Hebrews 10. The gospel is fantastic news!

So, what happened in the Christian calendar around 312–313? Enter Constantine. He becomes emperor, has a vision before battle—“In this sign, conquer”—and suddenly, Christianity goes from underground movement to state religion. Some say it was the best thing that ever happened to the church. Others (like me) lean toward it being the worst. Why? Because when you don’t have to fight for faith, you get comfortable. Faith gets boring.

About 100 years later, a bunch of people left the cities and headed into the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria to live radical lives of prayer, fasting, and solitude. These became the Desert Fathers and Mothers—early monks trying to encounter God in a raw, committed way. Some of it was beautiful. Some of it went off the rails.

Evagrius Ponticus and John Cassian were two key voices from that era. They developed thinking around sin, temptation, and spirituality that shaped both Eastern and Western traditions. Their lives were marked by silence, simplicity, Scripture, and manual labour. But then something strange started happening.

They began experiencing something called acedia—an ancient expression of spiritual dryness or depression. It hit hardest in the heat of the day, when time dragged and distractions faded. Prayer felt empty. Devotion felt pointless. It wasn’t laziness—it was a spiritual attack on hope, love, and purpose. Acedia made them feel like God was absent.

It says the law was a shadow of the good things to come—not the real thing. The sacrifices? Repeated endlessly. And they never actually fixed the problem. Could you imagine going to church every week without knowing Jesus? Sit in rows, drink mediocre coffee, chat with awkward people, go home. That would be brutal.

But with Jesus, everything flips. Church becomes a place of connection, hope, and purpose. Hebrews says Jesus offered one sacrifice, once and for all—and by that, we’ve been made holy. That’s not a future goal; it’s a current reality.

Too many Christians live like God’s against them. Like they need to earn His favour back after every mistake. But Scripture doesn’t call believers “sinners”—it calls us “saints.” You don’t lose your holiness every time you mess up. Jesus traded His righteousness for your brokenness. That’s your standing before God.

So when you mess up—lose your temper, have a fight, swear at someone on the road—you’re still His. You gave Him your sinful nature, and He gave you His holiness. That doesn’t mean we live recklessly. If that’s your mindset, you’ve probably never truly encountered Jesus. The Holy Spirit changes how we think.

Living under constant condemnation isn’t what Jesus died for. He didn’t come to make you feel guilty every day. He came to make you holy and right with God—now, not just later.

Hebrews says Jesus made us perfect forever—those being made holy. Your status before God doesn’t change with every failure. That’s your foundation: holy, blameless, set apart.

God says, “I’ll put my laws in their hearts and write them on their minds.” That’s the Spirit guiding you. You’ll feel those nudges—don’t post that, don’t say that, don’t go there. That’s God working in you.

And here’s the kicker: “Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more.” So why are you still carrying them?

Christianity isn’t about bad people becoming good. It’s about dead people coming alive. And when sins are forgiven, no more sacrifice is needed. Stop trying to earn what Jesus has already paid for.

This is the gospel: Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice means you don’t have to live under guilt, pressure, or performance. Walk in it. Praise the Lord. Surely we can’t hear this and stay the same.