Category: Christ

In His Name: Proclaiming the Gospel in a Post-Christian World

The Book of Acts provides a broad account of how the gospel spread from Jerusalem to the Greco-Roman world. While Peter and Philip start the movement, the Apostle Paul becomes its main missionary figure. Throughout the story, Luke includes over thirty “case studies” of individuals and communities changed by the gospel. Despite the different settings, one pattern stays the same: the proclamation of the Name.

From Peter’s inaugural sermon at Pentecost (Acts 2) to Paul’s ministry in Rome (Acts 28), the gospel is inseparable from the Name of Jesus. Luke summarizes Philip’s mission in Samaria this way: “Philip came to town announcing the news of God’s kingdom and proclaiming the name of Jesus Christ” (Acts 8:12). Here, two gospel threads are tightly intertwined: the kingdom of God and the Name of Jesus Christ.

This emphasis grows stronger as the story develops. In Ephesus, Luke observes, “Fear fell upon them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was being magnified” (Acts 19:17). Paul himself was commissioned with these words: “He is a chosen instrument of Mine, to bear My name before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel” (Acts 9:15). For the early church, proclaiming the gospel meant proclaiming His Name.

The Name Above Every Name

Paul examines the theological significance of this theme in Philippians 2, discussing Jesus’ incarnation, humility, and exaltation. The highlight? “God highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the Name that is above every name” (Phil. 2:9). At this Name, every knee will bow, and every tongue confess that “Jesus Christ is Lord” (2:10–11).

What is this exalted Name? Some suggest it refers to a new, divine title yet to be revealed. More likely, it points to the full confession: Jesus Christ is Lord. This triadic declaration reflects the totality of Jesus’ identity and authority—spanning His earthly ministry, divine sonship, and royal kingship.

Belief in His Name

A common expression used in the New Testament is “believe in Him.” John 3:16 promises that “whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” In the early chapters of John’s Gospel, much of what was to be believed was still unknown—the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension had yet to happen. By the end, however, belief “in Him” included all of who Jesus is and what He has accomplished.

The gospel, then, is not just a collection of doctrines but the narrative of Jesus Christ—His person and His work. To believe in Him is to believe the gospel. To proclaim His Name is to proclaim the good news of salvation.

The Four Names of Jesus

In Scripture, names reveal more than just identity; they denote mission, character, and authority. The New Testament assigns four main names to Jesus, each emphasizing a different aspect of His nature.

• Son of God – His eternal, divine, Trinitarian identity. He is God the Son, uncreated and co-eternal with the Father.
• Jesus – His historical and incarnational identity. A common Hebrew name (Joshua), given by divine command, to signify His mission to save.
• Christ – His messianic identity. The Anointed One who fulfills and surpasses the Old Testament roles of prophet, priest, and king.
• Lord – His covenantal and cosmic authority. To confess Jesus as Lord is to affirm His divinity and to reject all rival claims to ultimate authority, including Caesar’s.

Together, these titles offer the clearest picture of the gospel: the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

Synecdoche and the Risk of Misunderstanding

New Testament writers often use these names interchangeably through a rhetorical device known as synecdoche—where a part represents the whole. In Romans 1 alone, Paul refers to Christ Jesus, His Son, the Son of God, Jesus Christ our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Each name or combination draws attention to the whole identity of Jesus.

However, synecdoche depends on shared understanding. In a post-Christian context, where “Jesus” might be seen just as a historical figure and “Christ” mistaken for a surname, such shorthand can cause confusion or misrepresentation. Effective gospel proclamation today needs to unpack the full meaning of His Name before expecting the shorthand to communicate correctly.

Power in the Name

For the early church, the Name of Jesus wasn’t just symbolic—it carried power. Peter told the lame man: “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk” (Acts 3:6). The Jewish leaders, recognizing this authority, told the apostles not to preach “in His Name” (Acts 4:18).

The apostolic church believed—and experienced—that the authority of the risen Christ was mediated through His Name. His Name brought healing, liberation, and transformation. It still does.

His Name breaks bondage (sin, Satan, death), creates new realities (life, peace, reconciliation), and brings radical renewal (from hardened hearts to softened ones, from enemies to beloved family).

Why It Matters

Paul captures both the urgency and the universality of the gospel when he writes, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Rom. 10:13). But he quickly adds, “How will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher?” (10:14).

To proclaim the gospel is to declare the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ. And to believe the gospel is to trust in Him — not just as a historical figure or an abstract title, but as the Son of God, Jesus, the Christ, the Lord.

