Words Worth Chains

God has placed it on Ken's heart to teach and preach the Word of God, and he has been in due diligence in studying the Word of God and in prayer to proclaim God's Word today. Ken used to be one who put men in prison, and now he's preaching to get men out of prison. Today he'll be preaching from a man who was in prison, for which maybe one day Ken will be imprisoned for preaching the gospel, and that day he will start a prison ministry. Please welcome Ken to this stage.

Good morning.

You know, I'd like to start today before we get into the text. I want to address the young people in the room.

When another believer or your pastor or any saint in this church asks for prayer, they're talking to you too. I think sometimes that when adults are standing around talking or they're in a church setting, they ask for prayer and the children somehow don't feel included in that request.

But God doesn't have a preference for age or physical attributes. He doesn't care if you're eight or eighty. Six foot eight with muscles or four foot two with pigtails. Nothing in your physical person has anything to do with your spiritual effectiveness. 1 Peter 3:12: "For the eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and His ears attend to their prayer."

There's your qualifier. And if you're a believer, it doesn't matter how old you are. The righteousness of Christ is imputed to you. So those prayer requests are for you too.

You know, I was thinking about it — I listened to Pastor Casey preach on Ephesians 6:18. And this whole week as I was preparing this, I sat in a hospital room with some longtime friends of our family as they watched their beautiful fifteen-year-old daughter gradually go to heaven. And then Friday afternoon, He took her home.

I didn't have any clever words. Prayer and the truth of Scripture spoken in deep, heartfelt love — that's what I did. I didn't have any answers as to why. And she asked. All I could do was sit there feeling the weight of a pain so deep that it steals the breath from your lungs. I would go home exhausted, and I didn't do anything but sit there and pray with them. But I was tired because it's an emotionally draining experience. The Bible says to bear one another's burdens. I've read it a hundred times.

But the experience of it is very different from the reading of it. If you ever go through it and you really bear another one's burdens, you feel what they feel. You cry when they cry. You can feel the grief that they feel. And I felt that in that hospital room. It's unimaginable agony.

The Greek word that Paul uses in 6:18 when he says petition is the word deēsis. And it means a desperate cry from a deep need. It's not polite. It's not polished. It's when your soul groans because there's nothing else left to say.

Those days in that hospital, that prayer wasn't pretty. It was raw. I said, God, please hold them up. Please don't let them fall. Please don't let this darkness swallow them. I still pray that many times every day for them as they navigate life without their daughter.

That's the kind of spiritual battle that I think Paul is talking about here in verse 18. When the hurting are too weak to lift their own shield, you lift yours over them. When their faith feels like it's slipping through their fingers, you stand in the gap.

That's not cheap sentiment. That's wartime Christianity.

And so hear me this morning. There's someone in your life or in this church right now whose knees are buckling. Don't tell them you'll keep them in your thoughts. Get on your knees and plead their case. Stay in the fight. Kneel in what feels to them like the ashes of their lives until God either heals their wound or carries them home.

What's the 30,000-foot view of Ephesians 6:18? And I thought about this a lot. And you guys know that I'm former law enforcement. And here is kind of my takeaway if I had to sum it up in one little statement.

In the kingdom of God, nobody bleeds alone.

He exhorts prayers for the saints. We bleed together. You go, I go. You weep, I weep. You struggle, I struggle. I am in this fight right beside you. We don't leave our wounded on the battlefield.

Abigail. Abigail Butner. So her dad is a pastor. Her mother teaches Sunday school. And maybe sometimes she wonders, where's my ministry? So this week, when I was going through this with my friends, I have a shoebox. And in that shoebox, Abigail makes me these beautiful, hand-drawn cards. They're covered. There's crayon colors. There's marker colors. And she tells me, I love you, Mr. Ken. I'm praying for you, Mr. Ken. And I know that.

And when I'm struggling, I read those cards. Nancy and Wayne, I have the letters and the cards that you send to the house. I'm praying for you. You're doing such a good job. You're growing so much. The phone calls, the encouragement.

David, Toby. Letters, encouraging cards. Words — every time I see them, they're holding me up. We're praying for you.

Sarah, your cards. Same thing. Prayers, love, all the kindness being communicated.

