A Call to Repentance & the Urgency to Preach Jesus

I recently had the opportunity to fly. Nothing dramatic — just a regular trip, one of thousands taken every day. But what started out as ordinary quickly turned into something deeply spiritual.

As I walked through the airport and found my seat on the plane, I did what I always do: I watched people. I’m such a people-watcher. I don’t want to miss a single face. There’s so much beauty in the people God has created — different colors, shapes, sizes, personalities. Every time, it stirs something in me. It’s like seeing glimpses of heaven walking by.

But this time was different.

As I looked at the people around me, I didn’t just see them — I felt them. I remembered how spiritually sensitive and discerning I am, and suddenly I could sense what was happening in the atmosphere. One moment, I was overwhelmed with joy. The next, I was holding back tears. I felt the heartache of a nearby stranger. The frustration of a man rushing past. The quiet panic of someone fumbling with their phone. I felt confusion, depression, anger — and in a few, I felt something entirely different: the joy of the Lord.

It was like waves of emotion kept rolling through me, and I couldn’t stop them. But I wasn’t afraid — I was overwhelmed in love. The kind of love that breaks your heart wide open.

And then, in the midst of it, God whispered something so simple and yet so profound:

“You carry the answer.”

Immediately, I knew what He meant. I carry Jesus. The Hope of Glory. The redemptive power of the Gospel lives inside me. And yet, there I was, in a terminal full of aching, searching people — and not a single person, including me, was speaking His name.

No one was standing up to say, “Jesus is King. He is the only way to eternal life.”

And that silence haunted me.

Why is it so easy to stay quiet, even when we know the truth?

Why is the fear of man still so strong when the love of God is so urgent?

Why do those of us who carry the greatest message the world has ever known hesitate to speak it?

I sat there torn — between my own fears and the broken heart of God. A God who is longing for His people to step out, speak up, and release the power of repentance and forgiveness into the world.

So I started asking the hard questions:

• What will it take for me to be free from the fear of rejection?

• What will it take to obey God fully — not just in my heart, but with my voice?

• Does my silence make me lukewarm?

• Am I, in my hesitation, part of the problem?

These questions aren’t comfortable, but they’re necessary. Because the world is crying out for something real, something eternal, something holy.

And we — you and I — carry that very thing.

We carry the name of Jesus.

A message drenched in mercy, soaked in blood, and glowing with the hope of resurrection.

That message was never meant to be kept quiet.

I’m not writing this out of condemnation. I’m writing from conviction.

A holy, urgent stirring in my spirit that says:

“Enough with the silence.”

I don’t want to be a quiet Christian in a noisy world.

I want to be a vessel —

Even if my voice shakes.

Even if it’s just a whisper.

Even if I get rejected.

Because even a whisper of the name of Jesus carries more power than all the noise the world can make.

So I offer this post as both a confession and a commission.

I want to walk boldly into obedience. I want to live the Gospel I believe in so deeply. I want to speak up when I feel the nudge.

To pray for the stranger who’s breaking inside.

To declare — without shame or fear — that Jesus is King.

He is the only way to life, truth, and freedom.

And if you’ve felt this tug-of-war inside — the desire to speak, battling the fear that holds you back — know this:

You’re not alone.

But also know:

The time is now.

The harvest is ready.

Eternity is real.

And we were born for this.

Lord, let it begin in me.

Pastor Sarah Bell