A Life That’s Part of Something Bigger

Good morning everyone.

If we haven’t met, my name is Matt, and we’re continuing our series through the book of Romans.

Today we come to one of the more unusual sections in the entire letter.

For fourteen chapters…

Paul has been explaining the gospel.
He’s been talking about sin and grace.
Faith and righteousness.
The Spirit.
The church.
Unity.
Love.
Making space for one another.

Then we get to Romans 15 and it almost feels like we’re reading someone else’s mail.

Paul starts talking about travel plans… and places he wants to visit… and people he hopes to see… and a financial gift he’s delivering… and a future trip he’s planning.

And if you’re reading Romans straight through, you might wonder: Why is this here?

At first glance it feels like a collection of personal details that have very little to do with us.

But the more I sat with this passage this week, the more I realized Paul is actually doing something incredibly human.

He’s reflecting on his life — he’s looking at where he’s been… he’s looking at where he is now… and he’s looking at where he believes God is leading him next.

And whether you’re a follower of Jesus or not, every one of us eventually starts asking those same questions.

How did I get here?
What’s my life about?
What story am I actually living?

Because the reality is, very few of us end up where we thought we would.

Think back ten years.

How many of you are exactly where you thought you’d be?
How many of you are living in a house you didn’t expect to own?
Working a job you never planned to have?
Married to someone you never knew existed?
Raising kids you couldn’t have imagined?
Living through challenges you never would have chosen?
Or experiencing blessings you never saw coming?

Life has a way of taking unexpected turns.

Sometimes wonderful turns… sometimes painful turns… usually both.

And when we look back, we begin to realize something: The most important parts of our story are often the parts we never would have written ourselves.

That’s where Romans 15 becomes so incredibly relevant.

Because Paul is looking back over his life and recognizing that God has been writing a much bigger story than he could see while he was living it.

And the same may be true of your life as well.

Paul begins this section by writing:

I myself am convinced, my brothers and sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with knowledge and competent to instruct one another. Yet I have written you quite boldly on some points to remind you of them again, because of the grace God gave me to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles. (Romans 15:14–16)

If you’ve been with us throughout this series, you know that Paul has been describing the kind of people the gospel creates.

He’s talked about humility.
Using our gifts to serve one another.
Genuine love.
Blessing those who hurt us.
Living faithfully in a complex world.
Not judging one another.
Laying down our rights.
Making space for people who are different from us.

Over and over again, Paul has been painting a picture of the kind of people the Gospel creates.

And now he pauses and says something interesting: “I know you already know these things.”

In other words, Paul isn’t writing because he thinks the Roman followers of Jesus are spiritually incapable. In fact, he says the opposite:

You’re full of goodness.
You’re filled with knowledge.
You’re competent to instruct one another.

That’s a remarkable affirmation.

Paul didn’t plant this church. Unlike Corinth or Ephesus or Philippi, Paul has never visited Rome. So he’s writing to people he largely doesn’t know personally.

And yet he looks at this church and says:

You have what you need to grow.
You have what you need to encourage one another.
You have what you need to help one another follow Jesus.

Then he says: “Yet I have written you quite boldly on some points… because of the grace God gave me.”

Notice how Paul thinks about his ministry.

He doesn’t say: “Because of my talent.”
He doesn’t say: “Because of my education.”
He doesn’t say: “Because of my accomplishments.”

He says: “Because of the grace God gave me.”

Paul sees his entire life through the lens of calling.

Not achievement… calling.

Rome was a city obsessed with achievement.

Status mattered in Rome.
Position mattered.
Power mattered.
Influence mattered.
Your social standing determined everything from where you sat at a banquet to who listened when you spoke.

The Roman world was built on the question: How high can I climb?

But Paul sees his life completely differently.

He doesn’t talk about climbing. He talks about serving.
He doesn’t talk about status. He talks about stewardship.
He doesn’t talk about building his own kingdom. He talks about participating in God’s kingdom.

And when I read that this week, I found myself thinking about how differently most of us view our lives.

We spend a lot of time asking questions like:

What should I do?
Where should I live?
What career should I pursue?
What opportunities should I chase?

And those aren’t bad questions. But underneath those questions is a deeper question: What is my life actually for? What story am I becoming part of?

Because sooner or later, every one of us discovers that life doesn’t unfold according to our plans.

