Tag Archives: johns-gospel

Preaching the Gospel means bringing good news

Posted on by symonhill

Just over two weeks ago (on Sunday 18th January 2026) I led worship at Sherbourne Community Church in Coventry. Having preached there several times now, I am always honoured to be asked back!

Below is the text of my sermon (this is basically the text that I wrote beforehand but in practice I deviated from the wording at times and added in a few extra comments).

The sermon was based on two Bible readings, from the Lectionary for the day:

Isaiah 49, 1-7

John 1, 29-42

I used to work in Waterstone’s bookshop. It was over 20 years ago, but one of the memories that sticks with me is from a time when I was shelving books in the children’s section. A woman came into the shop with a small child. The child was holding a toy, which I think perhaps his mother had just bought for him. He was very excited about it. He ran up to me, although he’d never seen me before, and said, with great excitement, “Man, I’ve got – ”. And then he started to tell me enthusiastically about the toy.

He was so excited, he just wanted to tell the first person he saw. Even though he didn’t know me and just called me “man”.

I can’t remember what I said in response. I probably said, “That’s good”, or something like that. But I do remember feeling uplifted by a child being so delighted by something that he wanted to tell everyone. And I remember wondering if the world might be a better place if we all rushed around and told each other when something good happened to us.

If that did happen, on the one hand, we might be uplifted by each other’s good news. On the other hand, if you’re struggling with life, and things are tough, then hearing other people sounding cheerful is not always easy.

So how did Simon feel when his brother Andrew told him, “We’ve found the Messiah”? John’s Gospel gives the impression that Simon shared some of Andrew’s enthusiasm, for he readily went to meet Jesus, who gave him the name Peter.

Now we could spend a lot of time talking about whether this all happened in the way that John’s Gospel describes it. This account differs to the accounts in Matthew, Mark and Luke, which tell us that Jesus called Andrew and Simon Peter while they were fishing.

Some people are keen to try to make these accounts fit in with the account in John’s Gospel. Perhaps these two things happened at different times, perhaps Jesus had already met the disciples before he called them while fishing and so on.

All these things are possible. But I can’t help thinking that if we put our energy into trying to make these different accounts fit together, we may be missing the point. It’s rather like responding to the parable of the Good Samaritan by asking whether the money the Samaritan left behind was really enough to pay for an inn. That’s not what the story of the Good Samaritan is about. It might be more helpful to ask what the writer of John’s Gospel is trying to tell us in this passage.

Andrew is excited. He says, “We have found the Messiah!”. In his excitement, like that small child in the bookshop, he wants to tell people. He tells his brother, Simon. And Simon’s instinct is to want to meet Jesus.

This is about how these people respond to Jesus: with excitement, with curiosity, with hope, with a desire to know Jesus, with enthusiasm for sharing the news. This is the response of people hearing good news. 

It seems to me that as Christians, we often forget that we are proclaiming good news. Several times a week, I walk between New Street station in Birmingham, and Aston University where I work as a chaplain. One day I was walking back to the station after quite a tiring day and I passed one of the Christian street preachers who can be found in central Birmingham. He was warning passers-by that they had been living with no regard to God or the future, enjoying themselves without thought of the consequences but that they would soon find that they had – as he put it – “maxed out the credit card” – and that they had a debt of sin that they were unable to pay.

I looked round at the people in the street. There were people like me, on the way home from work. There were parents with small children, some of them clearly struggling. There were homeless or semi-homeless people begging on the sides of the street or under the influence of alcohol or other drugs, slumped in corners. There were people going in and out of shops. On the whole they didn’t look like a group of people enjoying riotous lifestyles with no thought of the consequences.

I considered approaching the preacher and saying, “Have you got any good news?” Because he seemed to have forgotten that the word “gospel” translates the Greek word “evangelion”, which means something like “triumph” or “good news”. I wonder if preachers like this go round knocking on people’s doors and saying, “Have you heard the bad news?”

The Bible makes clear that the gospel of Jesus Christ is good news. Mark’s Gospel, the oldest of the gospels we find in the Bible, begins simply, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ”.

Of course, the Gospel involves challenges. Sometimes Christ calls us to give things up, or to endure difficulties. But nonetheless, the message of the Gospel as a whole is overwhelmingly good news.

