December 31st, 2025
by Pastor Matt Vandeleest
by Pastor Matt Vandeleest
There's something deeply human about creating a version of spirituality that fits our preferences. We want the comfort of believing in something greater without the uncomfortable confrontation of holiness. We want to scratch that spiritual itch while maintaining complete control of our lives.
But what if true freedom only comes when we stop being our own standard?
The Problem with Self-Made Gods
We live in an age where everyone worships something, even if they claim not to be religious. We've each constructed a moral framework—a personal definition of right and wrong that conveniently validates our choices and lifestyle. This isn't new; it's been humanity's struggle since the garden.
The pattern is predictable: "I'm a spiritual person." "I'm a good person." "I pray every day." "I believe in Jesus."
But here's the piercing question that cuts through all our self-justification: Who is the standard of your life—you or Jesus?
Because Jesus himself said, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15). Not suggestions. Not recommendations. Commandments.
The uncomfortable truth is that we cannot be our own standard. The moment we make ourselves the measure of righteousness, we lose any real standard at all. We're fickle creatures whose moods shift with circumstances, whose convictions bend with convenience. A foundation built on our own shifting opinions cannot hold the weight of eternity.
The Messiah's Mission
Seven hundred years before Jesus walked the dusty roads of Galilee, the prophet Isaiah penned words that would echo through generations: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor" (Isaiah 61:1).
When Jesus stood in the synagogue in Nazareth, He unrolled the scroll to this very passage, read it aloud, and then made an astonishing declaration: "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21).
The wait was over. The Messiah had arrived.
But what exactly was His mission?
Good News for the Spiritually Bankrupt
The Messiah came to announce good news—but specifically to the poor. Not merely the financially destitute, but those who understand they are spiritually bankrupt. Those who have stopped pretending they have it all together.
This gospel isn't good news to people who think they're fine on their own. To them, it's foolishness. But to those who recognize they have nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer, nothing but their desperate need—to them, it's the sweetest news imaginable.
The gospel confronts us with bad news first: we're not good enough. We never will be. Our spiritual resume means nothing.
But then comes the glorious good news: Christ has done everything on our behalf. He lived the perfect life we couldn't live. He died the death our sins deserved. He rose victorious over sin and death.
And He offers this freely to all who stop trusting themselves and rest in Him.
Liberty for the Captive
The Messiah also came "to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound" (Isaiah 61:1).
This is Jubilee language—that divine reset button when debts are canceled, slaves are freed, and land is restored. Jesus brings the ultimate Jubilee. He cancels the debt of sin we could never pay. He breaks the chains of bondage we could never escape on our own. He restores the inheritance we forfeited.
"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9).
It is for freedom that Christ set us free.
What holds you captive today? Addiction? Unforgiveness? Sexual sin? The desperate need for approval? Your past mistakes that you're convinced disqualify you from God's love?
Jesus proclaims liberty. The chains are broken. You are set free.
Liberty doesn't mean trying harder. It means trusting Christ and His finished work.
Favor for the Condemned
The Messiah came to "proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God" (Isaiah 61:2).
God's favor toward the oppressed means judgment for the oppressor—primarily, judgment against sin itself. God's grace doesn't ignore justice; it satisfies it. At the cross, Jesus absorbed the vengeance and wrath of God against sin so we could receive God's favor.
The day of vengeance fell on Him so the year of favor could be extended to us.
But this favor comes with terms. Not "add Jesus to your existing life and He'll make everything better." Not "believe whatever you want about Jesus as long as you're sincere."
Jesus said, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 7:21).
The question isn't whether you've added Jesus to your life, but whether you've submitted to His lordship. Have you received God's favor on His terms, or are you still trying to negotiate?
Comfort for the Mourner
Finally, the Messiah came "to comfort all who mourn...to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit" (Isaiah 61:2-3).
Those who mourn aren't just people experiencing loss. They're those genuinely grieved over sin—their own sin that's wrecked their lives and the sin that's ravaged the world.
The stunning promise is that the Messiah doesn't just sympathize with mourners. He transforms them. He takes people covered in ashes of despair and crowns them with beauty and joy. He takes people crushed with a faint spirit and clothes them with praise.
Why? "That they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified" (Isaiah 61:3).
Stop Pretending
C.S. Lewis once compared life without Christ to playing in a mud puddle in your backyard, thinking it's the best possible experience—not realizing that just down the road is a clean, pristine beach.
The self-made gods we create don't demand that we die to ourselves. They say, "Be true to yourself." The self-created religion we prefer doesn't expose our spiritual poverty. It tells us there's nothing wrong with us.
But the real Jesus comes to people who have stopped pretending. He comes to the poor who know they're bankrupt, to the captives who know they're enslaved, to the mourners who know they're broken.
This Christmas season, as we celebrate the King who left His throne for a cradle in the dirt, the question isn't whether you're spiritual enough or good enough.
The question is: Will you stop pretending and embrace the good news that Christ has done everything on your behalf?
