Are you a Soul Murderer?
Matthew 5:21-26
My parents gave me my first car. It wasn’t some shiny, brand-new speed machine—it was
my mum’s old hand-me-down.
Picture of an old white Metro City X
An Austin Metro City X. And honestly, it was a hunk of junk.
The kind of car that made you wonder if it had more in common with a shopping trolley than
a car.
But it was mine, and so I set about improving it.
I went all out. Painted the bumpers white to match the body, slapped on a bug spoiler, and
installed a loud, oversized exhaust. I pimped it up.
But it was still the same old car underneath. It took a torturous 15 seconds to crawl from 0 to
60 mph, broke down like clockwork every 100 miles, and I lost count of how many times the
police pulled me over. Their reason? “It looks like it’s been stolen.” And honestly, who could
blame them?
Eventually, I came to a stark realization: No matter how much I pimped up the car, it wasn’t
going to cut it. I didn’t just need an upgrade—I needed a transformation. So, I traded it in for
something new.
We’re in Matthew’s Gospel and a little later in the book, in chapter 20, Jesus encounters two
blind men sitting by a roadside.
He asks them this simple yet profound question: “What do you want me to do for you?”
“What do you want me to do for you?” Matthew 20:32
And I want to ask you that same question today: “What do you want Jesus to do for you?”
You see, many of us come to Jesus—or at least explore Christianity—because we want to be
“pimped up” a little. We’ve got something in our lives that isn’t quite right, and we’re hoping
for a bit of help with it. Maybe it's a bad habit we want to kick. A little behavior
modification.
Or perhaps it’s not our actions, but our feelings. We’re yearning for something deeper—a
sense of peace, satisfaction, or wholeness. We want a quick fix, a spiritual pick-me-up.
But what we’re looking for is far too small. Our problem runs much deeper than we think.
What we need is far more than we’re asking for, and what Jesus offers is beyond anything we
could ever imagine.
In the Sermon on the Mount, what we’re looking at this term, Jesus gives us a radical picture
of life in His kingdom. Last week, Matt showed us how Jesus didn’t lower the bar set by the
Old Testament Law—not even close.
In verse 18, He says, “Not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will disappear.”
And in verse 20, He takes it even further: “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the
Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.”
So here’s the truth: We don’t just need to be “pimped up.” A little behavior adjustment here,
a quick pick-me-up there? That won’t cut it.
No, we need total transformation.
That’s the central message of the Sermon on the Mount.
And what Jesus wants us to grasp today is that this transformation is about something far
greater—it’s about freedom.
We need to be set free from the destructive desires that wage war within us—desires that
enslave us.
But for that to happen, we first have to understand just how deep our problem runs.
Which brings us to our first point. Take a look at verse 21:
“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone
who murders will be subject to judgment.’”
1. Our problem is far deeper than we like to admit – vv 21-22
The rabbis of the day had scoured the Old Testament and found no fewer than 613
commandments: 365 negative precepts – “thou shalt nots”; and 248 positive commands –
“thou shalts”. They went so far as to compile these into a work called the Mishnah, which
laid out how to observe each and every one of them.
The prevailing belief was that if you could check off these moral boxes, you’d secure your
place in God’s Kingdom.
But then Jesus steps in and essentially says, “No, no, no. That's not enough. Your
righteousness must exceed that of the Pharisees” (v. 20).
In other words, mere outward compliance won't cut it. True transformation runs deeper, to the
very core of who we are.
Jesus develops his argument by taking the fifth commandment: “Thou shalt not murder”. a
commandment the Pharisees were confident they’d kept.
TICK.
But Jesus reveals what it truly means. Verse 22: “But I tell you that anyone who is angry with
a brother or sister will be subject to judgment.”
Now, let me be honest with you – preparing this sermon was tough. Why? Because I know
my wife Anna and our kids are going to hear it.
It’s easy for me to stand up here on a Sunday and seem like a pretty decent guy. I can smile,
chat with you over coffee, be polite. You could even criticize my sermon or my fashion, and
I'd nod politely. The perfect pastor.
