We think status, heritage, and credentials make us a somebody or a nobody, yet those are not what God values. In Matthew 8 a Gentile centurion—nobody by race—approaches Jesus with a suffering servant, forcing the question of what actually makes anyone able to approach God’s kingdom.

Study Questions

The following study questions are AI generated and may contain errors.

The sermon uses the SpaceX story to show that unexpected people—cafeteria workers, welders, immigrants—became “somebodies” simply by aligning with a compelling vision and sticking with it. How does this parallel the centurion’s story, and what does it challenge you to believe about who God considers worthy of His kingdom?
The centurion says “I am not worthy” yet approaches Jesus with bold confidence in His authority. How can we hold together genuine humility about our own unworthiness with real confidence in what Jesus can do? Where do you tend to struggle—with the humility side or the confidence side?
The sermon contrasts the centurion with Naaman in 2 Kings 5. What key differences in their attitudes reveal what truly matters when approaching God, and where do you see Naaman’s sense of entitlement showing up in your own expectations of God?
The centurion understood Jesus’ authority by comparing it to his own military command structure—just say the word, and it will be done. What would it look like practically for you to relate to Jesus’ authority that way in your daily decisions and struggles?
Jesus says the “sons of the kingdom” risk being cast out while outsiders stream in from east and west. Why do you think people who already believe—insiders—can be the ones most tempted to rely on heritage, church background, or religious credentials rather than genuine faith? What assumptions might you need to examine in your own life?

Transcript

This transcript has been automatically generated and may contain errors.

This is it.

Think about the world. And the world, we have pictures that we can see of what it looks like, and we don’t just have to imagine what the world looks like. Now we can see it because people have gone to space, and they can send back pictures. We can see that globe in all of its majesty and think about the wonder of how God not only made this land that we can see as we look off to the horizon, but someone can actually show us, here’s what it looks like big picture. I always find myself fascinated by everything space-related, so certainly this week my attention was glued on what was going to happen when SpaceX, the private space company, went public. Maybe if you’re interested either in space exploration or in business, you were probably also following it because everyone expected—and their expectations were met—that SpaceX, as it went public on the stock market, would be the biggest IPO, initial public offering in history, reaching about $2 trillion. How do you get your head around that? Two trillion dollars. And so, to me, it’s exciting to think what grand things they’re doing this for two reasons. One, to fund their current initiatives and their initiatives in space, but also because one of their big goals is to deploy data centers in space to do new AI work as well. All this just incredible, mind-bending stuff. And so I’m really excited to see where it’s going to go.

Some people were less excited this week, because they were angry that people made a bunch of money. And in particular, I saw many people over the weekend griping that now there is a trillionaire, the world’s first trillionaire, Elon Musk, because he happens to own a significant portion of SpaceX, among other things he owns. Now, in inflation-adjusted terms, he doesn’t have the most wealth anyone’s ever had. We’ve seen richer people; for example, the Rockefellers were wealthier at the time, but certainly a lot of money. But here’s the story that caught my attention: besides just the space and what’s going to happen, but with the actual money part, something caught my attention too that wasn’t talked about a whole lot.

SpaceX didn’t make one trillionaire. SpaceX made one trillionaire plus 4,400 millionaires in the company. And their stories are really interesting because SpaceX did something unusual. SpaceX started when Elon Musk was not nearly as wealthy as he is now, and launching rockets is a very expensive venture, especially if it’s unproven. Their first two launches exploded, so you’re talking about millions of dollars up in literal smoke. As they needed people to work there, to bring their knowledge and their abilities to build these rockets, instead of paying them what they might have made somewhere else, they were paid in shares of stock. So when those 4,400 millionaires were made, amongst them were cafeteria workers, welders, and others who aren’t the usual beneficiaries of initial public offerings. You think of high-powered executives, right? You bring that status, you have a chief-something-officer title, and you’re going to make all kinds of money. But there were people who had little to nothing when they showed up, stuck with the company for the last two decades, and many of them actually had to pool their resources and hire a wealth manager because they never had enough money to qualify to have one, and they knew it was coming. They didn’t have it yet, so they pooled their resources. When it came on Friday, they were ready.

And I thought that was interesting because these people made that money, not because they were already high-powered and wealthy, but because they heard a vision of a private space company that could go places that we weren’t going anymore or hadn’t gone yet. They heard about it, believed it enough to run with it, even when it didn’t look like it was going to work. And because of that, next week, when the workers go into the cafeteria, they’ll be served by a millionaire. When you walk down the assembly line, there will be millionaires welding parts to rockets. And I think that’s pretty neat. But it challenges our notions—you need to be somebody to get ahead. These people, of course, are somebody in God’s eyes, but not in society’s eyes. Maybe less than somebody, often.

Last week, we looked at the beginning of Matthew 8, and we saw someone who was very much a nobody. He was a leper, and lepers were nobodies. It didn’t matter who you started out as; you were nobody once you had leprosy. That was it. So, we looked at one nobody. Today, we look at a different kind of nobody, because he was a nobody not because of who he had been originally, but because of who he now was. As we meet the centurion, though, he wants to approach Jesus but realizes he’s a nobody for some other reason. He’s a nobody because he’s a Gentile. And the question is, he has a problem, he has a need, but would a Jewish rabbi actually care to help a Gentile? He was a nobody because of his race, his affiliation from birth. And here we see what Jesus does as he encounters him.