If we are not preaching good news, we are not preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Now there is lots of bad news in the world. We do not need to preach bad news. People already know the bad news. People know how horrible the world can be.

That’s why the gospel can never be cheap or easy good news. The good news that Jesus brings is much deeper than trite or shallow reassurances. When I became a Christian in the 1990s, there was a popular worship chorus that included the line, “In your presence, my problems disappear”. What nonsense. What blasphemy – to present Jesus as an individual problem-solving machine. Of course we are not likely always to feel as excited or uplifted as we may have done at the moment when we first encountered Jesus. But the presence of God does depend on our feelings. God is there however we’re feeling. 

Proclaiming good news does not mean pretending that suffering is not real. It means proclaiming hope – not trite, shallow hope but deep, meaningful hope – in the midst of suffering.

This is the sort of hope that we see in Andrew and Simon Peter when they respond to Jesus. Their capacity for hope allows them to respond with excitement, with curiosity – and with faith.

Faith is more than an opinion. Faith is not simply signing up to a list of beliefs. Faith is not a naïve acceptance of things for no good reason.

Faith is a deliberate decision about where to put our trust, where to put our loyalty. It may include a decision to take a chance, to take risks. But it doesn’t mean pretending to believe things that we don’t, or to act one way on Sunday mornings and another way the rest of the week. Christian faith does not mean suppressing questions and uncertainties. It means facing the questions and uncertainties and in the midst of them choosing to make a commitment to trust and follow Jesus Christ.

Faith is not about thinking we’re always right or that we will always succeed in following Christ. We are all sinners and I know that I fail very, very often. Simon Peter himself denied Jesus three times. But because faith is about trust, commitment and loyalty, faith is about our starting-point – our starting-point for how we approach life.

John the Baptist makes that clear! Earlier in the passage we heard today, John the Baptist testifies that he saw the Holy Spirit descend on Jesus like a dove. Usually in Britain today, when we see a dove, we call it a pigeon. Thus God appears in everyday things, everyday creatures, everyday people – the extraordinary breaking in on the ordinary.

Accounts of Jesus’s baptism in the gospels refer to a voice in which Jesus is described as God’s son. This all happened of course in the Roman Empire. At the time, the empire was ruled by the Emperor Tiberius, whose titles included Divi Filius – son of a god. But here is Jesus being proclaimed Son of God. Jesus’s followers are offering their loyalty, their trust, their faith, not to the Roman emperor but to this apparently obscure Jewish peasant – Jesus, Son of God. Faith can be a dangerous decision.

Nonetheless, Andrew and Simon Peter clearly regard faith in this Messiah as a decision well worth making. The Messiah was expected as an alternative to the oppressive empire under which they lived, but in Jesus they found a Messiah offering salvation and liberation not only from Roman rule but from all forms of domination, injustice and sin.

And this is massive news. This comes through in the reading we heard from Isaiah. The book of Isaiah is a great read. It’s generally agreed that different parts of Isaiah were composed at different times across centuries. The part we heard today, Chapter 49 is from what’s generally called Second Isaiah, and it proclaims that the God who has chosen the Israelites as his people is using the Israelites to proclaim his salvation of the world. Isaiah quotes God saying that it is “too light a thing” that he should save only Israel and Judah. Instead God tells the Israelites, “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth”.

It is too light a thing that God should save and liberate only one group of people – one nationality, one ethnic group, one religious group, one class. God’s salvation and liberation are offered to all. So if you ever think that God might not want to save you, remember: it is too light a thing for God to offer salvation that does not include you.

This offer of salvation, of liberation, is made because of God’s faith in us. God is faithful. The last pope, Francis, wrote that God never tires of forgiving us. Rather, we are afraid of asking for forgiveness so often. Yet the Gospel makes clear that God is so faithful, that God stands ready to offer forgiveness however many times we stumble, however weak our faith becomes. And God keeps calling us back to the journey of faith.

Faith is not about certainty or being pure. We are all entangled in sinful systems and unjust structures. We wrestle with difficult decisions and moral confusions. Faith is about our starting-point. For if faith in God is our starting-point, nothing else can command our ultimate loyalty.