Will you admit you're enslaved to sin and embrace the liberty Jesus gives?
Will you confess your sins, repent, and follow Christ?
Because He is our King, and He has brought us life.
But what if true freedom only comes when we stop being our own standard?
The Problem with Self-Made Gods
We live in an age where everyone worships something, even if they claim not to be religious. We've each constructed a moral framework—a personal definition of right and wrong that conveniently validates our choices and lifestyle. This isn't new; it's been humanity's struggle since the garden.
The pattern is predictable: "I'm a spiritual person." "I'm a good person." "I pray every day." "I believe in Jesus."
But here's the piercing question that cuts through all our self-justification: Who is the standard of your life—you or Jesus?
Because Jesus himself said, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15). Not suggestions. Not recommendations. Commandments.
The uncomfortable truth is that we cannot be our own standard. The moment we make ourselves the measure of righteousness, we lose any real standard at all. We're fickle creatures whose moods shift with circumstances, whose convictions bend with convenience. A foundation built on our own shifting opinions cannot hold the weight of eternity.
The Messiah's Mission
Seven hundred years before Jesus walked the dusty roads of Galilee, the prophet Isaiah penned words that would echo through generations: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor" (Isaiah 61:1).
When Jesus stood in the synagogue in Nazareth, He unrolled the scroll to this very passage, read it aloud, and then made an astonishing declaration: "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21).
The wait was over. The Messiah had arrived.
But what exactly was His mission?
Good News for the Spiritually Bankrupt
The Messiah came to announce good news—but specifically to the poor. Not merely the financially destitute, but those who understand they are spiritually bankrupt. Those who have stopped pretending they have it all together.
This gospel isn't good news to people who think they're fine on their own. To them, it's foolishness. But to those who recognize they have nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer, nothing but their desperate need—to them, it's the sweetest news imaginable.
The gospel confronts us with bad news first: we're not good enough. We never will be. Our spiritual resume means nothing.
But then comes the glorious good news: Christ has done everything on our behalf. He lived the perfect life we couldn't live. He died the death our sins deserved. He rose victorious over sin and death.
And He offers this freely to all who stop trusting themselves and rest in Him.
Liberty for the Captive
The Messiah also came "to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound" (Isaiah 61:1).
This is Jubilee language—that divine reset button when debts are canceled, slaves are freed, and land is restored. Jesus brings the ultimate Jubilee. He cancels the debt of sin we could never pay. He breaks the chains of bondage we could never escape on our own. He restores the inheritance we forfeited.
"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9).
It is for freedom that Christ set us free.
What holds you captive today? Addiction? Unforgiveness? Sexual sin? The desperate need for approval? Your past mistakes that you're convinced disqualify you from God's love?
Jesus proclaims liberty. The chains are broken. You are set free.
Liberty doesn't mean trying harder. It means trusting Christ and His finished work.
Favor for the Condemned
The Messiah came to "proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God" (Isaiah 61:2).
God's favor toward the oppressed means judgment for the oppressor—primarily, judgment against sin itself. God's grace doesn't ignore justice; it satisfies it. At the cross, Jesus absorbed the vengeance and wrath of God against sin so we could receive God's favor.
The day of vengeance fell on Him so the year of favor could be extended to us.
But this favor comes with terms. Not "add Jesus to your existing life and He'll make everything better." Not "believe whatever you want about Jesus as long as you're sincere."
Jesus said, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 7:21).
The question isn't whether you've added Jesus to your life, but whether you've submitted to His lordship. Have you received God's favor on His terms, or are you still trying to negotiate?
Comfort for the Mourner
Finally, the Messiah came "to comfort all who mourn...to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit" (Isaiah 61:2-3).
Those who mourn aren't just people experiencing loss. They're those genuinely grieved over sin—their own sin that's wrecked their lives and the sin that's ravaged the world.
The stunning promise is that the Messiah doesn't just sympathize with mourners. He transforms them. He takes people covered in ashes of despair and crowns them with beauty and joy. He takes people crushed with a faint spirit and clothes them with praise.
Why? "That they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified" (Isaiah 61:3).
Stop Pretending
C.S. Lewis once compared life without Christ to playing in a mud puddle in your backyard, thinking it's the best possible experience—not realizing that just down the road is a clean, pristine beach.
The self-made gods we create don't demand that we die to ourselves. They say, "Be true to yourself." The self-created religion we prefer doesn't expose our spiritual poverty. It tells us there's nothing wrong with us.
But the real Jesus comes to people who have stopped pretending. He comes to the poor who know they're bankrupt, to the captives who know they're enslaved, to the mourners who know they're broken.
This Christmas season, as we celebrate the King who left His throne for a cradle in the dirt, the question isn't whether you're spiritual enough or good enough.
The question is: Will you stop pretending and embrace the good news that Christ has done everything on your behalf?
Will you admit you're enslaved to sin and embrace the liberty Jesus gives?
Will you confess your sins, repent, and follow Christ?
Because He is our King, and He has brought us life.
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