Now the leaders were surprised and confused. They looked at Peter and John and realized they were typical peasants-uneducated, utterly ordinary fellows-with extraordinary confidence. The leaders recognized them as companions of Jesus…

Acts 4:13 Voice

In a world where people chase confidence through credentials, Jesus transforms the lives of those who follow him. He makes them extraordinary by his presence and empowers them to courageously engage with the world.

They inspire it.
They change it.
They don’t conform to it.

Yet Christians today are more often associated with cultural debates and political divides than with personal transformation or world-changing impact.

This Easter, the Bible’s legacy of ordinary people made extraordinary calls to us. Christians in the Bible were remarkable because they had been with Jesus, not because of ambition or achievement. Their example urges us to return Christianity to its rightful place—not a cultural institution preoccupied with influence, but a dynamic, world-changing group of people. 

Their legacy calls us to practice biblical Christianity—to inspire rather than to impress—and tooffer the light of God’s truth to a world darkened by superficial answers to deep existential questions.

Unanswered questions about our true meaning and purpose lie at the root of much of the chaos and turmoil we experience in this life. The rising rates of depression, addiction, and isolation aren’t merely psychological or sociological problems; they are symptoms of a spiritual thirst, of lives attempting to function without their intended center.

While some dismiss Christianity as a cultural construct or human invention, such claims ignore a fundamental truth: we are not merely physical, emotional, or intellectual beings—we are spiritual.

Living the extraordinary life of a biblical Christian is not merely adding a set of religious practices to our routine. It is fundamentally reorienting our existence around a different center—God. An ordinary life is arranged around the self and its desires; it conforms to the pressures of the crowd, abandoning its principles to fit in and avoid criticism. An extraordinary life is built on the discovery that we truly flourish when we align ourselves with the purposes of God. 

This is why the disciples in Acts 4, despite their lack of credentials, displayed such remarkable courage. They had broken free from the empty restrictiveness of self-worship and self-reliance. They instead experienced the freedom that came from reorienting their lives around not a religious tradition or institution, but a relationship with God. This is the life Jesus offers.

While some dismiss Christianity as a cultural construct or human invention, such claims ignore a fundamental truth: we are not merely physical, emotional, or intellectual beings—we are spiritual.

It is this spiritual dimension that produces the disturbances and internal unrest we cannot explain away. Many great thinkers throughout history have acknowledged the limits of pure rationalism, as I discovered by reading Bertrand Russell’s The History of Western Philosophy. 

Even so, modern thought increasingly dismisses the spiritual life as irrelevant.

When human solutions fail again and again, we are drawn into deeper, existential questions. Should we not, then, embrace the humility urged by many respected philosophers such as Kierkegaard and Hegel to seek transcendent answers that lie beyond the limits of logic and reason? 

The promise of walking with God is the discovery made possible when we honor all four dimensions of human life, especially the spiritual life God offers. This spiritual life is an extraordinary life—not because of who we are, but because of who God is, and who we become as we walk with him.

That’s why we have to ask:

What if it’s true?
What if Jesus really did walk the earth?
What if he really did die for the sins of the world?
What if God actually raised him from the dead to show the power available to every believer?

What if all of it is true?

If it’s true, we can’t be indecisive

And the governor said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” [22] Pilate said to them, “Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” They all said, “Crucify Him!” [23] But he said, “Why, what evil has He done?” Yet they kept shouting all the more, saying, “Crucify Him!” [24] Now when Pilate saw that he was accomplishing nothing, but rather that a riot was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this Man’s blood; you yourselves shall see.”

Matthew 27:21-24 NASB

When faced with complex decisions—especially ones with emotional implications—our instinct is often to avoid them altogether.

We delay.
We distract.
We deflect.

That’s exactly what Pilate tried to do.

But the truth is, indecision is still a decision.

As Pilate stood before a volatile crowd, he was caught between a religious dispute that didn’t concern him—and a moral decision that did. The crowd wanted Jesus crucified, but Pilate knew he was innocent. He even said so: “Why, what evil has he done?”

