A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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There’s something about Romans 14 that feels almost too real for church life. It’s like Paul saw ahead of time the kind of things that still trip us up today — people fussing about food, traditions, or little differences, while missing the big thing: love.
This chapter isn’t heavy theology like Romans 9 or deep confession like Romans 7. No, it’s simple, almost practical. It’s Paul’s way of saying, “Hey church, calm down, stop arguing about stuff that doesn’t save you.” I love that. He’s not harsh, just firm and wise — like an older brother who’s been around the block a few times.
So, let’s walk through it slowly. Verse by verse, like a long chat over coffee, Bible open, maybe a few crumbs from breakfast still on the table.
Paul starts by saying, “Accept.” Not “tolerate,” not “argue until they agree with you,” but accept. That’s a powerful word.
The early church in Rome was a mix — Jews who came from law and tradition, and Gentiles who came from idolatry and freedom. They were clashing over food, days, rituals. Some felt holy only eating vegetables, others said, “It’s all clean now!” And then arguments started. You can imagine the tension during a shared meal.
Paul says, don’t turn small differences into battles. It’s not worth losing a brother or sister over what’s on your plate. Accept each other — because Jesus accepted both.
You know, sometimes faith looks strong when someone feels free, but Paul says those who are “weak” in faith might still cling to rules — and they need love, not mockery. It’s not our job to push them, it’s our job to welcome them.
You see the picture. One person says, “Pass the bacon,” the other looks horrified.
Paul doesn’t take sides — he just says, stop judging. Because both are doing what they believe honors God.
That’s the heart of this chapter — what you do for God should come from your heart, not from comparing with others.
I once knew a man who never ate certain foods because of his old culture’s idols. He said it reminded him too much of his past life. And he was so serious about it. Another believer, more carefree, said, “Ah, that doesn’t matter.” But the first man’s conscience mattered to God. It wasn’t about who was right; it was about being genuine.
That’s what Paul means — don’t treat with contempt or judge. Because both belong to Jesus, and both are accepted.
That verse hits deep. Paul reminds us — we are not the boss of anyone else’s walk with God. They have their own Master, and it’s not us.
The Lord can make them stand, even if they stumble. Isn’t that comforting? Sometimes we see people struggle and we think, “Oh, they’re messing up.” But Paul says, relax — God is able to hold them.
I’ve been that person before — watching someone and thinking, “They shouldn’t do that.” But then the Spirit nudges, “And who are you to say?” That gentle rebuke always humbles me.
Now Paul moves from food to days. Some believers kept the Sabbath, others didn’t. Some celebrated certain feasts, others treated all days alike.
Paul says, let everyone be convinced in their own mind.
That line — “fully convinced in their own mind” — it’s big. It means you don’t follow God because of peer pressure or tradition, but conviction.
If you rest on a special day, do it to honor God. If you don’t, still do it to honor God. Either way, it’s the heart that matters.
Faith isn’t about having identical routines, it’s about having the same Lord.
I kinda love how practical this is. Like Paul is saying, “Guys, stop keeping score. Just make sure what you do, you do it sincerely.”
Paul zooms out here — like he takes a breath. He says, “We don’t live for ourselves.”
That’s the essence of Christian life — it’s not about me, it’s about Him. Whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.
Sometimes when I’m caught in petty stuff, I remember this. Like, when I’m upset that someone doesn’t do faith the “right” way — my way — this verse gently taps my shoulder and says, “Hey, you’re not the center here.”
If we belong to Jesus, then all our living and dying, eating and resting, serving and worshiping — it’s all wrapped up in Him.
Everything comes back to Jesus. He died, He rose, He’s Lord over everyone — not just the ones who “get it right.”
This verse quietly shouts that unity in Christ is bigger than our disagreements.
Christ didn’t save only the “strong” or the “right.” He saved the weak, the confused, the rule-followers, and the free-spirited ones too. He’s Lord over all.
Here Paul gets a little stern — “Why do you treat them with contempt?”
We all have to stand before God someday. We’ll bow our knees and confess with our tongues. Each of us will give an account — not of others, but ourselves.
It’s funny how easy it is to keep track of other people’s mistakes, but forget our own. Paul says, stop wasting energy on judging. You’ve got enough to answer for in your own heart.
I think the church would be more peaceful if we remembered that. Less finger-pointing, more grace.
