Over the Fakes and Frauds--January 23, 2026

Over the Fakes and Frauds--January 23, 2026

"I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you so that you are not lacking in any gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the partnership of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord." (1 Corinthians 1:4-9)

The God who has called us is faithful. That's why we don't give up.

One of my frustrations about ministry that feels like it has kicked up in the last several years is the rise of scammers pretending to be a pastor (it's happened to me, and it happens to colleagues of mine all the time, too) and reaching out to congregation members, sometimes by email, sometimes by text message, or even sometimes by hacking social media, and then soliciting money, merchandise, or some other help.  There's always a cover story: sometimes the scammer pretending to be me will say we need to collect gift cards for someone in the hospital, or to call back about an urgent matter that can't be discussed by email or text.  I've even had versions where a colleague who was being impersonated claimed to be in some foreign country and in trouble and needing money wired.  Once you know to be a little cautious around messages that seem fishy, you can usually prevent being taken advantage of. 

But the thing that upsets me the most is the possibility--even if it is only a possibility--that the scammers pretending to be me will affect the people I care about being able to trust the real me.  Even if you know the scammers and their strange counterfeit phone numbers and email addresses aren't the real me, it would be very easy for some of that doubt and skepticism to seep into people's minds when they actually do need to talk with me.  It angers me that someone might read a message that is claiming to be from me and rightly ignore it, but then be a little less trusting on the occasions when the real me does call or email about some genuine matter (although, to be clear, I will never solicit money or merchandise from you--I promise!).  It's frustrating when the person calling, texting, or emailing isn't reliable--when they aren't faithful. And when there are counterfeits and frauds out there claiming to be a pastor as a means of scamming people, it makes it that much harder to trust the real deal.

I've been thinking about this lately, not just because we seem to have gone through another round of fake text messages in my circles lately, but because of the way the apostle Paul writes to the Christians in Corinth.  He grounds everything in his letter on the character of God: "God is faithful, by whom you were called into the partnership of his Son, Jesus Christ." Paul wants to be crystal clear: the God who has called us is trustworthy.  This God is not fickle and not a fraud.  This God doesn't say all the right words and then leave us hanging.  This God doesn't spew a bunch of big talk and then have to walk it back.  And this God doesn't turn out to have been scamming us out of self-interest.  Unlike the crooks and schemers who claim to be someone they are not by phone, text message, or email, the God who has called us really is trustworthy.  The Christ in whose family we belong really is who he says he is. In a world full of phonies and frauds, that's what keeps us going.

We are not lacking for examples of the scammer and snake-oil salesmen. We have heard them making big promises from podiums. We have seen their talking heads on television. We have viewed their ads on screens of every size.  And after having been exposed to so many voices who told us they had our interests in mind but were really only looking to line their own pockets or use us for their own advantage, it can be hard to trust the promise of a God whom we cannot see.  It's hard enough to admit when we've been bamboozled or manipulated before--maybe harder still, once we've faced that truth, to then place our trust all over again in God, just because we are still nursing old wounds of past betrayals from others.  

That's why Paul is so insistent here at the start of his letter: God is faithful.  You can count on this God.  You can rely on the promise that the same God who brought you into the community of Jesus' followers will not bail out on you and will not just use you, no matter how many times others have tried to deceive you. Without that assurance, we might as well give up hope.  But with that promise--and the reality of a God who is willing literally to go to death and back for us in order to keep that promise--we have reason to keep hoping, to keep living faithfully in response, and to put one foot in front of the other each day. On the days when we wonder if it's futile to be kind in the face of so much cruelty, to be honest in the face so much deception, or to be decent in the face of so much indecency, we look to God, who has both called us into this life, and who will be faithful to walk with us all the way.

No matter how many times or how many ways you have been let down by frauds and counterfeits before, the living God is the real deal. And the Christ who has called us is trustworthy.

Lord God, give us the ability to trust in you over the noise of all the other fakes and frauds out there trying to get our attention. 

Because God Says So--January 22, 2026

Because God Says So--January 22, 2026

"Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes, To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Corinthians 1:1-3)

Despite all of our efforts to the contrary to make it one, the church is not a social club.

Regardless of our culture's way of seeing everything as a product to be consumed, the church is not merely the assembly of paying customers.

