Chris Bobblett Ministries

09/07/2026

To repent is to change the way we think—to allow our minds, our assumptions, and even our theology to be transformed in the light of Christ.

Which means if I still believe everything exactly as I always have, perhaps there has not been much repentance.

Jesus did not invite us into intellectual stagnation. He called us into metanoia—a continual reorientation of the mind and heart toward the reality of God’s Kingdom.

And one of the things I love about the early Church is that it was not nearly as monolithic as we sometimes imagine. Within the boundaries of faith in Christ, there existed a remarkable diversity of thought—different paradigms, interpretations, questions, and theological emphases. They wrestled. They debated. They reasoned together. And somehow, Christ remained larger than their disagreements.

Perhaps we could learn something from them.

Maybe faithfulness is not having every question settled.

Maybe maturity is being secure enough in Christ to remain curious.

Maybe we need fewer conversations designed to defend our dogma and more conversations willing to encounter one another with humility.

Because repentance requires the possibility that I might still have something to learn.

And perhaps one of the most faithful prayers we can pray is: “Jesus, keep changing the way I think.”

09/05/2026

"Why did Jesus Christ die? What happened in His death? Jesus Christ died because The Father would not forsake us, because The Father had a dream for us that He would not abandon, because the love of The Father for us is endless and unflinching. And Jesus died because the only way to get from the fall of Adam to the right hand of The Father was through the crucifixion of Adamic existence.

Jesus Christ did not go to the cross to change God; He went to the cross to change us. He did not die to appease The Father's anger or to heal The Father's divided heart. Jesus Christ went to the cross to call a halt to the fall and undo it, to convert fallen Adamic existence to His Father, to systematically eliminate our estrangement, so that He could accomplish His Father's dream for our adoption in His ascension."

From- C. Baxter Kruger " Jesus and the undoing of Adam"

09/03/2026

The mark of maturity in the spirit is manifested by how we treat those in whom we disagree.

09/02/2026

“Based on the Bible”

I think one of the most important things we can learn as followers of Jesus is that saying something is “based on the Bible” does not automatically mean our interpretation of the Bible is correct.

Every one of us interprets Scripture.

We read ancient Hebrew and Greek texts, written within cultures and worlds very different from our own, through lenses we have inherited from our churches, traditions, teachers, experiences, and even the time in history in which we live.

Sometimes we are reading Scripture.

And sometimes, without realizing it, we are reading our theology, traditions, assumptions, and experiences back into Scripture.

That should produce some humility in all of us.

Because Christians have been quoting the Bible to support their interpretations for a very long time—and sometimes they have been terribly wrong.

People have used the Bible to defend slavery, segregation, oppression, violence, and all kinds of things that most Christians today would immediately recognize as contrary to the heart of Christ.

They had verses.

They had sermons.

They could say, “The Bible says…”

The problem wasn’t necessarily that they weren’t reading the Bible. The problem was how they were reading it.

And that is why the deeper question for me is not simply, “Can I find a verse for this?”

It is, “Does my interpretation look like Jesus?”

Because ultimately, the true and living Word of God is not a book.

The Word became flesh.

His name is Jesus.

The Scriptures are sacred. They are inspired. They teach us, correct us, form us, and faithfully lead us to Christ. But Scripture itself points beyond itself to the One in whom God has been fully revealed.

Jesus said:

“You search the Scriptures because you think they give you eternal life. But the Scriptures point to me.” — John 5:39

That is a powerful statement because Jesus was speaking to people who knew Scripture extraordinarily well.

They could quote it.

Debate it.

Teach it.

Defend it.

And still miss the God it was revealing while He stood right in front of them.

That should humble every one of us.

You can know verses and still miss the Word.

You can defend a doctrine and misrepresent the Father.

You can win a biblical argument and completely miss the spirit of Jesus.

You can even be “biblical” in the sense of having a verse for everything and still not be Christlike in the way you interpret, apply, or use those verses.

Because Jesus is not merely another piece of our theology.

Jesus is our clearest revelation of what God is like.

“If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.”

He is “the image of the invisible God.”

He is “the exact representation of His being.”

So when I want to know what God is like, I look at Jesus.

When I want to understand holiness, I look at Jesus.

When I want to understand judgment, mercy, forgiveness, truth, compassion, or love, I look at Jesus.

And yes, truth matters. Deeply. But humility matters too.

Maybe spiritual maturity isn’t simply becoming more certain that my interpretation is right.

Maybe part of maturity is becoming humble enough to continually bring my interpretation back to Jesus and ask:

Does the God I am presenting to the world look like the God Jesus revealed?

