This was one of the stronger sermons in the Easter series, (preached by Rev Jared Keath) not because it pressed the new birth with sufficient force, but because it placed several of the right doctrinal tools in the preacher’s hand: Christ as first-fruits, Adam and Christ as the two representative heads, union with Christ by faith, bodily resurrection, death as the last enemy, and, near the end, an explicit reference to being born again.
Because the sermon had real doctrinal breadth, it provides an opportunity for “The New Birth in Exile” series to offer a different kind of analysis.
The main problem was not that the preacher said false things. Nor was it that he avoided the resurrection, emptied Easter of doctrine, or turned the text into vague religious encouragement. He did not. The sermon was formally orthodox, textually serious, and often pastorally helpful. Its weakness lay elsewhere: its strongest doctrines were usually explained more than they were pressed. The congregation received true categories, but those categories were not always brought to bear upon the conscience with the force they deserved.
The passage was 1 Corinthians 15:20–26. The preacher introduced the text by saying that Paul is dealing with the centrality of Christ’s resurrection, and that if there is no resurrection of Jesus, “the whole of the Christian faith completely crumbles to nothing.”
He then read Paul’s words: “Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep,” followed by the Adam-Christ contrast and the promise that Christ must reign until the last enemy, death, is destroyed.
The sermon’s stated concern was clear: why do we need the resurrection? The preacher’s answer was that we need Christ’s resurrection because our resurrection depends upon it. That is a good answer. It is also a Pauline answer. The sermon did not present Easter as a metaphor for optimism, a symbol of renewal, or a religious way to cope with disappointment. It presented Christ’s resurrection as the beginning of the believer’s resurrection hope.
Doctrinal Strengths
First, the sermon treated the resurrection as an objective historical and redemptive event. The preacher later prayed that Christian hope is “not wishful thinking” or “imagination,” but is based on “an event that happened in the middle of history,” namely that Jesus “died for sinners and rose victorious to be our Savior and our King.” That is not sentimental Easter language. It is historical, Christological, and saving.
Second, the sermon clearly explained Christ as “first-fruits.” The preacher said that Jesus’ resurrection is not something he did “just for himself,” but the beginning of “a whole harvest of resurrections.” He showed that Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of believers are not disconnected events, but belong together as one resurrection reality begun in Christ and completed at his coming. This was a strong exposition of the text. His approach here was typical of the whole sermon. A doctrine or truth was stated and this was followed up with a strong explanation.
Third, the sermon taught the Adam-Christ contrast clearly. The preacher said that Paul is speaking about Adam and Christ as representative heads, so that what happens to Adam happens to those in Adam, and what happens to Christ happens to those in Christ. He put the matter simply: “you’re either in Adam or you’re in Christ.” That is a significant doctrinal strength, especially in an Easter sermon.
Fourth, the sermon made union with Christ explicit. The preacher asked how a hearer can know that he shares in the resurrection harvest. His answer was that Jesus must be one’s representative, and that the way to have him as representative is to be united to him, to be “in him.” He then said, “the way to be united to Christ it’s by faith,” and urged hearers to put their trust in Jesus. That is clear, biblical, and evangelically sound.
Fifth, the sermon corrected a common weakness in popular Christian hope. The preacher explained that the believer’s ultimate future is not a “floaty future” of clouds and harps, and not even heaven considered as the final state. Rather, heaven is an intermediate state, while the goal is resurrection life in the new heavens and the new earth. He later said that redemption does not merely mean “ending up in heaven,” but being clothed with a resurrected body that “will never wear out and will never die.” This was one of the sermon’s best pastoral corrections.
Sixth, the preacher refused to sentimentalise death. He described death as a horrible enemy, but one that will not have the last laugh because Jesus is the “death defeating king,” has conquered death at the cross, and is risen victoriously to prove it. This was strong Easter preaching. Death was not treated as natural, harmless, or merely sad. It was named as an enemy Christ destroys.
Seventh, and most importantly for the “New Birth in Exile” series protocol, the sermon explicitly mentioned the new birth. Near the end, the preacher said:
“What matters the most for all of you here today, the most important thing is that you are in Christ… because all of us we’re either in Adam or in Christ, and until we’ve been born again into Christ we’re still in Adam.”
That is a significant moment in this series. It is the first sermon so far to say this explicitly. The preacher did not merely speak about hope, resurrection, faith, or Christian identity. He named the necessity of being born again into Christ. That deserves to be recognised. Listening to the sermon I was struck by the preacher’s ability to make difficult doctrines accessible to his congregation.
But this also brings the central weakness into sharper focus.