I certainly didn’t expect my life to unfold the way it has.

When I was in high school, I wasn’t planning to become a pastor.

The reason I first started attending church had nothing to do with a deep spiritual hunger.

A friend invited me and told me there would be basketball and hot girls.

As recruitment strategies go, it was surprisingly effective.

I showed up. And somewhere along the way, God met me there.

I became a follower of Jesus through a youth ministry that walked us through what many of you know as the Romans Road.

Then a few years later I attended a 3 week long leadership training camp in Iowa.

During those weeks something began happening that I didn’t fully understand at the time. I started sensing that God might be calling me into ministry.

The following summer I worked at the camp. I spent week after week investing in students and talking with pastors who would come in as guest teachers.

And over time, these pastors began saying the same thing to me: “I think God may be calling you into ministry.”

The problem was, I wasn’t nearly as convinced as they were. Because all I could see were the reasons I wasn’t qualified.

I wasn’t smart enough.
I wasn’t mature enough.
I wasn’t gifted enough.
I wasn’t spiritual enough.

If you had asked me then where my life was headed, I probably would have told you something completely different.

I thought I might study business. I was at the top high school in Chicago so the University of Chicago business school would have been the likely next step.

But looking back now, I can see something I couldn’t see then — God was writing a story I didn’t yet understand.

What I find fascinating is that Paul doesn’t look at his life and primarily see accomplishments.

He sees an assignment.

Listen to how he continues in verse 16:

He gave me the priestly duty of proclaiming the gospel of God, so that the Gentiles might become an offering acceptable to God, sanctified by the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:16)

Now that language can sound a little strange to modern ears — “Priestly duty.” “Offering.”

We don’t talk that way anymore. But Paul’s audience would have immediately understood what he was saying.

In the ancient world, priests stood between God and people. They offered sacrifices. They represented people before God.

And what’s remarkable is that Paul takes that familiar imagery and completely reshapes it.

The offering isn’t an animal. The offering is people — men and women whose lives have been transformed by the grace of God.

And if you’re sitting in Rome hearing this letter read aloud for the first time, that’s a startling image.

Because Rome was full of temples. Rome was full of priests. Rome was full of sacrifices.

Religion in the ancient world revolved around bringing offerings to the gods.

Paul says, “That’s not my ministry. My ministry is seeing men and women transformed by Jesus. The offering I bring to God is a life changed by the gospel.”

Which tells us something important about how Paul viewed his life. He didn’t see himself as building a career. He saw himself participating in God’s work.

And what strikes me is how different that is from the way many people think about success.

Most people measure their lives by what they’ve accumulated:

How much money they made.
How much influence they gained.
How many accomplishments they can point to.

Paul measures his life by people:

People whose lives have been changed.
People who have encountered Jesus.
People who are becoming part of God’s family.

And when you think about it, that’s exactly what we’ve been talking about throughout Romans.

Paul has spent chapter after chapter describing the kind of community the gospel creates. Now he’s telling us why he gave his life to it.

Because he believes God is doing something in the world that matters more than anything else.

And here’s where this intersects with us.

Most of us spend years trying to figure out what we should do with our lives. Paul starts with a different question.

Not: “What do I want to do?”
But: “What has God invited me into?”

Those are very different questions.

One begins with me. The other begins with God.
One treats life like something I create. The other treats life like something I receive.

And when I look back over my own story, I can see how often God was inviting me into things I never would have chosen on my own.

Because if you had told seventeen-year-old Matt that one day he would spend his life teaching Scripture, shepherding people, helping start a church in Pleasanton, and walking with people through some of the most important moments of their lives, I would have laughed.

Not because those things sounded bad. Because they sounded impossible.

I couldn’t see it.

But that’s often how calling works.

Very few people get a detailed roadmap. Most of us get the next step. And then the next step. And then the next one.

Looking forward, life often feels confusing. Looking backward, we begin to see the fingerprints of God.

After talking about his calling, Paul writes:

Therefore I glory in Christ Jesus in my service to God. I will not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me in leading the Gentiles to obey God by what I have said and done—by the power of signs and wonders, through the power of the Spirit of God. So from Jerusalem all the way around to Illyricum, I have fully proclaimed the gospel of Christ. (Romans 15:17-19)

I love that phrase: “what Christ has accomplished through me.”

