The Scandal of the Gospel: When It's Too Good to Be True
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It's a crisp Sabbath morning in Capernaum and the synagogue is packed. Word is spread like wildfire about this rabbi from Nazareth who just fed 5,000 people with the boy's lunch. The air crackles with expectation. People are pressed against the walls, craning their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the miracle worker. Maybe he'll do it again. Maybe he'll multiply their bread. Maybe he'll solve all their problems with another display of supernatural provision.
Jesus stands up to teach. And at first, they're hanging on every word. But something shifts. His teaching takes an unexpected turn. He starts talking about being the true bread from heaven, about his flesh being real food, and his blood being real drink. The murmurss begin quietly at first, rippling through the crowd like waves of confusion. This is a hard teaching, they whisper to each other.
Who can accept it? The atmosphere changes from electric anticipation to uncomfortable tension. These aren't his enemies grumbling. These are his own disciples. People who've been following him, who've witnessed his miracles, who've left their normal lives behind to trail after this remarkable teacher. But now, now he's saying things that sound impossible, outrageous, maybe even blasphemous. The light he's revealing about his divine nature and the intimate participation he's offering, it's too bright for eyes accustomed to the dim glow of conventional religion.
John tells us what happens next, and it's heartbreaking. From this time, many of his disciples went back and walked no more with him. John 6 verse 666 they turned away not because Jesus had failed them but because what he was offering was too good too radical too far beyond what they could wrap their minds around. And here we are 2,000 years later still doing the same thing. We're still standing at the edge of truth so magnificent that our hearts whisper, "This can't be real. This is too good to be true.
When we hear that we're not just forgiven sinners, but actual participants in divine nature, something in us recoils. When we read that Christ literally lives in us, that we're temples of the Holy Spirit, that we're called to reflect God's very glory. Well, that sounds nice for super saints, maybe, but not for us. Not for people who yelled at their kids this morning. Not for people who can't seem to break that stubborn habit. Not for ordinary folks who feel like cracked pottery more than they feel like divine mirrors. We've become experts at explaining away the most glorious parts of the gospel.
We've developed sophisticated theological gymnastics to avoid the full weight of what scripture actually says about who we are in Christ. And just like those disciples in Capernium, we risk walking away from the very truths that could transform everything. Why do we do this? Why is grace so scandalous to us? Well, first, we're painfully aware of our own flaws. Trust me, I get that. You know that internal dialogue.
It runs on repeat in your head. The one that catalogs every failure, every stumble, every time you've fallen short. Yeah, that one. When you're acutely conscious of how you lost your temper in traffic yesterday or how you gossiped about your co coworker or how you can't seem to pray for more than two minutes without your mind wandering to your grocery list. Well, being told you're a partaker of divine nature, it kind of feels like a cruel joke. But here's what we're missing. God isn't surprised by our struggles.
He's not standing in heaven with his jaw dropped saying, "Oh no, I had no idea they were such a mess when I offered them my divine nature." He knows exactly who we are. Every crack, every flaw, every failure, and he still says, "I choose you. I'm making my home in you. You are my beloved child." Peter understood this tension. This is the same Peter who denied Jesus three times, who sank in the waves because of doubt when Jesus was walking on the water, who had to be corrected by Paul for his hypocrisy.
Yet, this flawed, very human Peter is the one who boldly declares that we are partakers of the divine nature in second Peter 1:4. He's not writing from a place of perfection. He's writing from a place of profound experience with grace. that really is that scandalous. I wanted to take a second to tell you about my book which expands on what I'm talking about today. The broken mirror of rediscovering our true nature in Christ will transform how you see yourself forever. Stop living as a struggling sinner trying to be good enough and discover you're already a beloved child of God with his divine nature flowing through you.
This book will free you from shame, give you unshakable identity, and show you how to access God's peace, wisdom, and strength from within. The book shows how this story unfolds from Genesis to Revelation, and teaches you to live from rest, see others as fellow image bearers, and step into your true calling as a radiant reflector of divine light. Your daily struggles will become opportunities for God's nature to shine through you. Get ready to live the abundant life Jesus promised. The link to the book is in the video description. Hard copy, Kindle, and audiobook versions are all available. May God bless your journey along his path for you.