The church is not merely an employer for which we must get ourselves hired, nor a team for which we must try out. We belong in this community because we are called.

That makes a world of difference to the ways we live, work, pray, and love together in this community of Jesus' followers.  We are here because God has called us and Christ has claimed us, not because I won the audition or used my influence to get in.  Our belonging is a gift, and it comes from God. That's where we start our identity in Christ--not as audience members who have shelled out money to be entertained, but as a community which God has made holy.  Customers and audience members call the shots--after all, "the customer is always right" in our culture. And they can come and go as they please; if another brand is selling something flashier at the store down the street, you can just take your business elsewhere, because you are the one in charge.  But if we are here because God has called us, then we aren't in control--God is.  If we are here because God has given us both a place to belong and a vocation to live out, then we aren't consumers, but partners in a community.  If we are here by God's call, then I don't get to judge somebody else's worthiness to sit at the table with me--God is the One who has that prerogative, and God has drawn them to be there.

For the early church, that distinction was what set the church apart from the countless other social organizations, guilds, tribes, and other groups in the Roman Empire and the wider Greco-Roman world.  And you can hear Paul leaning into that distinct character in these opening words from his first letter to the Corinthians, which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday.  Paul describes himself in terms of being "called"--he is an apostle, not because he had the best test scores, not because used his influence and leverage to force his way onto the Board of Directors to get himself that job, and not because he just wanted to be one. Rather, Paul is an apostle--a person "sent" by Christ as a witness to the world--because God called him into that identity.  (You might remember, in fact, that Paul really only got into the Christian community because the risen Christ got a hold of him on the Damascus Road and pulled him, sometimes kicking and screaming into the arms of grace.)  So Paul himself starts from a place of being called.  There's not a whiff of "I earned this spot" or "I paid for this title" or "I'm just doing this for as long as it's fun, and then I'll bail out and take up underwater basket-weaving." Paul is here, not because of his influence, status, goodness, or even his volunteering for it--but by the power of God's call.

And then Paul says the same about the Christians to whom he is writing. For all of their many differences--there are rich and poor, Jewish and Gentile, enslaved and free, educated and uneducated, women and men, high class and no class--they all belong because they have been "called." And in fact, they have been "called to be saints"--that is, to be holy, distinct, and unique in the world by the ways they come to reflect God's character.  You don't hear Paul trying to work the crowd with a sales pitch or intimidating them into joining the church through bully tactics. He simply says, "You all have been called by God into this new way of life--God's call is what makes you saints, and God's call is what says you belong."

Like I say, that is so different from the ways our culture still typically thinks about belonging in groups.  In our society, I might join a club if it seems fun to me, or if my friends are already in it, and then what makes us belong is the pull of my social capital or our likemindedness or common interests.  In our society, I might go to the movies or a concert as a paying customer, but if I don't like the story or the sound, I could go and find something else to entertain me next time.  In so many social situations for us, you go as long as it's convenient, and you stay as long as you think you are getting your money's worth (because you see yourself as a consumer). But within the community called "church," it's different: we are here because we are called, and we stay because God's call pulls us together. For all the ways we are different, all the things we disagree about, all the diversity of our stories, backgrounds, viewpoints, and situations, what brings us together is God's call.

Belonging in such a community is, honestly, countercultural. To be a part of the church--to be a disciple of Jesus--is to say, in effect, "I'm not just here when it feels good, or when I feel entertained at the moment. I'm not here because I think I've earned this spot through my achievements or pulled some strings with the gatekeepers to get into a club. I'm here because God called me here, and I can't not answer." In a culture like ours where folks bail out on obligations when it gets difficult, or where I'm used to "taking my business elsewhere" when someone says something that challenges or stretches me, it is a counter-cultural thing to say, "I belong here, even when staying is challenging, because God has called me here.  I continue to serve here because God has led me to this place and there is work to be done."  It is countercultural to admit, "I'm not calling the shots; I have been called to this place, and God intends to make something of me that I cannot make out of myself on my own."

In the end, the Christian community is less like a fraternity or sorority you pledge to get into (and endure hazing in order to earn a place there), and less like a paid membership to a country club (which you can always leave to join another that boasts a bigger golf course or fancier decor); it's more like the old Elvis song, discovering that you "can't help falling in love" with the God who has called you, and the other people who are also called by this same God.  And if you are tired of the shallow-commitments of club membership or the fearful fragility of groups from which you can be kicked out if you don't fit in well enough, that is deeply good news.  We belong in Christ because God says so.  In fact, we belong because God has called our names.

