“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father who is in heaven.” — Matthew 7:21
I was working on my gospel transcription today, and Matthew’s words stopped me in my tracks even though I’ve read them a dozen times. There’s a particular weight in those words. Jesus doesn’t say the false disciples don’t call Him Lord. He says they do…loudly. They prophesy, cast out demons, even perform miracles in His name. But when the lights go down and the true nature of their hearts is revealed, He says plainly: “I never knew you.” It’s a chilling reminder that confession is not the same as character.
Cheap Grace and the Hollow Confession
Dietrich Bonhoeffer saw this danger long before it became a modern cliché. In The Cost of Discipleship, he coined the phrase “cheap grace” which is a grace without discipleship, forgiveness without repentance, baptism without transformation.
It’s easy to say the right words about God; it’s harder to let those words become the shape of our lives. I’m not excluding myself here. It’s tough.
In contrast, Bonhoeffer wrote of costly grace, the kind that “calls a man to follow” and bids him “come and die.” He penned those words in Nazi Germany, where much of the church had traded its moral authority for national comfort. For Bonhoeffer, dying wasn’t an abstract metaphor. It meant surrendering every false allegiance that competes with Christ, even when it costs your reputation, safety, or life.
Costly grace is the opposite of cultural Christianity. It doesn’t bless our egos, our need for control, or our self-made righteousness. It dismantles them. It’s the grace that transforms rather than excuses, that births courage instead of complacency. To die, in Bonhoeffer’s sense, is to be freed from the tyranny of self so that love can take its place.
“Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance… grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.” —Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Jesus, James, and the Test of Integrity
Jesus consistently warned against performative religion. In Matthew 23, He rebuked the religious elite who loved public prayers and titles but “neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness.”
James 1:22 echoes the same: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”
Faith is not proven by articulation but by alignment. By how our lives reflect the heart of the Father.
Dallas Willard said it this way in Renovation of the Heart: “Grace is not opposed to effort; it is opposed to earning.”
To live under grace is not to passively receive forgiveness and stay the same—it is to participate in the ongoing renovation of our inner world until the goodness of God becomes our reflex, not our performance.
The Modern Echo: Words Without Fruit
In every generation, there’s a temptation to equate loudness with conviction. We’ve watched public figures brand themselves as defenders of faith while embodying the very arrogance, greed, and cruelty the Gospel warns against. The danger isn’t only in them. It’s in us, when we applaud piety on the lips instead of mercy in the hands.
“You will know them by their fruits.” — Matthew 7:16
If the fruit is fear, division, or self-exaltation, it doesn’t matter how often the tree says “Lord, Lord.” The words are hollow.
Howard Thurman wrote in Jesus and the Disinherited that the religion of Jesus is always on the side of “those with their backs against the wall.” Faith that doesn’t produce compassion for the oppressed, honesty in power, and humility before others is not faith at all. It’s theater.
Faith That Does
The call of the Gospel is painfully, beautifully practical.
“Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” — 1 John 3:18
It’s found in forgiving when you’d rather win the argument. In generosity that costs you something. In refusing to weaponize Scripture for your tribe’s gain. The faith that acts doesn’t need to shout “Lord, Lord.” It whispers through mercy, repentance, and quiet integrity.
Jesus’ warning in Matthew 7 isn’t a threat meant to frighten the faithful, instead it’s a mirror showing us what authentic discipleship looks like. It’s not measured by volume, but by fruit. Not by profession, but by practice. Not by claiming His name, but by reflecting His nature.
Because the truest confession of Christ is not in what we say about Him but in what others see of Him in us.
Scriptures for Reflection
- Matthew 7:21–23
- Matthew 23:23–28
- James 1:22–27
- 1 John 3:18
Further Reading
- The Cost of Discipleship — Dietrich Bonhoeffer
- Renovation of the Heart — Dallas Willard
- Simply Christian — N. T. Wright
- Jesus and the Disinherited — Howard Thurman
Rowdy and Redeemed 