For most of my life, I thought the Bible was about what I had to do for God. I read it like a checklist for Christian performance. Every verse seemed to whisper or sometimes shout, “Try harder. Be better. Do more.”
Without realizing it, my faith became very man-centered. It was about what I owed God, what I had to prove, what I needed to fix. The focus was always on me, my devotion, my obedience, my dedication. And I honestly thought that was godliness.
Good preaching, as I understood it, was the kind that “ripped your face off,” as some used to say. The kind that made you squirm, feel guilty, and run to the altar to get right again. The preacher was doing his job if you left church hurting, convicted, or ashamed. Somewhere along the way, we confused guilt with holiness and intensity with truth.
But when I began to read the New Testament with new eyes, I was stunned. Page after page, I saw that the message wasn’t about what I must do for God, it was about what God has already done for me.
The Gospel wasn’t a demand; it was an announcement. It was good news.
The gods of this world always demand sacrifice. They roar for your blood, your devotion, your obedience, anything that might satisfy their wrath or win their favor. But the God of the Bible did the unthinkable: He became the sacrifice.
“For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Sin pays in death. It enslaves and destroys. And God hates sin because of what it does to us. Sin kills His children. Grace freely gives.
And that’s what I had missed all those years.
I read the Bible as a book of expectations instead of revelation. I thought it was about what I owed God when it was really about what He has given me. I thought His commands were conditions for His love, but they are invitations to share it.
The New Testament isn’t God demanding of us but God giving to us. It’s not, “Do this so I’ll bless you,” but “I have blessed you, now live as My beloved.” It was so hard for me to see myself as His beloved. I knew He loved me, but doubted He really liked me.
If you really think about it, the “big” commands for believers are: love God, love others, and forgive. But those aren’t rules to measure up to, they’re responses to grace. They’re the fruit of the Spirit in a heart flooded by mercy. And they are not what is thundered forth while ripping faces, haha.
Yet those are the very truths we preach the least. Much of Christianity today has become moralizing and a form of behavioral correction, called the gospel. We talk more about “Christian values” than about Christ Himself. Too much preaching focuses on cultural morality rather than His amazing grace.
But morality without mercy makes Pharisees. And rules without relationship make rebels.
When you finally see how much God has done, how much He’s given, how much He’s loved you, you can’t stay the same. You stop working to earn what’s already yours. You stop performing for a Father who’s already pleased.
That is a drastic change for me, realizing the gospel isn’t about my dedication to God, but about His dedication to me. He made the first move. He came all the way to where I was, not waiting for me to climb my way up to Him.
The Christian life isn’t me trying to live for God, no matter how much I really want to; it’s Christ living in me. It is not about me but Him. I am to rest, to respond, and to rejoice that He has already done.
Now it is not about trying to make God happy with my performance. It’s resting in the truth stated clearly in John 17:23 that He already delights in me because I am in Christ. That changes everything.
The Bible is the story of His love and rescue. Not a manual for moral improvement, but a revelation of divine love.
I used to read it as a list of “ought tos.” Now I read it as a love letter from a Father who ran toward me when I was still far off. There was a young lady named Gayle in my youth group back in the early 70s who always called her Bible God’s love letters to Gayle. I thought that was cute, but now I see it as more truth than I could get hold of at the time.
And every time I open it, I see the same truth shining through:
God did what I never could.
Grace did what the law never could.
Love did what fear never could.
That’s the best news.