Lord God, open our ears today to hear your call to us, assuring us that we belong, and summoning us to serve with one another for the long haul.

Bigger Fish to Fry--January 21, 2026

Bigger Fish to Fry--January 21, 2026

   "And now the LORD says,
  who formed me in the womb to be his servant,
 to bring Jacob back to him,
  and that Israel might be gathered to him,
 for I am honored in the sight of the Lord,
  and my God has become my strength—
   he says,
 'It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
  to raise up the tribes of Jacob
  and to restore the survivors of Israel;
 I will give you as a light to the nations,
  that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth'.” (Isaiah 42:5-6)

It's not enough only to care about the good of your own little group--God's intention is to reach out everywhere, to everyone... even "to the end of the earth."

That much is absolutely clear from this passage from the book of Isaiah, which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday.  Once again we get the prophet describing a figure described as the "servant" of God, and this figure seems both to be a single individual (we Christians see this as pointing to Jesus) and also somehow the collective calling of the people of God picking up the pieces after exile.  This "servant of the LORD" is called to carry out God's purposes, which turns out to include restoring the fortunes of the exiles, and also to reach all peoples.  The servant is there to "raise up the tribes of Jacob," but his work doesn't stop at the border of Israel. He is mean to be "a light to the nations."  God isn't only interested in helping out the insiders who belong to the same group as the Servant, but in reaching everybody.

In fact, as Isaiah tells it to us, God even says explicitly to this "servant" that "it is too light a thing" only to care about the insiders, the "survivors of Israel." God says, in effect, "That's too small a task, too shortsighted a goal--I have bigger fish to fry, and so do you." And really, God seems to be saying through the prophet, "If you can only see as far as putting the needs of Me and My Group First, you don't understand my purposes in the world. That kind of thinking is too small, too shallow, too petty, and too parochial. I am always reaching further, to draw all people to myself."  If we want to be a part of the work God is up to, we will never be satisfied with the small-potatoes mindset of "Me and My Group First" thinking. We will always be led, alongside the Servant of God, to reach "the end of the earth."

This much seems obvious when you read these words from Isaiah. And of course, it shouldn't surprise us at all if we have been paying attention at all to the teachings of Jesus.  And yet it is mind-boggling how often in our own day we hear the voices of Respectable Religion insisting that God's will is that we need to look out for the interests of our own group over the needs of others.  "We have to protect ourselves, even at the cost of others' safety... we have to possess more, even if it means taking from others... we have to stand highest of all, even if it comes by way of stepping on other people." All of that is conventional wisdom among some loud voices, including religious ones--except the only trouble is that it just doesn't fit at all with the actual way God speaks here in Isaiah. 

So here's the question for us who want to be a part of God's work in the world--for us who would seek to serve God along the Servant of the Lord: will we let God stretch our vision wider, to include the well-being of everybody, or will we keep settling for too little and too light? Will we allow ourselves to hear God's Word to the Servant spoken to us as well: "It is too light a thing for you only to be sent to your own little group for your own narrow interests. I have sent you for the good of all people, including folks as far away as you can get." Could we recognize that as God's call to each of us?  And when we hear those other loud voices telling us we should only spend our time, our energy, our money, and our voices for "Me and My Group First," will we be willing to say, "No--that is not the way of our God?" Will we, as servants alongside the Servant, commit to a wider vision for the good of ALL? Because that's how wide God's vision is.

May God give us such courage in the face of short-sighted but loudmouthed voices to speak a different word, loud and clear, that God's will is to illuminate everything and everyone.

Lord God, we want to serve as Christ your Servant does. Give us a vision as wide as yours for the sake of the world.

The Invitation--January 20, 2026

The Invitation--January 20, 2026

"The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, 'Look, here is the Lamb of God!' The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, 'What are you looking for? They said to him, 'Rabbi' [which translated means Teacher], 'where are you staying?' He said to them, 'Come and see'." [John 1:35-39a]

The first words on Jesus' lips in John's Gospel... are a question. They are an invitation to conversation, and they become an open invitation to share Jesus' journey. And for the ones who answer that opening question, life is never the same.