Dan and Cindy, who I don't see — she gave my son this box when he was on his road to recovery. Told him, I'm praying for your continued recovery.

All these things are holding the people of God up. It's why we're called the ekklesia, the gathered people. We strengthen one another. You're going to run into something that's bigger than you. And you're not going to be able to stand. It's then that you need your brothers and sisters. It's why this gathering is so important. It's not this building.

We can meet in the woods. We can meet in the field out back where the soccer goals are. What's important is this: what's sitting in the building is the church.

So we've just finished covering, and the pastor read, the armor and prayer. If you've put on the whole armor of God and you aren't praying, you're just a dressed-up target.

So someone in here just asked themselves, what does he mean by a dressed-up target? I'll paint a word picture for you. So let's say Colton. Colton gets a job as a law enforcement officer against the strong cautioning of his much wiser parents. Colton reports to work, and day one, he's assigned to the SWAT team. He's issued a tac helmet, a tac vest, belt, weapon, ammo, boots, uniform, all of it. They put him on the Bearcat. They drive to the fugitive's house. He's out of the Bearcat, lines up in the stack, gets to the front door. So Colton looks the part, but the truth is that Colton is a dressed-up target.

This is to say that it matters what you learn. Oh, and Colton, if you think SWAT guys are targets, become a doctrinally sound preacher. They're the favorite targets of unbelievers and some believers, so you get it coming and going.

But the training part, right? You have the armor, but you're not trained in its use. This is why it matters what you learn.

So my friend Ruth is struggling right now because of the things she's been taught her whole life. And it's like — when you're misinformed about your faith, when there's no granite foundation to it, you don't find that out until it's too late. I've been there. You need your faith. You need something to grab hold of. But when you grab hold of the rope, you figure out too late, and in the middle of the storm, that it's tied to nothing.

So if you could turn with me to Ephesians 6:19–20. And before I start, I'll tell you that the gospel is too glorious a message to whisper, and it's too urgent a message to withhold.

Read with me Ephesians 6:19–20. "And pray on my behalf, that words may be given to me in the opening of my mouth to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, so that in proclaiming it I may speak boldly as I ought to speak."

There's a reason Paul saved these words for the end. The armor's on and the prayers are rising, and now he turns and says, "Pray for me that I won't go quiet when I should speak up."

This is Paul in prison, in a Roman prison. He's not chained to a cappuccino table at Starbucks. And yet he's more worried about boldness than bail. He doesn't ask for an exit. He asks for a mouthful of gospel fire.

And don't forget who's writing this. This is the New Testament general asking for prayer. This is the same man who got stoned at Lystra, beaten in Philippi, shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, and hunted in Ephesus. And yet he still says, "Help me speak up."

You can tell how close someone is to Christ by what they ask prayers for. Is it, "Lord, please let me get faster internet"? "Lord, please upgrade me to a Mercedes." "Lord, I can get there quicker with a private jet." "Or I can do so much good with the lottery money." Or is it, "Lord, strengthen me. Lord, give me Your words. Sanctify me. Teach me to lead my family in the truth"?

Paul here isn't asking for safety. He's asking for strength to speak truth no matter what.

Look at the first part of verse 19. "And pray on my behalf, that words may be given to me in the opening of my mouth." The Greek word here is huper. It's "on behalf of," "for the sake of," "in the interest of," and it's often used in a substitutionary context. "Christ died huper sinners" — on behalf of, for.

Paul here in verse 19 turns from general exhortation in verse 18 to a personal appeal. He says, "On my behalf." This isn't Paul asking for sweet nothings. He's not asking for a Hallmark card. He's crying out from the front lines saying, "Cover me. I'm going in." Bullets are flying in the unseen realm. And Paul's saying, "I can't do this without your prayers."

This is the man who penned Romans, where he says in Romans 1:16, "I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation." Who stared down the Jewish council in Acts 23, where the high priest Ananias had him struck in the mouth and the commander had to send in troops to get him out because he was afraid they were going to rip him to pieces. Who smacked Peter with truth in Galatians 2 for being a hypocrite regarding table fellowship with the Gentiles because he was afraid of the Jewish Christians. Who stood like granite before kings in Acts 25 and 26, where he makes a defense for himself to King Agrippa, Bernice, and Festus.