But like many of us, when the pressure rose and the voices got louder, Pilate didn’t stand up for what was right.

He chose to please people rather than believe in Jesus.

He didn’t take a stand.
He refused to take responsibility.

So he washed his hands.
And walked away.

Pilate thought he could stay neutral.
He couldn’t.

And neither can we.

If it’s true, we can’t ignore Jesus

Pilate said, “So you are a king?” Jesus responded, “You say I am a king. Actually, I was born and came into the world to testify to the truth. All who love the truth recognize that what I say is true.” [38] “What is truth?” Pilate asked. Then he went out again to the people and told them, “He is not guilty of any crime.”

John 18:37-38 NLT

I understand Pilate’s reaction all too well. Before his indecision about sentencing Jesus to death, Pilate had already made the more fundamental decision to dismiss the very concept of truth with his cynical question, “What is truth?” His words echo through our age, when truth has become increasingly personal and subjective.

Many forces in our culture—from reducing everything to scientific explanation to elevating personal feelings above all else—have quietly eroded our belief in absolute truth, replacing it with countless individual “truths.” Yet Jesus boldly claimed, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), and prayed for his followers to be “sanctified by the truth” of God’s Word (John 17:17). This represents not merely one opinion among many, but a claim that real, lasting truth exists and can be known.

Many forces in our culture…have quietly eroded our belief in absolute truth, replacing it with countless individual ‘truths.’

For me, the struggle to embrace truth hasn’t just been philosophical—it’s been deeply personal. Before I turned twelve, I had some exposure to church—Sunday school, the Bible, the usual. But it didn’t stick. As I grew older, I found my way out of church and established my own truth: agnostic, independent, focused on my own goals. I didn’t reject Jesus outright. I just … ignored him.

I replaced the Bible with philosophy and science.
I dismissed Christians as hypocritical.
I told myself I was just too busy “chasing my dreams.”

In reality, I was like Pilate—distancing myself from the truth by creating excuses. I hoped that neutrality could be enough. Like many influenced by Ayn Rand in college, I had convinced myself that the most reasonable way to live was to focus on my own success and achievement. Any benefit others received from my success was a bonus, not an obligation. 

The gap between what Christians claimed about Jesus and the way many of them lived their lives didn’t present a compelling alternative to my self-focused worldview. I couldn’t see evidence of the extraordinary power they claimed to follow, and I didn’t want to see the truth.

But then something changed.

If it’s true, God will lead us beyond the limits of human reasoning

From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. [27] God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us.

Acts 17:26-27 NIV84

Through a few seemingly unrelated events, God put the pieces together in my life to do what he does for all of us. He gave me a chance to reach out for him and find him.

In my freshman year of college, a professor of English had a profound impact on my life. He gave me a disheartening grade on my paper, so I approached him to understand why. He told me it was a good paper, but he could tell I didn’t work on it to the best of my ability. His grading corresponded to my effort.

We went on to discuss my high school commitment to basketball and how it had led me to abandon the prodigious reading of my youth. My professor challenged me on this, pointing out that I had stopped doing something essential for my growth, and I needed to return to it.

The summer after that class, I began reading everything I could get my hands on until I discovered Ayn Rand. My voracious appetite for all things Rand ended with me deciding her philosophy was the guide to life I had been searching for.

The following year, I ran into that same English professor on campus. He asked me how my summer had gone. I told him I had devoted myself to reading and discovered my new philosophy of life. He asked me what philosophy this might be.

“Ayn Rand!” I replied with joy.

My professor’s face changed from a smile to a grimace. “Ayn Rand!” He said. “You are aware she is a racist and fascist.”

This shocked and humbled me. I walked away shattered, as any 19-year-old might be when their dream is crushed.

As timing would have it, I received more bad news that day. I was closed out of a prerequisite class for my economics major, and I went back to my dorm in despair.