I don't know that I had ever thought about this before, but really it's amazing that after all the build-up and drama and foreshadowing [and John's Gospel can really lay it on thick some times], the first time we actually get words out of Jesus' mouth, he is unpretentiously asking a question of would-be followers and inviting them to come along with him. Of course, each of the Gospel writers is something like a movie director telling their own versions of the same basic plot. So I don't get fussy that John's version of the movie gives us this conversation, while, say, Matthew gives us a different conversation between Jesus and John the Baptizer as the first words he speaks, or Mark just unloads with a fierce message, "Turn around and believe--the Reign of God has come near!" Each of these writers is choosing a different moment to give us our introduction to the adult Jesus, and that's fine. But just let it sink in that, of all the things John the Gospel-writer could have chosen, he gives us this ordinary seeming moment, where Jesus is open and inviting. "Come and see," he says, looking eye to eye at two strangers, and inviting them to be where he is, to stay where he stays, and to follow his way. Beyond the words themselves, the way he speaks them reveals a kindness and even a humility that draws others in.

After all, when John started writing this Gospel, he opened up with a glorious and majestic poem about creation. John's Gospel is the one that begins, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God... and the Word became flesh and lived among us...full of grace and truth." And not only that, he's now given us two dramatic introductions to Jesus as his forerunner, John the Baptizer, has called our attention to him and pointed him out as "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" When we heard this passage read this past Sunday in worship, it had the feel of the big moment on stage when the curtain pulls back, the timpani player hammers out a drum roll, and the lime-lights all focus front and center on the star coming forward to belt out a show-stopping number, and then--Jesus comes forward, not shouting a slogan, preaching a sermon, or singing a bold anthem, but striking up a conversation.

"What are you looking for?" he asks. It carries the feel of asking, "Just so we're clear, what is it you think you are in search of? What is it that has led you to me?" Jesus gives the impression he wants to dispel any mistaken impressions or false advertising about himself. He is being utterly real, utterly honest, and utterly unpretentious. Jesus doesn't need to puff himself or make himself look more impressive. He doesn't hype the spectacle of what people will see when they follow him like P.T. Barnum or some carnival barker, drumming up ticket-buyers for the afternoon show. If anything, Jesus seems to slow down these would-be disciples who have come to him, cautiously asking what they think they are expecting from him. He is not a salesman, and he is not in advertising. He is just real.

In fact, that's one of the things about Jesus [as John the Gospel-writer shows him to us in his telling] that remains constant, all the way through. You might recall that on Easter morning, when Jesus has risen from the dead but it's not quite clear to all the other characters at the tomb what's going on, that Jesus calls to Mary with a question, "Whom are you looking for?" It's not that different from this opening question to the would-be disciples, and in the end, the thing that tips Mary off that he's not just the gardener is in the unpretentious way he calls her name, "Mary," [to which, she responds, "Rabbi"--in another beautiful bookending echo of this story]. From beginning to end, the story of Jesus is the story of his kindness that invited people in. Jesus had this disarming way of putting people at ease, helping them to let down their guard [and their pretenses], and to feel truly included in whatever was going on. He still does, and we are still invited into his presence by means of ordinary conversation. And, as happens here in the opening chapter of John's Gospel, it changes the lives of these would-be disciples who end up following Jesus and carrying his message and way of life to all creation.

I wonder--could we see this day as a similar opportunity? In a time when it's easy for the church to be regarded as a product to be sold, and for the gospel to sound like a sales-pitch, could we see this day simply as the chance to engage people with kindness and disarming openness, and to let that lead where it will? I'll be honest, even as a pastor, every time I overhear a Respectable Religious person [no doubt with the best of intentions] start in talking to a stranger with a clearly rehearsed canned spiel trying to get someone to make a decision for Jesus on the spot, it makes my insides queasy. It's not that I'm against sharing our faith--not at all. It's that the rehearsed sales-pitch speech sounds so strikingly unlike Jesus, who doesn't use a pamphlet or a program or any other promotional literature, but just meets people where they are and makes the invitation, "Come and see." Could we invite people that way? Could we speak with honesty to friends and neighbors, or even strangers and enemies, and say, "There's something compelling about this Jesus, and his way of loving people--I won't promise anything more or anything less than Jesus, but come and see"? Could we hold off on seeing the Christian faith as a deal to be accepted [Jesus certainly doesn't act that way], but more of a shared journey with Jesus? And could we then keep making ourselves available to people around us, simply making the authentic invitation to join the walk and share the road? Could we dare to engage people with the kindness we see in Jesus, which opens up to their questions, thoughts, ideas, and needs? I don't know about you, but that sounds downright compelling to me.

