More Than A Metaphor--July 9, 2026

More Than A  Metaphor--July 9, 2026

[Jesus said:] "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

I would like to make a proposal, a hypothesis of sorts, about these well-known words of Jesus. And I'll ask your bearing with me to hear me out here. I would suggest--and here's me, going out on a limb with this--that when Jesus spoke these words of invitation and of calling, he actually meant something by them.

Yes, I'd like to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Jesus seriously intended to call people--of the first century, of the twenty-first century, and of every other time as well--into a particular way of life. I dare say Jesus actually meant something by these words.

That is, Jesus wasn't just waxing poetic or rambling with an extended metaphor. He wasn't just riffing on a half-formed image or analogy about yokes and burdens--he was calling anyone who would listen to share in a way of seeing the world, seeing God, and seeing oneself. I want to suggest that when Jesus said he would give us rest in these words many of us heard this past Sunday in worship, he wasn't just sentimental and saccharin. He actually intended to be offering us a different way of living that would change the way we carried the burdens of life.

I feel this is an important point to make because to be honest, I think that religious professionals (preachers like me) have often so romanticized and sentimentalized passages like this as to make them empty schmaltz. Unless Jesus is actually giving us a viable alternative to the ways we have been living our lives, all this talk of "Jesus carrying our burdens" will be meaningless. And I say that as someone who has had to listen to other preachers and heard my share of messages that go something like this: "When life is tough and we are weary from anxiety, grief, sadness, or discouragement, you just need to trust Jesus more and it will all get better."

Just wave the name of Jesus over your troubles, and watch them vanish! Just mutter the two syllables of the Savior's name while you are thinking about the friend who has cancer and you'll be able to make it through the day with a smile on your face. Just believe harder in Jesus, and you won't feel so bad about the crippling debts you don't want to deal with. Honestly, it was like hearing that Jesus was an all-curing elixir like snake-oil that would fix just about anything, if only you would just stop what you were doing and "just trust Jesus more."

And to be clear, I'm all for trusting Jesus....

But I am of the conviction that trusting a person usually involves some concrete, specific action or direction. Like the old story about the tightrope walker with the wheelbarrow, it's easy to stand on solid ground from a distance and say, "I believe YOU can cross the tightrope while pushing this across," but it doesn't really mean anything until you are willing to get into the wheelbarrow yourself, and let him carry you across the highwire. Just saying "I trust Jesus more" doesn't make my car payment go away, and it doesn't make a heavenly beam of light illuminate a nook in the couch cushions to find a long-lost roll of hundred dollar bills to pay it, either. Jesus hasn't come to get us to recite a mantra about him, or treat his name like a magic incantation that gives us the power to sail past the troubles of daily life. 

No, I am convinced, as I say, that when Jesus called people to come and take his yoke upon them, he was calling us to a particular way of life, a set of priorities, a way of being in the world. When Jesus calls us to take his yoke, he is summoning us to abandon our old loves and wish-lists and to take his loves, his priorities, and his way of engaging the world as our own--because Jesus is convinced that his set of priorities and loves make us more alive, rather than less.

There's a line from the classic Alan Moore graphic novel (and later movie) V for Vendetta, in which the main character says that "fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words--they are perspectives." That's an important reminder. Just muttering that you care about fairness or justice or freedom doesn't make it so--these words represent ideas and a particular set of values. And in a similar way, Jesus offers his yoke as a change of perspective--from our old ones to his. Being a follower of Jesus isn't simply learning how to speak in Christian jargon or how to parrot religious sounding words. It is a matter of actually going where Jesus goes, doing what Jesus does, and learning to carry what Jesus carries--nothing more and nothing less.