The Main Weakness: Doctrines Stated, Not Pressed
The “New Birth in Exile” series asks whether a sermon connects resurrection life to union with Christ, regeneration, repentance, faith, and life in the Spirit. It also asks whether the sermon distinguishes natural life, moral improvement, religious attendance, and true spiritual life in Christ, and whether the hearer is told directly that resurrection life must become personally theirs through the new birth.
This sermon did better than others because it explicitly mentioned being born again. But the new birth was still more stated than preached. It appeared near the end as a doctrinally rich passing comment, not as a searching summons. The preacher said the right thing, but he did not stop and ask the congregation: Have you been born again? Are you still in Adam? Are you merely near Christian truth, or are you in Christ? Has the Spirit brought you from death to life?
The issue, then, was not doctrinal absence but doctrinal underuse. Several strong doctrinal points could have searched the congregation more deeply. Each one could have been used not only to explain resurrection hope, but also to expose false confidence, summon unbelievers, awaken nominal Christians, and comfort believers with greater precision.
Christ as First-Fruits and the Question of Belonging
The preacher’s explanation of first-fruits was good. He said that Jesus’ resurrection begins “a whole series of resurrections” that will be just like his, and that because Jesus is first-fruits, the resurrection of believers is not disconnected from his resurrection. He also said that since the first-fruits have ripened, the full harvest will be gathered in, and that if the hearer belongs to Christ, he will rise from the dead.
This was doctrinally strong. But the image of first-fruits naturally raises a searching question: Who belongs to the harvest?
The preacher did say, “if you belong to Him,” but that conditional phrase could have carried more weight. Christ is not first-fruits of all humanity in the same saving sense. He is first-fruits of those who belong to him. Therefore, the urgent question is not simply, “Do you believe Jesus rose?” but, “Do you belong to the risen Christ now?”
The preacher could have said:
Christ’s resurrection guarantees the harvest. But are you part of that harvest? Are you one of those who belong to Christ? Or are you only an observer of Easter, sitting near Christian truth while remaining outside the life of Christ?
Such a question would not have been artificial. It would have arisen directly from Paul’s phrase, “those who belong to Christ.” The sermon explained the phrase, but it did not sufficiently dwell there.
Adam and Christ and the Two-Humanity Verdict
The Adam-Christ section was one of the strongest doctrinal parts of the sermon. The preacher explained that Adam and Christ stand as the two representatives of humanity. What Adam does affects those in Adam; what Christ does affects those in Christ. He said plainly, “you’re either in Adam or you’re in Christ.”
Because that sentence could have become one of the great searching moments of the sermon, it was almost grieving it was not developed.
Few doctrines are more suited to direct spiritual examination. This contrast allows no neutral category. It does not permit the congregation to divide itself into religious and irreligious, mature and immature, conservative and progressive, churchgoers and non-churchgoers. It divides the whole human race into two heads: Adam and Christ.
The preacher could have pressed the point this way:
You are not born neutral. You are born in Adam. You do not enter Christ by attending church, growing up around Christianity, admiring Jesus, or enjoying Easter hope. You are either still in Adam, under death, or you are in Christ, under life. Which is true of you?
That would have brought the doctrine of representation from explanation to verdict. The sermon did explain representation, even using a political analogy to show how representatives act on behalf of those they represent. But the analogy mainly clarified the concept. It did not fully turn the concept into spiritual diagnosis.
The Adam-Christ contrast is not merely a theological map. It is a summons to locate oneself before God.
Union with Christ by Faith and the Necessity of Assurance
The preacher asked an excellent question: how can one know that he shares in the resurrection harvest? His answer was that Jesus must be one’s representative, and to have him as representative one must be united to him. He then said that the way to be united to Christ is by faith: “put your trust in Jesus you are united to him.”
This is good gospel clarity, and it should be acknowledged.
Yet the question he raised was not only a question of union with Christ. It was also a question of assurance. How may a hearer know that Christ’s resurrection belongs to him? How may he know that he is not merely near Christian truth, but truly in Christ? This is where the sermon could have pressed the hearer more carefully.
The Westminster Confession of Faith speaks directly to this issue. It warns that “hypocrites and other unregenerate men may vainly deceive themselves with false hopes and carnal presumptions of being in the favour of God, and estate of salvation,” while also affirming that those who truly believe in Christ may “be certainly assured that they are in the state of grace” and may “rejoice in the hope of the glory of God” (WCF 18.1). The Confession therefore guards both sides of the matter: it refuses false presumption, but it also upholds true assurance.
That distinction would have served this sermon well. Many hearers may assume that resurrection hope belongs to them because they are in church, because they are morally decent, because they believe Christian facts, or because they find the thought of heaven comforting. But Paul’s category is more exact: those who are in Christ shall be made alive. Assurance must therefore rest not on religious nearness, emotional sincerity, moral improvement, or inherited Christianity, but on Christ himself received by faith.
