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A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon

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A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash Every time a new year comes close, something in me start feeling that weird mix of excitement and heaviness. Maybe you know the feeling too—like you’re standing at this invisible doorway. One foot in the old year (the stuff you want to forget but somehow still sticks to you like stubborn glue), and the other foot stepping into something you still can’t see clearly. And sometimes you’re hopeful, sometimes you’re scared, sometimes you’re… well, both at the same time. I was thinking about all that while reading some Scriptures again, and honestly, it hit me harder this year. Maybe because life been kinda loud lately, or maybe because I’m tired of pretending everything always makes sense. But the Bible does this thing, right? It sneaks into the parts of your heart you thought you cleaned up, and suddenly you realize God is trying to talk to you again. Even if it feels like you weren’t exactly listening. S...

Luke Chapter 13 – Commentary and Bible Study Reflection

Luke Chapter 13 – Commentary and Bible Study Reflection

Photo by Michael Hamments on Unsplash


When I sit down with Luke chapter 13, honestly, I feel like I’m walking into a room where Jesus is both tender and tough at the same time. It’s not one of those chapters where everything feels cozy like Psalm 23. Nope. Here, Jesus is straight-up confronting sin, correcting people’s ideas, and at the same time giving those sweet, deep pictures of God’s mercy that make you pause and think, Wow, I need to sit with that for a while.

So, let’s go through this chapter piece by piece, kind of like sitting around a kitchen table with coffee and notepad, scribbling down things that hit us. I’m not aiming for perfection here—just honest reflection, with a few grammar quirks, maybe some half-finished thoughts, like how real life notes and conversations go.


The Call to Repentance (Luke 13:1–5)

The chapter kicks off with a pretty uncomfortable topic. People tell Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Brutal story, honestly. History books talk about how Pilate could be harsh, but this is cruel even by his standards. And what does Jesus say? Not “let’s blame Pilate.” Not “oh those Galileans must have been worse sinners.” Instead He flips it:

“Unless you repent, you too will all perish.”

That’s tough. It’s like Jesus saying, don’t think tragedy = God’s punishment on them. Tragedy is a warning for you. Big shift.

I remember once, after an earthquake in my country, people on TV were quick to say, “God punished those folks.” My grandmother, God bless her, shook her head and said, “Be careful. If we think God only punishes others, we blind to our own sins.” That’s almost exactly the spirit of this passage. Jesus is warning: Don’t play the comparison game. Repentance is personal.

And He says it twice. Repetition in Scripture isn’t by accident. It’s like Jesus underlining the words: Repent, or perish. Hard but necessary.


The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree (Luke 13:6–9)

Now Jesus slides into a parable. That’s His way—teach a truth, then give a picture. The fig tree planted in a vineyard, but for three years no fruit. The owner says, “Cut it down!” The gardener pleads, “Give it one more year. I’ll dig around, fertilize, maybe it will bear fruit. If not, then okay, cut it.”

This hits different depending where you are in life. If you’re feeling unproductive spiritually, it can sting. But it’s also hope: God is patient. He gives space, a little more time, some tending. He doesn’t give up quick.

I think of times in my own walk when I felt barren, like I wasn’t producing anything for God. I was just going to church, checking boxes, no fruit in character. If God was quick to chop down the unfruitful, I’d be gone. But He dug around my roots—through a hard season, honestly, like fertilizer but smelled terrible in the moment—and slowly new shoots came.

Patience and accountability—this parable has both. God waits, but not forever.


Jesus Heals a Crippled Woman on the Sabbath (Luke 13:10–17)

This story gets me every time. A woman bent over for eighteen years, couldn’t straighten herself. Imagine that—everywhere she goes, she sees the ground. Can’t look at the sky. Can’t look people in the eye. Eighteen years! And in synagogue, Jesus notices her, calls her forward, lays His hands, and immediately she stands up straight. She praises God.

The sound of her voice must’ve been like music. Someone who lived bent, suddenly upright, free. I get goosebumps thinking about it.

But the synagogue leader? Instead of rejoicing, he’s mad because Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Rules over people. Regulation over compassion.

Jesus’ reply is fiery: “You hypocrites! You untie your ox or donkey to give it water on the Sabbath, and yet you mad I set free a daughter of Abraham?” The crowd rejoiced, His opponents were humiliated.

Here’s what I take: God values people over ritual. Healing, freedom, restoration—those matter more than sticking to human-made interpretations of the law.

I also think about how sometimes in church we do the same. Someone wants help, or maybe they don’t fit “the rules” we built, and we forget compassion. But Jesus reminds—set people free. That’s the heart of Sabbath.


The Mustard Seed and the Yeast (Luke 13:18–21)

Jesus shifts again. Two small parables about the kingdom. Mustard seed: tiniest seed grows into a tree big enough for birds. Yeast: little bit works through all the dough.

It’s small beginnings, huge impact.

I once baked bread with my mother. She sprinkled yeast, barely a pinch, mixed it in. Later, the dough doubled, almost overflowed the bowl. It looked like magic. Jesus knew exactly that image. The kingdom starts hidden, tiny, but it transforms everything.

Sometimes we think the church has to be flashy, huge numbers, big events. But Jesus says—start small. A prayer whispered, a kindness given, a testimony shared. Over time, it spreads beyond what you see. Birds come rest in its branches. That gives me hope when I feel small.


The Narrow Door (Luke 13:22–30)

This is sobering again. Someone asks, “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?” And Jesus doesn’t give statistics. He says: “Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many will try and not be able to.”

He tells a picture of a house owner shutting the door, and people outside knocking, saying, “We ate and drank with you, you taught in our streets.” But the master says, “I don’t know you.”

Oof. Familiarity isn’t salvation. Proximity to Jesus isn’t the same as relationship with Him.

I remember growing up around church, always hearing sermons, singing songs, but for years I didn’t know Jesus personally. I thought being “around” faith was enough. But this passage wakes me: the door is narrow, and I need to enter.

Jesus also flips expectations: people from east, west, north, south will take their places, while some who thought they’d be first will be last. It’s God’s upside-down kingdom.


Jesus’ Sorrow for Jerusalem (Luke 13:31–35)

Some Pharisees warn Jesus, “Herod wants to kill you.” Jesus replies with courage: “Go tell that fox, I’ll keep driving out demons and healing today and tomorrow, and on the third day I’ll reach my goal.” He knows His mission, not scared off by threats.

Then He laments over Jerusalem: “How often I longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” That’s one of the most tender images of Jesus. A protective mother hen, wings out, wanting to shelter her little ones. But they refused.

Every time I read that, I feel Jesus’ broken heart. He isn’t just Judge—He’s longing, grieving love rejected.

I think of times I resisted God’s call, thought I knew better, and He must’ve looked at me with that same sorrow. Not angry only, but grieving like a parent.


Reflection and Application

Luke 13 is a chapter of warnings and hope woven tight.

  • Repentance: Don’t wait, don’t compare. Turn to God now.

  • Fruitfulness: God is patient, but He seeks growth in us.

  • Compassion: People matter more than rigid rules.

  • Small beginnings: Kingdom starts tiny, grows unstoppable.

  • The Narrow Way: Relationship with Jesus matters more than being around religion.

  • Jesus’ Heart: Even when rejected, He longs to gather us close.

When I sit with all this, it almost feels like the chapter is Jesus grabbing my shoulders gently, but firmly, saying: Wake up. Don’t waste time. God’s kingdom is here, and I want you in it, free and fruitful.

And maybe that’s the note to end on—not fear of being cut down or left outside, but the invitation to repent, bear fruit, and rest under His wings.

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