And now this same man is saying, "Brothers, I need your help."

Why? Because he knew the power of praying saints. He didn't want to preach empty. He wanted heaven's help. This is the language of dependence. This is the confession of a man who believes that God answers prayer and uses the prayers of the saints to uphold the proclamation of the Word.

What does Paul pray to be given to him? The words. Notice he says "given," not "invented." The word in Greek is logos. It's word, message, or declaration.

Paul asked God to give him the words. What does the Bible say in John 17:17? "Sanctify them by the truth. Your Word is truth." He's not talking about small talk. This is battle speech. This is gospel artillery. He didn't say, "Pray I'll find the right strategy." He said, "Pray I'll be given the right words." You know why? Because the gospel doesn't need gimmicks. It needs clarity. And it needs courage. And we need preachers today with the courage to be clear. What's the source of clarity?

2 Timothy 2:7. "Understand what I say, for the Lord will give you insight in everything."

Paul knew the source of clarity was the Lord, not cleverness. And don't miss this. He's in chains asking for freedom — but not from Rome, from silence. He wants his tongue let loose like a lion out of the cage.

Paul is the guy in a sports car with no brakes. Right? He's in prison and he's not saying, "Save me. Get me out of here." He's saying, "I want to push the accelerator harder. I want to preach harder. I want to go harder. I want to spread this message more."

We've got too many clever men and not enough called men. Too many tiptoe theologians and not enough blood-washed preachers.

Paul wanted his words to be Spirit-born, not self-generated. And too many preachers and believers have the words, but they keep biting their lips instead of opening their mouths.

You want to know what kind of preaching we need today, in a world that's dying all around us? Not polished TED talks. Not feel-good advice. Not therapy sessions. We need thunder. Truth. Men that will not compromise on the Word at all. Right? You've heard people say, "Well, if you go to a church, you can chew up the meat and spit out the bones." I shouldn't have to watch what the pastor says, because everything that he says should be coming from here.

We need fire in the pulpit, not motivational speakers. Not only does Paul ask for the words to speak the gospel, but he wants to wield them with fearless clarity so that even in chains, his voice won't be bound by fear. Look at the second half of verse 19. "To make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel." The word boldness here is parrēsia. It's confidence, freedom, fearless speech.

Now this will mess with your comfort-zone Christianity. Paul isn't asking for a better sell. He's not crying for his rights. He says, "I want boldness to preach even harder." He's not whining. He's warring. He's not shrinking back. He's standing firm because he's clothed in the armor of God, empowered by the Spirit of God, and trusting that God answers the prayers of the saints.

How empowered and committed was Paul to Christ and the gospel message? Philippians 1:20. "According to my earnest expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in anything, but that with all boldness, Christ will even now, as always, be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death." And you ain't going to see that one on a coffee mug.

Right? Nobody wants the suffering that comes with the truth.

He pleaded for boldness. Why? Why would he do that? To proclaim a crucified Messiah in a world craving affirmation is to risk being misunderstood, maligned, and marginalized. That will happen to you. Me and Wayne go to Winter Garden, and trust me, it is not a user-friendly audience.

But the gospel doesn't thrive in safety. It shines through sacrifice.

Comfort is not the goal. Christlikeness is. And Christlikeness will cost us. It will cost us approval, ease, applause. The world's not going to love you if you preach a message that screams against everything they crave. The flesh and the gospel are not friends. And so we preach — not with arrogance, but with assurance.

Not with anger, but with conviction born of grace.

Gospel boldness is not recklessness. It's reverent allegiance. It's courage that flows from communion with Christ and confidence in His sovereign purposes.

And where fear seeks to silence, grace emboldens. Proverbs 28:1: "The righteous are as bold as a lion" — not because they're fearless in themselves, but because they're secure in Him.

And a word of caution to the false teachers — and they're everywhere around here, trust me. My friend Ruth is a victim of one of them. If church attendance is your idol and truth is your casualty, you're no slave of Christ, much less a shepherd — just a hireling. You should retire and sell cars or whatever else you can find to do.

Galatians 1:10. "For am I now seeking the favor of men or of God? Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a slave of Christ."

