A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
BibleLibrary777.com offers profound Book of scriptures consider, verse-by-verse commentary, unique Greek and Hebrew word considers, and cutting edge reverential bits of knowledge. Culminate for ministers, understudies, and devotees looking for precise, Spirit-led understanding. Visit presently for trusted Book of scriptures instruments and research-based educating.
Sometimes this chapter gets read like a legal note — all about government, rules, and submission. But if you slow down, if you breathe inside Paul’s words, you start hearing something deeper — it’s about living honorably in a noisy world, about what love looks like when it meets real-life authority, politics, and everyday people.
It’s about walking in light when everyone else is stumbling in the dark.
Romans 13 isn’t just about being a “good citizen.” It’s about being a kingdom citizen — one who lives under heaven’s rule even while standing on earth’s soil.
So, let’s go slow through this, one verse at a time. Let’s let it soak in.
Paul starts strong here. No sugarcoating.
He says everyone — not just some, not just the nice folks — must be subject to governing authorities.
Now, that’s a hard one for many of us. Because authority doesn’t always look righteous. We’ve seen corruption, injustice, greed. We’ve seen power abused. But Paul isn’t saying “agree with everything” or “never speak truth.” He’s saying something bigger: Recognize God’s hand even when human hands mess things up.
It’s like Paul reminds the church — God’s sovereignty isn’t shaken by politics. He can use even imperfect leaders for His purpose.
When Paul wrote this, remember — Nero was emperor. A cruel man, hardly godly. Yet Paul said, “Be subject.” Why? Because rebellion wasn’t the way of Jesus; love was.
We submit, not because men are perfect, but because God’s order matters. There’s peace when we trust His design more than our outrage.
Rebellion here isn’t about standing for justice; it’s about fighting authority just for the sake of pride or control.
Sometimes we confuse godly resistance (which stands for truth) with fleshly rebellion (which just hates being told what to do).
Paul’s warning feels stern — “you bring judgment on yourself.” It’s like he’s saying: when you pick fights with authority just to prove your independence, you’re not fighting Rome — you’re fighting God’s structure.
God’s kingdom has order, and humility keeps us aligned under it.
Now, that’s generally true — government’s job is to punish evil and protect good. But Paul isn’t blind. He knows some rulers go wrong.
Still, the principle remains: most authority exists to maintain order. Without it, we’d drown in chaos.
He’s not saying every law is just, but he’s painting a broad truth — when your life is honest, when you walk uprightly, you don’t live in fear.
Fear follows guilt. But peace follows obedience.
There’s something freeing about knowing your life isn’t lived in secret rebellion.
That’s a strange phrase — God’s servant. You don’t often think of politicians that way!
But Paul sees behind the curtain — even flawed leaders, in a mysterious way, can serve God’s plan.
If you look at Scripture, God used Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Cyrus — all unbelieving kings — for His glory. He’s still doing that.
We might not see how every law or election fits His story, but none of it surprises Him.
And then Paul adds, “if you do wrong, be afraid.” Because God uses authority to restrain evil. Even imperfect justice is better than no justice.
This verse hits the heart of it — it’s not about fear of getting caught, it’s about honor of conscience.
In other words: don’t obey just because you have to — obey because it’s right.
Because your heart belongs to God.
A Christian’s obedience shouldn’t be mechanical; it should be moral.
Even when laws are flawed, our spirit must stay humble.
Even when we disagree, we can stay respectful.
That’s how light shines in dark systems — through quiet integrity.
Ah, taxes — the topic no one likes! But Paul brings it up honestly.
He says, This is why you pay taxes — because those in office are doing a job God allows. They maintain roads, justice, peace. You might not like how they spend every coin, but paying your part honors God’s order.
It’s not about agreeing with every policy; it’s about keeping your conscience clean.
When Jesus said, “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s,” He wasn’t thrilled about taxes either — but He saw the bigger picture: our allegiance is to heaven, but we live on earth.
Paying taxes doesn’t make you worldly — it makes you wise and obedient.
I love this verse — it’s like Paul sums up adult responsibility in one sentence.
Be decent. Pay your dues. Respect people.
If you owe money, don’t drag your feet. If you owe respect, don’t withhold it because you dislike the person.
And if someone’s earned honor, give it freely.
The Christian life isn’t just spiritual — it’s practical. Holiness looks like paying bills on time, speaking kindly to your boss, tipping the waiter fairly, not cheating the system.
Our witness isn’t just in words, it’s in integrity.
Now Paul gets poetic — he shifts from taxes to love.
