Posted on July 24, 2025 Posted By: TJ Schultz Categories: Sermon Notes

Hey, let me ask you something that sounds simple but goes deep.

Have you ever received a letter that genuinely changed you? Not a bill. Not junk mail, and certainly not an offer to extend your warranty. I mean a letter that felt personal. Something that felt like the person who wrote it, knew you, like they were thinking of you the entire time.

Now, if you’re under 30, you might be thinking, “Letters? You mean like an email?” NO…not an email, not a text, not a tweet, not a snap. But with paper. And stamps. And coffee stains... maybe tear stains.

If you have gotten a letter like that, did you save it? I did. And you should know, I’m not the saving type. My entire childhood and young adult life fits in one cardboard box. But I have letters. Here are some of them:

This one is from the Author John Hersey and this one from the Author JD Salinger. Personal well-thought-out letters too me…giving advice to a teenager about becoming a great American Author. Or this one from the Poet Allen Ginsburg with similar advice. These letters didn’t go on the junk heap because they were personal and touching.

And here’s a letter from my grandma, sent to me when I was in my first year of college and having significant mental health struggles. She intentionally sat down with pen and paper and composed encouragement, and love, she reminded me of important times we shared together when all was right in the world. This letter I saved.

I kept beside my bed. I read it every night. It changed how I saw myself and how I faced each morning… Listen up, Letters have power. Because they reveal someone’s heart, perspective, and intention.

We’ve been in a sermon series called Holy Lit and we are learning that genre shapes impact. Different types of writing do different things. Think of the Bible like a toolbox:

Narrativedraws you into the epic drama of God’s unfolding story.
Poetrytunes your soul to praise and lament.
Lawshows you boundaries for life.
Prophecy are Divine messages often through symbolicimages
Wisdom literaturegives you practical principles for daily living.
Letters bridge the gap between doctrine and discipleship.

And here’s the thing: we don’t approach each genre the same way. Each tool has a unique shape and function. You wouldn’t drive a nail with a wrench or tighten a bolt with a hammer. Why does that matter? Because, form shapes function. We read a poem differently than we read a list of rules. And respond to a letter differently than History.

Today we are talking letters. Letters assume relationship. They presuppose a back-and-forth. They speak directly, conversationally, often with urgency. When you read a letter, you sense someone’s voice, tone, and heartbeat. You’re not just learning abstract theology—you’re joining a living conversation.

The New Testament is full of these letters. 21 in all and they were written by real people—mostly guys like Paul and Peter—to real churches. Churches that were brand new. Churches that were figuring out what it meant to follow Jesus. Churches with problems. Sound familiar?

Now, you could ask, “Why letters? Why didn’t God just drop a systematic theology textbook from the sky?”

Here’s why. Because:

Truth lands differently when it comes wrapped in relationship.

God could’ve given us bullet points. He could’ve laid out a flowchart of salvation. But instead, He gave us letters—because He’s not just after your intellect. He’s after your heart. Think about that: God didn’t just deliver content—He delivered connection. The gospel was never meant to be cold theology. It was always meant to be lived theology. shaped by love, shaped in community,

That’s why the New Testament doesn’t read like a manual. It reads like mail. So when you open these letters, you’re not just learning about God. You’re hearing from people who were captured by grace. You’re joining a conversation that spans continents and centuries and cultures—and now, it’s come to your mailbox.

So yes—truth matters. Doctrine matters. But relationship? That’s what makes it all stick. And that’s why God wrote you a letter. Not just to teach you. But to reach you.

Throughout this sermon series this has been our thesis

There’s a BACKSTORY to the story.

Here’s the thing: These aren’t just ancient words. This is a collection of divine correspondence. Prophets. Poets. Pastors. Missionaries. People moved by the Spirit to speak into real moments and by God’s grace, to speak into our lives. But if we don’t slow down—if we don’t ask questions like, “Who was this for? Why did it matter? What’s the genre, the context, the setting?” We risk losing the power of the letter.