But, of course, Anna and the kids see what I’m really like - at home. They can tell when I’ve
had a rough day at church.
And honestly, over the past month—maybe even this past week—I’ve snapped at each of
them in anger. Sure, I might justify it. “I was just tired,” or “Well, it wouldn’t have happened
if they’d done this,” but the truth is—it was anger. Plain and simple
And Jesus says, verse 22: “Anger is murder in the heart”.
Now, I suspect I’m not the only one who feels convicted by this verse.
And let’s be honest, our instinctive response is to search for a loophole—a way to excuse our
anger. “But surely not all anger is sinful, right?” Isn’t there such a thing as righteous anger?
After all, didn’t Jesus get angry when He confronted the Pharisees or overturned the money
changers’ tables in the temple?
We’re not the first to look for an out here.
Could you put a screenshot of this footnote in the church Bibles
If you’ve got one of the blue church Bibles, check the footnote in verse 22. Some manuscripts
add, “angry without cause”—a way to suggest that anger might be justifiable if there’s a good
reason for it.
But here’s the thing: none of the earliest manuscripts have that phrase – not one. Which
means it must have been added by a later scribe looking to soften the impact—trying to
justify their own anger.
You see, there is such a thing as righteous anger, and Jesus experienced it. But it doesn’t look
like our anger at all. His anger was rooted in deep compassion—when others were wronged,
it stirred Him to action. It’s the kind of anger that led Him to weep over Jerusalem, to forgive
His executioners, to say: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” His anger
never sprang from personal offense.
And how different that is to our own anger.
Look, what Jesus is teaching us in verse 22 is that a tree is never simply its fruit.
The Pharisees were fixing on the fruit—the external actions like murder, adultery, theft, lies,
and coveting. But Jesus says, “No, you’re looking in the wrong place. Sure, the fruit—like
murder—is poisonous.
Picture of a tree with branches, fruit and roots
But if you really want to deal with the fruit, you can’t stop at the end of the branches. You
need to go down to the roots, where the poison starts. Look at your anger.”
Why? Because, verse 22, anger puts you in danger of the fires of hell.
Let’s pause for a moment. Because people sometimes caricature the Bible. They say its all
about the “angry” God of the Old Testament and the “gentle” Jesus meek and mild of the
New.
But Jesus actually spoke about hell more than anyone else in the Bible. In fact, He spoke
about it twice as much as He spoke about heaven.
The word Jesus uses here—Gehenna—refers to a real place, a ravine south of Jerusalem –
which was used as a rubbish tip for the city. It was a smouldering, 24/7 furnace, incinerating
waste. A place of unspeakable horror. Jesus is saying, “That’s where anger – left unchecked -
will lead you.”
Now, look at how Jesus unpacks this in verse 22: “Anyone who says to their brother or sister,
‘Raca’”— “bonehead” “numpty”—“is answerable in court.” But anyone who says, “You
fool,” “you waster” is in danger of hellfire.
That hits home doesn’t it?
We tend to think that anger is only a problem when it leads to physical violence. Road rage,
domestic abuse.
But words – words can murder the soul.
I mean, how many of us still carry the wounds of hurtful things said to us as children?
“I don’t know why we had you”
“You’re useless”
“You’ll never amount to anything”
“You’re always causing trouble”
Those insults, they leave scars that last a lifetime.
And yet how many of us have said something similar to someone we love? How many of us
said it this morning?
And remember, insults don’t have to be direct... What do I mean?
Well, some people are always, always positive. You know the type. “Oh, I love the way the
sun always, always shines at least once a month in Manchester.” “Isn’t it wonderful that Man
Utd managed to get a draw midweek”.
Others of us are of a more critical bent. Myself included. And we tell ourselves that it’s
because we’re wise – more discerning than others. But being critical is certainly not a virtue.
I was with a group of pastors a couple of weeks ago and one of them shared about how a
church member had come round his house to share her concerns about where the church was
at. He and his wife were sat on the couch. The lady across from them in the armchair. And
she began: “When I come to church, I often feel like I’m the most mature person in the
room”.
