I was preparing to preach for the second week of Victory’s Hebrews series entitled Jesus >, and my assigned text was Hebrews 2:5–18. While I’ve gone through Hebrews before, this time it demanded more than study—it required reflection. Deep, personal reflection. The kind that doesn’t just inform your mind but stirs your soul.

One line kept echoing in my heart: “It was fitting that he… should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.” (v.10)

“Fitting.” What an understated word. It doesn’t just mean appropriate—it means this was the way it was always meant to be. This was no divine accident. As theologian N.T. Wright puts it, the cross was not a tragic interruption to God’s plan but its shocking climax. Jesus’ suffering wasn’t God losing control—it was God taking control, rewriting the story of humanity through the raw material of pain.

Wright says that the early Christians didn’t see the cross as a mere tool for personal salvation alone; they saw it as the launching point of a revolution—a new creation breaking into the old one. Hebrews 2 affirms this: Jesus suffered and died not just for us, but with us—and in doing so, He triumphed over death itself.

The writer of Hebrews calls Jesus the “founder” (Greek: arch?gos) of our salvation—a word that means trailblazer or pioneer. That stood out to me. Jesus didn’t just arrive at the finish line and wait for us. He forged the path. He plunged into the depths of human suffering so that He could lead us out the other side. As Wright explains, this isn’t about escaping earth to go to heaven—it’s about heaven’s King entering earth to redeem it from within.

Then verse 11 nearly stopped me in my tracks: “That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers.”

Pause for a moment. Let that sink in.

Jesus—our risen, exalted King—is not ashamed to stand beside you and call you family. Not ashamed. Not reluctant. Not rolling His eyes at your mess.

This is something I needed to hear. And maybe you do too.

So much of our culture—and yes, even our Christianity at times—operates from performance. We feel worthy when we do well, and we hide when we fail. But Hebrews 2 shatters that mindset. Jesus doesn’t wait for us to climb out of our pit. He jumps in, embraces us, and lifts us up—not as strangers, but as siblings. N.T. Wright reminds us that Jesus didn’t come just to forgive sin but to restore vocation—our calling to be God’s image-bearers. That’s why He’s not ashamed—because He sees not just our brokenness but our redeemed purpose.

As I reflected on verses 14 and 15—where Jesus destroys the power of death and frees us from lifelong slavery to fear—I realized something deeper. The fear of death isn’t just about dying physically. It’s the fear of failure, of rejection, of being insignificant. But Jesus disarmed all of it. He didn’t just defeat death; He defanged it. He removed its power to define us.

So how do we respond?

If you’re weary, discouraged, or ashamed—if you’re caught in the middle of your own Hebrews 2 moment—here’s the truth:
Jesus is not ashamed of you. He is proud to call you His.

He suffered, not to make you feel guilty, but to make you free. He pioneered the way so you would never walk alone. He calls you family. He faced death so you wouldn’t have to fear it anymore.

This isn’t just theology. This is a revolution.

And it starts when you stop trying to earn His approval and start walking in the freedom He’s already won.

So here’s my encouragement to you—as I encouraged myself while preparing to preach this:
Let go of shame. Let go of fear. Follow the Pioneer.
And remember: Jesus is not just greater than angels or prophets.
Jesus is greater than your pain, your fear, and your past.

He is greater and He is better. Period.