He says, You can pay off every bill, but there’s one debt you’ll never finish paying — love.
You can’t say, “I’ve loved enough today.” Nope. That account never closes.
It’s a lifelong debt, and the only currency that works is grace.
Love fulfills every law. When you love right, you automatically do right — because love won’t steal, cheat, or harm.
The world’s laws try to control behavior. God’s love transforms the heart.
This isn’t new — Jesus said the same.
All those “you shall nots” from the Ten Commandments find their yes in love.
If you love your neighbor, you won’t lie to him, won’t take from him, won’t hurt him.
Love is the filter through which every law makes sense.
Sometimes we overcomplicate faith — debates, doctrines, disputes. But Paul brings it down to something so simple a child could understand: Just love.
Real love never breaks God’s law — it fulfills it.
There it is.
Love isn’t an emotion here — it’s a lifestyle that guards others from harm.
If your actions wound someone, they’re not loving.
If your truth lacks compassion, it’s not love.
Paul doesn’t mean love ignores sin; he means love never destroys the person.
Love corrects gently, helps patiently, forgives generously.
You can’t fulfill the law by force, but you can through love. Because love isn’t just right — it’s divine.
Oh, this one feels urgent.
Paul’s saying — wake up, Church!
Stop drifting through life half-asleep. The night’s almost over, the dawn’s coming — Christ’s return is nearer now than before.
It’s like he’s shaking us — you don’t have forever; start living like it matters!
We spend so much energy on things that won’t last — money, fame, grudges, status. But Paul says: the clock’s ticking.
Wake up to grace. Wake up to purpose. Wake up to eternity.
Because once you see time through heaven’s eyes, you stop wasting it.
You can almost feel the sunrise in this verse.
The “night” is this fallen world — sin, corruption, lies.
The “day” is the return of Christ — the full light of His kingdom.
Paul says, put aside the deeds of darkness. That means — stop living like the world if you belong to the day.
Stop hiding what you know needs to change.
Then he says, put on the armor of light.
That’s beautiful — light isn’t just a glow; it’s protection.
When you walk in truth, you’re safe. When you live transparently, the enemy has no foothold.
Holiness isn’t heavy armor — it’s radiant armor.
Paul gets specific here — not because he’s being judgmental, but because he knows how easy it is to drift.
He’s saying, Don’t live like the night anymore. Don’t numb your soul with pleasure, pride, or comparison.
Darkness loves secrecy. But when you walk in the light, you’ve got nothing to hide.
And look how he ends — “not in dissension and jealousy.” He’s saying — gossip and envy are just as dark as drunkenness and lust.
Sin isn’t just what happens in the shadows — it’s what grows quietly in the heart.
And there it is — the whole Christian life in one verse.
Clothe yourself with Jesus.
Wear Him like a coat that wraps your whole being — your thoughts, your words, your actions.
Let His kindness be your covering, His patience your pattern, His love your warmth.
When you’re dressed in Christ, you don’t need to chase what the flesh craves — you’re already full.
Holiness isn’t about deprivation; it’s about satisfaction in Him.
So, don’t just act Christian. Be clothed in Christ — let Him be seen in you.
Romans 13 hits both our outer life and inner heart. It asks — how do you live as a kingdom person in a human world?
Here’s how we can walk this chapter out.
Whether you like your leaders or not, pray for them.
It’s easy to criticize, hard to intercede. But prayer changes both them and you.
When you honor authority, you honor God’s order.
You don’t have to agree — just don’t let bitterness harden your heart.
Pay your bills. Tell the truth. Don’t cut corners.
Integrity is quiet worship.
When you live honestly, people trust your faith more than your words.
You’ll never outgrow the debt of love.
When someone wrongs you — love.
When someone annoys you — love.
When someone’s lost — love.
That’s how the gospel walks on two feet — yours.
Time’s moving fast. Don’t sleep through your calling.
Wake up early to pray. Wake up to serve. Wake up to love your neighbor.
The world’s asleep in selfishness — be awake in compassion.
Not fancy clothes — but His attitude, His mercy, His gentleness.
Before you step out, say, “Lord, help me wear You today.”
People should see His reflection in your patience, kindness, and humility.
Don’t hide your sin. Bring it into the light where healing happens.
Confess. Repent. Keep moving forward.
Light isn’t your enemy — it’s your home now.
You don’t need to argue the gospel when you live it.
When people feel your compassion, they’ll sense Christ before you even speak His name.
That’s what Paul meant — love fulfills the law.
So love loudly, even if quietly.
