Big Buts of the Bible

An Excerpt from Chapter 7 ~ The Sermon On The Mount

Read Matthew 7:21–29

There is something sobering about the way Jesus ends the Sermon on the Mount.

After speaking about prayer, forgiveness, worry, judgment, generosity, integrity, and trust, He paints a picture of deeply religious people standing before Him saying, “Lord, Lord, look at all we’ve done in your name.”

At first glance, that sounds impressive. But Jesus isn’t impressed by appearances.

Throughout this sermon He has consistently drawn a distinction between what people see on the outside and what is happening within the heart. Again and again, He challenges those who have learned to perform religion while remaining distant from God.

That’s an important distinction because many people have encountered Christianity primarily as a system of correction.

Perhaps you’ve met people who seemed far more interested in identifying what was wrong with you than introducing you to Jesus. Maybe you’ve experienced conversations that felt more like inspections than invitations. Maybe you’ve walked away feeling judged, excluded, or convinced that God must feel the same way about you that some of His followers seemed to.

If that’s part of your story, it’s worth noticing who Jesus consistently moved toward.

He moved toward the weary. Toward the overlooked. Toward the doubting. Toward the hurting. Toward those carrying shame. Toward those whose lives had become complicated. Toward people who often felt unwelcome in religious circles.

What frustrated Jesus wasn’t brokenness. It was pretense. It wasn’t weakness. It was self-righteousness. It wasn’t people who knew they needed help. It was people convinced they didn’t.

The remarkable thing about the Gospels is that Jesus rarely began by correcting behavior. He began by inviting people into relationship. He shared meals. He listened. He welcomed. He loved. And somewhere in that relationship, hearts began to change.

That’s still His way.

Jesus never asks us to clean ourselves up before coming to Him. He simply says, “Come.” Bring your questions. Bring your failures. Bring your confusion. Bring your fears. Bring the parts of your story you’re proud of and the parts you’d rather hide.

Bring yourself.

The wise man in Jesus’ story wasn’t wise because he knew the right answers. He was wise because he trusted Jesus enough to build his life on Him.

And that’s where authenticity begins—not in pretending to be something we’re not, but in honestly bringing who we are to the One who already knows us completely and loves us anyway.

The invitation of Matthew 7 is not to perform better. It’s to come closer. Not religion, but relationship. Not appearance, but authenticity. Not performance, but presence.

And that foundation, Jesus says, will hold when the storms come.