The pastor’s mouth dropped. He wanted to say: “Ah, you don’t have to worry about that”.
But he restrained himself.
You know what that church member was saying, indirectly but still saying it: “Raka” these
people are “muppets”. That’s what underlies a critical spirit.
Now I suspect many of us are feeling pretty awful right now. I certainly am.
So, let’s drill down into what makes you and me angry.
I think it is almost always about us.
I mean, why do I get angry with my kids? Because they’re not doing what I want. Because
they’re acting like teenagers instead of mature adults. Because I’m not in control.
Why do I get angry when someone cuts me up on the Mancunian Way? Because they’re not
driving to the impeccably high standards I expect although I rarely meet myself. Because
they’ve slowed my journey.
Why am I critical of colleagues? Because they miss the impossibly high standards I set.
Meaning I don’t get what I want.
At root, all anger – whether it be murder, insults or a critical spirit flow out of a sense of
having lost control. Not got my way.
I mean that’s why Cain, the first murderer, killed his brother Abel isn’t it. Because he didn’t
get the blessing he wanted.
And that’s why we, too, murder souls with our words.
We’re enslaved to ourselves, our pride, and our own desires. That is the heart issue Jesus is
urging us to confront.
And it’s a far deeper problem than we like to admit.
What’s more – what’s required of us is far more demanding than we assume. Our second
point.
2. What is required is far more demanding than we assume – vv. 23-26
After going to the roots and showing that “Do not murder” means “Do not be angry,” Jesus
lays out what life in His kingdom truly requires—something that reaches deep into our hearts
and relationships.
Look at v. 23: “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar”.
Let’s stop there; because it’s easy to miss the impact of this.
We read this and naturally think of church, right? We imagine ourselves heading to worship,
attending a service, maybe even taking Communion.
But for Jesus’ audience, this was so much more demanding. You see there weren’t churches
on every corner. In first-century Israel, there was only one altar—in the temple in Jerusalem.
And the journey there was no small feat. People would travel for days, often during special
festivals, just to present their offering.
So, imagine someone who has travelled for two / three days to offer their gift. Jesus tells
them, if they remember someone has something against them—leave the gift, turn around,
travel those days back home, reconcile, and then return.
Can you imagine that? What Jesus is asking here is no minor inconvenience; it’s a radical call
to reconciliation.
But notice one more thing. When we read this, we instinctively hear Jesus saying: “Don’t
come and worship if you’re harbouring anger in your heart”. That makes sense doesn’t it.
Worship is a sham if we do it while seething with anger. But look at what Jesus actually says:
“If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you.”
Wow! He flips it. If someone is angry with you, even if you’re unsure what’s wrong, go.
Take the initiative, at great personal cost, to make things right.
Now that’s demanding. That’s root canal surgery on anger.
William Blake captured this in his poem “The Poison Tree”:
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
William Blake, The Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
Anger metastasizes when we remain silent. When we tell it not.
Do you want to have explosive anger? Well harbour a hurt. Don’t speak about it and then
watch it explode out of you.
The way to cut off anger at the root is to confront it – to tell our wrath in a calm, measured
way. And then it will end. Hide it and it will explode.
Imagine how different City Church would be if we were radically proactive in the pursuit of
reconciliation.
What if, after the service today, instead of avoiding that awkward conversation, you went up
to someone and said, “I feel like I’ve upset you. I don’t fully understand, but I want to make
it right. Help me. Can we talk about it?” How transformative would that be?
But Jesus isn’t done yet. In vv 25-26, He extends this principle beyond just personal
relationships to a legal setting.
We live in a culture that’s obsessed with rights. We talk about the right to this or that, and
assume that’s normal. But it really isn’t. For thousands of years, cultures around the world
have emphasised responsibilities not rights: what I owe to others NOT what others owe to
me.
And Jesus flips the modern mindset on its head. He says, “Settle matters quickly with your
adversary who is taking you to court.” It’s not about defending your rights or waiting for the
other person to come to you.