We also struggle because we've inherited a theological tradition that often with good intentions has emphasized our unworthiness to such a degree that we can't conceive our worthiness in Christ. We've been taught to see ourselves primarily as sinners saved by grace with the emphasis heavily on the sinner's part. And yeah, we were sinners. And yes, we're saved by grace. But that's not the end of the story. That's just the beginning. Paul made this crystal clear.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have passed away. Behold, all things have become new. 2 Corinthians 5:17. Notice that all things, not some things, not a few things, all things. But we've been so conditioned to focus on our sinfulness that we miss the radical nature of our transformation. We're like someone who's been given a mansion but insists on sleeping in the garage because that's where we feel like we belong.
Think about it this way. If I hand you a check for a million bucks and you look at it and say, "This can't be real. This is too much. I don't deserve this." Your feelings about your worthiness don't change the value of that check. The check is worth a million dollars whether you feel worthy of it or not. And when God says you're his temple, when he says Christ lives in you, when he says you're seated with Christ in heavenly places, that's not dependent on your feelings of worthiness either.
It's dependent on his declaration and his finished work. Another reason we struggle is fear. Deep down, we're afraid. Because if we really believe these truths about our identity, we might become prideful. We think we'd start thinking we're something special. We'd get a big head and float away on a cloud of spiritual arrogance. So, we keep ourselves small.
We downplay the gifts. We resist the glory. But here's the beautiful irony. Truly understanding that you're a partaker of divine nature doesn't lead to pride. It leads to the deepest humility imaginable. Because when you realize that any light you shine, any good that flows through you, any divine characteristic you display, you realize that none of that originates with you and you're not the source. You're the vessel.
You're not the sun. You're the mirror reflecting the sun. Where does pride come in? There is no place for pride when you know this is not born of yourself.
The Pharisees were proud precisely because they thought their righteousness was self-generated. They believed they were good because of their own efforts, their own discipline, their own religious performance. But when you understand that Christ lives in you, that any goodness in you is his goodness flowing through you, how can that lead to pride? It can only lead to wonder, to gratitude, and yes, to profound humility. Now, let me share something that might help. You know, when you're listening to a beautiful piece of music and it moves you to tears, do you think the stereo speakers are proud of themselves for producing such beautiful sound? Obviously not.
They're simply doing what they're designed to do, receiving the signal and transmitting it clearly. That's us. We're designed to receive the divine signal and transmit it to the world. The music isn't ours. We're just the speakers. And the better we understand that, the less likely we are to fall into pride.
Sometimes we resist because we've seen people misuse these truths. We've seen folks claim special revelation because Christ lives in me or justify sin because I'm already perfect in Christ or become spiritually elite and look down on others who don't share their enlightened understanding. And yet those distortions do happen. They've happened throughout church history. But here's the thing. The misuse of a truth doesn't invalidate the truth itself. People misuse the concept of freedom, but that doesn't mean freedom isn't real or good.
People misuse the doctrine of grace, turning it into license for sin, but that doesn't mean grace isn't the very heart of the gospel. The solution isn't to hide from these truths or water them down until they're safe and manageable. The solution is to understand them properly, to teach them carefully, and to live them humbly.
Paul faced this same challenge when he taught about freedom in Christ. Some people twisted it into an excuse for sin. When he taught about grace, some people turned it into lawlessness. But Paul didn't respond by backing away from the truth. Instead, he clarified. He corrected. He showed what these truths really mean when properly understood and lived out.
And perhaps the deepest reason we struggle is simply this. It just seems too good to be true. We live in a world of transactions, of earning and deserving of quit proquo. Nothing's free. Everything has a catch. Everything's got a price. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
That's the wisdom of this world. And honestly, it usually serves us well in daily life. But the gospel operates on an entirely different economy. It's the economy of grace, of gift, of lavish, almost reckless generosity. God doesn't give us what we deserve. Thank goodness for that. He gives us what he delights to give.
And what he delights to give is nothing less than himself, his own nature, his own life dwelling in these clay vessels. Jesus addressed this directly in the same difficult discourse in Capernium. When many were walking away, he turned to the 12 and asked, "You don't also want to go away, do you?" John 6:67. Peter's famous response is so honest, so human, so perfect. Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life.
Peter doesn't say, "Oh, no, Lord. We understand everything perfectly." He doesn't claim to have it all figured out. What he's essentially saying is, "This is hard. This challenges everything we thought we knew, but we've tasted something in you that we can't find anywhere else. Where else are we going to go?
That's faith. Not perfect understanding, not the absence of questions or struggles, but a choice to stay with Jesus even when his truth is too bright for our eyes, too good for our comprehension, too generous for our small hearts to initially contain. So, what do we do with all this? How do we move past our resistance and into the glorious reality of who we really are in Christ? Well, first we need to let scripture speak for itself. Stop explaining away the plain meaning of verses that declare your true identity. When Paul says, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me," don't immediately add qualifiers and explanations that drain that of its power.
