Preaching Religion or Preaching the Gospel: Why the Order Matters

There is a way of preaching that sounds biblical, even urgent, yet quietly smuggles in a burden the gospel never asks anyone to carry. It exhorts, motivates, warns, and pleads. It calls for moral improvement, spiritual seriousness, and renewed commitment. It quotes Scripture, names sin, and insists on obedience. And yet, for all its earnestness, it leaves the listener with the unmistakable impression that the Christian life is primarily a matter of willpower - our willpower.

This is religion. And religion, even when dressed in Christian vocabulary, cannot heal the human condition.

The gospel, by contrast, begins somewhere entirely different. It does not start with exhortation but with announcement. It does not begin with what we must do but with what God has already done. It does not assume human ability; it exposes human inability. And only then, only after the ground has been cleared by grace, does it speak of obedience.

This distinction is not academic. It is the difference between life and death, despair and hope, moralism and the message that actually saves.

Luther’s Fierce Clarity: The Will Is Not Free

Martin Luther’s Bondage of the Will is not a gentle book. It is a theological thunderclap. Luther’s central claim is simple and devastating: the human will, after the Fall, is not free in the way we imagine it to be. It is not a neutral instrument waiting to be steered toward good or evil. It is bent, bound, curved inward on itself. It cannot, by its own power, choose God, love God, obey God, or even desire God rightly.

Luther’s point is not psychological but theological. The problem is not that we are weak; the problem is that we are spiritually dead. The will is not a muscle needing exercise. It is a corpse needing resurrection.

This is the essence of his argument: if salvation depends on the human will, then salvation is impossible. Only divine grace: initiating, sustaining, completing, can rescue us from the wreckage of our own nature.

Luther was not trying to win a debate. He was trying to protect the gospel.

And he was right.

Romans and the Ruin We Inhabit

Paul’s letter to the Romans reads like a slow, relentless unveiling of the human condition. He does not flatter us. He does not soften the diagnosis. He does not offer a spiritual self-help program. Instead, he names the truth we spend our lives trying to avoid: we are fallen members of a fallen creation, incapable of repairing ourselves.

The world is broken. We are broken. And the will, that inner compass we trust so instinctively, is broken too.

This is why preaching that begins with exhortation: “try harder,” “do better,” “be more faithful”, misses the point entirely. It assumes a capacity that Scripture denies. It treats the will as though it were merely weak, not enslaved. It imagines that moral improvement is the path to spiritual life, rather than the fruit of it.

When we preach this way, we are not proclaiming the gospel. We are offering religion: a ladder to climb, a standard to meet, a burden to bear.

And ladders do not save the drowning.

When Preachers Become the Arbiters of Goodness

There is a subtle temptation that creeps into pulpits and classrooms alike. It is the temptation to assume that we, the teachers and preachers, stand above the text rather than beneath it. We begin to speak as though we are the arbiters of goodness, the guardians of reason, the interpreters who see clearly while others stumble in the dark.

From that posture, exhortation becomes easy. We can always tell people to do more, try harder, live better. We can always point out where the congregation falls short. We can always craft a sermon that calls for moral improvement.

But when we do this, when we preach from a place of superiority rather than solidarity, we betray the very message we claim to proclaim. We forget that we, too, are Romans 3 people: fallen, helpless, dependent entirely on grace.

Preaching that begins with human effort inevitably becomes preaching that ends in human despair.

The Gospel’s Order: Grace First, Identity Second, Obedience Third

Luther’s argument helps us recover the biblical order of things.

Because the will is bound, God must act first.
Because the will is bound, Christ must redeem first.
Because the will is bound, the Spirit must awaken first.

Only then, only after grace has done its work, can obedience be asked for, expected, or even imagined.

This is why the gospel always sounds like this:

• Because of Christ, we do X.

• In Christ, we do X.

• By Christ, we do X.

The order is everything.
Grace establishes identity.
Identity empowers obedience.
Obedience flows from union with Christ, not from human resolve.

Reverse the order, and you no longer have Christianity. You have religion.

Why the Order Matters for Preachers and Teachers

If we preach imperatives without indicatives, we are not preaching the gospel.
If we preach obedience without identity, we are not preaching the gospel.
If we preach human effort without divine accomplishment, we are not preaching the gospel.

We are simply handing people a broom and asking them to sweep back the ocean.

But when we preach Christ first: His work, His righteousness, His victory, His resurrection, His Spirit then something miraculous happens. The listener is not crushed by the weight of expectation. They are lifted by the power of grace. They begin to see themselves not as spiritual strivers but as beloved sons and daughters who have been united to Christ Himself.

And from that place, from that identity, obedience becomes not a desperate attempt to earn God’s favor but the joyful expression of a life already held by it.

Religion Says “Do.” The Gospel Says “Done.”

Religion begins with human action.
The gospel begins with divine accomplishment.

Religion says, “If you obey, God will accept you.”
The gospel says, “Because God has accepted you in Christ, you can now obey.”

Religion burdens the will.
The gospel resurrects it.

Religion demands strength.
The gospel supplies it.

Religion produces exhaustion.
The gospel produces worship.

The Only Message Worth Preaching

We live in a world that is groaning, fractured, and weary. Humanity is not merely misguided; it is enslaved. Creation is not merely damaged; it is in bondage. And the will is not merely weak; it is captive.

In such a world, moral exhortation is not enough.
Religious instruction is not enough.
Inspirational advice is not enough.

Only the gospel, Christ’s finished work, Christ’s present reign, Christ’s promised return, can speak life into the ruins.

So we preach Christ first.
We establish identity first.
We announce grace first.

Then, and only then, do we call God’s people to live in the freedom that grace has secured.

If we get the order wrong, we preach religion.
If we get the order right, we preach the gospel.

And the gospel is the only message that can raise the dead.