Romans 13 isn’t a cold political chapter — it’s a warm reminder that heaven’s citizens still live on earth, and how we carry ourselves here tells the world what kingdom we belong to.
You can resist evil without being rebellious.
You can be bold without being bitter.
You can live holy in a messy world — not because you’re perfect, but because you’re clothed in Christ.
So live wide awake.
Love deeply.
Shine brightly.
Because the night’s almost over — and the day, oh the glorious day, is almost here
Sometimes, I think Romans 13 feels like a mirror that makes us a little uncomfortable. You know when you look into the mirror and notice something off — maybe a smudge, or you realize your shirt’s on backward — and you sigh? That’s kind of how Paul’s words hit. They don’t flatter. They reveal.
It’s not just about following rules or behaving well; it’s about carrying Christ into everyday life — into how we drive, how we pay bills, how we talk about people in power, how we handle others who get on our nerves. Romans 13 is really a “street-level” faith chapter. Not fancy, not theological — but real.
Let’s walk through how it applies, slowly, with heart.
Paul starts with, “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities.”
That verse — man, it’s one of those lines that stings sometimes, especially when you see corruption or injustice.
But Paul wasn’t writing from a comfy democracy. He was under a Roman empire that persecuted Christians. And still, he said: respect authority.
Why? Because respect reflects order — and God is a God of order, not chaos.
It doesn’t mean you agree with every law. It doesn’t mean you never speak up. It means your attitude stays honorable.
I remember once standing in line at a government office — it was hot, the fan barely worked, papers everywhere, the officer slow as molasses — and I was fuming. My inner voice was like, “This is ridiculous!” But then, in that small frustration, I felt that nudge: Obey for conscience’ sake.
It’s not about them; it’s about me.
When I choose patience, I’m honoring God in small ways.
That’s Romans 13 — obedience that isn’t robotic, but conscious.
We obey not because we fear punishment, but because we want to live with a clean heart.
Ah yes — “Pay your taxes.” It’s funny how practical Paul gets.
Sometimes we spiritualize faith too much, but Paul brings it back to reality. Taxes, bills, debts, responsibility — these are part of discipleship.
He says, “Give everyone what you owe: taxes to whom taxes are due, respect to whom respect.”
That means — don’t cut corners. Don’t live half-truths. Don’t dodge the small things that test integrity.
God sees honesty as worship.
Paying your dues, even when no one’s checking, is a form of worship.
I used to know someone who was a small business owner — she’d say, “I’m not cheating, just adjusting the numbers a bit.” But that small “adjustment” started eating her peace. Eventually, she said, “It’s like every time I looked at my books, I heard a whisper — you owe truth.”
That’s the thing: the Spirit doesn’t let us stay comfortable with dishonesty.
Romans 13 teaches that obedience is not for appearance, but for the soul’s sake.
This line always gets me. It’s so freeing and so convicting all at once.
“Owe no one anything, except to love one another.”
In a world full of emotional debts — grudges, forgotten apologies, prideful silence — Paul calls us to the one debt that never gets paid off: love.
You might owe someone forgiveness.
You might owe someone a call.
You might owe someone understanding instead of judgment.
Love is that ongoing debt that keeps your heart alive.
And when you stop paying that, your spirit grows cold.
It’s strange — you can have all your financial bills cleared but still live in emotional debt toward others. Romans 13 reminds us to clear those, too.
Sometimes that looks like sitting down and saying, “Hey, I was wrong.” Or sending a text that just says, “I miss you. Let’s talk.”
That’s gospel in motion.
Paul writes, “Love does no harm to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.”
It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? The entire Bible — all those commandments — they fold into this one thing: love.
But love’s not always easy. It’s not sentimental or sugary. Sometimes love is tough — it confronts, it disciplines, it stands firm.
Yet it never wounds for sport. It never crushes the weak.
When you really love people, you protect their dignity, even in disagreement.
Love is the law that never fails.
I remember once in church, a man said something cruel during a Bible discussion. Everyone froze. The air got heavy.
And this older woman stood up, smiled, and said, “Sweetheart, I think you meant well, but maybe say it with more kindness next time.”
No anger, no insult — just truth with grace. That’s Romans 13 love. It corrects without destroying.
So the next time we argue online, or gossip, or roll our eyes at someone’s mistakes — maybe we should stop and ask, “Is this doing harm, or doing love?”
Paul shifts tone here — it’s like he suddenly raises his voice and shakes our shoulders:
“Wake up from your sleep, for salvation is nearer than when we first believed.”
He’s saying: Stop drifting.
