The Gospel that won’t fit in a coffin

“It is a grievous thing that the Gospel of the Bible has been shrunken down into a man-sized pine box prepared for burial … The Gospel is not just a tiny message to get humans ready for their coming death. Our churches are not ‘just here to get people saved’” — Rev. Cary Gordon.

Modern evangelicalism treats the Gospel like something fragile — something small enough to tuck into a pocket, safe enough to never disrupt the world, modest enough to stay politely in its lane. It is as though the Church has embalmed the message of Christ and placed it gently in a pine box, preparing it for burial. As long as souls are saved, we are told, nothing else really matters.

But that is not the Gospel Jesus preached. And it is certainly not the Gospel of the Kingdom.

Before we can expose the counterfeit gospel promoted by the Social Justice Movement, we must recover the real one — the thunderous, world-reordering announcement Scripture calls good news.

What the Gospel actually says

Paul, in the plainest summary of the Gospel, declares: “Christ died for our sins … He was buried … He rose again the third day” (1 Cor. 15:1–6).

Isaiah reveals why: “He was wounded for our transgressions … the LORD laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:5–6).

And Paul clarifies the result: “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Cor. 5:21).

From these texts, three truths rise like pillars:

1. Christ died for our sins.
2. Those who trust Him become the righteousness of God.
3. The One oppressed in the Gospel story is Christ, not us.

These are not small truths. They are the spine of the true Gospel. And they expose precisely where the modern social justice gospel collapses.

The social justice gospel replaces the victim

Social justice divides humanity into neat categories of oppressor and oppressed. Race, sexuality, wealth, immigration status — these form the new priesthood of identity, the new system of righteousness and transgression.

But Scripture knows only one truly oppressed figure in the redemptive story: Jesus Christ.

He alone was betrayed, falsely accused, beaten, scourged, mocked, and crucified. He alone bore the wrath of God. He alone entered into the horror of divine justice as our substitute. He alone carried sins not His own.

The Gospel does not teach that humanity is primarily oppressed. It teaches that humanity is primarily the oppressor.

We are not victims needing liberation from difficult circumstances — we are rebels needing rescue from the just consequences of our own sin.

The social justice gospel reverses this: humanity becomes innocent; structures become sinful; Christ becomes a mascot of activism rather than the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Without a biblical doctrine of sin, justice is impossible — and the cross becomes unintelligible.

The social justice gospel cannot forgive

Forgiveness is the first lesson of the Christian life. God forgave us infinitely more than we could ever forgive others. The gospel produces a people who extend mercy because they have received mercy.

But the social justice framework cannot forgive. Its entire engine runs on grievance.

Its logic demands recompense, not repentance. Reparations, not reconciliation. Punishment of the privileged, not pardon of the guilty.

Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:21–35) exposes the tragedy. The forgiven man demands payment; the social justice warrior demands reparations. Both reveal hearts unchanged by grace.

A Gospel without forgiveness is no gospel at all — it is a closed fist disguised as righteousness.

A gospel too small for a King

Jesus spoke of the gospel of the Kingdom (Matt. 24:14), not a private, disembodied salvation experience detached from earth. The King has come. The King has died. The King has risen. And the King is returning.

The message is not merely, “Prepare for death.” It is, “Prepare for the King.”

This Kingdom has laws, responsibilities, ambassadors, and authority. It speaks to nations, rulers, cultures, families, economies, and governments. It calls all men everywhere to repent.

Two modern errors fight against this reality:

1. The social justice warrior

Engaged politically — but with a different gospel. They invoke Kingdom language but import Marxist definitions. They cry “justice” but reject God’s Law. They wield Jesus’ name but twist His mission.

2. The pietist

Doctrinally sound on salvation — but functionally absent from the world. They criticize the Left for politicizing the faith while treating their own political disengagement as piety. In refusing to influence the world, they leave the field open for the very ideologies they lament.

One embraces a false gospel. The other hides the true one. Both abandon the gospel of the Kingdom.

The King has ambassadors

Paul writes: “We are ambassadors for Christ” (2 Cor. 5:20).

Ambassadors do not hide. They do not retreat. They do not cower behind church walls and wait for Heaven. Ambassadors proclaim. They warn. They plead. They announce the terms of peace from a risen King.

Jesus’ first sermon was clear: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 4:17).

The Kingdom comes with a call to repentance, a summons to righteousness, and a warning of judgment. It demands loyalty, obedience, and public allegiance to Christ.

This is the Gospel of the Kingdom — bigger than salvation alone, bigger than politics alone, big enough to shake nations and resurrect civilizations.

If the Church recovers this Gospel

If the church once again preaches Christ the King — if she calls men to repentance — if she refuses to bow to Marxist definitions of justice — if she refuses to hide behind pietistic passivity — then social justice ideologies will crumble, not by clever arguments but under the weight of a resurrected King whose Kingdom cannot be shaken.

The Gospel of the Kingdom is not a message waiting for burial. It is a message waiting for proclamation.

Proclaim it to your family.
Proclaim it to your coworkers.
Proclaim it in the public square.
Proclaim it in the halls of government.
Proclaim it until the King returns.

And then — hear the only words that matter: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”