And it makes me grateful that I have been drawn to a Savior whose first move is to ask questions and invite conversation, even from me. Even from you.

Lord Jesus, draw us in by your kindness, and let us meet others with that same genuine care we have first met in you.

Gathered to the Lamb--January 19, 2026

Gathered to the Lamb--January 19, 2026

[John the Baptizer] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! [John 1:29]

After all the talk of fire and wrath, the One John had been waiting for turns out to be best described as a Lamb. How about that?

We get reintroduced to John every year it seems in the weeks of Advent, and he's generally a pretty fiery figure. He's the one dressed like a wilderness survivalist and who talks like a prophet, who calls even his devoted listeners "brood of vipers." This is the guy who was utterly certain that when God's Messiah came, he would bring down judgment, burn the unworthy and unrepentant with fire, and cut down the wicked like a lumberjack with an ax.

And now here we get the passage that many of us heard this past Sunday in worship. And as the storytelling goes, John comes face to face with Jesus--who, mind you, apparently doesn't look impressive or noteworthy at all--and now somehow John knows... this is the one you were waiting for. And yet, the first thing John blurts out about Jesus is: "He's a Lamb."

No conquering king imagery. No mighty emperor who will overthrow the Romans. No burning words of judgment. Not a lion; not even an intimidating ram with fierce horns to charge at his enemies with. Jesus--the One John had been waiting for--turns out to be a Lamb... the kind that would bear the sins of the people in a sacrifice. A barnyard animal known for its docile fluffiness. Nothing threatening to go up against the imperial eagle of Rome or even the wicked "vipers" that John had labeled the Religious Leaders, but a petting-zoo staple who might eat out of your hand. It is without a doubt one of the great reversals of the Bible, and it reveals that when God truly chooses to be revealed most clearly, God chooses to be known in kindness and gentleness, rather than fire and fury.

And, to gauge it from John's response to finally getting it, John is apparently discovering the joy of being wrong. Rather than being bitter and upset that Jesus isn't what he wanted, rather than being angry or disappointed that the Messiah didn't turn out to be a warrior-king but a Suffering Servant, John just seems to take it all in with awe and humility. "Here he is, after all," John seems to say with a grin, "I should have known--he's the Lamb of God, while I had been looking for a general commanding angel armies. Well, how do you like that?" Maybe that's the difference between John's response to Jesus and the Respectable Religious Leaders' reaction to him. Both John the Baptizer and the so-and-sos among the Pharisees and Sadducees had been surprised by what Jesus turned to be, but John apparently learned how not to dig his heels in and double-down on his wrong-ness. John was willing to let God's unexpected gentleness in Jesus lead him to a new way of thinking, rather than ignoring what didn't fit with his assumptions. I wonder whether we could dare to be that brave, too, and to let ourselves be surprised by the kindness of Christ, rather than trying to force him into our boxes of vindictiveness and triumphalism.

These days, there are a lot of loud and angry wolf-like voices in the world, growling, threatening, and salivating to carve up the map for the sake of their own greedy appetites. But Jesus is not one of them, and it never will be--because the way of Jesus is never the way of Empire. The predators who want to conquer, devour, and intimidate never represent the Reign of God. They are in a very literal sense anti-Christ--that is, contrary to the way of Jesus, the Lamb of God.  John the Baptizer can recognize that, even if that meant rethinking a great deal of his previous expectations.  I wonder if we are brave enough to let this truth do its work on us and realign our priorities and approach in the world, too.

Maybe that's enough for us to chew on for this day--to ask ourselves how we will respond when we come face to face with the grace of God, and whether we will let God be bigger than our expectations, or whether we'll try and coerce Jesus into our own coercive preconceptions. Because Jesus is going to keep on being his Lamb-like self, even if we sometimes tell ourselves we want a Caesar (whose empire clung to a myth that their city was founded by twins raised by a literal wolf, tellingly). Jesus is going to keep on being the One who lays down his life for us rather than the one who destroys his enemies in rage. Will we be open to letting his kindness stretch our understanding of God? And will we be willing to let God's kindness shape the ways we love the neighbors around us as well?