So let me say it again: There’s a backstory to the story. Because this is a Jesus story. And every page, every paragraph, every sentence is shaped by Him, points to Him, and pulls us back to Him.

The Jesus who walked with sinners.
The Jesus who flipped tables in the temple.
The Jesus who built His church on grace and truth.
The Jesus who—through these letters—is still speaking toyou.

And here’s what’s at stake: He is the only one who has life that is truly life. So whatever it takes to hear His heart, to understand His word, to receive His grace—it’s all worth it. Because this isn’t just ancient mail. It’s your invitation into the greatest story ever told.

Before we dive into the New Testament letters, it’s crucial to understand what they are—and what they aren’t. As the Bible Project reminds us, these letters were written for real people in real churches facing real challenges.

They’re not abstract theology textbooks or random devotionals—they’re deeply personal, pastoral communications rooted in the story of Scripture. To read them well, we need context. That’s why we’re framing this journey through three lenses:

A Pastoral Heart for the Gospel– how these letters fit the bigger biblical story
Roman Reality– how to follow Jesus when the world around you doesn’t
Church Hurt– how God speaks hope into the mess we make

These three contexts aren’t optional—they’re essential. When we see the letters through these lenses, we don’t just understand them better—we hear them more clearly.

So lets take time to explore each of these three contexts and find examples from these 21 letters that illustrate them well. First we have:

A Pastor’s Heart for the Gospel--How these letters fit the larger context of Scripture

Most of us don’t pick up a letter halfway through and expect to understand it. But that’s what we do when we read the New Testament letters without seeing the bigger story they belong to. These aren’t just doctrinal downloads or Christian life hacks—they’re personal, pastoral dispatches from the frontlines of a gospel movement rooted in God’s plan since the very beginning.

The apostles weren’t inventing something new. They were interpreting the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus in light of everything God had already been doing—from Abraham to Moses, David to Isaiah. These letters are the overflow of leaders who saw the gospel not just as a moment in history but as the fulfillment of God’s eternal rescue mission. Every line they wrote was shaped by Scripture, by Jesus, and by the urgency of the mission.

N.T. Wright is an Author and Theologian and he says

“The New Testament is the story of what God has done, is doing, and will do about the evil of the world, through Jesus Christ. And the letters are the pastoral and theological unpacking of that story.”

When we read Paul, Peter, James, or John, we’re not reading detached theology—we’re reading the heartbeat of pastors who loved the gospel and loved their people. We’re watching them connect the dots between Israel’s promises, Christ’s cross, and the Spirit’s presence in real communities.

If we don’t see that bigger story, we’ll turn these letters into rulebooks. Or worse, we’ll cherry-pick verses to fit our modern agenda. But if we read them the way they were written—as part of God’s redemptive story—we’ll see what the early church saw: the gospel changes everything. So as we step into the letters, we need to keep our eyes wide open to the larger context of Scripture. These aren’t just instructions. They are invitations to live in the light of the story God is still telling.

To illustrate A Pastor’s Heart for the Gospel And How these letters fit the larger context of Scripture Let’s start with a letter to the

Galatians 3:6–14

Paul writes to a group of churches in Galatia—modern-day Turkey. These were new believers, mostly Gentiles, who had embraced the gospel. But now, they were being told: “Faith isn’t enough. You need to add on some additional steps, Jesus isn’t enough, you need to add some stuff.”

So lets read this together

Galatians 3:6–14: So also Abraham “believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.” Understand, then, that those who have faith are children of Abraham. Scripture foresaw that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, and announced the gospel in advance to Abraham: “All nations will be blessed through you.” So those who rely on faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith. For all who rely on the works of the law are under a curse, as it is written: “Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.” Clearly no one who relies on the law is justified before God, because “the righteous will live by faith.” The law is not based on faith; on the contrary, it says, “The person who does these things will live by them.” Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole.” He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.

If we are going to read this letter through the lens of a Pastor’s Heart we started by asking—what’s Paul feeling here? Because Paul is not just making a theological argument—he’s making a pastoral plea. This is a pastor’s heart on fire for the gospel. He’s watching his spiritual children get pulled away from grace. And it’s tearing him up inside.