Because our calling was never simply to become people who could say, “I know what the Bible says.”

Our calling is to become people who look like Christ.

08/31/2026

I’ve always thought Paul’s sermon in Athens is fascinating. Standing among people who do not yet understand the gospel, Paul does not begin by saying: “God is far away, but I can tell you how to get Him to come near. He says almost the opposite. “He is not far from each one of us.” Then: “For in Him we live and move and have our being.” - Acts 17:27–28

Paul announces divine proximity before his audience even understands its meaning. They are already living in God while ignorant of the God in whom they live. Their ignorance is real. Their idolatry is real. Repentance is necessary, but repentance isn’t convincing a distant God to approach them.

Paul calls them to change their minds because the God they have been searching for has never actually been far away. That completely changes evangelism. The gospel isn’t: “God is over here with us Christians. Come join our group and maybe He’ll accept you.” The gospel announces: The God you do not yet recognize has come near in Jesus Christ.

Repent. Wake up. Turn from the illusions that have kept you from recognizing Him. Discover the One in whom your very existence has always been held.

Union does not eliminate repentance.
Union gives repentance somewhere beautiful to turn.

We aren’t merely turning away from something. We are awakening to Someone. And perhaps that is why the gospel is actually good news.

08/29/2026

What if we have been reading Revelation through the wrong lens?

For many Christians, Revelation has become a book of fear—charts, timelines, Antichrists, beasts, blood, destruction, and predictions about the end of the world.

But Revelation was never written to terrify the Church. It was written to unveil Jesus. And perhaps the most important moment in the entire book happens in Revelation 5.

John is told, “Behold, the Lion…”
But when John turns to look, he doesn’t see a lion.
He sees a Lamb standing as though slain.

That matters.

Jesus does not suddenly become someone different in Revelation. He does not abandon the enemy-loving, self-giving love revealed on the cross and become another kind of God.
The greatest revelation of Revelation is that Jesus is still the Lamb on the throne.

The One who conquers does so through cruciform love. The One who reigns still bears the wounds. And the throne of the universe belongs to the Lamb.

That changes how we read everything that follows.
I wrote this book as an introduction and commentary through the first eleven chapters of Revelation from a historical, partial-preterist, Christ-centered, and grace-filled perspective—taking seriously the first-century world in which John wrote while refusing to interpret anything in a way that contradicts the Jesus who perfectly reveals the Father.

If Revelation has frightened you, confused you, or simply never made sense to you, I hope this book helps you see it again.
Maybe Revelation isn't primarily about escaping the world someday.

Maybe it is about learning to see the world differently because the Lamb is already on the throne. (pt2 coming early 2026)

Available now on Amazon:

The Revelation of Jesus Christ : Part 1: Revelation Chapters 1-11

08/29/2026

Morning Musings

I believe the cross is central to the Christian faith. But how we understand the cross matters, because every theology of the cross ultimately becomes a theology of God.

For many Christians, the story has been told something like this: humanity sinned, God’s justice demanded punishment, and because God could not simply forgive, Jesus stepped in and absorbed the punishment that God otherwise would have poured out upon us.

But I have increasingly become convinced that this is not the fullest—or most faithful—way to understand Calvary.

The New Testament does not give us one neat theory of atonement. It gives us a rich collection of images: reconciliation, sacrifice, ransom, liberation, victory, forgiveness, covenant, healing, and new creation. The early church especially emphasized Christ’s victory over sin, death, and the powers that enslave humanity.

And at the center of all of it is this astonishing statement:

“God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them.” — 2 Corinthians 5:19

God was in Christ.

The Father was not standing at a distance from Jesus, demanding that someone suffer before He could forgive.

Calvary is not the Son rescuing humanity from the Father.

It is the Triune God entering into the darkest depths of the human condition in order to rescue, reconcile, heal, and restore His creation.

And that distinction matters.

Who killed Jesus?

Human beings did.

Rome crucified Him.
Religious powers accused Him.
Empire condemned Him.
Human violence nailed Him to a cross.

But God did something extraordinary with our violence: He entered it, absorbed it, exposed it, forgave us in the middle of it, and ultimately defeated it through resurrection.

That is why Jesus can hang from the cross and say, “Father, forgive them.”

He isn’t convincing the Father to become forgiving. He is revealing the Father who has always been forgiving.

Jesus told us, “Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father.”

So the God we see healing enemies, touching lepers, welcoming sinners, eating with outcasts, forgiving offenders and restoring the broken does not suddenly become a different God at Calvary.