Will we let ourselves be gathered to the Lamb?

Lord Jesus, surprise us as you will with your unexpected gentleness--and reshape us as you do.

God's Kind of People--January 16, 2026

God's Kind of People--January 16, 2026

Peter began to speak to [Cornelius and his household]: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him...." (Acts 10:34-35)

There's never a time when God says, "Those aren't our kind of people." There is no point where God says, "Get out of here and go back to where you came from." There will never be a person of whom God says, "We don't welcome your kind around here." And once we realize that, we are changed forever.

That was certainly Simon Peter's story, which we get here in this snippet from the book of Acts, and which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday.  This is the moment when Peter finally "gets it," when it finally dawns on him that God is doing something new in the community of Jesus' followers that includes people from every background, every nation, every language, and every culture. And this is the moment when the old hardened racial and cultural prejudices he didn't even realize he was still carrying finally crack and begin to fall away for him.  

How did he get there? Well, the short version is that God had sent him to go to the house of a Roman centurion named Cornelius and to tell him about Jesus. Cornelius, obviously, was a gentile (non-Jewish), and as a solider in the army of the occupying empire, it would have been easy (and not incorrect) to see him as an "enemy." He was from the "Italian cohort" of soldiers, which strongly implies he was from far away back in Europe, rather than a local Judean native who somehow enlisted in the Roman army.  He would have grown up worshiping the gods of the Roman pantheon, speaking Latin, and immersed in the cultural practices of the Empire.  There were LOTS of ways it would have been obvious that Cornelius and his family were "not our kind of people" from Peter's perspective.  And so when God finally persuades Peter to go (and teaches him along the way that "you don't get to call UNCLEAN what God has called CLEAN"), and Cornelius hears the message about Jesus, he and his whole family want to be baptized on the spot. They come to faith in Jesus, they receive the Holy Spirit, and they commit to following the way of Jesus, too!

And that's when it dawns on Peter: this is what God had in mind all along!  This was in fact God's doing, and God had let Peter to bring the message in the first place to Cornelius and his family--even when Peter felt like he was being dragged kicking and screaming to Cornelius' house at first! Peter realizes that God intends to draw all people, from everywhere, including every background, language, ethnicity, culture, and place, into the community of Jesus.  That had seemed scandalous to him earlier in his faith journey; Peter had grown up assuming that pretty much God only cared about his group--people from the ethnic group descended from the tribes of ancient Israel.  For certain, a young Peter would have believed that God cared about his group FIRST, at least, and that only after his own group's interests were covered would God give any care for other people.   But now, Peter realizes that God doesn't show partiality to any group of people or love one nationality more than another. There is no language God requires we speak, no country on the map which is exceptional in God's eyes, and no barrier keeping out "the wrong kind of people" from following Jesus and belonging in God's Reign. Peter realized that when Cornelius came to faith, and apparently we keep needing to re-learn it twenty centuries later.  All of us, it turns out, are "God's kind of people."

As we keep exploring this season what it means to be called by Christ, it's worth remembering that we are called alongside a LOT of other people, and all of us are different.  For me to recognize that you are also called by Christ doesn't take anything away from me or lessen my calling.  And the fact that God has called people from halfway around the world, whose language I do not speak, whose culture is different from my own, and whose stories are divergent from my experience, doesn't threaten my identity as someone called by God, either. Sometimes we who have been around the church for a while start to think of ourselves as Peter, as though we are experts who have been self-deputized to decide who is "in" and who is "out" on God's behalf.  But we are very much Cornelius, too--that is, we are people who were outsiders and strangers, who have been welcomed in by God, despite our many kinds of difference. And if God has drawn us into the love of Christ, regardless of where we have come from or what our story is, then God surely reserves the right to draw in anybody and everybody else, too, no matter where they are from or who they are.

That realization changed Peter. It will change us, too.

Lord God, help us to welcome all whom you are calling to yourself, and help us to rejoice that your welcome includes us, too. Enable us to see that we are all your kind of people.