What Jesus does is to say—the things that we think make us a nobody or a somebody are not the things that God values, that we grasp all kinds of wrong things. If you’d asked me last week who’s going to become wealthy at SpaceX, or who’s going to become somebody there, I might have said, well, some early investors, of course, Musk himself, all those sorts of things. But if you told me, what about somebody who immigrated from Mexico twenty-some years ago with barely anything to his name and got a job at SpaceX? I wouldn’t have guessed him, but he’s one of the 4,400. If you were a Gentile and you heard that there was a Jewish rabbi who could do miracles, you wouldn’t expect to be someone who was given the blessing of being a somebody. The people around wouldn’t have guessed he would be someone who gets to be a somebody. But Jesus doesn’t value the things we value. He values the things that truly matter.

Tonight, we’re going to think about what truly matters. And as we do, let’s pray that God would help us to see more of what he values in our own lives and in the lives of those around us. Let’s pray.

Father, thank you for this evening. Thank you for your word. We pray that as we come to it, you would help us to be people who value what matters. Let us not get tied up in all kinds of things that we think matter. Some are somewhat important; some are not at all. Some are almost negatively important. But Lord, we want to value the things that you value, and we pray that you would help us to do that tonight. We ask this in Jesus’ precious name. Amen.

Here’s what the centurion understood better than we often do: what makes someone able to approach God’s kingdom? Well, it isn’t who we are. God’s kingdom is there for those who know who he is. Take a look at verse 5, Matthew 8, verse 5—if you want to turn there. When he had entered Capernaum, a centurion came forward to him appealing: “Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home, suffering terribly.” Jesus said to him, “I will come and heal him,” but the centurion replied, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

Here’s a man who understands who Jesus is. When he approaches Jesus, not because he’s convinced himself wrongly of how great he is, but because he’s convinced of how great Jesus is. And so he understands something that many of the people following Jesus and expecting Jesus simply did not understand. Now, he certainly has a situation that motivates him. He has a servant—some translations may say “son,” and the word can sometimes be translated “son,” but more commonly as “servant.” I think that’s the right term. It does convey something about this man—that he cares. Yes, it’s a servant, but he cares about his servant. He doesn’t want his servant to be in agony. We get a little picture of this man. We see that he’s humble and caring about others, and he’s motivated by the pain of this servant, which leaves him desperate to do something.

He’s heard about Jesus and some of the healings happening. Maybe he even heard about what happened at the start of chapter 8—the word spread, and he says, I don’t know what else to do for my servant. I don’t want him to suffer this pain. I wonder if Jesus will heal him. I wonder if Jesus will heal a Gentile’s servant. As he approaches Jesus, it’s critical to his understanding that he realizes how powerful Jesus is. He says, I know what it is to issue orders, and I know what it is to receive orders. I’m a career military man; I’ve spent my life in the military. I know what it’s like, and I know that my commanding officer can tell me to go do something, and I go do it. If I tell those under my authority to do something, they do it. And Jesus, I know that everything—this ailment my servant suffers from—is under your authority. I don’t need spectacular effects from you; just say the word, and it will be done.

This isn’t the first time we see that God heals a Gentile. Back in the Old Testament, in 2 Kings 5, there’s a Gentile man needing healing from leprosy. When he comes seeking healing, he expects a royal welcome because, despite his leprosy, he’s an important figure in his kingdom and thinks he should receive a dignitary’s treatment. But he doesn’t get it. Chapter 5, verse 11 records Naaman’s anger: “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me, and stand, and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place, and cure the leper.” He’s upset, thinking that he’s entitled to more. His advisors wisely tell him, perhaps you should still do as the prophet says, even if he doesn’t come out to see you. Maybe his God is so powerful that he doesn’t need to be physically present.

That makes the centurion’s story all the more remarkable. Here is a man not only important in his own land as a Roman centurion, but also influential in the land where Jesus walks. Not only important outside, but right in the territory where Jesus ministers. Notably, he adopts a different approach. He doesn’t just say, “If you see me, that’d be great; if not, it’s okay.” Instead, he says, “I’m not even worthy to have you come into my house,” but I know you don’t need to—they realize that Jesus doesn’t need to be inside the house; just issue the command, and it will happen because you are that powerful.

Think about that. This man, outside all the religious boundaries, even if he has some faith—probably a God-fearer—who believes in the God of the Old Testament but can’t fully participate in society. He understands that Jesus is important, despite his status as a Gentile. He looks at Jesus and says, “I know who you are,” and trusts that Jesus can do everything he claims. And Jesus sees how this man understands and values him more correctly than many of the religious leaders or those who feel they’re deserving. He recognizes that what really matters is Jesus’ authority. It wasn’t about his own status or lineage but about acknowledging Jesus’ power.