It’s about doing whatever it takes to make peace. Be proactive. Take the first step, even if it
costs.
When was the last time you invited someone to your house for a meal, or offered to take them
out for coffee. When did you last seek to be a friend to someone. Maybe you’re the one who
always reaches out, and you’re tired of it, thinking, “Why doesn’t anyone invite me for a
change?”
Jesus is saying to you today: “Rush to make that invitation. Make the first move. Don’t wait.”
That is the radical call to undertake root canal surgery. Don’t just tackle the fruit. Go to the
root.
3. Jesus offers far better than you dared dream – vv. 23-26, 29-30
But how do we do that?
I don’t know about you but, after reading vv. 21-22, I feel pretty wretched about myself.
I mean, I know the things I’ve muttered under my breath about that terrible driver on the
Stockport Road.
I know those words I’ve spoken to my kids in the heat of the moment – words I regret the
second they leave my lips, but ones I can never unsay.
I know the ways I’ve crushed Anna or close friends with my critical attitude.
And it weighs on me.
Then Jesus comes in and say, verse 28, it puts me on a runway to hell.
Listen to what the nineteenth century preacher, Charles Spurgeon, said.
He compared God’s law – what we have here in vv. 21-26 – to a mirror.
Picture of a mirror
“It can show you how dirty your face is,” Spurgeon said “but just try washing your face in it”.
Commands can’t change you. They can only condemn you.
But here’s the thing: Jesus didn’t come simply to hand out more commands. He didn’t come
to give us tips for behaviour modification, like some life coach offering ways to pimp up our
exterior.
No, he came to save us.
The very Jesus who said, “Do not murder,” was murdered – nailed to a wooden cross outside
Jerusalem.
The one who warned against calling someone "Raca" or “fool” was himself mocked, beaten,
and jeered as he hung there, naked and humiliated.
And the one who spoke of the real, terrifying danger of hell? He went to hell and back.
For you. For me. He faced the penalty for our anger so that we don’t have to. If we’ll only
turn and trust Him.
That thing you said in anger? The way you hurt someone so deeply with your words? The
shame that gnaws at you for how cruel or cutting you’ve been? The harm you’ve inflicted on
another’s soul with your words?
Listen to me:
Jesus Christ says to you, right now, “It’s forgiven. Dealt with. I went to hell and back in your
place. The price is paid. Done.”
Have you received that forgiveness?
Maybe today is the day you finally say, “Yes, Jesus, I trust you.” If so, please come and talk
to me after the service—I would love to chat more.
Or maybe today is the hundredth time you’re saying “yes” to His forgiveness—and you know
what - that’s just as beautiful.
But you need to know this also. Jesus came into our world to go deeper.
He didn’t just deal with the fruit of our anger. The deeds.
He came to deal with the root.
There’s this beautiful picture later on in the New Testament.
There’s a man called Saul, he’d later be known as Paul. But when we first meet him, he
absolutely hates Jesus. He’s consumed by anger. So much so that he stood by, cheering as a
mob stoned Stephen, the first Christian martyr, to death in Acts 7.
But then Saul meets Jesus on the Road to Damascus. And here’s the detail I think is really
striking.
Paul is blinded by the event. But later, we read that something like scales fell from his eyes,
and he could see again.
Jesus didn’t just forgive Saul—He transformed him. He didn’t just deal with the fruit of
Saul’s anger; He cut out the root. He removed the blindness that kept Saul from seeing
clearly.
And Jesus is asking you today: “What do you want me to do for you?”
Are you just here for a pick me up, something to get you through the week ahead? Or will
you let Jesus go deeper? Will you let him sever the root of your anger - your need to be in
control, to play God in your life? Will you invite the Holy Spirit to give you a heart of
humility, that trusts that God is in control and that that’s alright. He knows better than you.
And will you let that heart transformation turn you into someone who cheers on others rather
than criticising them, who seeks peace instead of holding grudges?
Will you ask Jesus to make you more like Him?
Let’s pray