Called with Purpose--January 15, 2026

Called with Purpose--January 15, 2026

 "Thus says God, the LORD,
  who created the heavens and stretched them out,
  who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
  who gives breath to the people upon it
  and spirit to those who walk in it:
 I am the LORD; I have called you in righteousness;
  I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
 I have given you as a covenant to the people,
  a light to the nations,
   to open the eyes that are blind,
 to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
  from the prison those who sit in darkness." (Isaiah 42:5-7)

Pretty much in the Bible, being called is never an end in and of itself. When God calls you, it is always for the purpose not only of drawing you in, but of reaching out to others through you.  When God chooses you, it is not only to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, but also to work in and through you for the sake of others.  There is no version of being called by God that ends with just getting to call ourselves "exceptional" or "special" so we can pat ourselves on the back; when God calls us, it is with the intention that we serve in God's work to welcome, to illuminate, to heal, and to set people free.

This passage from Isaiah 42, which many of us heard this past Sunday, is a case in point.  It is an excerpt from sections of the book that are sometimes called the "Servant Songs," in which the prophet speaks of a figure who is God's Servant, who has been chosen by God for God's set purposes in the world.  Sometimes, these poems sound like they are talking about a single individual person--and we Christians have come to recognize that they sure do sound a lot like Jesus.  At other times, these Servant Songs seem to be speaking to the whole community of God's people who had lived through exile and were wondering, "What's next?  Does God have any use for us anymore?" And sometimes, in a way that only poetry can accomplish really well, it seems like these passages are simultaneously about a group of people who are called by God and a single individual person yet to come (again, we Christians will point to Jesus there).

In a sense, for our purposes, it doesn't exactly matter, because both realities are true.  Jesus is, to be sure, chosen and called by God to be the Suffering Servant of God who brings about justice and righteousness and restores life where it is needed through his gentleness and nonviolent love.  (We explored that theme in yesterday's devotion, too, you might remember.)  And it is also true that God's people, both in the ancient covenant people of Israel through the exile and into the community of Jesus' followers now, are also called for a purpose to embody the ways and character of God.  The bottom line is that either way, when we are called by God, it is always with a sense of direction, of purpose beyond ourselves, and of serving other people as our way of serving God.  Being called by God always carries with it a mission.

As the prophet describes it here, that purpose has to do with helping other people to flourish.  It is bringing light to the nations of the world--to embody the ways of the covenant-making God so that others will want to live in the same justice and mercy they have seen in us.  It is opening the eyes of those who cannot see--or refuse to see--what is in front of them.  It is helping to release people who have been wrongfully detained, unjustly imprisoned, and taken captive.  All of that is at least a part of God's agenda in the world, and being called by God means being called to share in that agenda, too.

All of this is to say that if we as Christians see ourselves as people who have been "chosen" and "called" by God (and that much is true), it is not so we can puff ourselves up or kick our feet back.  It is so that we can be a part of God's work in the world. If it is right to say that we have been "called" (and it is), then this is at least part of what we have been called to: offering light and welcome to "the nations" (those who are not "like us"), truth-telling vision for eyes that can't or won't yet see, and striving to release people who are held captive and should be free.  That's the work into which God invites us.

If we are faithful to our calling, then, the world should not be dimmer, more willfully unseeing, or more inhospitable to outsiders, as a result of our presence in it. There should be fewer people held captive because of us, not more. There should be more light in the world, not less. The calling always includes a mission, and Isaiah tells us that's what the mission looks like.

Today, then, the right question to ask is not, "Am I called by God?" but rather, "What does God's calling to me look like in my time and place?" You are called.  You have been chosen. Those are the starting point of grace as followers of Jesus, and they are not up for debate. But knowing that God's call--whether we are talking about the call to Jesus the unique Son of God, to the exiles of Israel witnessing in Babylon, or to us in this present moment--is always into a mission, the open question is how we act in light of that call. Will we add more light to the world or less?  Will we help neighbors around to see even uncomfortable truths we might all wish to ignore? Will we spend our energy setting people free or allow them to be taken captive and disappear into dungeons? The calling is already given--the question is how we live into it... today.

Lord God, we dare to believe that you have called and chosen us already for your purposes in the world. Open our eyes to see what you intend us to do with this day for the sake of the people to whom you have called us.