Paul's boldness isn't just for any message. It's for unveiling the sacred mystery — that long-hidden plan, now revealed — the unthinkable grace of God extending to Jew and Gentile alike through Christ.

The word mystery here in this verse is mustērion. In the Greek, it's of divine counsel and plans that have awaited disclosure and interpretation.

Gospel: euangelion. Good news, good news brought, the message of God's salvation.

The word mystery here isn't a riddle. It's something once hidden, now revealed. The gospel is no longer a whisper behind a veil. It's the roaring truth of God's mercy made known through a bloody cross and an empty grave.

It was once concealed from the Gentiles, but now it's shouted from the rooftops — that sinners from every tribe, tongue, and nation can be united to Christ. Not by the law, not by works, not by heritage. God doesn't have grandchildren. He only has sons and daughters.

But we're united by grace through faith. You want boldness? Preach that in a workplace and watch what happens. Preach that on a street corner and they'll grit their teeth and curse at you. But you preach that to the truly broken and they'll collapse in your arms.

We don't have a nice message. We have a necessary message.

Paul's plea for bold speech in verse 19 finds its anchor in verse 20, where he reminds us that such boldness is not theoretical. It's personal. As an ambassador in chains, his gospel witness is not hindered, but heightened. Proving that gospel clarity must be accompanied by gospel courage.

Look at verse 20 with me, the first part of it. "For which I am an ambassador in chains." The word ambassador here in the Greek is presbeuō. It's to act as a representative, a herald, or a preacher.

And I want you to think about this — I thought about this a lot last night, reviewing this message. Everyone sitting in this room is an ambassador of Christ. And if you are, you've been clothed in robes you can't earn. And given the privilege to herald the King.

I'm going to say something that you don't hear every day. The gospel isn't free. If you preach it right. Right? Let me say it this way. Paul was locked up because he wouldn't shut up. If he had toned it down, he could have walked free. But he wouldn't trade his gospel for comfort or convenience. He knew what he was. An ambassador clothed in robes that he didn't deserve, that he couldn't earn, and given the privilege to herald the King.

Every preacher, every saint, every witness — you're an ambassador.

And how did Paul feel about being an ambassador? Acts 20:23–24. I promise you, you won't find this one on a coffee cup either. "Except that the Holy Spirit solemnly testifies to me in every city, saying that chains and afflictions await me."

That was popular. Right? Think about that. How many Christians do you know — if they were praying and the Holy Spirit said, "Hey, I've got some news for you. Up ahead, there's chains and affliction" — if your faith has no grounding, you're out right there.

How does Paul answer? "But I do not make my life of any account, nor dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly" — and listen to this part — "of the gospel of the grace of God, the greatest message ever given to men."

Paul — when they locked him up, they thought they had him silenced. He said, "You ain't silenced me. You gave me a pulpit in prison." The chains weren't a muzzle. They were a megaphone.

Let me say this plainly. If you meet a professing pastor who's ashamed of the gospel, then they don't know the gospel. If they blush when hell or election comes up, their spine is softer than Jell-O and their gospel is counterfeit. Turn with me to 2 Corinthians 5:20. You've got to see this.

Whoever the slowest person in the room is, raise your hand when you're there, and I'll know everyone else is there. 2 Corinthians 5:20: "So then we are ambassadors for Christ, as God is pleading through us. We beg you on behalf of Christ to be reconciled to God."

It says that not only are we ambassadors, but that God is pleading through us.

Romans 10:17 — and if you turn there in your Bible, you can underline this one. "So faith comes from hearing and hearing by the Word of Christ."

How will people hear unless we say something? The verse is plain. Faith comes from hearing and hearing by the Word of Christ. Look, I see well-intentioned churches, and I don't disagree with meeting physical needs. But if you go to an area as a church body or as a believer, and you hand out bottles of water, and you never once give them the living water, you're being negligent.

Bottled water will not save someone. The living water, the gospel message, is what saves men's souls. The message isn't yours, you just carry it. You're not the writer, you're the mailman. And you're not tasked with editing it, you just deliver it.

If you carry it faithfully, don't be surprised if the world charges at you. The real gospel will cost you friends, jobs, promotions, platform, reputation, and at some point, maybe your life.

