Jesus' Commands Aren't Optional

The Storm Doesn't Care What You Meant

We've turned the Commands of Jesus into inspiration instead of instruction—as if the Son of God came to hand out slogans.

He didn't.

Jesus speaks with authority. Not like a life coach, but like a King. And the terrifying part isn't that His commands are difficult—it's that they're real, and they will be proven.

At the end of the Sermon on the Mount Jesus closes with a warning that is not vague, not poetic, and not negotiable:

"Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity."
—Matthew 7:21–23

Before you panic: if you repent, fight, and keep coming back to Christ, this is not aimed at you. This is aimed at people who make peace with disobedience—who practice defended refusal.

That distinction matters: repentant struggle vs. defended refusal.

If you’ve ever tried to turn that verdict into a comfort line—Jesus kills that escape hatch elsewhere. (See: Never Knew You.)

The Diagnostic Jesus Uses

Then Jesus explains Himself with a picture simple enough to haunt you:

"Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.
And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it."
—Matthew 7:24–27

This is not a "spiritual maturity optional upgrade."
This is foundation.

And when the storm comes, the foundation is what you can't negotiate with.

The storm is anything that exposes what you actually trust—temptation, suffering, death, judgment.

"Lord, Lord" Is Not a Password

Jesus names people who are fluent in Christian language, active in religious activity, and confident in spiritual identity—right up until the day that confidence gets exposed as shifting sand.

They say "Lord."
They point to ministry.
They have stories.

And Jesus rejects them anyway—because you can say "Lord" with your mouth while refusing Him with your life.

That’s the whole point of the storm imagery: you can look like a house. You can even function like a house—for a while. But if the foundation is “I hear Jesus and I don’t have to do what He says,” collapse isn’t a question of if; it’s a question of when.

The False Comfort People Reach For When This Gets Uncomfortable

People often try to soften this passage into something safer:

• "They were never really saved."
• "They were trusting in works."
• "God knows my heart."

Yes—and that's exactly why this warning should sober you.

But in this passage Jesus puts the spotlight on one diagnostic: a practiced life that treats His words as optional.

He names it plainly:

"depart from me, ye that work iniquity."
—Matthew 7:23

And then He defines the difference between rock and sand as:

"hears… and does" vs "hears… and does not."
—Matthew 7:24–26

In Jesus' own framing here, He refuses to separate profession from submission. He will not let "Lord" become a religious nickname that carries no authority.

Submission isn’t sentimental; it’s practical.

And let's be equally clear on the other side:

Obedience doesn't purchase the Kingdom; it reveals who actually belongs to the King.
Not the price of entry—the proof of allegiance.

What "Iniquity" Means Here

(And Why It's Not a Technicality)

Jesus names it: "iniquity"—not a stumble you repent of, but a life where His words are heard and treated as optional.

This isn't weakness in the fight.
This is defended refusal.

In this context, "iniquity" is simply the lifestyle version of "heareth… and doeth… not."

The Sermon Itself Won't Let You Keep This Abstract

This isn't theoretical. Jesus doesn't leave obedience floating in religious fog. In the Sermon on the Mount, He names it:

• Be reconciled instead of nursing resentment.
• Flee lust instead of feeding it and baptizing it with excuses.
• Speak truth instead of hiding behind "technically."
• Love enemies instead of blessing only your tribe.
• Give in secret instead of performing righteousness.
• Pray in secret instead of using God as a stage.
• Forgive—because forgiven people forgive.

This is what "doeth them" looks like when it gets dirt under its fingernails.

The question isn't "Do you admire this sermon?"
It's "Are you obeying it?"

Not flawlessly. Not sinlessly.
But truly. Honestly. Yielded.

Grace Doesn't Make Obedience Optional — It Makes It Possible

Modern Christianity has a common counterfeit: assurance with no discipleship.

A gospel where:

• Jesus forgives you so you can "be okay" while willfully doing what He forbids,
• Jesus is a kind Savior but not the Master,
• grace is a shield for rebellion instead of rescue from it.

That's not the gospel. That's a forged document.

Grace is not permission to ignore Christ—it's rescue from sin's rule.
It doesn't make obedience unnecessary; it makes obedience possible.

A Guardrail for Tender Consciences

This warning is not aimed at the person who hates their sin, repents, and keeps getting up to fight.

Scripture distinguishes between sin present, sin confessed, and sin defended as lord.

If you are grieved, fighting, repenting, and returning—you're not building on sand. That grief is not condemnation; it's God pulling you back to the Rock.

The warning is aimed at the person who hears Jesus clearly and then makes peace with disobedience.

How to Build On the Rock

Here's a brutally practical way to respond:

Pick one command of Jesus you've been explaining away.

Not someone else's hot-button sin. Yours. The one you keep postponing, defending, or spiritualizing.

Don't "try." Repent.

1. Name it plainly (no euphemisms).
2. Confess it (to God, and if needed to a trusted believer).
3. Drop the excuse.
4. Obey it this week in a measurable way.

That is what repentance looks like when it stops being a feeling and becomes a foundation.

Because the storm doesn't grade intentions.

Jesus ends it the way He began it: warning before the weather hits. The house falls—and the fall is great. (Matthew 7:27)