Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known (Colossians 1:24-25)

Paul echoes his exhortation from 1 Thessalonians 5:16 to “rejoice always,” and here in Colossians, he lives that out by rejoicing in his sufferings—not for the pain itself, but because of who it’s for: the body of Christ. Paul endured severe afflictions, and yet time and time again, the Lord allowed him to see how those trials advanced the gospel (Philippians 1:12–14; 3:8–9). That eternal perspective allowed him to rejoice in hardship and remain content, anchored by the truth that he could endure all things through Christ who strengthened him (Philippians 4:11–13).

The phrase “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” can be easily misunderstood. Paul wasn’t suggesting there was anything insufficient about Christ’s atoning sacrifice. Rather, he understood that because believers are united with Christ, any suffering endured for His name becomes part of Christ’s ongoing afflictions through His body, the Church. So Paul, writing from a Roman prison, saw his personal suffering as a continuation of what it means to follow Christ faithfully.

This wasn’t just endurance—it was stewardship. Paul saw his trials as part of his commission to make the word of God fully known. And if we too are to be faithful stewards of the gospel, we must recognize that suffering isn’t an obstacle—but it is often part of our mission. But with our eyes fixed on Christ, counting all else as loss, we will find strength to rejoice even in hardship, knowing it serves a greater purpose for His kingdom.

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister. (Colossians 1:21-23)

We were once alienated—hostile in mind and doing evil deeds. This isn’t just a theological label—it’s a mirror to our natural state. Sin doesn’t just separate us from God because He’s holy; it separates us because we want the distance. We hide, justify, numb, and self-soothe, trying to feel “good enough.” But feeling better in ourselves doesn’t save us. We could never reconcile ourselves to God. He had to be the one to initiate, to act, to reconcile us to Himself.

But God’s goal wasn’t just to buy us a ticket to heaven. His aim is far more personal and transformational: to present us holy, blameless, and above reproach before Him. That’s a process of sanctification—not just a moment of salvation. And it hinges on faith, not just once believed, but continually lived out. “If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel…”

This is an abiding obedience—not striving to earn, but trusting to receive. We can’t hinder His desire for us and expect to see His fullness in us. But when we walk in that faith, allowing Him to shape and sanctify us, we align with His desire to make us holy in His sight.

Paul’s words here reflect his role as a minister of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:20)—not just introducing people to the gospel, but urging us to continue in it. Reconciliation isn’t just the beginning of salvation—it’s the very substance of it. So we continue, stable and steadfast, not surprised by trials (1 Peter 4:12–13), but rooted in hope.

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:16-20)

“For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things… making peace by the blood of His cross.”

Sin separated us so deeply from God that reconciliation wasn’t just unlikely—it was impossible on our end. We wouldn’t have tried. We couldn’t have succeeded. But God, rich in mercy and moved by love, didn’t wait for us to come to Him. He came to us.

The fullness of God dwelled in Jesus—God in the flesh, our Creator stepping into creation. The image, in which we were made, took on our form to redeem and reconcile us to Himself. His blood fully atoned for our sin and made peace with God on our behalf. All that’s left is for us to receive the gift.

But that reconciliation doesn’t stop at the vertical. It extends horizontally—to one another. If no sin was too big to keep us from God’s love, then no offense should be too great to keep us from forgiving each other. Christ not only reconciles us to Himself, He empowers us to become ministers of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:18–21). As far as it depends on us, we are called to live at peace with everyone (Rom. 12:18), forgiving as we have been forgiven (Matt. 6:12).

In Christ, nothing is beyond reconciliation. Nothing.