This raises the question for each of us to ask: Have we not only heard His Name and embraced it—but are we prepared to share it clearly and convincingly, in a world that may no longer understand it?

For Discussion

1.  Which of Jesus’ names — Son of God, Jesus, Christ, or Lord — holds the most meaning for you personally, and why?

2.  How does understanding His Name help clarify what belief in the gospel truly means?

3.  In our post-Christian culture, how can we explain “His Name” to people who believe Jesus was just a historical figure?

The stage grew quiet. The curtain had dropped—but not for long. Heaven leaned in. Hell grew cautious. And then, just as suddenly, the drama continued.

For thirty years, the Creator of the universe lived in obscurity. No spotlight. No fanfare. Just Jesus of Nazareth—learning the carpenter’s trade, sweating under the sun, collecting splinters in His hands and calluses on His feet. God Himself was walking in the dust, and few noticed.

But everything was about to change.

The Messiah Has Come

Christ—the Greek word for Messiah—wasn’t Jesus’ last name. It was a title, one He lived into through His words and actions. Everything about Him—His teaching, His miracles, His compassion—pointed to the claim that He was the long-awaited Messiah.

For centuries, the Jewish people had been waiting for this figure. The prophets spoke of His coming. Families whispered with hope: “Maybe the Messiah will arrive in our lifetime.” They pictured a deliverer like King David (Psalm 2)—a warrior-king who would overthrow their oppressors, free them from slavery, and put Israel back on the map as a global power.

So when John the Baptist burst onto the scene, people couldn’t help but ask: “Are you the one?” John was quick to set the record straight: “I’m not the Light—I’ve just come to introduce Him.”

Not long after, Andrew met Jesus. Excited, he ran to his brother Peter and said, “We’ve found the Messiah!” And in a quiet conversation with a Samaritan woman in Sychar, Jesus didn’t leave her guessing. When she mentioned the coming Messiah, He simply replied, “I am he.”

The question was no longer if the Messiah had come. The real question was: what kind of Messiah would He be?

The Servant Steps Forward

The prophet Isaiah had described Him as the Suffering Servant—not a warrior king or political ruler, but a servant.

He arrived without armies or parades. He carried no sword, wore no crown. Instead, He came in humility:

“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” — Mark 10:45

Paul later marveled at this reality:

“Though he was in the form of God, he did not consider equality with God something to cling to. Instead, he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant…” — Philippians 2:6–7

The Creator of galaxies chose a carpenter’s bench. Omnipotence grew weary and sweated beneath the sun. Grace wore sandals.

The Kingdom Among Us

“The kingdom of God is near,” Jesus announced (Mark 1:15). And wherever He went, the kingdom left footprints.

It wasn’t tied to Rome or borders or thrones. It was deeper—an eternal reality, invisible to unbelief but unmistakable to faith. His words unsettled the powerful, comforted the broken, and puzzled nearly everyone else.

He healed the sick. He welcomed the forgotten. He set the oppressed free. Demons fled at His command. Blind eyes opened. The dead rose. And the crowds whispered, “Could this be the Messiah?”

But He wasn’t the Messiah they expected. The long-awaited King came as a servant, revealing the very nature of God (Hebrews 1:1–2). When Thomas asked to see the Father, Jesus answered, “The one who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).

The Rabbi of a New Way

Jesus not only announced the kingdom—He showed what kingdom life looks like.

On a hillside, He taught a way of living that turned human instincts upside down: the first will be last, the greatest will serve, forgiveness undeserved. His followers were to be salt and light, even when persecuted.

As Rabbi, He modeled and taught these values. His invitation was simple yet demanding: Follow Me. To walk with Him was to learn a whole new way of being human. No wonder His followers were called people of “The Way.”

Perfection in the Dust

For thirty-three years, Jesus lived in perfect obedience to His Father. Where the first Adam failed, the second Adam prevailed. Every step, every word, every choice was surrendered to His Father’s will.

He declared, “I can do nothing by myself; I only do what I see the Father doing.” And in Gethsemane, sweating drops of blood, He prayed: “Not My will, but Yours be done.”

One thief on a nearby cross said it best: “We are punished justly… but this man has done nothing wrong.” His only “crime” was being exactly who He claimed to be—the perfect Son of God.

Imagine it: The Creator of galaxies walking dusty roads. The eternal King choosing humility. Perfection enduring a sham trial.