Of course, we can be loyal to lots of things: our family, our friends, our community, our country, the Warwickshire Cricket Team, the Sky Blues, a political party, a trade union – and so on. But once we are committed to Jesus Christ, we can never give our ultimate loyalty to any government, nation, army or organisation – or even to a church! We are called to start with God as revealed in Christ, the God of Love, who loves every one of our fellow humans and loves the world.

Of course, Christ calls each of us to different things. Christ may call us to unexpected places. Earlier this month, Christian pastors in the US spoke of being detained by ICE, Trump’s deportation enforcers who are known for snatching people off the streets with very little accountability. ICE’s recent killing of Renee Good, a woman protesting against ICE’s deportations, has made headlines. I was shocked to read that the Anglican Bishop of New Hampshire, Rob Hirschfield, has asked his clergy to make sure their wills are written because he fears where the situation may be heading. He said, “It may be that now is on longer the time for statements, but for us, with our bodies, to stand between the powers of this world and the most vulnerable”.

I hope of course that such things will not come to pass. I pray that none of us here will find ourselves called to be martyrs. Many who live out faith in Jesus do so far more quietly – but no less valuably. For every big-name speaker, there are hundreds of people behind the scenes, for every prominent activist, there are hundreds more stuffing envelopes – and so on. The world doesn’t see or notice everyone’s faith – but God sees and notices us all. What has God called you to, I wonder? Where and how is God calling you today?

We may not always feel the excitement that we felt on becoming Christians. We may find it hard to feel hope in the midst of sadness. I pray that God will give each of us faith to see the glimmers of God’s love in the darkest times, to remember that Christ in his resurrection has triumphed over the forces of sin and death and that God is faithful to us.

May we keep putting our faith in the God of Jesus. In the midst of the world’s uncertainties and injustices, let’s have the faith to declare, like Andrew and Simon Peter, “We have found the Messiah!”.

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My book, The Upside-Down Bible: What Jesus really said about money, sex and violence (Darton, Longman and Todd, 2015) can be bought in paperback or e-book, priced £9.99.

The Christ who saves us calls us to live differently

Posted on by symonhill

Last month (on 6th April 2025) I preached at Sherbourne Community Church in Coventry. I was very pleased to be asked to do so. Below is the text of my sermon (I am sorry not to have posted it sooner; I was delayed by health problems and other issues).

To be clear: this is the text I wrote beforehand but in practice I deviated from the wording at times and added in a couple of extra comments. But the substance is much the same.

The sermon followed two Bible readings:

John 12, 1-8

Philippians 3, 3-14

Some parts of the gospels are really weird. Some of us have got so used to reading the gospels that we can forget how odd parts of them would sound if we hadn’t read them before. And we have a great example with the passage from John 12 that we heard earlier.

Here we have Mary pouring a load of expensive perfume over Jesus’ feet. This story appears in various forms in other gospels too, although there are significant variations – about who the woman is who does this, and about how she does it. But the idea of a woman physically pouring oil on Jesus seems to have been widely recognised in one form or another.

And what a strange thing it is to do. And in John’s version of the story, Judas pops up says that it would be better to have sold the ointment and given the money to the poor. And if you’re like me, you might find yourself thinking, Didn’t Judas have a point?

Okay, John tells us that Judas had an ulterior motive, that he really wanted to embezzle the money. But if he had been going to give it to the poor, would that not have been a better use for this ointment than chucking it all over Jesus? If we believe Judas – and we might not, of course – then the ointment could have been sold for 300 denarii. That would have been the best part of a year’s wages for someone on a low income in that society.  Are there not better things that could have been done with it?

Jesus responds to Judas’ comment by reminding his disciples that they can continue to support the poor. Compassion for the poor out is not simply a one-off act for unusual moments like this. “You always have the poor with you,” he says.

Outrageously, there are still Christians who misuse this line to argue that Christians should not try to end poverty. This is ridiculous. Jesus was reminding his disciples of the situation they were in and would continue to be in for the foreseeable future. He was not opposing attempts to end poverty. Poverty is not something created by God. It is created by humans. Indeed, nowadays we know the world has enough to feed all the people in it, if we organised things differently. We – humans – created poverty and we – humans – can end it.