So Paul points back to Abraham—back to the origin story of God’s covenant. Why? Because the Galatians were being told, You need to add something to Jesus. You need to do more to be accepted.” And Paul says, “No. No. No. Go back to Abraham. Go back to the beginning. He believed—and that was enough.

So also Abraham ‘believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.’

This isn’t just a Bible trivia moment. It’s Paul zooming out…way out—to Abraham. Why? Because he wants them to see the backstory. The gospel didn’t start with Jesus in Bethlehem. It started with a promise to Abraham: All nations will be blessed through you. That’s why Paul says:

Understand, then, that those who have faith are children of Abraham.

Faith has always been the plan. Not performance. Not rule-keeping. Faith. These believers lived in a status-driven world where honor was earned. So the idea that the poor, the Gentile, the outsider could be accepted by faith alone? That flipped the script. It turned the social order upside-down.

This is what Paul says:

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law… so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.

This was more than spiritual—it was cultural. Faith in Jesus wasn't just a religious shift. It was a new identity, a new family, a new worldview. And that’s the pastor’s heart behind these letters: Paul’s Plea? Don’t lose sight of the story that you’ve been invited into. God is keeping His promise—and you’re living proof.

He’s saying: Don’t build fences where Jesus has built a family. Don’t trade freedom for performance. Don’t forget the story you belong to.

Now let’s look at New Testament Letters through the lens of:

Roman Reality: How to follow Jesus when the world around you doesn't.

Let’s be honest: following Jesus has never been easy. But in the first century, it was downright dangerous. For early believers to say “Jesus is Lord” wasn’t just a religious statement—it was a political problem. You see they lived in a world where Caesar alone claimed the title of LORD. That’s the Roman reality behind every New Testament letter.

Paul, Peter, and the other writers were pastoring people under pressure—people facing social exclusion, economic hardship, and in some cases, death. But the letter writers don’t advise them to escape or to blend in.

They told them to stand out. They told them to live with courage, with holiness, with hope.

These letters teach us how to be faithful in a culture that doesn't share our values—and sometimes opposes them outright. Sound familiar? We don’t live in ancient Rome, but we live in a world with its own versions of power, pleasure, and pressure. And the church still needs courage to follow Jesus when it’s costly.

Author and Theologian Michael Gorman puts it this way:

“Paul’s letters do not offer a retreat from culture but a re-formation of culture in the light of Christ.”

That’s what’s happening in these letters. Paul isn’t ranting about the empire—he’s reframing everything in light of Christ’s kingdom. Identity. Sex. Money. Status. Family. Politics. Every area of life is being redefined by the cross and the resurrection.

And that’s our call too. The letters remind us that we’re not just surviving in culture—we’re called to subvert it with love and truth. We don’t need to be loud to be faithful. But we do need to be distinct. We need to belong to a kingdom that’s not of this world, even as we live in the middle our culture.

If we don’t understand the Roman reality, we’ll read these letters as if they were written from a place of comfort to people who were comfortable. They weren’t. They were written from a place of trial to people who were on trial. From prison to persecution. They’re not written for people at ease—they’re written for people under fire.

And that’s why these letters they still matter. Because whether you’re in Rome or Rochester, you need to know how to follow Jesus when the world around you doesn’t.

To see the context of Roman Reality we turn to

1 Peter 2:11–17

Peter is writing to a scattered, marginalized, misunderstood people. These weren’t power players—they were spiritual exiles. Foreigners. Outsiders. And let’s be real: they were living in a culture where following Jesus didn’t make you look noble—it made you look threatening.

Let’s read it together:

1 Peter 2:11–17: Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us. Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish people. Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God’s slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.

So Peter, opens with identity:

Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles…

This wasn’t just metaphor. This was their everyday reality. They didn’t belong in the Roman system, and they weren’t supposed to. That’s the heart of Roman Reality—learning to live for a different kingdom while you're still stuck in this one.