But I'll ask you a question, and you can answer this to yourself. Is He not worth it?

Look at the second half of verse 20. "So that in proclaiming it, I may speak boldly as I ought to speak." "Boldly" here is parrēsiazomai. It's to have courage, to speak freely and openly.

And here is where I think the operative word in this part of the passage lies. "Ought." The Greek word here is dei. It is necessary. Must. Binding. There is need. It's that feeling that when you have to say something — you have that feeling — that's this. That's what Paul calls it, as he ought to speak.

Paul says, "As I ought to speak," and that's heavy. Not how I want to speak. Not how I feel like speaking. As I ought to speak. Some people are loud, not bold. Some are clever, but not clear. Paul wanted to be bold and obedient. Not just heard, but faithful.

Preachers, if you've been called, don't mumble. Don't sugarcoat it. Don't swerve. Say it straight.

The gospel message doesn't always sound loving. The world will call you biased, narrow-minded. But it's not your message. You're the mailman.

Saints, if the Spirit gives you the chance to speak the gospel, don't apologize for it. Don't duck your head. Speak the gospel like you've been rescued.

When me and Wayne go out, how would it look if you say, "Well, for I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins, and I'm sorry." You know what I mean? I'm not getting on your team. If I'm not saved and you preach the gospel to me like that, I'm going to wonder if you believe it.

And I know that there are some lions sitting in here this morning. I know John Durham, Mike Ames, Arnie, Chuck, David, Wayne, Casey, Jimmy. Lots, lots of them. Colton, Abigail. You've got the boldness to speak up when others go silent. Not because you depend on yourself, but because there's gospel boldness burning in your chest.

You've been filled with the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead. And you may not see it in yourself, but there's holy grit in you. You've got the guts to stand on truth when the world bows to lies. The kind that doesn't back down when it's mocked. The kind that speaks Jesus in a room full of idols. The kind that would rather lose friends than your witness.

That lion in you — it's not pride. That's power from on high.

And I'm looking at a room full of men, women, and children who know the gospel. That's why it's so scary to preach in here, right? I'm not talking to a room full of uninformed people.

Someone said that to me this morning. Maybe that's what it is. That's definitely what it is, right? I know you're in that world. You aren't afraid to speak up and you don't rely on self-sufficiency. You're not self-assured. You're God-assured. And in a world that is dying all around us, it's time to speak boldly. Not with arrogance, not with anger, but with the gospel that saves. Because the world needs to hear the name that saved you. The King of Kings, the Lion of Judah, the Prince of Peace, Jesus.

Hell's fire is real. Heaven's grace is free. And Christ's cross is enough. You should speak boldly as you ought. Right? Don't shrink back. Don't duck your head. Don't be ashamed of the faith that's in you. What is it? There's one way to heaven. Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." He didn't say, "I'm a way. I'm a truth. I'm a life."

And you think about this — how much do you have to hate someone to know that their eternity can be secure in paradise with the Creator of all things and say nothing?

I'm going to give you five takeaways and I'll go through them slow.

Ask God for boldness, not ease — for yourself or your pastor. Comfort doesn't change the world. Courage and clarity do.

I said it earlier, we need pastors and saints, believers. It's not just up to the people that preach and teach. It's everybody. And I hear people say this all the time: "Well, evangelism isn't my gift." And that's a good thing. It's not my gift either. It's a command.

Right? It's not a gifting. It's a command. Jesus didn't say go if you feel like it. Go if I gifted you. He just said go. Right? That's all He said.

It's not a gifting. It's a command. Here's another one. Speak up even if it costs you.

Real gospel preaching isn't always applauded. Trust me. Come with me and Wayne on a Saturday at Winter Garden and you'll see quick that it's rarely applauded. And sometimes when it's applauded, it's because the people are confused. They don't even believe. They just think they do. Like they're in the Jesus fan club.

The next one. Let your chains magnify Christ — whether they're emotional, physical, or spiritual. Use them.