Back in Matthew 3:9, John the Baptist warned, “Do not presume to say to yourselves, we have Abraham as our father—God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham.” The root is a relationship with God, not mere lineage or credentials. The Jewish leaders thought their heritage made them special, but Jesus reminds them that the real question is whether they believe and trust in God. The point is, God’s kingdom is not inherited on the basis of background or status.

God’s kingdom is open to those who recognize Jesus, regardless of their race, background, or social standing. The centurion’s example demonstrates that. Jesus marvels and says to those following Him, “Truly I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith.” Many will come from the east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom—while the sons of the kingdom will be cast out. The ones who think they are entitled because of their lineage or their status will find themselves outside, in outer darkness, weeping and gnashing teeth.

To the centurion, Jesus says, “Go; let it be done for you as you have believed.” And at that moment, his servant was healed. God’s kingdom isn’t available to us based on who we are. Not about our heritage or social position. It’s about Jesus. Jesus tests the centurion—look at verse 7—“I will come and heal.” That seems kind, right? But in Greek, the emphasis on “I” is strong. It’s almost like Jesus is asking, “Shall I, a Jew, come and heal your servant?” Jesus intends to do exactly that, but He’s giving the centurion a chance to wrestle with his understanding of authority—do you believe I can simply speak and it will happen?

The centurion’s response is clear. “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.” He perceives how Jesus is exercising authority, how power flows from Him. He recognizes that Jesus, just by speaking, can heal. He understands that he himself isn’t worthy. He doesn’t think he can earn or deserve Jesus’ help; he knows that Jesus’ authority is the key.

He compares this to his own military authority: he has soldiers under him, and when he gives an order, it’s obeyed. When he asks Jesus to speak, he’s trusting that Jesus’ authority will do what’s needed. He’s aware of his unworthiness, but he believes completely in Jesus’ power. That’s the crux of his faith.

This echoes the story in 2 Kings 5 of Naaman, the Syrian commander, who also expected special treatment, but was refused when he came to Elisha. Naaman gestured, expecting public honors and ceremonies, and got a simple command instead. But his servants urged him to obey, trusting that the Lord’s power was sufficient—belief that God doesn’t need grandeur, only faith.

The centurion’s understanding parallels that. His statement, “Just say the word,” shows his faith in Jesus’ authority—even outside the religious boundary of Israel, outside the proper religious rituals, because he knows that Jesus’ authority is all that’s needed. His humility, his faith—these are what make him a man who can approach God’s kingdom.

He recognizes that it isn’t about his heritage, his lineage, or his worthiness—Nor about his social or military status. It’s about trust in Jesus. Jesus, seeing this faith, responds with admiration. He marvels and says, “Many will come from the east and west and sit at table with the patriarchs in the kingdom,” while those who rely solely on their lineage and status will be cast out. The foundation of entry is not genealogy, but faith—believing that Jesus is who He says He is.

The centurion is a man outside all the religious boundaries, yet he finds acceptance and healing because he understands the true source of authority and worthiness. That’s what truly matters. The kingdom of God is not about inherited status or social importance; it’s about believing in Jesus.

His faith moves Jesus to say, “Go; let it be done for you as you have believed.” And his servant is healed immediately. Again, God’s kingdom is not based on our accomplishments or status. It’s founded on recognizing Jesus’ authority and believing in Him.

God’s kingdom is not available on the basis of who we are. It’s about Jesus—His power, His authority. Back in Matthew 3:9, John warned against thinking our lineage makes us special. What’s important is our relationship with God, trusting and believing in Him.

This is the key: the kingdom belongs to those who know Jesus. Their worth is not based on their background, their family tree, or their accolades, but on their relationship with Christ. Jesus highlights this when He says to the centurion, “Because you have faith”—that’s what grants access.

Many who seem to be worthy—the ones with certificates, lineage, status—are actually the ones excluded because they don’t truly believe. God’s kingdom is for those who recognize Jesus’ authority. It’s not inherited, not based on credentials, not on race or status, but on faith—trust in Jesus.

And so, recognizing this, let us think about our own priorities. Are we valuing what truly matters? Jesus calls us into a new kingdom, a kingdom of faith. It’s not about our social rank, our achievements, or our importance according to the world. It’s about knowing Jesus.

Tonight, as we look at the centurion, may that be what we come to value most. Would you pray with me? Lord, we find many things to value—our importance, our status, our achievements. But tonight, we ask that you help us follow the example of the centurion, who came humbly and trusted in your authority. Help us realize that we are not worthy by ourselves, but that our hope rests in you, the one who has all power, authority, and majesty, and yet loves us despite our unworthiness.

You show mercy and love us in our failures. As we reflect on how you’ve spread your kingdom over the years, you remind us that you invite us into a freedom that extends beyond earthly time—into eternity. Help us set aside the things of this world that distract us—status, success, pride. Make us, Lord, completely enamored with the truth that your kingdom is for those who know you, and that through your grace, each of us can know you, be cleansed, and find a freedom far beyond anything this world offers.

Wherever we travel, across oceans or into space, we could never find the freedom that we find when we come to our Savior. Would you refresh us tonight in that truth? We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.