Sit with it. Let it sink in. Let it challenge your small view of yourself.
When Jesus says you are the light of the world in Matthew 5:14, he doesn't say you should try to be the light or you will be the light someday if you work really hard at it. He says you are the light. Present tense right now with all your imperfections and struggles. Second, remember that transformation is a process. Yes, you're a new creation, but you're still learning to live from that new identity. Yes, Christ lives in you, but you're still discovering what that means in practical daily life. Yes, you're a partaker of divine nature, but that nature is still being progressively revealed through your unique personality and circumstances.
Think of it like a seed. When you plant an oak seed, it's fully oak from the moment it germinates. It doesn't start as a maple and slowly become an oak. It's an oak from the beginning, but it still needs time, soil, water, and sunlight to grow into the fullness of what it already is. That's you. You're already a child of God, already a temple, already a partaker of divine nature. Now, you're growing into the fullness of that reality.
Third, find your identity in God's declaration, not your current experience. Your feelings will fluctuate. Your performance will vary. Some days you'll feel like you're shining bright. Other days you'll feel like a barely flickering candle. But God's word about you doesn't change with your emotions or your circumstances. Just like the value of that check doesn't care how you feel about it.
When God says you're his beloved child, that's true on your best day and your worst one. When he says you're a temple of the Holy Spirit, that's true when you feel spiritual and when you feel like you can barely pray. When he says you're seated with Christ in heavenly places, that's true even when you feel stuck in very earthly struggles.
Fourth, practice living from your true identity rather than trying to achieve it. And now this is a crucial shift. Instead of thinking I need to work hard to become someone God can use, think I am someone in whom Christ lives. So how does his life want to express itself through me today? Instead of I need to strive to be good enough, try the goodness of Christ is already in me. How can I cooperate with it? Instead of I hope someday I'll be spiritual enough, practice I am a spiritual being, a temple of God's spirit.
How can I live from that reality today? Finally, dare to believe that God means what he says. I know it feels risky. I know it seems too good to be true. I know every religious and instinct in you wants to add conditions, qualifications, and disclaimers to that statement. But what if, just what if, God really is as good as the gospel claims? What if grace really is this scandalous?
What if you really are as beloved, as valuable, as filled with divine potential as scripture says you are? Those disciples in Capernium had a choice. stay with the comfortable, manageable religion they understood or follow Jesus into truths that seemed impossibly good. Many chose comfort. But those who stayed, those who chose to trust even when they didn't fully understand, they discovered that what seemed too good to be true was actually too good to not be true. The same choice stands before you. Will you let the brightness of these truths cause you to turn away, to settle for a smaller, safer gospel?
Or will you, like Peter, say, "Lord, where else would I go? You have the words of eternal life." The scandal of grace isn't that it offers too little. It's that it offers way too much. It offers nothing less than God himself making his home in you, sharing his very nature with you, calling you to shine with his own light. Yeah, it's scandalous. Yeah, it challenges everything the world has taught us about earning and deserving.
Yeah, it seems too good to be true. But this is the gospel. This is the good news that angels long to look into. This is the mystery hidden for ages, but now revealed. Christ in you, the hope of glory. Don't let his brightness drive you away. Let it draw you in.
Let it transform how you see yourself. Let it change how you walk through tomorrow. Because you're not just a forgiven sinner trying to be good. You're a beloved child of God, a temple of his spirit, a partaker of his divine nature, designed to shine with heaven's own light. And that, my friend, is not too good to be true. It's too good not to be true. It's the very heart of the gospel.
It's the reason Jesus came. It's your inheritance, your identity, your destiny. Welcome to the scandal of grace. It's better than you dared to dream. Let this be our prayer. Aba, Father, we confess that your grace often seems too good for hearts trained in the economics of earning and deserving. Forgive us for making your gospel smaller than you intended, for explaining away the very truths that could set us free.
Give us courage to believe what you say about us. To trust that Christ really does live in us, that we really are partakers of your divine nature. When these truths seem too bright, don't let us turn away. Instead, heal our eyes to bear the light. Transform our understanding. Help us to live not from our sense of unworthiness, but from your declaration of our worth in Christ. May we dare to believe that we are who you say we are.
And may that belief transform not just our own lives, but the lives of all those we encounter. Thank you for the grace that truly is this scandalous, this generous, this good. In Jesus' name, amen. [Music]