So my friend who's in a struggle right now, who I hope to speak with at some point because I know where she is. Several years ago when my son was going through just the worst thing I can imagine, I had friends who are sitting in here today who were praying for me. And it's a good thing that they were, because when I needed the faith that I thought I had, I was holding on to that rope that was tied to nothing. And the cruel part of it is you don't find out that you've been taught shallow doctrine and have misunderstood most of what you thought you knew until you're in the middle of it and you need it. It's like pulling a gun as a cop and realizing right before the other guy starts shooting that you don't have a magazine. It's the same feeling.

Pray for gospel clarity. Don't ramble. Make Jesus plain. Right?

I've heard people — they've come out with good intentions — and they say, "I'm going to share my testimony with them," and I think that's good. We should do that. After we share the gospel. Here's why. If Wayne goes before the judgment seat, God doesn't care if Wayne thought that Ken was a wretched sinner who is now saved. The only thing that matters is have you repented and have you believed the gospel. Ken's unimportant in that equation. I'm a nobody.

Live like an ambassador. Remember what I said about that. You're clothed by the King of the universe in robes that you cannot earn and that you do not deserve. You have been given the privilege of heralding the King's message. It's not an obligation. It's a command. But if you view it as an obligation it holds you back from doing it. It is not an obligation to spread to people the message that is the cure for the cancer of the soul.

It frees me and it saves souls. It's eternal. It's not a message for the here and now. The gospel is not a life improvement method. Right. The gospel may not improve your life. Ask Paul if his got better. You know, the guy we went through — beaten in Philippi, shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, hunted in Ephesus, thrown in prison. You know he wasn't at an all-inclusive resort because he was preaching the gospel.

So when you go to these churches and they tell you, "Well, if you just get saved, if you just raise your hand, everything is going to get better" — I'm telling you today that if you commit your life to Christ, your life may not improve in the here and now. But the sufferings then become worth it.

Right. Everything that you experience here, you realize none of this matters. My life here is insignificant because the only thing that matters is my destination. I'm visiting here and while I'm here I'm going to preach this gospel no matter what it costs me.

I'll tell you something that you cannot do in heaven: evangelism. Right. People will say, "Well, I'm just waiting on the right opportunity." You ready for this one? Your life is your opportunity. Like, this is it. You can't evangelize in heaven and you ain't evangelizing in hell.

All men are going to one of two places. There's no neutral. There's no purgatory. No wait station. It's not a train.

Everyone — I'm going to give you two tasks and this is not the first one. Turn to 1 Corinthians 15 and find verses 3 and 4.

Whoever is the biggest procrastinator, raise your hand when you're there. "For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures."

Okay, here's the first task. Take out a pen, a pencil, eyeliner, a highlighter, whatever you've got. Circle, underline, or highlight verses 3 and 4. This is the heart of the gospel message.

Here's your second task. Now go and tell everyone. Tell the addict. Tell the man begging for change on the corner. The grocery store clerk. The waitress. The loved one you've written off as unreachable. The coworker. Everyone. Tell them all. The results aren't up to you. God just said go, tell them. He'll handle the results. You're not the harvester — you're the gardener. You just plant.

We are all dying, not just physically but eternally — for those apart from Christ. Every heartbeat draws us closer to the grave, and for many, closer to judgment.

This isn't morbid. It's merciful to say it plainly. If we truly believe that it is appointed for a man to die once and after that comes judgment, then silence isn't compassion. It's cruelty.

We must share the gospel not because we're better, but because we're burdened by love, not superiority. Burdened by urgency, not panic. Burdened by the truth that there is salvation in no one else — Acts 4:12 — and that the window for repentance shrinks with every breath.

My friends thought they had plenty of time left with their daughter. She was fifteen years old and she was here, and then she was gone. To know the cure and remain quiet while the world perishes isn't humility. It's negligence. Gospel boldness doesn't come from having all the answers.

It comes from knowing the One who is the answer and caring enough to speak while time remains, because we're all dying. The most loving thing we can do is open our mouths and proclaim life.

And let me go back and touch on this too. When I said it comes from knowing the One who is the answer — I've heard this phrase a lot and I don't like it, and your intuition is right. People will say things, and this just happens often: "Well, Ken, it's not about religion. It's about relationship." And what they usually mean when they say that is, it's not about obedience. It's about options.