Curtain Falls

Act 2 closes not with a crown but with a conviction. Every step in the dust was leading to the cross—where the Servant would be revealed as the Savior.

For Discussion

1. What strikes you most about the humility of Jesus in His early life and ministry?
2. Why do you think people had such mixed reactions to Jesus’ message about the kingdom of God?
3. How does seeing Jesus as both Servant and King shape your understanding of discipleship today?
4. John the Baptist called Jesus “the Lamb of God.” What does this reveal about His mission?
5. How do you see “kingdom footprints” in your own life today?

Time is one of the four dimensions of our physical world—three of space and one of time. Unlike spatial dimensions, time moves in only one direction: forward. This unidirectional flow gives time a distinct role in shaping our experience of reality. In science fiction, we may see time moving backward or being manipulated, but in the real world, time marches forward without pause or rewind.

Religions have wrestled with the nature of time for centuries. Many Eastern religions see time as cyclical, repeating endlessly in a loop.  Judaism and Christianity see time as linear, moving toward a definite conclusion—a final day when God sets everything right.

Even the ancient Greeks had two words for time:

•  Kronos – measurable time, the ticking of the clock.

•  Kairos – a meaningful, opportune moment.

Where kronos is quantitative, kairos is qualitative. A kairos moment is when time seems to stop—when something significant happens that leaves a mark far deeper than minutes or hours.

I experienced such a moment years ago, sitting with my wife on a quiet beach in Hawaii at sunset as we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. The clock may have ticked on, but time, for us, stood still. That moment didn’t just happen in time—it transcended it.

Kairos in the Life of Jesus

In the life of Jesus, recorded in the four Gospels, we see approximately 30 years of kronos time. Yet within that span are seven defining kairos moments—unequal in duration but equal in spiritual significance. These moments, I believe, form the heart of the Gospel. Think of them not just as scenes in a biography but as Acts in a divine drama: The Gospel of the Risen King.

The Gospels weren’t written to be reduced to a single verse. They are full, rich portraits of Jesus. Matthew wrote 28 chapters, Mark 16, Luke 24, and John 21—all so we wouldn’t forget or distort the story.

Within their pages, we find seven defining kairos moments—each essential to understanding who Jesus is and what He came to do:

Prelude

1. Incarnation
2. Declaration
3. Crucifixion
4. Resurrection
5. Ascension
6. Coronation
7. Examination

Each moment is critical.  Take one away, and the picture is incomplete. Put them together, and you see the full “in Him” we are called to believe (John 3:16).  Together, they form the amazing epic cosmic story we are invited into.

Act 1:  The Incarnation– Eternity Takes a Breath

It began quietly, not with thunder or spectacle, but with a silent breath.

The curtain of eternity lifted in a backwater village called Bethlehem. A teenage girl — no royalty, no riches — cradled a newborn, her arms trembling with wonder. Her name was Mary. Awed, confused, humbled — and yet, somehow, willing. She had agreed to play her part in the greatest story the world would ever know, though she could scarcely comprehend it.

This was no ordinary child. This was the eternal Son stepping into time — kairos erupting into kronos. In a world that counts moments in hours and years, this moment defied counting. Time didn’t just pass; it stood still.

Only a handful of witnesses were present at the start. A group of shepherds stumbled into the scene, still smelling of sheep and startled by angelic choirs. A band of scientists from the East, following a strange star, arrived later with questions and gifts. And somewhere in a palace in Jerusalem, a paranoid king began to feel his throne tremble.

But the real audience, invisible to earthly eyes, was heavenly. Angels watched in hushed awe as the Creator entered creation. Eternity became an embryo. Glory hid in shadows. Perfection grew vulnerable. Infinity slipped quietly into the fragile frame of a baby, wrapped in rags, crying in the night.

Eternity Enters Time

John would later write, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory…” And Paul would explain, “In Christ lives all the fullness of God in a human body.” But in that moment, it was simply a mother watching her son breathe for the first time, and perhaps whispering his name.

Think about that for a moment: eternity entered time. The Creator became part of His creation. Infinity squeezed into an infant.

Jesus. A common name, really: the Hebrew Yeshua (salvation). Yet in that name was the mystery of divine intention. This child was not beginning his life; he was entering ours.

And he knew it. Years later, he would tell his followers, “I came from the Father and have come into the world; I am leaving the world again and going to the Father.” He spoke with the confidence of one who remembered eternity.

