Come & See the Beauty of the Gospel - Utah Devotional (March 21)

Before you read Psalm 8 today, slow down. David says, “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth.” He looks up at the night sky with the moon and the stars God set in place. He’s overwhelmed. The God who formed galaxies with His fingers is not small. He is not distant in power. He is majestic.

Psalm 8 is meant to make you feel small in the best possible way. When you look at the scale of the universe, you realize something: God doesn’t struggle to be God. He doesn’t strain to hold the world together. He speaks, and stars burn. He commands, and oceans stay in their place. It’s beautiful! It’s majestic!

Sometimes I’ll drive up to the Greens in Newberg, walk to the top of the hill, and watch the sun set over the city. The sky turns gold and pink, and everything slows down. I don’t say anything. I just stand there in awe. And then there are moments that take your breath away and stay with you forever. I’ll never forget the first time I met my wife. My car was stuck in an ice storm, so she picked me up for our first date. She stepped out of the car, we hugged, and just smiled at each other. It’s one of those memories that doesn’t fade.

Why bring that up? Because God made you to respond to beauty. To feel awe. To be moved. Experiences turn into memories. Memories stir emotions. And emotions shape how you respond to the world. Anything and everything does this to some extent.

Think about one word: baseball. Some of you think, boring. When I think of baseball, I think of the Dodgers. I think of hitting .720 one season. I think of state playoffs, practicing with my dad, and now Tucker pretending he’s Shohei Ohtani in the backyard. For me, that word carries joy, gratitude, and nostalgia. It’s tied to real experiences. The same is true for almost anything. “Dog.” “School.” “Summer.” “Homework.” “Home.” Each word brings something up in you.

The real question is this: What happens in you when you think about Jesus? When you hear His name, does anything move? Like yesterday, we’re not searching for the “church answer,” but the honest one. How about awe? Gratitude? Love? Or does it feel distant… neutral… flat? Wherever you are, that honesty matters. But if the Gospel doesn’t move you at all, it’s worth asking why. Because the Gospel is not small. It’s not advice. It’s not religious homework. It’s not a slightly better way to live your life. It’s love. Love in action. To steal language from Psalm 8, it’s majestical love in action.

If we go back to Psalm 8, David moves from God’s creation to a question that should stop us in our tracks: “What is a human being that You remember him?” Why would a God that big care about us at all? That question is where the Gospel begins.

Because the answer is this: the majestic God of Psalm 8 is not just powerful; He is personal. The One who hung the moon also hung on the cross. The One who set the stars in place stepped into His own creation in Jesus Christ. The God who deserves our awe because of His glory also deserves our awe because of His mercy.

The Gospel is not less majestic than creation, it is more. It is breathtaking that God made the universe. It is even more breathtaking that He came to rescue sinners. You were more lost than you realized. And you are more loved than you ever imagined.

Jesus tells a story in Luke 15 about a son who runs from his father. Not accidentally. Not because he got lost. He intentionally runs away. He demands his inheritance, leaves home, and wastes everything. He chooses distance. It is not as if he got on the wrong train and is miles away from home. It is as if he grabbed everything, got on the wrong train, and told the conductor to go full steam ahead.

That’s us. We weren’t just “a little off.” We weren’t just confused. We ran. We chose our own way. The Bible says we were dead in our sin, not just struggling. And yet, when that son finally turns around and heads home, rehearsing his apology, something shocking happens. Before he can even speak, the father runs. He embraces him. He tackles him. He celebrates him. There’s no cold shoulder. No probation period. No, “We’ll see if you mean it.” There is a robe, a ring, and a feast. That’s the Gospel. You were more lost than you realized. And you are more loved than you ever imagined. God did not wait for you to clean yourself up. In Jesus—through His crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection—He came running. The cross is not God reluctantly forgiving you. It is God joyfully pursuing you at infinite cost to Himself. Put yourself in the story:

You come home ashamed. He throws a party. You expect judgment. He gives you a seat at the table. You prepare a speech. He pulls you into an embrace and gives you a toast. Everyone around you is celebrating that you’re home. Your Father has the biggest grin and delights in you. Everyone, including yourself, knows this rescue is a miracle, so they celebrate big for you but in the name of the Father who found you.

Pause the story. Let’s ask a question: Do you feel about your salvation the way God feels about your salvation? He’s not bored by it. He’s not indifferent. He’s not half-hearted. He rejoices. Do you feel that way? Now imagine the story continuing.

The next morning, you wake up still home. Still loved. Still at the table. No one resents you. No one whispers behind your back. The Father pulls up a chair right next to Him, smiles, and wants you to take a seat next to Him. You feast, you continue to celebrate. And then He stands and says, “I’m going out to bring another son home. Prepare a celebration.” If you understand what just happened to you, you don’t feel jealous. You feel excited. Because you know what it’s like to be lost and found. You and everyone else gets the party ready, for another son is coming home.

We don’t go to Cedar City out of obligation. We don’t share the Gospel because we’re trying to win arguments or rack up spiritual points. We go because we’ve tasted the feast. Evangelism isn’t pressure. It's an invitation. You’re not convincing people to join a club. You’re inviting them to a celebration that was once thrown for you. And here’s the best part: you are not the one doing the heavy lifting. God is already running. He is already pursuing. He is already working in hearts. Your role is not to save. It’s to speak. To love. To invite. When you truly see the beauty of the Gospel, fear starts to shrink. Because you’re not selling something—you’re inviting them to know Jesus.

This week, pray two prayers: “God, break my heart for what breaks Yours.” And also, “God, let me see the beauty of Your Gospel.” Brokenness and beauty go together. When God breaks your heart for people who are running from Him, He doesn’t leave it shattered. He fills it with His love. A love that poured out of Christ on the cross. A love that didn’t stay in the grave. A love that now lives in you.

My prayer for you is that at some point this week—maybe in a conversation, maybe at the temple, maybe in a quiet moment alone—you would feel it again. The awe. The weight. The wonder. That you would remember what it means to be found. And that the love you experience wouldn’t stay contained, but would pour out of you, the way deep joy always does. 

Come and see the beauty of the Gospel.

When you see the beauty of the gospel you’ll remember the majestic God of Psalm 8 that has pulled up a chair for you at His table. You’ll remember the God who set the stars in place and has set His love on you. I pray it takes your breath away.

Suggested Prayer:

God, open our eyes to see the beauty of the gospel in a fresh way today. Let us be overwhelmed by Your love so that it naturally overflows to others. Give us boldness and compassion as we share, and remind us that You are already pursuing the people we meet. Use us to help others come and see You. Amen.

Scripture:

• Psalm 8

• Luke 15

• 1 John 4:7-21

Questions To Ponder:

• Group Questions

  • Psalm 8 shows God’s greatness and our value—how does that shape the way you see yourself and others?

  • In Luke 15, what stands out to you about God’s heart toward lost people?

  • 1 John 4 says God is love—how should that change the way we approach evangelism?

  • What makes the gospel “beautiful” to you—and how could you share that naturally with someone else?