Time’s moving fast, eternity’s closer than we think.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve had seasons where I was just spiritually sleepy. Not rebellious, just numb. You pray, but your heart’s not in it. You read the Bible, but it feels dry. You know what’s right, but you’re tired of caring.
That’s when these words hit hardest.
Wake up.
Because the longer you stay asleep, the easier it is for sin to sneak in and comfort you.
The world dulls us — scrolling, comparing, chasing. But Paul’s voice breaks through: “The day is near.”
Imagine the sky slowly brightening after a long dark night — that’s what he means.
Wake up, because the light’s coming. Don’t miss it by being half-alive.
He says, “Let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light.”
That’s not just poetry. That’s a daily battle plan.
You can’t keep petting darkness and expect to walk in light.
We all have our secret shadows — attitudes, addictions, habits, resentments. And some days, we defend them like they’re part of us.
But Paul says, throw them off.
That means — take action.
If there’s a behavior or temptation you keep feeding, cut off its food supply.
I once heard a preacher say, “You can’t kill sin you keep entertaining.”
That’s Romans 13 in plain talk.
So maybe it’s time to delete that app, end that toxic friendship, confess that secret, or stop the late-night cycle that keeps dragging you down.
Darkness grows in silence; light grows in surrender.
Paul writes, “Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in drunkenness, not in strife or jealousy.”
In the daytime, things are seen. You walk differently when the light’s on.
He’s saying, “Live like the light’s on you all the time — not out of fear, but out of clarity.”
Be the same person in public and in private.
Let your hidden life match your visible one.
When you live in the light, you don’t waste energy hiding.
And there’s such peace in that — knowing you have nothing to cover up.
The world is watching. But more importantly, heaven’s watching — and cheering you on.
Now, this might be one of my favorite lines in all of Paul’s letters:
“Clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ.”
Imagine getting dressed every morning — shirt, shoes, maybe perfume or cologne.
Now picture adding one more thing: Jesus.
Not as a symbol, but as your covering, your identity.
When you wear Christ, your words sound more patient.
Your steps move with purpose.
Your presence becomes peace.
You’re not pretending — you’re reflecting.
There was this old pastor in my childhood church, always wearing this faded suit, always gentle. And when he hugged people, they’d say, “It feels like Jesus just hugged me.”
That’s what Paul means.
Clothe yourself in His nature so much that people catch His scent when they meet you.
Paul closes with, “Do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.”
That’s not just about lust — it’s about anything that distracts your soul.
Anger, pride, laziness, greed, self-pity — all of that feeds the flesh.
And notice he says, “Don’t think about it.”
Because that’s where it starts — in thought.
The battle for holiness is won or lost in imagination before it ever reaches action.
If you stop the thought early, you save yourself from the spiral.
Don’t fantasize about revenge. Don’t rehearse old pain. Don’t daydream sin.
Fill your mind with light instead.
And if you fail — which we all do — run back fast.
Don’t sit in shame. Repent quick. The quicker you turn, the less power sin holds.
Romans 13 invites us to live faith that’s visible. Not loud, not self-righteous, but steady.
The world doesn’t need more religious noise. It needs examples — people who live love even when the world burns with hate.
When everyone’s mocking leaders, we choose to pray.
When everyone’s cheating, we stay honest.
When everyone’s bitter, we choose joy.
And little by little, that quiet faith shakes the darkness.
Because people notice peace — they crave it.
They’ll ask, “Why aren’t you angry like everyone else?” And that’s your moment to say, “Because I serve a different King.”
Paul ends on a hopeful note — “The night is nearly over, the day is almost here.”
It’s a promise. A whisper that everything wrong will one day be made right.
The suffering, the injustice, the waiting — it’s not forever.
Light is on its way.
So live like it.
Don’t waste your life chasing what will fade.
Don’t let temporary pain make you forget eternal glory.
Let every act of kindness, every honest word, every prayer, every apology — be a sign that the day is near.
Romans 13 is a call to maturity.
It’s the “grown-up” chapter of faith — where love meets responsibility, and belief meets behavior.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s real.
It’s the way you talk to the cashier. The way you treat a rude coworker. The way you handle money, traffic, politics, and patience.
It’s the gospel with its sleeves rolled up.
So maybe this week, as you go about your day, whisper this prayer:
“Lord, help me wear You well.
Help me love more than I owe.
Help me walk awake in Your light.”
Because when you do that, you’re not just following rules — you’re living resurrection life in the middle of a weary world.
That’s Romans 13.
It’s not a lecture — it’s a lifestyle.
A call to love louder, walk humbler, and stay awake until the full light comes.
Comments