And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him. (Colossians 2:13-15)

Before Christ, we weren’t just “struggling” or “a little lost”—we were spiritually dead in our trespasses. Dead men walking. Like prisoners on death row, we were bound in the dark prison of this world, awaiting the final execution of our sentence.

But God stepped in. He sent His Son, Jesus—much like a judge sending his own child into the prison to take the place of the guilty. Jesus took our sentence, bore our punishment, and died in our place. Justice was satisfied. Our record of debt, with every single charge against us, was nailed to the cross and marked paid in full.

And it didn’t stop there.

God raised Jesus from the dead, and in doing so, made us alive together with Him. Not only were the cell doors unlocked, but Jesus flung them wide open. We aren’t meant to stay wandering the prison yard—we’re called to walk out in freedom, into His marvelous light.

So why do so many believers live under the chains of legalism, guilt, and shame? Pride whispers that we aren’t worth such a gift and that we need to “pay back” at least part of the cost. But grace doesn’t work like that. If we’re still trying to earn God’s favor, we’ve missed the reality and grace of the cross.

The record is gone, the debt is erased, and the enemy’s accusations have been disarmed because the Father looks at us in the same way that He sees Jesus. All that’s left is for us to receive the gift fully and walk in the freedom Christ has already purchased.

Does anything hold you back? We can label it pride, because that’s a foundation, but push beyond that. Get alone with God and ask Him to reveal what might be holding you back from walking in freedom. The work has been finished. The debt has been paid. So let’s walk like we’re free – because in Christ we are!

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority. (Colossians 2:8-10)

Paul warns the Colossians—and us—to be on guard. In 2 Corinthians 10:5, we’re told to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. Philippians 4:8 tells us exactly what kinds of things we should dwell on. This passage echoes that call but with a sharp warning: do not let your mind be taken captive by the world’s wisdom.

The philosophies and deep thoughts of the world may sound enticing, but to God they are foolishness. Paul says they are “empty deceit”—void of true substance and full of lies. They are not according to Christ, and that alone should be enough for us to reject them without hesitation.

Why? Because we already have everything we need in Christ. The fullness of God dwells bodily in Him, and because He indwells us, His full authority rests over us. If Christ is our Head, then we are to submit our minds, wills, and lives entirely to Him. To submit them to the master of this world through deceptive philosophies, human traditions, or the elemental spirits is to willingly step under a rule that has no rightful claim over us.

The enemy is the father of lies, and he has no authority over the children of God. Therefore, we have no business dabbling in his “wisdom” or entertaining his ideas. Our focus must remain fixed on Jesus Christ—our Head, our Master, our God. He alone is truth, and He alone is worthy of captivating all of our heart and mind.

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. (Colossians 2:6-7)

Paul begins this passage by reminding us of what happened when we first received Christ. The Greek word here for ‘received’ means “to join to oneself, to associate with oneself.” When we came to faith, we weren’t just agreeing to a set of beliefs—we were joined to Jesus Himself, becoming one with Him. Our identity is now in Jesus.

Because of that union, Paul commands us to walk—to regulate and conduct our lives—in Christ. The word “in” (en) here is beautiful. It denotes a fixed position, a place of rest, where we give ourselves wholly to Christ. It’s not like “with” (para), which means to be close beside. We are in Him, abiding and resting in that relationship.

Paul then describes three things God has done and is doing in us:

Rooted – This verb is in the perfect tense, meaning it’s a completed action with lasting effect. We have been firmly planted in Christ, our stable and unshakable foundation.

Built up – Present tense. God is actively building on that foundation in an ongoing, continual way.

Established – Also present tense. God is continually stabilizing and making us steadfast in our faith and fellowship with Him.

Also take notice that these three verbs are written in what’s called the passive voice in the Greek—meaning we are the receivers of the action, not the doers. God Himself is the One rooting, building, and establishing us. Our role? Abide.

And Paul ends with a command: be abounding in thanksgiving. The Greek means to overflow beyond measure, to excel in gratitude. This isn’t polite table-grace thankfulness—it’s an extravagant, overflowing response to God’s grace. The word thanksgiving (eucharistia) reminds us of the heart posture we are to carry daily: gratitude for the One who gave Himself so we could receive Him, be rooted in Him, and grow in Him.

We began by receiving Christ; we continue by resting in Him and letting Him do the work that keeps us stable, grounded, and overflowing in thanks. So continue to abide in Him, abounding in thanksgiving, and let God do that work!

For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you and for those at Laodicea and for all who have not seen me face to face, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments. For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the firmness of your faith in Christ. (Colossians 2:1-5)

Paul had just finished explaining how he toils and struggles through the power of God to proclaim Christ and make disciples. Then, he shifts his tone in chapter 2 with a deeply personal note—he tells the Colossians of his struggle for them, using a word that implies deep, intense concern. He longed for their hearts to be encouraged, for them to be unified in love, and for their faith to be anchored in the full assurance of Christ. He wanted them to grow in maturity so they wouldn’t be deceived by persuasive arguments that sound good but lead away from truth.

That should make us pause and ask ourselves:

Do I have this kind of concern for others? Do I long for their encouragement, unity, and growth in Christ the way Paul did? Or am I too quick to critique immaturity instead of stepping into the loving work of building others up through grace and truth?