Because Paul has accomplished quite a lot by this point.

Churches have been planted.
Lives have been changed.
The gospel has spread throughout much of the Roman world.

And yet Paul refuses to take credit for any of it.

He doesn’t say: Look what I accomplished. He says: Look what Christ accomplished through me.

Which is a very different way of viewing your life.

Rome was a culture built on achievement… so the Roman elite loved monuments… and statues… and titles… and public recognition.

People wanted their names remembered. They wanted their accomplishments celebrated… and their legacy secured.

In many ways, they weren’t that different from us.

We live in an area that encourages us to build a resume.

Build a platform.
Build a following.
Build a reputation.
Build a personal brand.

Paul’s instinct is completely different. His attention keeps moving away from himself and back toward what God has done.

Paul goes on in verse 20:

It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known, so that I would not be building on someone else’s foundation. Rather, as it is written: “Those who were not told about him will see, and those who have not heard will understand.” (Romans 15:20-21)

Now this sentence is easy to skip over, but I think it’s one of the most revealing statements Paul makes in the entire letter.

“It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known…”

When we hear the word ambition, we usually think of career advancement.

Getting promoted.
Making more money.
Building a company.
Achieving a goal.

In the Roman world, ambition was often connected to status and honor. You advanced your reputation. You climbed the social ladder. You increased your influence.

Paul was ambitious too. But notice what he was ambitious about.

Not his own success.
Not his own comfort.
Not his own recognition.

His ambition was tied to God’s mission.

Paul looked at the world and saw places where people had never heard about Jesus… cities where churches didn’t exist… communities that had no gospel witness.

And something inside him kept pulling him toward those places.

What’s fascinating is that Paul wasn’t looking for the easiest assignment.

He wasn’t asking:

“Where would I most enjoy living?”
“Where would life be easiest?”
“Where can I make the most money?”
“Where would I be most comfortable?”
Where can I have the greatest influence?”

He was asking:

“Where am I needed?”
“Where has the gospel not yet gone?”
“What work remains unfinished?”

Reading that this week brought me back to the season before Blue Oaks started.

Because the reason we planted Blue Oaks wasn’t because Pleasanton needed another church. It was because there were thousands of people in this community who weren’t being reached.

At the time we did research on the Tri-Valley and discovered something that shocked me.

Even if every church in the area filled every seat in every service, less than ten percent of the people in this community could attend.

Think about that for a moment.

More than ninety percent of the community could not attend church if they wanted to.

Now obviously Paul and I aren’t doing the same thing. He was taking the gospel into regions where Christ had never been proclaimed. That’s not what was happening here. But the impulse was similar.

Paul looked around and saw people who weren’t being reached and said, “Someone needs to go.”

We looked around and saw people who weren’t being reached and felt God saying the same thing.

When I was serving as a teaching pastor at a larger church, I wasn’t actively trying to start a church. The idea wasn’t even on my radar.

Then people started bringing it up.

One person. Then another. Then another. Eventually about ten different people sat me down and said some version of: “You should consider planting a church.”

At first I brushed it aside. Then Joe Hartley told me he would help. And suddenly the idea felt a little harder to ignore.

But if you’ve ever sensed God leading you into something new, you know what often happens next.

The excitement comes first. Then the uncertainty. Then the fear. Then the questions. Then the obstacles.

And that’s pretty much what happened.

The transition out of the church where I was serving was painful. There were misunderstandings. Hurt feelings. Things that were said that weren’t true.

There were moments when I genuinely wondered whether I had heard God correctly.

Because that’s often what happens when you’re standing between what’s familiar and what’s unknown.

The familiar suddenly starts looking really attractive. And the unknown starts feeling really risky.

But we continued moving forward.

And eventually we launched at Hart Middle School.

How many of you were there?

Actually, if you were part of Blue Oaks during that first year at Hart, would you stand up for a moment?

Look around for a second.

Because when we gathered in that multipurpose room, none of us knew what God was building.

We didn’t know what the future would hold.
We didn’t know there would eventually be multiple services.
We didn’t know we’d move to Foothill.
We didn’t know thousands of people would come through the doors over the years.

We didn’t know marriages would be restored.
And people would find Christ.
And students would grow up and become adults.
And lives would be changed.

We couldn’t see any of that. We only knew the next step.