That “therefore” ties it all together. Paul says, instead of judging, make up your mind to not put stumbling blocks in others’ way.
So, it’s not just about avoiding criticism, but being intentional about love.
Imagine that — living in a way that helps others walk, not trip.
It’s a hard balance sometimes. Because what’s okay for me might not be okay for someone else. But Paul says, if what you do makes someone stumble, love asks you to stop — not because you’re wrong, but because you care.
Paul says he’s convinced that nothing is unclean by itself. But — and this is important — if someone thinks it’s unclean, for them it is.
That’s such a tender truth. God honors sincerity even when it looks different.
So if what you do hurts another believer’s conscience, you’re not walking in love anymore. “Do not destroy someone for whom Christ died.” That verse, oh, it hits the heart.
Think about it — Jesus died for that person. How small my freedom looks compared to that kind of love.
This one could be framed on every church wall.
Paul says, the kingdom isn’t about rules, menus, or rituals. It’s righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.
We get caught up in externals — but God’s kingdom is invisible, deep, joyful.
If you’re chasing arguments but losing peace, you’ve lost sight of the kingdom.
I think of it like this: if your conviction brings peace and joy in the Spirit, it’s probably right. If it brings pride and tension, maybe it’s time to check your heart.
Make every effort. That means it doesn’t happen by accident.
Peace takes work. Sometimes biting your tongue. Sometimes listening instead of talking. Sometimes choosing not to win.
We’re called to build each other up, not tear down. Mutual edification — that’s such an old-sounding word, but it’s beautiful. It means you don’t just live your faith alone, you help others grow too.
This is another warning. Paul says, don’t mess up what God’s doing in someone’s life just because you want to prove your freedom.
It’s not worth it.
If eating meat or drinking wine offends someone — skip it. Better to lose a small thing than wound a big soul.
Love sometimes looks like restraint. And restraint doesn’t mean fear — it means maturity.
Paul finishes this chapter with wisdom. Some things are better left between you and God. You don’t need to announce every conviction or debate every difference.
“Blessed is the one who does not condemn himself by what he approves.” Meaning — live with a clean conscience. If you doubt something, don’t do it. Because faith acts from assurance, not confusion.
And then comes that final line: “Everything that does not come from faith is sin.” That’s deep.
It’s not the act itself that matters most, but the heart behind it. If your motive isn’t born out of trust and love for God, even a “good” thing can be wrong.
Romans 14 calls us to grow up — not in knowledge, but in love.
Spiritual maturity isn’t proven by how many verses you can quote or how strong your opinions are, but by how gently you handle people who don’t see things like you do.
We live in a time where everyone wants to be right. Online debates, church divides, everyone posting what they believe. But Paul’s message feels like a quiet whisper saying, “Stop fighting. Just love each other.”
Some of us are “strong” in faith, others “weak.” Some feel free, others feel cautious. But none of us are the boss — Jesus is.
And maybe that’s the beauty of the church — it’s a messy mix of people, all learning to love under one Lord.
There was a man in my old church named Peter. He was old-school — suit and tie every Sunday, hymnbook in hand. Then there was Sam, a new believer, barefoot worshipper, always with a guitar. They were opposites.
At first, they didn’t talk much. Sam thought Peter was too traditional. Peter thought Sam was too wild.
But one day, Sam helped Peter fix his broken fence. They spent an afternoon talking. Peter said, “I can’t understand your music, but I see your love for Jesus.” Sam smiled, “And I can’t walk in your shoes, but I see your faith.”
After that, they sat together in church. One sang hymns, the other strummed softly. Different styles, same Savior.
That’s Romans 14 in a nutshell.
Romans 14 teaches me to breathe before I speak, to love before I lecture.
It’s not my job to fix everyone’s faith — only to live mine honestly.
Maybe true maturity isn’t having all the answers, but knowing when to stay silent, when to respect another’s conscience, when to choose peace instead of pride.
The kingdom of God isn’t built on food, drink, or days. It’s built on hearts that love Jesus and love each other, even when they don’t agree.
And one day — I believe this — when we all sit together at the heavenly table, laughing and worshiping, we’ll realize how small these arguments really were.
Until then, may we walk in grace, speak gently, and remember: whether we eat or don’t, whether we celebrate or not — we belong to the Lord.
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