If we want to love people like this—to see them as God sees them—we have to examine my own hearts first. Pride and self-focus are subtle but powerful barriers. They keep us from humbly loving, from listening, from lifting others above ourselves. But the good news is, this kind of love isn’t something we have to muster on our own. Just like Paul said in Colossians1:29, this struggle is done with God’s energy, which He powerfully works within us.

So, let’s return again to the instruction: Abide in Christ. Remain in Him. Let Him do the work in you and through you.

To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me. (Colossians 1:27-29)

The mystery once hidden but now revealed is this: Christ in us, the hope of glory. This reality should shake us to our core—not just comforting us, but transforming us. We are not just saved; we are co-heirs with Christ. And in that transformation, we don’t stay silent. We proclaim Him. We warn. We teach with all wisdom – not to boast in knowledge, but so that every person may be presented mature in Christ.

Discipleship flows from love, and it’s not optional. It’s a call that requires our surrender. It means giving up comfort, being willing to teach and be taught, to share what God has given and humbly receive from others. Jesus modeled this in His earthly ministry, and He commissioned us to follow in that way.

Paul said he toiled and struggled for this very reason—discipleship. But he didn’t do it in his own strength. He did it with the energy God powerfully worked in him. That’s what makes this holy striving different from striving in our flesh. It’s not about proving ourselves. It’s about obedience fueled by God’s Spirit, working in us to build up the body of Christ in love.

Discipleship is work, yes. But most importantly - discipleship is love in action. It’s the Church maturing together under the headship of Christ. And in every struggle to love, to teach, to grow, and to receive, we’re participating in the mystery: Christ in us, the hope of glory.

Christmas is a season often filled with anticipation—children waiting to open presents, families planning gatherings, and many of us quietly hoping for something special to receive. Yet, in the midst of all the wrapping paper, ribbons, and lists, it is worth pausing to remember the gift that outshines them all: Jesus Christ.

The apostle Paul writes, “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15). Unlike earthly gifts that fade or break, this gift is eternal. God sent His Son, not wrapped in festive paper, but in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger. He came in humility, entering our broken world to bring us salvation, peace, and everlasting hope.

When we reflect on this, our hearts are drawn away from “What can I get?” toward “How can I give thanks?” Gratitude is the most fitting response to the One who gave us everything—life, forgiveness, and eternity with Him.

This Christmas, may we slow down, set aside the noise of consumerism, and lift our eyes in worship. As we gather with loved ones, let us not forget to bow in humility before the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), remembering that the greatest treasure is not under the tree but found in the Savior who hung on the tree.

Lord, help us to remember this season that You gave us the greatest gift of Your Son, Jesus. Please fill our hearts with gratitude and joy as we celebrate the day Jesus Christ was born into our world to save us. Amen.

Merry Christmas!

Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known (Colossians 1:24-25)

Paul echoes his exhortation from 1 Thessalonians 5:16 to “rejoice always,” and here in Colossians, he lives that out by rejoicing in his sufferings—not for the pain itself, but because of who it’s for: the body of Christ. Paul endured severe afflictions, and yet time and time again, the Lord allowed him to see how those trials advanced the gospel (Philippians 1:12–14; 3:8–9). That eternal perspective allowed him to rejoice in hardship and remain content, anchored by the truth that he could endure all things through Christ who strengthened him (Philippians 4:11–13).

The phrase “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” can be easily misunderstood. Paul wasn’t suggesting there was anything insufficient about Christ’s atoning sacrifice. Rather, he understood that because believers are united with Christ, any suffering endured for His name becomes part of Christ’s ongoing afflictions through His body, the Church. So Paul, writing from a Roman prison, saw his personal suffering as a continuation of what it means to follow Christ faithfully.

This wasn’t just endurance—it was stewardship. Paul saw his trials as part of his commission to make the word of God fully known. And if we too are to be faithful stewards of the gospel, we must recognize that suffering isn’t an obstacle—but it is often part of our mission. But with our eyes fixed on Christ, counting all else as loss, we will find strength to rejoice even in hardship, knowing it serves a greater purpose for His kingdom.

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister. (Colossians 1:21-23)

We were once alienated—hostile in mind and doing evil deeds. This isn’t just a theological label—it’s a mirror to our natural state. Sin doesn’t just separate us from God because He’s holy; it separates us because we want the distance. We hide, justify, numb, and self-soothe, trying to feel “good enough.” But feeling better in ourselves doesn’t save us. We could never reconcile ourselves to God. He had to be the one to initiate, to act, to reconcile us to Himself.

But God’s goal wasn’t just to buy us a ticket to heaven. His aim is far more personal and transformational: to present us holy, blameless, and above reproach before Him. That’s a process of sanctification—not just a moment of salvation. And it hinges on faith, not just once believed, but continually lived out. “If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel…”

This is an abiding obedience—not striving to earn, but trusting to receive. We can’t hinder His desire for us and expect to see His fullness in us. But when we walk in that faith, allowing Him to shape and sanctify us, we align with His desire to make us holy in His sight.

Paul’s words here reflect his role as a minister of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:20)—not just introducing people to the gospel, but urging us to continue in it. Reconciliation isn’t just the beginning of salvation—it’s the very substance of it. So we continue, stable and steadfast, not surprised by trials (1 Peter 4:12–13), but rooted in hope.