Jesus is still the face of the Father—even on the cross.

The cross absolutely deals with sin.

But perhaps sin is deeper than a legal debt requiring divine retribution. Sin is a power that corrupts, enslaves, wounds, alienates, accuses, and ultimately produces death.

And Christ enters directly into that machinery and breaks it from the inside.

This is why Paul can speak of Christ disarming the powers and triumphing over them at the cross.

The cross is not primarily the place where God finally gets the violence His holiness requires.

It is the place where God takes humanity’s violence upon Himself and refuses to answer violence with violence.

We give Him hatred.
He gives forgiveness.

We give Him accusation.
He gives mercy.

We give Him a cross.
He gives us resurrection.

And resurrection is essential to the gospel because Calvary without Easter is simply another ex*****on.

But Easter is God’s declaration that sin will not win, violence will not win, empire will not win, accusation will not win, and even death itself will not have the final word.

Christ will.

So yes, Jesus died for our sins.

But the gospel is even bigger and more beautiful than the idea that Jesus died to save us from God.

In Jesus, God Himself has come to save us from everything that destroys us.

That is the God revealed at Calvary.

And He looks exactly like Jesus

08/14/2026

Somewhere along the way, many Christians were taught that the end of the biblical story is that the world gets worse and worse until Jesus finally rescues His people by taking them away from the earth.

There’s just one problem: That isn’t the direction the biblical story is moving.

The Bible doesn’t end with humanity escaping earth for heaven. It ends with heaven coming to earth.

“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with humanity.” — Revelation 21:3

Jesus didn’t say, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall escape the earth.”

He said, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” — Matthew 5:5

Paul doesn’t describe creation as disposable. He says creation itself is groaning for liberation and will be set free from its bo***ge to decay (Romans 8:19–21).

Revelation doesn’t climax with the saints abandoning creation, but with Christ declaring:

“Behold, I am making all things new.”

Not making all new things. Making all things new.

Biblical eschatology is not ultimately about evacuation. It is about resurrection. Restoration. Renewal. Reconciliation.

It is the announcement that Jesus Christ has defeated the powers, conquered death, and is Lord.

“He must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” — 1 Corinthians 15:25–26

And remarkably, Scripture says we are invited to participate in that reign.

We are called a royal priesthood.
We are told we will reign with Christ.
We pray, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

That prayer makes very little sense if God’s ultimate plan is to abandon the earth.

The Christian hope is not: “Someday Jesus will get us out of here.”

It is: “Jesus is Lord, His kingdom has come, His kingdom is coming, death will be defeated, creation will be liberated, and God will be all in all.”

That is a much bigger hope. And I believe it is a much more biblical one.

08/14/2026

Romans 8 says nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not death, life, angels, principalities, powers, things present, things to come, height, depth, or any created thing.

Nothing.

If nothing can separate you from His love, then your failure is not stronger than His love. Your confusion, your immaturity, your bad theology, and the places where you still stumble do not make the Father step back and reconsider His affection for you.

His love is not waiting to see whether you perform well enough to remain lovable. That is the love Jesus revealed.

And that is the love grace begins to work through us. And before we ever try to love others this way, that love has to become real to us. Otherwise, we will turn unconditional love into another work. We will huff and puff and try to love everybody, but underneath we will still be drawing from our own limited supply.

That will wear you out.
Love is always a response to love.

We love Him because He first loved us. Our love for other people works the same way. It is the overflow of the love we know He has for us.

He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because that’s who He is.

08/13/2026

I don’t believe Scripture teaches that we still possess an “old nature” that must gradually die. Paul says, “our old man was crucified with Him” (Romans 6:6), not that he is being crucified a little more every day. Likewise, “you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3). The old humanity has already been dealt with in Christ.

I’m also not convinced sanctification is primarily a lifelong process of becoming something we are not yet. The New Testament repeatedly speaks of believers as already sanctified (1 Corinthians 1:2; 6:11; Hebrews 10:10, 14). What continues throughout our lives is not our sanctification itself, but our awakening, maturity, and conformity of mind to the reality of who we already are in Christ.

When Jesus calls us to “take up our cross daily,” I don’t see Him describing a daily ex*****on of an old nature. He’s inviting us to continually lay down the false self, the ego, illusions, and independent identity that tries to live apart from God, and live from the union that has already been established in Him.

So I would say the Christian life is less about becoming Christlike through a slow internal transformation and more about discovering, believing, and expressing the Christ life that has already been given to us. Maturity isn’t moving from old nature to new nature; it’s growing in the knowledge and manifestation of the new creation we already are.