You can go ahead and sit down.

And one of my favorite examples happened years later when we launched a capital campaign.

We needed a permanent home.

Our goal was three million dollars.

At the time, that number felt enormous. And we were nowhere near where we needed to be.

Then one day I received a letter from someone in our church who was selling a company.

Inside the letter was a pledge for one million dollars.

It didn’t solve every problem… but God used it to remind us that he was at work in ways we couldn’t see.

And over the years we’ve experienced that again and again.

Moments of provision.
Moments of generosity.
Moments where God opened doors we couldn’t open ourselves.

And the older I get, the more I understand what Paul is saying here.

Because when I look back over the life of this church, my primary thought isn’t: “Look what we accomplished.”

It’s: “Look what Jesus accomplished.”

That’s the story Paul keeps telling.

And it’s the story many of us discover when we look back over our own lives.

God often does far more through surrendered people than they ever imagine while they’re living the story.

Then Paul shifts from talking about what God has done to talking about what he hopes God will do next.

Listen to what he says:

This is why I have often been hindered from coming to you. But now that there is no more place for me to work in these regions, and since I have been longing for many years to visit you, I plan to do so when I go to Spain… (Romans 15:22-24)

We hear “Spain” and it sounds like Paul is planning a vacation.

That’s not what’s happening.

For Paul, Spain represented the edge of the known western world.

This was frontier mission.
This was unfinished work.
This was the place where the gospel had not yet taken root.

Which means something fascinating is happening here. Paul is probably in his mid-to-late fifties.

He’s planted churches.
He’s traveled thousands of miles.
He’s endured beatings, imprisonment, shipwrecks, opposition.

And he’s still asking: “Where am I needed next?”

Most people spend the second half of life trying to become more comfortable. Paul keeps asking how he can become more useful.

Then later:

Pray that I may be kept safe from the unbelievers in Judea… (Romans 15:31)

What strikes me when I read that is how much uncertainty there is.

Paul has plans. He wants to go to Jerusalem. Then Rome. Then Spain.

He has a vision for what comes next. But what Paul doesn’t know is that God’s plan is going to unfold very differently than the one he describes.

He’s going to get to Rome. But not as a missionary… as a prisoner.

Not because his plans failed. But because God was still writing the story.

And I think that’s important because many of us assume God’s faithfulness is proven when life unfolds according to our expectations.

But that’s rarely how it works in Scripture.

Joseph’s story didn’t unfold according to his expectations.

Moses’ didn’t.
David’s didn’t.
Paul’s didn’t.

And most of ours don’t either.

If you’ve lived very long, you know there’s a difference between our plans and God’s purposes.

We make plans. God writes stories.

Sometimes those stories include chapters we never would have chosen.

Which makes me think of my son, Ezra.

Many of you know Ezra loves soccer. Actually, that’s an understatement.

When we first met Ezra at the orphanage in Ethiopia, all he wanted to do was play soccer. That’s all he wanted to do.

A couple years later, when he was seven years old in competitive soccer at Ballistic here in Pleasanton, he came to me with a very specific life plan.

He said he wanted to do soccer training every day during the week and he wanted to have games every Saturday and Sunday.

Which, when you’re seven years old, feels like a reasonable request.

When he first started playing rec soccer, he scored so many goals that I eventually made the mistake of asking him after games how many goals he scored.

At first he’d say, “I don’t know.”

Then one day he apparently decided this information was important to me. So during the next game he ran by the sideline after every goal and gave me an update.

One, dad.
Two, dad.
Three, dad.
Four, dad.

All the way to twenty-three. He scored twenty-three goals in one game.

Which sounds completely made up. But that’s what happened.

Now if this were a sports movie, that’s where the story would go straight up and to the right.

But that’s not how real life works.

A few years ago, while he was playing for the Earthquakes Academy, we discovered he had been experiencing racial abuse from a teammate.

It was devastating.

And when the situation wasn’t handled with integrity, we realized it was time to leave.

Which sounds simple now.

It didn’t feel simple then.

Because Earthquakes was the highest level available in Northern California.

Leaving meant uncertainty.
Leaving meant risk.
Leaving meant we had no idea what came next.

So we sat down with Ezra and asked: “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

And without hesitation he said: “Barça Residency Academy.”

At the time it felt impossible. We didn’t have the money. The tuition was around $85,000 a year.