Something about this low moment reminded me that I had always said I would check out the Bible, so I decided to take a religion class. The only attractive course was an upper level class called ”World of the New Testament.” Ironically, it focused on books excluded from the Bible—everything designed to make me doubt it. Yet God, arranging times and places, seated me next to a Christian who lived the life and invited me to a Bible study.

I went to that Bible study—not because I was seeking God, but because the student who invited me was a great basketball player and I was recruiting him for my team. I thought that if I went to his Bible study, he’d be more willing to join my team. That was my strategy. But God had one of his own.

I thought I was recruiting my friend, but in reality, God was recruiting me.

In that Bible study, I came face-to-face with the real Jesus.

Not the Jesus of children’s stories.
Not the pale and powerless Jesus pictured on the walls of religious households.
It was the real Jesus—the one who died on the cross.
The Jesus who was crucified for me.
The Jesus whose death demanded a response.
The Jesus who rose from the dead with a power I hadn’t yet experienced.

I couldn’t unsee it.
I couldn’t unlearn what I now knew.

Suddenly I found myself hearing Pilate’s question in my own heart:

“What shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?”

If it’s true, we must make a choice

Then Jesus turned to the crowd and said, “Come, listen and open your heart to understand.”

Matthew 15:10 TPT

Just as he said to the crowds in the above verse, Jesus was calling me to open my heart and understand what it would mean to respond to him. He was urging me to answer the question that lingered in my mind: “What shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?”

Like Pilate, I looked for a way to escape the pressure of that question. I told myself I’d think about it later. I tried to forget what I’d learned. But the truth gnawed at me.

If this is true …
If Jesus really lived, died, and rose again …
Then I couldn’t stay undecided.

I realized that avoiding a decision was itself a profound choice. Even if uncertainty remained, the stakes were too high to simply remain neutral. The question wasn’t about perfect certainty but about which direction the evidence pointed and what kind of life I wanted to choose.

Indecision was a decision.
If I remained indecisive, I was deciding not to believe.
I was deciding not to be courageous.
I was deciding not to change.

And even if I didn’t say it out loud, God knew. Because he doesn’t just listen to words—he listens to the heart.

If it’s true, the implications are everything

[18] The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God. [19] As the Scriptures say, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise and discard the intelligence of the intelligent.” [20] So where does this leave the philosophers, the scholars, and the world’s brilliant debaters? God has made the wisdom of this world look foolish. [21] Since God in his wisdom saw to it that the world would never know him through human wisdom, he has used our foolish preaching to save those who believe. [22] It is foolish to the Jews, who ask for signs from heaven. And it is foolish to the Greeks, who seek human wisdom. [23] So when we preach that Christ was crucified, the Jews are offended and the Gentiles say it’s all nonsense. [24] But to those called by God to salvation, both Jews and Gentiles, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. [25] This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength.

1 Corinthians 1:18-25 NLT

Easter is more than a holiday. It’s a question.

What will you do with Jesus, the one called Christ?

• Will you consider him foolish because faith and spirituality are unfamiliar?
• Will you follow philosophers and scholars who insist that humans are the center of the universe?
• Do you have the courage to think independently—and see the evidence God provides by faith?
• Can you really spend your life ignoring a text that has endured and impacted cultures across centuries, a text whose lasting influence suggests it contains truths that transcend the philosophical systems that have risen and fallen around it?

If it’s not true, then go on living however you want. But if it is true, then nothing else matters more than your answer.

Neutrality isn’t an option.
Silence is still a verdict.
Avoidance is still a rejection.

The resurrection demands a response.
And so does the cross.

Ultimately, I broke out of my indicting indecision and decided I wanted to live the extraordinary life. I wanted to be recognized, as the disciples were in Acts 4, as a companion of Jesus. I wanted a relationship with God that could change not only my life, but the world.

Today, you have a choice: Remain ordinary … or step into the extraordinary life Jesus offers.

This Easter, recognize that neutrality toward Christ is not an intellectual position but a profound decision—one that shapes not just what you believe, but who you become.

It starts not with certainty, but with courage. With one decision. Today.