So what does Peter tell them to do? Rebel? Hide? Blend in? Nope. He tells them to live so good among the pagans that even their enemies have to respect them.

Live such good lives among the pagans that… they may see your good deeds and glorify God.

In other words: your life is your argument. Not your anger. Not your social media campaign. Not your protest march. Your life.

And just when you think he’s done… Peter goes even deeper:

Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority…

Now hold on—submit to Rome? Submit to Caesar? That feels like selling out. But here’s what Peter’s doing: he’s teaching subversion through submission. Not compliance. Not cowardice. But kingdom-shaped behavior that exposes the emptiness of empire.

That’s what Roman Reality looks like: living in such a way that your integrity speaks louder than the culture’s accusations. Not because you fit in, but because you stand out. Not by shouting louder, but by loving deeper.

And yes, there is tension here. Imagine how tempting it was to judge fellow believers who weren’t handling culture the way you were. Imagine the divisions, the assumptions, the superiority. That’s why Peter says:

Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.

That’s a tension-filled list. And it’s where the gospel calls us: right into the middle of the mess, with a witness that’s impossible to ignore.

The third and final lens that we will use to look at letters is

Church Hurt: Speaking hope into the mess we make

If you've ever been hurt by the church, you’re not alone. In fact the Bible is prime source material for disfunction. Because page after page in the New Testament letters, we find conflict, hypocrisy, division, legalism, pride, and yes—deep hurt. The early church had problems. Big ones. But the apostles didn’t walk away. They wrote letters

And that’s what these letters are: God’s voice speaking into the mess, not around it. Every church had issues. Corinth was proud and divided. Galatia was legalistic. Thessalonica was confused. Ephesus was drifting. Yet in every case, God didn’t cancel the church—He corrected it. He called it back to grace, to truth, and to love.

Pastor Timothy Keller once said, “The church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.” The letters make that obvious. The mess is real—but so is the mercy.

When we view the New Testament letters through the lens of church hurt, we don’t excuse the damage—but we see the healing. These letters are blueprints for rebuilding. They show us how grace confronts sin, how truth disarms lies, and how the Holy Spirit can renew what pride or pain have torn apart.

Friends, we live in a time when a lot of people are walking away from the church. Maybe they were judged. Maybe they were manipulated. Maybe leaders pulled a power play. Maybe they were just deeply disappointed. But here’s the thing: the apostles knew about church hurt—and still believed in the church.Why? Because Jesus hasn’t given up on His people—even when we blow it. And neither should we.

These letters remind us that grace doesn’t make the church perfect. It makes the church possible. They teach us how to forgive, how to repent, how to lead, how to listen, and how to stay when it’s easier to go.

If you've been hurt by the church, these letters aren’t just written to the church. They’re written for you. They’re God’s way of speaking hope into the mess we make—and calling us all back to something better than brokenness.

In James 2:1–9 we find an example of a letter that speaks to church hurt Authored by the little brother of Jesus. James writes to a church that was playing favorites. The rich get front-row seats. The poor get pushed aside.

Let’s read it together:

James 2:1-9: My brothers and sisters, believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my dear brothers and sisters: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? Are they not the ones who are blaspheming the noble name of him to whom you belong? If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing right. But if you show favoritism, you sin and are convicted by the law as lawbreakers.

He’s not easing into the topic with a metaphor, right? He’s not building rapport. He just goes for it:

Believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism.

This is personal. This is pastoral. And this is a picture of Church Hurt. Because here’s what was happening: the rich walked into church and got red-carpet treatment. The poor walked in and got the broom closet. One got honor, the other got shame—and listen…it all happened inside the church.

So James paints the picture.

You say, ‘Here’s a good seat for you’… but to the poor man, ‘Sit on the floor by my feet.’

Can you feel the weight of that? This isn’t theoretical sin. This is systemic sin. It’s baked into how people were being treated in the body of Christ. That’s Church Hurt in real time: when we rank people instead of receiving them, when we mirror culture’s values instead of modeling kingdom values.