Jesus’ comment – like all his comments – was made in a specific context. Jesus thanks Mary for her faith in him. And the writer of the gospel uses it to make a point about Jesus: the ointment is to anoint him for his burial. Because Jesus would soon die, executed in unimaginable pain by the forces of the Roman Empire.

For much of John’s Gospel, Jesus seems to be very focused on his upcoming death. I find it hard to imagine how this would have affected his day-to-day thoughts. And here we have a connection with the second reading – the reading from Philippians that we heard.

Paul wrote the Letter to the Philippians while he was in prison, while he awaited to find out whether he would be executed. I find that Paul’s letters tend to make a lot more sense when we realise that he wrote them to particular people at particular times. He didn’t know that people would be reading them 2,000 years later!

Paul’s mental anguish seems clear in his letter to the Philippian Christians. He wrestles with thoughts about whether he will live or die, about his desire to be with Jesus clashing with his hope of living longer and continuing to serve Christ’s people on Earth. At times he seems to fear for the communities he has founded that he may be leaving behind. Here, perhaps, we encounter Paul at his most vulnerable. Philippians contrasts with the finely crafted theological nuance of Paul’s letter to the Romans, with the passionate anger of his letter to the Galatians, with his frustrated attempts to resolve conflicts in his letters to the Corinthians. In Philippians, Paul seems very aware that he might be at the end of his life.

This sheds light on the words that we heard earlier. We hear Paul listing things he could boast about, particularly when it comes to religion. He has always been an observant and religious Jew, he says. He was blameless under the law. He persecuted Christians. All the things his critics boast about, he could boast about too!

But then he tells us that none of this matters. “Whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ,” he tells us.

Paul’s religious observances would not save him. His zeal and law-keeping would not save him. His persecution of people with different beliefs would not save him. He can be saved only through the grace of God, by the love of God that Jesus reveals.  

But 2,000 years later, we can still make the mistake of relying on religious observances. Of course, it is good to go to church, to pray, to come together as Christ’s people to worship and talk and share Communion. It can be helpful to observe Lent and be disciplined in prayer. These are good and helpful things to do. We can honour God through them. But they will not save us. We do not have eternal life and salvation because of these things. We do not have them because of any our actions but because of God’s action through Jesus.

As Paul puts it the Philippian Christians, he does not have a righteousness of his own but only the righteousness that comes from God.

Some years ago, I helped a friend sell off his possessions at a car boot sale. We had a successful morning and as we were packing up, we found that one of the few items that we had left was a kite. We were approached by a couple with a small child, who was very upset. He had hoped to buy a kite he had seen on a nearby stall, but when he went back to it, the kite had been sold. Now he noticed that we had a kite. But he didn’t have the money to pay for it. Perhaps we were feeling generous because our sales had gone well, but we gave the child the kite. His tears turned to smiles, and his parents were very grateful.

“We’ve made a small child very happy,” I said to my friend afterwards. He replied, “Yes. If there’s a God, chalk that up!”.

Now my friend is an atheist, though perhaps he was having a moment of doubt. But he gave the kite to the child because he thought it was a good and compassionate thing to do, to make someone happy, not because he was trying to get into heaven. If I had given the kite to the child out of a desire for heaven, would that not make me more selfish than my atheist friend? I hope and think that God approved of our gift to the child, but I did not do it in an attempt to earn points with God or to buy my way to salvation.

In theory, as Christians, and particularly as Protestant Christians, we believe that salvation comes through the grace of God in Jesus, not through what we do. But do we really dare to believe this? That God’s love is so big, so wide, so mind-bendingly transformative, that God’s grace in Jesus can save us from our sins and bring us eternal life?

This is so hard to believe! A lot of people, including a lot of Christians, talk as if eternal life will come to us because of our actions. Some Christians talk as if they think they will be saved by believing exactly the right things about Jesus, about the Bible, about theology. But that’s just another way of trusting in our actions rather than in God. We are saved by Christ, not by Christianity. Some people seem to think that LGBT+ people are excluded from God’s salvation, as if we are saved by heterosexuality.

