ receives us, our worship rises to God, and hope runs like a river through the Holy Spirit to fill us with joy and peace. Who doesn’t need that? Who doesn’t crave that kind of home?

This is not wishful thinking. This is what happens when a people remember how they were met by mercy. Mercy makes room. Grace gives ground. Love lowers the drawbridge and lays another plate at the table. And when we do that—when we welcome each other the way Christ welcomed us—God gets glory, people get family, and the nations get a song.

Let’s hear the Scripture together:

Romans 15:7–13 (NKJV) 7 Therefore receive one another, just as Christ also received us, to the glory of God. 8 Now I say that Jesus Christ has become a servant to the circumcision for the truth of God, to confirm the promises made to the fathers, 9 and that the Gentiles might glorify God for His mercy, as it is written: “For this reason I will confess to You among the Gentiles, And sing to Your name.” 10 And again He says: “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with His people!” 11 And again: “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles! Laud Him, all you peoples!” 12 And again, Isaiah says: “There shall be a root of Jesse; And He who shall rise to reign over the Gentiles, In Him the Gentiles shall hope.” 13 Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Opening Prayer: Father, thank You for the welcome of Jesus. Thank You that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us and opened wide the door of grace. By Your Spirit, soften our hearts and widen our arms. Heal grudges, hush fears, and help us receive one another as You have received us. Let our worship rise and our witness ring so that neighbors and nations would glorify Your name. Fill us, God of hope, with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit we may abound in hope. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Receive one another as Christ received you

“Therefore receive one another, just as Christ also received us, to the glory of God.” That line from Romans 15:7 sets the tone. This is not a side task. This is worship. How we treat each other says something loud about God. Paul ties our local welcome to God’s worldwide honor.

“Receive” means more than a quick hello. It means take in. Draw close. Make space. Give a place at the table and in the heart. It is personal. It costs something. It changes plans. It reorders comfort.

The pattern is “as Christ received us.” So we look at Him. He moved toward people. He called them by name. He listened. He fed. He washed feet. He carried shame that was not His. He bore with weak ones and did not break them. He stayed near to the slow and the stuck. He did not test people at the door. He welcomed and then formed. He told the truth and gave grace. He made time for people who could not pay Him back.

That kind of welcome shapes a church. It slows us down. It makes us look up from our own lane. It pulls us from comfort toward care. New folks do not slip through the cracks. Old hurts get noticed. Long stories get room to breathe. The quiet find a friend. The bold learn to share the floor. Meals get longer. Goodbyes take a while at the door. And Jesus gets seen in ordinary acts.

This also means we carry each other when faith feels small. We wait on those who learn slow. We remember that we have blind spots. We forgive at real cost. We give people the benefit of a second look. We check in. We follow up. We do not give up when it gets messy. Christ did not look at a file. He looked at faces. So we do the same.

Verse 8 tells us why this welcome has weight. “Jesus Christ has become a servant to the circumcision for the truth of God, to confirm the promises made to the fathers.” Our welcome stands on God’s truth. God keeps His word. He promised Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He promised a King from David’s line. He promised a people and a blessing. Christ came to prove it. He served. He showed that every line of God’s plan holds.

So when we receive each other, we act out the faithfulness of God. We say with our lives, God does not flinch. God does not forget. God finishes what He starts. The church is not a club built on taste. It is a family built on promise. If God keeps covenant, then we keep each other. If God moved toward us in Christ, then we move toward one another in Christ.

This steadies us when differences rise. Cultures differ. Backgrounds differ. Habits differ. God’s truth does not shake. The same promises cover the room. The same Messiah holds the middle. We can square our shoulders, smile, and say, “You are part of what God swore to do.” That changes the tone of every hallway talk and every team meeting.

It also guards the soul of ministry. We do not welcome to look nice. We welcome because God is true. We do not open our homes to win points. We open our homes because the King kept His word and came near. Promise-keeping fuels peacemaking. God’s track record gives us the courage to keep walking into hard rooms.

Verses 9–12 widen the lens. Paul strings pearls from the Psalms and Isaiah. The plan was never small. The nations were in view. “The Gentiles might glorify God for His mercy.” “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with His people.” “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles.” “In Him the Gentiles shall hope.” That is a choir made of many tongues.

So welcome must stretch across lines of race, class, age, and story. A church that sings these verses will not settle for a narrow circle. We will learn names that are hard for us to say. We will enjoy foods that are new to us. We will change the playlist sometimes. We will plan with many voices in the room. We will share the mic. We will hand off leadership and cheer. We will teach and also learn. We will repent when we have been harsh or blind. We will protect those who feel exposed. We will keep the table big.

This does not erase difference. It redeems it. Many peoples. One praise. Many threads. One banner over all. Mercy is the bridge. God’s kindness pulls in those who were far away. That same kindness then teaches us to walk together when steps do not match at first. We give each other time. We ask good questions. We do not assume. We celebrate small wins. We keep asking, “Who is missing from this room?” Then we go find them.

This kind of welcome can touch the city. Kids grow up seeing friends who do not look like them sitting at the same table. Neighbors hear many accents say the same Amen. Teachers and bosses see gentle strength. Grief and joy are shared across lines that usually keep people apart. God gets the praise. People get hope.

Verse 13 shows the power source. “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” We need more than willpower. We need God to fill us. Joy and peace come as we trust Him. Hope overflows when the Spirit works.

So we ask for help. We pray before we walk into the room. We breathe and remember who God is. We keep short accounts with Him and with each other. We practice simple steps of faith. We greet with warmth. We keep a spare seat near us. We look for those who stand alone. We notice tears. We notice silence. We offer a ride. We write the text. We give the invite again next week.

The Spirit makes this more than manners. He gives us eyes to see people the way the Father sees them. He gives power to forgive when it hurts. He gives patience when progress is slow. He gives courage to tell the truth with a soft tone. He gives wisdom to set good boundaries that still leave the door open. He gives joy that does not run dry when the calendar is full.

Hope is the engine. Joy and peace are the fuel lines. Faith is the grip on the wheel. The Spirit is the power under the hood. With that, the church can keep welcoming in hard seasons. With that, we can keep going when past efforts did not work. With that, we can smile at tomorrow because God is with us.

When this fills a people, their life together starts to sing. The room feels light even when the world feels heavy. The air feels safe for weakness. The cross feels near. The Scriptures feel alive. And the nations hear a sound they were made to hear.

Worship overflows to the nations

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