The preacher could have asked:
Are you united to Christ, or are you merely associated with Christianity? Are you trusting Christ himself and his finished work, or are you resting on family, morality, church attendance, or a vague religious hope? Do you have biblical assurance, or only religious presumption?
The Westminster Confession again gives useful language here, describing true assurance as founded upon “the divine truth of the promises of salvation,” “the inward evidence of those graces unto which these promises are made,” and “the testimony of the Spirit of adoption witnessing with our spirits that we are the children of God” (WCF 18.2). In other words, assurance is not bare self-confidence. It is not presumption dressed in religious language. It is Spirit-wrought confidence grounded in the promises of God, evidenced by grace, and fixed upon Christ.
This would have allowed the sermon to press the question with greater precision: not merely, “Do you believe resurrection is true?” but, “Do you have a well-grounded assurance that you belong to the risen Christ?” Such a question would have exposed false confidence while comforting sincere believers. It would have shown that resurrection hope belongs not to those who merely admire Christ, but to those who are united to him by faith.
Being Born Again: The Sermon’s Strongest Missed Opportunity
The reference to being born again was the most important distinctive feature of this sermon within this Series. The preacher said that until we have been “born again into Christ,” we are still in Adam.
That sentence is theologically rich. It connects regeneration, union with Christ, and the Adam-Christ structure. It says that one does not drift from Adam into Christ. One must be born again. It also rightly implies that the new birth is not an optional spiritual enhancement but the decisive transition from Adamic death to life in Christ.
But because it came so briefly and so late, its force was blunted.
The preacher sould have stopped and opened this up:
To be born once is to be born in Adam. That is why death comes to all. You must be born again into Christ. You need more than instruction, more than inspiration, more than Easter attendance, more than moral seriousness. You need the Spirit of God to give you life and bring you into union with the risen Christ.
That would have given this Easter sermon real searching power. It would have connected the resurrection of Christ to the sinner’s need for spiritual resurrection. It would have made plain that the hope of bodily resurrection belongs only to those who have first been brought into Christ by the regenerating work of God.
The sermon had the sentence. It needed the weight.
Death as the Last Enemy: Comfort and Warning
The preacher’s handling of death was pastorally helpful. He said death is certain, that it is coming for every person in the room, and that the death rate remains one hundred percent. He also said that for those united to Christ, death has been transformed. It is no longer the penalty for sin, because Jesus took that punishment on the cross. For the believer, death becomes a doorway into the presence of God.
That is good pastoral theology. It distinguishes the believer’s death from the unbeliever’s death. It also connects death’s transformation to Christ’s atoning work.
But death is not only universal; it is moral. It is the wages of sin. Therefore, to speak of death truly is to speak not only of mortality but also of guilt, judgment, and the need for reconciliation with God.
The preacher could have asked:
Are you ready to die in Christ, or will you die in Adam? Has death been transformed for you because Christ bore your punishment, or does death still stand before you as the doorway to judgment?
That would not have weakened the comfort. It would have sharpened it. True comfort belongs to those who know why death has lost its sting: not because death is harmless, but because Christ has borne sin’s curse and conquered death through his own death and resurrection.
Bodily Resurrection, Final Judgment, and the Nature of Christian Hope
One of the best sections of the sermon corrected thin ideas of the afterlife. The preacher said that the Christian’s ultimate future is not a “floaty future,” and that the final hope is not simply heaven as the intermediate state. He said the goal is the new heavens and new earth, where the believer will be clothed with a resurrected body that will never wear out and never die.
This was very helpful. It gave the congregation a more biblical eschatology.
But even here, the doctrine could have been sharpened by contrast. The last day will not bring bodily resurrection only for believers. Scripture teaches a resurrection of all people: some to life, and others to judgment. Jesus says that “all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out,” but then distinguishes between “the resurrection of life” and “the resurrection of judgment” (John 5:28–29). Daniel speaks similarly of those who awake “to everlasting life” and others “to shame and everlasting contempt” (Daniel 12:2). Paul also confesses “a resurrection of both the just and the unjust” (Acts 24:15).
That contrast matters pastorally. Bodily resurrection is not, by itself, saving hope. The question is not merely, “Will I be raised?” All will be raised. The question is, “To what will I be raised?” For those who belong to Christ, resurrection means incorruptible life in the new creation, freedom from sin, communion with God, and everlasting joy. For those who remain outside Christ, resurrection means standing before the risen King in judgment, body and soul, under the righteous sentence of God.