James calls it what it is: evil.

“Have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?”

But this isn’t just a relational failure—it’s a gospel failure. Because God has always elevated the lowly…Always.

James Says:

Has not God chosen those who are poor… to be rich in faith?

That’s James speaking hope into the mess we make. James is saying, “You’re not just mistreating people—you’re misrepresenting God.”

And then comes the gut punch:

If you show favoritism, you sin.

It’s not a style issue. It’s not a gray area. It’s sin.

James message: Let the gospel reshape how you see people. Let love be the law that governs your church. And if you’ve created tiers in your community—it’s time to tear them down.

So there we have them. Three distinct contexts to understand the 21 letters in the Bible.

A Pastor’s Heart for the Gospel – how these letters fit the bigger biblical story
Roman Reality – how to follow Jesus when the world around you doesn’t
Church Hurt – how God speaks hope into the mess we make

A Pastoral Heart for the Gospel?

Every letter we’ve looked at started here.

Paul says to the Galatians:You don’t need to add anything to Jesus. He’s already enough.
James says:You don’t need to perform for people. You need to reflect God’s love.
Peter says:You don’t need to prove your worth. You’ve already been chosen.

At the core of each of these letters is an invitation into the eternal story of God’s redemption.

These men weren’t writing essays. They were protecting something sacred—the gospel. Because they knew how easy it is to drift. To replace Christ with a system, or a culture, or a tribe. They weren’t just writing to correct bad theology. They were writing to preserve the good news.

These letters don’t just teach theology. They invite you to live out the gospel—not as a theory, but as a story you’re now a part of.

And then, Roman Reality

Now let’s be honest. Most of us weren’t raised in a culture that told us following Jesus was dangerous. But that was normal in the first century. These letters weren’t written from a place of comfort. They were written in the tension of empire. They were smuggled across borders. Read in whispers. Shared in fear. Because to say “Jesus is Lord” was to say “Caesar is not.” And that was a problem.

Peter writes:“Live such good lives among the pagans…”
Paul says:“Don’t conform—be transformed.”
James tells us:“Faith without action is dead.”

These aren’t calls to comfort. They’re calls to courage. And we need that today. Because our world has its own version of the empire. It has its own idols. Its own systems. Its own pressures.

And the letters still speak to us today. They say: Don’t blend in. Don’t sell out. Don’t check out. Live with integrity. Live with grace. Live with faith that actually looks like Jesus.

Because Our Roman reality might look different—but the challenge is the same: Will we follow Jesus when the world around us doesn’t?

And then finally Church Hurt

For some of you, this is the one that hits hardest. You’ve been hurt. By a church. By Christians. By people who said the right things and did the wrong things. And the temptation is to walk away. To shut down. To say, “I’m done.” But hear me: the people who wrote these letters knew about church hurt. They weren’t naïve. They didn’t hide from it. They addressed it head-on.

James calls out favoritism.
Paul calls out division.
Peter calls the church to mutual respect and submission.

The early church was messy, and so is ours. But the letters remind us: God still speaks into the mess. And He speaks with healing and with grace.

So… what if today’s takeaway is really this simple?

Open the letter.

Don’t read it like it’s just a document. Read it like it’s personal. Because it is.

It was written by a pastor who fought for grace.
By a shepherd who lived under the empire.
By a brother who walked through hurt.
And ultimately, it was written by a God who still writes to you.

So whatever you’re carrying today—whether it’s confusion about the gospel, compromise in culture, or deep church wounds—open the letter.

Because when you do, you won’t just find theology.
You’ll find Jesus.

And Jesus has a way of:

writing truth that restores.
Of writing hope that heals.
Of writing a story of grace that transforms

So….can I encourage you?… open the letter.

And let it open you.

Father, we thank you for these letters that were written 2000 years ago and remain relevant in our lives today. Give us the desire and discipline to open the letter and courage and strength to be transformed by your word. Amen

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Message Notes: Holy Lit week 9: Letters