If I thought any of these things to be true, I would be very worried about my own chances of being saved. I am bisexual. Some of my beliefs might, for all I know, be completely mistaken. And if I am to be judged on my actions, I honestly am far from sure that my good deeds would outweigh my bad ones. But Paul reminds us repeatedly that there is no salvation in such things but only in turning to God’s love and forgiveness.

If we believe in salvation by God’s grace then does that mean that how we live doesn’t matter? Does this mean we can carry on day-to-day, conforming to the world around us and simply waiting for God’s salvation when we die?

No, I don’t think it does. Because putting our trust in Jesus means that we have a different starting point, a different focus, from the dominant values of this world. And that means that we will live differently, or at least that we will seek to live differently, while being prepared to turn to God and ask for forgiveness even if we repeatedly fail.

This takes us back to the text of Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. I hope you’ll bear with me if I tell you a personal story.

Twelve years ago, I was at a protest outside the London arms fair. The DSEI arms fair, which takes place every two years in east London, involves arms companies doing deals with representatives of governments from around the world, including some of the world’s most vicious and aggressive regimes. In 2013, I joined with other Christians in blocking an entrance to the arms fair by kneeling in prayer. When we refused to move, we were arrested and, at the police station I was the first of the group to be processed. As I was checked in, I asked if I could have a Bible to read in my cell. A policeman reached to a shelf behind the desk and gave me the Bible that they kept there.

I was in the cell by the time my friend Chris was processed. He also asked for a Bible. “You want a Bible too!” said a surprised police officer. “The last bloke asked for a Bible.” They managed to find another Bible for Chris, but by the time the third person was processed, the station was running out of Bibles. When the third person, James, was processed, they told him they would try to find a Bible, but he was already in the cell by the time they did so. One of the officers went to James’ cell and told him that he’d only managed to find a New Testament. “That’s okay,” said James. “I hope you’re not going to keep me here long enough to read both testaments”.

As I sat in my cell with my Bible. I decided to read Philippians. This was because I knew that Paul had written it in prison. Perhaps this was a bit arrogant on my part. It would be ridiculous to compare my own situation to Paul’s. He was in prison indefinitely awaiting a likely death sentence. I had just been locked up for a few hours. Nonetheless, the calming and encouraging words that Paul wrote in prison had a positive effect on me.

But they might not have done. Reading Paul’s words about how we are saved by Jesus alone, I could have concluded that the actions I had taken at the arms fair were not worthwhile. Resisting the arms trade couldn’t earn me points with God, couldn’t get me into heaven. Shouldn’t I just sit quietly at home, live the same as everyone around me, and wait for eternal life to come because of my faith in Jesus?

No, I couldn’t. Of course, not all of us are called to do things that lead us to be arrested. Following Jesus and his call on our lives takes many different forms for many different people. Some who respond most faithfully to Jesus live quiet lives of compassion that can easily go unnoticed – but they are not unnoticed by God.

As Paul writes in Philippians, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection”. I pray that God will give me more ability to trust in Jesus, to really trust in him, which at times I find so hard. To trust Jesus rather than in my own efforts or in the dominant attitudes of the world.

It seems to me that the more we trust in Jesus, the more we have to live differently. The more we trust in Jesus, the less trust we will place in the idols that dominate this world – the idols of money and markets and military might – systems that humans have created but which we find ourselves bowing down and serving. If we trust in the Kingdom of God that Jesus proclaims then we cannot trust in the powers of this world. Psalm 146 reminds us, “Put not your trust in the powerful, mere mortals in whom there is no help”.  

Following Jesus is not about a list of rules. It is about a different starting-point, rooted in the love that Jesus reveals. This leads us back to that passage from John’s Gospel. Should Mary have sold the ointment and given the money to the poor? Perhaps that would have been just as good an option – or even a better option – than pouring it over Jesus. But in that moment, she acted on her faith in Jesus by anointing him in preparation for his death. And Jesus thanks her, Jesus praises her, for the actions that come from her faith.

We are called to live with our focus on God, not to be saved but in response to being saved by Jesus. We are not saved by our actions, our religious observances or our correct opinions, but only by the love of God that we encounter in Jesus. That love enables us, as Paul writes in Romans 12, to refuse to conform to the world around us and instead to allow ourselves to be transformed by God’s love. This is the love revealed in Jesus, a love that can transform us, a love that can transform the world.