The paradox remained, and still remains: how could he be fully God and fully man? The early church, wrestling with this holy tension, declared him one person with two natures — indivisible, unconfused, inseparable.

As the first Act draws to a close, the star fades. The visitors slip away. Herod lashes out in fear. And under cover of night, Mary and Joseph flee with the child, crossing a harsh desert to Egypt. God, once enthroned in heaven, now rides silently on a donkey, a refugee in a foreign land.

The King has come

But not like any king the world expected.

What’s Next?

The Incarnation is just the beginning. Six more kairos moments follow—each one pulling back the curtain a little more on who Jesus is and what He came to do. Together, they form the heart of the Gospel: not just good news, but the best news the world has ever heard.

For Discussion

The gospel demands a radically new understanding of God — one that stretches beyond human categories. Scripture reveals God as a singular plural—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The word Trinity never appears in the Bible, yet the reality is unavoidable.

With the incarnation, Jesus is presented as fully God and fully man, without compromising either. We may not fully understand this, but that doesn’t make it untrue.

The first disciples struggled to replace their preconceived ideas of the Messiah with the reality Jesus revealed. Sixty years after Christ’s ascension, John writes his Gospel to present Jesus as the one and only incarnate God-man:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God” (John 1:1–2).

The Titles of Jesus in John 1

In the first chapter of his Gospel, John gives ten titles for Jesus, each revealing His identity:

• The Word (v. 1) – The eternal, divine communication of God.
• God (v. 1) – Deity, not a lesser being.
• Light (v. 9) – The true light entering the world.
• Jesus Christ (v. 17) – The one in whom grace and truth come.
• Lamb of God (v. 29) – The sacrifice who takes away sin.
• Rabbi (v. 38) – Teacher and guide.
• Messiah (v. 41) – God’s anointed deliverer.
• Son of God (v. 49) – Unique divine Sonship.
• King of Israel (v. 49) – The promised ruler.
• Son of Man (v. 51) – A title Jesus favored, rooted in Daniel 7, pointing to His humanity and messianic role.

The Jewish concept of Messiah did not include deity. But Jesus’ claim as Son of God clearly did.

The Meaning of “Son of God” and “Only Begotten”

The Bible uses son of God in several ways:

• Humanity as God’s children (Luke 3:38).
• Israel as God’s firstborn son (Exodus 4:22–23).
• Angels as sons of God (Job 1:6; 38:7).

When applied to Jesus, however, Son of God means God the Son—equal with the Father in nature and essence.

In John 3:16, the term only begotten (or “one and only Son”) clarifies this. To “beget” is to produce one of the same kind. As C.S. Lewis illustrates in Mere Christianity:

“A man begets human babies; a beaver begets little beavers; a bird begets eggs that turn into little birds. But when you make something, you make something of a different kind.”

Humans were made in God’s image, but Jesus was begotten, sharing the same divine substance. He was not created. This is why some prefer the title God the Son—to mirror “God the Father” and “God the Spirit” and affirm the full Trinitarian reality.

Why This Matters

What people believe about Jesus is not a side issue. A recent Ligonier survey showed that 73% of those in our churches believe Jesus was created by God—a view that, in the fourth century, would have excluded someone from baptism or communion.

This confusion has real consequences. Without the biblical Jesus, there is no biblical gospel.

Case Study: The Hindu Student

Suraj Nepali, a missionary to Hindu students, shares a revealing exchange:

SN: “Do you believe in Jesus?”
HS: “Yes, I do.”
SN: “Do you believe He died for our sins?”
HS: “Yes.”
SN: “Do you believe He rose from the dead?”
HS: “Yes.”

The student affirms each point,; he sounds like a Christian—but still remains Hindu, believing in many gods. In his worldview, Jesus is simply the god for the forgiveness of sins.

This mirrors a troubling reality in Western churches: people profess belief in “Jesus” but not the Jesus of Scripture. Without clarity on His true nature, discipleship and transformation falter.

Conclusion

If we misunderstand Jesus’ nature, we misrepresent the gospel. The New Testament demands that we see Him not merely as a moral teacher, a spiritual helper, or a created being, but as God the Son—eternal, begotten, not made.

In the next article, we will explore how the gospel reveals the third Person of the Trinity: the Holy Spirit.