Right. It's what men in pulpits who don't want to say difficult things say. And think of it like this. So let's say I tell my wife, "Hey, Julie, I want to date another lady and stay married." Right. It's definitely going to be a domestic violence incident. But for the sake of letting me say it, let's say I said that, and she said what she should: "Have you lost your mind?" And I say to her, "Baby, I'm not about rules. I'm about a relationship."

You think that's going to hold any water in my house? No. Right. You cannot have an informed faith without sound doctrine, without some system of theology to organize your thoughts and your understanding.

If I tell you that I love my wife, that I love her more than anything, and then you say, "Well, Ken, what's her favorite color?" And I say — well, I don't know. And you say, "Well, what's her favorite place to go to dinner?" I don't know that either. "What's her favorite TV show?" I don't know. Do you really believe at that point that I love my wife?

If I know nothing about her, or if I give you the wrong information, you say, "I don't know your wife." And what does she look like? And I say, "Well, she's about 6'1", brown hair." You know you're going to look at me when you see her and go — were you talking about your wife? Because I have no idea who my wife really is. It's the same with your faith. You can be sincerely wrong about what you believe.

The gospel — all kinds of things are added to it. Right. Believe in Jesus. And what is my friend stuck in this funk for, in all this agony? Because her church attached God's goodness to God's healing. Right. It's not that God is good because of what He does. God is good. Period. That's where it stops. Whether He gives or whether He takes away, He's still good.

I'll land the plane here because I don't know how much time I've been going, and so I'm going to land the plane.

I once knew a new Christian man who had an older coworker and friend. Every day they would talk about life. His friend's frequent trips to Las Vegas, family, future, and all the things that pass between friends over time. Then one day, after many years of working side by side, his friend didn't show up for work. When he called to check in, he learned that his friend had been hospitalized and was in really bad shape. So he visited him day after day.

One night in that hospital room, his friend broke down and confessed he was afraid to die. Tears pouring down his face. The Christian man felt an overwhelming urge to speak, to tell him you don't have to be afraid. Eternal life in paradise is possible.

But fear held him back. Instead he asked about the football game on TV and made small talk. Not a word about the gospel. His friend pulled himself together and the man drove home.

A few days later, before he left work for his daily hospital visit, he learned his friend had passed away earlier that morning.

And from that day forward he's carried the weight of silence. A question lingers just beneath every memory. Did he make it to heaven? Did someone else tell him?

It's a regret that he cannot rewrite and a question that will remain unanswered until glory.

And I know that Christian man, because I'm him.

I'm not proud of that moment. I was silent when eternity hung in the balance. And I can't go back. I can't unspeak my silence or reach into yesterday with the words that I should have spoken.

But you — you still have a voice. So I am pleading with you today. Don't be me.

When the moment comes and you should speak as you ought, don't default to small talk. Don't turn toward the temporary or stay silent when eternity is at the door.

Speak life. Speak truth. Speak Jesus.

You don't have to be perfect. Just present. God doesn't need a polished preacher. He just needs a willing witness.

Let my regret be your reminder.

Silence may feel safer in the moment, but it can echo painfully for years. I can't go back and change what I didn't say.

And this is really the whole point of today. But you can decide right now to love others enough not to carry the same regret.

Let's pray.

Praise His Father — we come before You humbled, convicted, and stirred by Your Word. As Your servant Paul pleaded, so we also ask. Grant us boldness to speak as we ought to speak. Open our mouths not for mere words but for the mystery of the gospel which You have entrusted to us. We wear the armor You've given, and now we ask for the courage to wield it.

Lord, we confess the times we remained silent when eternity was within reach. We acknowledge our fear, our hesitation, our moments of comfort over calling. Forgive us, Father, and redeem even our regrets for Your glory. Let the weight of silence not crush us but drive us to speak life. Make us ambassadors in chains of grace, speaking not just when it's convenient but when it counts most.

Let my disobedience be a warning and a wake-up call. Let it compel us to love boldly, to proclaim faithfully, and to never miss the chance to say what truly matters.

Give us eyes to really see others. Ears to hear their whispered fears. And hearts ready to respond with the good news of salvation.

May we walk out of here not just with conviction but with compassion and a holy urgency to speak Jesus wherever we go.

It's in His matchless, majestic, and holy name that we pray. Amen.