The preacher’s correction of the “floaty future” was therefore valuable, but it could have searched the congregation more deeply. What do people really want when they speak of heaven? Do they want God, holiness, resurrection life, and freedom from sin? Or do they merely want relief, reunion, comfort, and the continuation of earthly pleasures? And more seriously still: are they assuming resurrection as comfort while forgetting resurrection unto judgment?
The preacher briefly touched this when he spoke of walking with God in the cool of the evening as the real hope. That was a beautiful moment. It could have been developed further:
Every person in this room will be raised. The question is not whether you will live again, but whether you will be raised to life with Christ or to judgment apart from him. Is your hope truly resurrection life with God, or merely a painless extension of the life you already love? Do you long to be free from sin, or only free from suffering? Do you desire the new creation because God will dwell with his people, or merely because your body will no longer ache?
That kind of searching application would have turned eschatology into spiritual examination. It would have preserved the comfort of bodily resurrection for believers while also warning those who have no saving share in Christ. Resurrection hope belongs to those who are united to the risen Lord; resurrection terror remains for those who meet him only as Judge.
Christ’s Present Reign and the Call to Submission
The preacher also taught that Christ is presently reigning. He said Jesus’ resurrection is “the beginning of the end of death itself,” and that Christ must reign until all enemies are under his feet. He later described Christ as on a “victory march,” plundering the kingdom of darkness and saving souls from the clutches of death.
This is strong resurrection theology. Christ is not merely risen in the past; he reigns now. Easter means enthronement, conquest, and the certain destruction of every enemy.
But again, the doctrine could have been brought more directly to bear upon the hearer. If Christ reigns, then the question is not merely whether one finds Easter encouraging. The question is whether one bows before the risen King.
The preacher could have said:
The risen Christ is not asking to be admired from a distance. He reigns. He commands repentance. He summons faith. He will destroy every enemy. Are you willingly bowing before him now, or will you be subdued as his enemy at the end?
That would have brought the kingship of Christ to bear upon the conscience. Resurrection preaching should not only comfort mourners. It should summon rebels.
The context of 1 Cor could easily have been used experientially. In 1 Corinthians, resurrection doctrine functions both diagnostically and exhortatively. Diagnostically, the Corinthians’ denial or confusion about bodily resurrection helps explain their broader confusion about the body, holiness, status, worship, and the age to come. A church that does not feel the weight of resurrection reality will easily live as though the present age is ultimate. But exhortatively, Paul uses the resurrection to summon the church to steadfast holiness: because Christ has been raised, because the body will be raised, and because death will be destroyed, believers must not give themselves to vanity, impurity, pride, or despair. Resurrection hope is not merely consolation for the dying; it is moral power for the living.
This broader context would have allowed the preacher to move naturally from Corinth to the contemporary congregation. Paul was not correcting resurrection error as an abstract doctrine, but as a truth that reshapes the whole life of the church. If resurrection reality corrects Corinthian pride, sexual confusion, lovelessness, status-seeking, disordered worship, and worldliness, then it must also search us. Do we treat our bodies as belonging to the risen Lord? Do we use our gifts for love or display? Do we live for present comfort and reputation, or for the coming resurrection? Do we face death as those in Christ, or avoid it as those still captive to this age? In this way, 1 Corinthians 15 could have been brought home not only as future comfort, but as present spiritual diagnosis.
This sermon was doctrinally stronger than several others in this Series. It did not avoid the resurrection. It did not make Easter into a metaphor. It taught Christ as first-fruits, Christ as second Adam, Christ as death-defeating King, and believers as those united to him by faith. It corrected weak views of heaven and gave a robust account of bodily resurrection. It also explicitly named the new birth, which is an important and welcome development in the series.
Yet true preaching requires functional force. The issue is not that it lacked orthodox material. The issue is that its orthodox material was not applied with enough searching urgency. The preacher possessed the right doctrines, but he often used them mainly to explain the believer’s future hope rather than to expose the hearer’s present condition before God.
This sermon therefore illustrates an important distinction: a sermon may be doctrinally true and still under-apply its own doctrine. It may say “in Adam or in Christ” without making the hearer feel the terror of remaining in Adam. It may say “born again into Christ” without pausing to declare the necessity of regeneration. It may say “united to Christ by faith” without sufficiently distinguishing faith from religious presumption. It may say “death is defeated” without warning those for whom death remains judgment.
The best sentence in the sermon may have been the passing line that until we have been born again into Christ, we are still in Adam. That sentence should have become a central summons. It should have gathered the whole sermon into one searching question:
Are you still in Adam, or have you been born again into Christ?
That is the Easter question. And it is the question this sermon named, but did not fully press.
A full copy of the sermon is available at The Reformed Pastor's YouTube channel
More articles in The New Birth in Exile series.