The only way it would work is if he received a full scholarship.

So we flew to Arizona for a tryout.

And on the drive from the airport, I remember telling him the story of Joseph. How Joseph endured betrayal and suffering and injustice. And how years later he was able to say: “What you meant for evil, God meant for good.”

I told Ezra that I believed God was going to bring something good out of what had happened.

I didn’t know what. I couldn’t see the future. I just believed God wasn’t finished writing the story.

Then he earned the scholarship.
Then he was chosen to go to a camp at La Masia in Spain.
Then he was invited to another extended training stint at La Masia.
Then national team opportunities.
Then MLS academies calling.
Then agents calling.
And this week we learned he was selected for the MLS Next All-Star Game later this summer.

Now here’s the thing. The point of this story isn’t soccer. The point is that none of us could see any of this while we were living through the painful chapter.

If you had asked me during the Earthquakes situation what God was doing, I couldn’t have told you.

All I knew was that it hurt.
All I knew was that it was unfair.
All I knew was that I would never have chosen that chapter.

But looking back, I can see God was at work.

And I suspect many of you know exactly what that feels like.

Because some of you are living in a chapter you never would have chosen.

A divorce.
A diagnosis.
A job loss.
A broken relationship.
A disappointment.
A prayer that still hasn’t been answered.

And if that’s where you are, Romans 15 offers a quiet reminder: Just because you can’t see what God is doing doesn’t mean God isn’t doing something.

Paul couldn’t see the whole story.
Joseph couldn’t see the whole story.
I couldn’t see the whole story.
Ezra couldn’t see the whole story.

And neither can you.

But the same God who was faithful in their stories is faithful in yours.

One of the things I notice about all three of those stories is that none of them felt remarkable while they were happening.

The camp in Iowa didn’t feel historic. It just felt like a camp.
The first service at Hart Middle School didn’t feel historic. It just felt like setting up chairs in a middle school multipurpose room.
The drive from the airport to Barça didn’t feel historic. It felt like a dad trying to encourage his son after a painful season.

And that’s usually how God works.

Most of the significant moments in our lives don’t arrive with dramatic music playing in the background.

We don’t get a narrator explaining what’s happening. We don’t get a preview of the ending. We’re just asked to take the next step.

To trust Him with the next chapter.
To remain faithful when we cannot yet see where the story is going.

And that’s exactly where Paul was when he wrote Romans 15.

Think about it. As Paul writes these words, he has no idea that within a few years he will be arrested.

He has no idea he will spend years in prison.
He has no idea he will eventually arrive in Rome under guard.
He has no idea that two thousand years later people on the other side of the world will still be reading the letter he’s writing.

He can’t see any of that.

All he can see is the next step.

And maybe that’s why this passage encourages me so much.

Because most of us spend our lives wanting clarity.

We want the ten-year plan.
The five-year plan.
The explanation.
The guarantee.

We want God to show us the ending before we’re willing to trust him with the next page.

But God rarely works that way. Instead, he invites us into a relationship where trust comes before understanding.

Where obedience comes before clarity.
Where surrender comes before certainty.

And when I look back over my own life, there are chapters I never would have chosen.

There are disappointments I never would have chosen.
There are losses I never would have chosen.
There are painful seasons I would gladly remove from the story if I could.

But there are also blessings I never would have experienced if God had given me the story I would have written for myself.

There are people I never would have met… experiences I never would have had… ways I’ve seen God work that I never could have imagined.

And the older I get, the less impressed I am with my plans. And the more impressed I am with God’s faithfulness.

Because over and over again I’ve discovered that God sees things I cannot see.

He sees around corners I cannot see around.
He sees opportunities I cannot see.
He sees purposes I cannot see.
He sees future chapters that haven’t been written yet.

And maybe that’s where some of you are today.

You find yourself in a chapter that doesn’t make sense… a chapter you didn’t want… a chapter you wouldn’t have chosen.

And you’re wondering what God is doing.

The message of Romans 15 is not that you’ll immediately get the answer. The message is that you can trust the Author.

Because the God who was faithful to Paul… The God who was faithful to Joseph… The God who has been faithful throughout your life and mine…

…is still writing the story.

And he’s not finished yet.

Pray with me as the worship team comes to lead us in a closing song.

© 2026 Blue Oaks Church