Discussion Questions

1. Why do you think the idea of the Trinity is hard for people to understand and accept?
2. Of the ten titles John gives Jesus in chapter 1, which one speaks to you most—and why?
3. What’s the difference between humans being “made in God’s image” and Jesus being “begotten of the Father”?
4. Why is it dangerous to think of Jesus as a created being rather than eternal God the Son?
5. How does the story of the Hindu student illustrate the importance of clarity about who Jesus really is?
6. If someone asked you, “Who is Jesus?”—how would you explain it in light of John 1?

In the previous blog, we looked at the need to guard the treasure of the gospel we have been entrusted with. We examined Paul’s example in protecting it from additions. Now, we turn to Paul’s example of guarding it from subtractions and distortions.

2.  Guarding Against Subtractions

Luke records an encounter in Ephesus that illustrates this danger:

Meanwhile, a Jew named Apollos, an eloquent speaker who knew the Scriptures well, had arrived in Ephesus from Alexandria in Egypt. He had been taught the way of the Lord, and he taught others about Jesus with an enthusiastic spirit and with accuracy. However, he knew only about John’s baptism (Acts 18:24–25, NLT).

Apollos was eloquent, but eloquence does not guarantee accuracy. He proclaimed a gospel with gaps—truths he knew well, spoken boldly, but missing key parts of the story. He was sincere, yet sincerely incomplete.

Seeing the problem, Priscilla and Aquila took him aside and “explained to him the way of God more accurately” (Acts 18:26). To his credit, Apollos was teachable. As a result, his ministry became even more effective:

He greatly helped those who had believed through grace, for he powerfully refuted the Jews in public, demonstrating by the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ (Acts 18:27–28).

This incident reminds us: when we reduce the gospel to a few bullet points to suit a soundbite culture, we risk omitting essential truths. The gospel is the full story of Jesus—His identity, His kingdom, His death, His resurrection, His return. How much of that story can we leave out and still have the gospel? Even Mark, who wrote the shortest Gospel account, would be astonished at the modern claim that the gospel can be shared in a single verse.

3. Guarding Against Distortions

Paul’s epistles were not primarily evangelistic tracts; they were letters to believers, applying the gospel to life in Christ’s kingdom. In 1 Corinthians, Paul addresses various church issues—spiritual gifts, worship practices, moral lapses—but in chapter 15 he tackles a theological distortion: the denial of the resurrection.

Some in Corinth claimed there was no resurrection for believers. Paul dismantled that argument, showing that to deny the resurrection of believers is to undermine the resurrection of Christ Himself:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain (1 Corinthians 15:13–14).

This was not a minor doctrinal debate—it was a direct threat to the gospel’s integrity. Remove the resurrection, and the gospel collapses.

The Historic Battle for Gospel Clarity

The early Church faced numerous heresies that distorted the nature of Christ—some claiming He was divine but not truly human (Docetism), others that He was human but not fully divine (Ebionism, Arianism), and still others blending pagan philosophies into Christian teaching (Gnosticism).

To protect the faith, the Church convened the Seven Ecumenical Councils. The first, the Council of Nicaea in 325, produced the Nicene Creed—a clear statement of Christ’s deity and humanity, and the foundation of what we now call the Apostles’ Creed. These creeds served as guardrails, defining the essential truths of the gospel.

Centuries later, Martin Luther waged a similar battle. Tormented by guilt over sin, he found peace only when the Book of Romans revealed salvation by grace through faith, not by human performance. Luther’s aim was not to destroy the Church but to purify the gospel from accumulated distortions—much like scraping barnacles off a ship’s hull to restore its speed and course.

Our Challenge Today

In a biblically illiterate age, we face the same temptation: to shorten, simplify, and “streamline” the gospel until it is no longer the gospel. When we say, “All you need to know is that Christ died for your sins and rose again”—and leave out His identity, His kingdom, His call to follow—we are not abbreviating the gospel. We are truncating it.

We must remember:

• It is not an American gospel.
• It is not an evangelical subculture gospel.
• It is the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ and His kingdom—unchanged, regardless of the audience.

Like Paul, like the early church fathers, and like Luther, we must be guardians of the treasure in our generation—protecting it from additions, subtractions, and distortions.

For Discussion

1. What dangers arise when we reduce the gospel to a few soundbites for the sake of cultural convenience?

2. How much of the gospel story (Jesus’ identity, kingdom, death, resurrection, return) can be left out before it stops being the gospel?

3. How do the early church councils and creeds help us today in protecting gospel truth?

4. In what ways are we tempted today to abbreviate or streamline the gospel until it loses its power?

5. What is the difference between making the gospel clear and making it simplistic?