Unless we hear that in Jesus' words here, we will only ever hear this passage as saying, "Just trust more!" without it ever telling us what that would mean or look like. But once we realize that Jesus is actually saying something of substance, then things start to make sense. Jesus is calling us to take up his way of seeing the world, his way of living in the world, and his choices of what matters, and what doesn't. Some sources believe that rabbis of the first century referred to their teaching--their interpretation of the Torah, the Law--as their "yoke," and that therefore Jesus is making the invitation to people to live by his understanding of the Torah, rather than the burdensome interpretations of, say, the Pharisees, or the Temple-centered takes of the Sadd. Others think that this "yoke" language is more generally a shorthand for living by God's commandments rather than the demands of the world or the decrees of the Romans. But either way, the force of Jesus' choice of words is about the same: he is calling people, not simply to say his name like a lucky charm, but to set down an old way of life in the world and to take up a new one that he sets forth. And once we are clear that this is the invitation, his words here have a certain force to them. Jesus really is convinced that the life of loving enemies, of generosity without tooting your own horn, welcoming the stranger, the life of practicing forgiveness, the life of trust in a God who provides daily bread, that this whole kind of life is freeing and more joyful than a life lived by the conventional wisdom of the day--the life marked by attacking enemies, closing oneself off from "the other," hating the stranger, proud bragging about your greatness and giving, and holding grudges. Jesus is actually calling us to something, a way of life that can be practiced and grown into. Jesus' "yoke" is a perspective, not just a sentimental analogy.  He is offering something more than a metaphor or a tired cliche.

As long as I am still trying to play the world's games--to get ahead with more stuff and bigger piles of money, to win people's approval and get them to notice and applaud me, to make myself look tough by lashing out at my enemies and bitterly nursing hatred for the people I don't like or think have wronged me--I will always feel like I am carrying an extra hundred pounds of dead weight behind me wherever I go. Even if you, for a brief moment, actually succeed on the world's terms and get a big pile of possessions or have lashed out at all the people you think have wronged you, you still will feel burdened and worn out, Jesus says. It's inevitable--because the problem isn't that it's hard to win at the games the world teaches us to play. The problem is that even when you look like you are "winning" at them, you are still left carrying the baggage and the weight of the world's way of doing things, and you are still left feeling empty inside.

Jesus calls us away from the losing game that is the conventional wisdom about how to live life, and into his way of living in the world. And when that happens, the dead weight can be left behind, and we find our muscles can carry the load Jesus gives. There is no choice to carry nothing--you can't not have a pattern for living in this life. The question, though, is whether we will kill ourselves from exhaustion trying to carry all the garbage the world and the powers of the day want to pile on us, or whether we will dare to trust that Jesus' way of living and seeing the world can lighten the load.

Jesus is actually calling us into something... and out of something old. He is calling us to abandon the old way of ordering our lives, and to let his way become ours. And he is convinced it is worth it.

Dare we let go of our old perspectives, no matter how popular they are or what other loud obnoxious voices in our culture espouse them, and trust Jesus to give us a new perspective?

Let's try it... and let's be clear as we do just what we are getting ourselves into.

Lord Jesus, Rabbi, help pull us out of our old habits and practices and perspectives, and suit us up in your way of living in the world.

God-ness and Goodness--July 8, 2026

God-ness and Goodness--July 8, 2026

[Jesus said:] "All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him." (Matthew 11:27)

What do we really think we are talking about when we use the word "God"?

I mean, it might seem embarrassing for a preacher and a bunch of church folks to be asking what seems so obvious, right?  Of course we all know what "God" refers to, after all, we pray to God, sing to God, tell stories about God, and recite creeds about the nature of God, all with a straight face every Sunday.  We sure sound like we know what we are talking about, or at least that we have convinced ourselves we know what "God" means, don't we?

But my hunch is that while many people have a default working definition of the word "God" (whether or not they believe in such a being), those definitions tend to just project whatever we think about ourselves and make them, well, BIGGER.  That was certainly how the ancient Greeks and Romans pictured their gods and goddesses--Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Hades, and the rest of the gang were all as petty, insecure, vindictive, and promiscuous as ordinary mortals, but were just heightened in power (and willingness to hold a grudge, I suppose). If you worshiped them, you didn't necessarily expect your gods of choice to be especially faithful, truthful, loving, or merciful--only as much as you would think of any other person. You just also believed that your gods were powerful and could either help you or hurt you accordingly.

In Christian history, too, we sometimes have done something similar.  Saint Anselm of Canterbury, who lived in the 11th century, famously wrote that God is "that than which nothing greater can be conceived." In other words, whatever the BIGGEST thing you could think of was, God was even bigger. Whatever the most POWERFUL thing was that you could think of, God was even mightier. And so on--taking our own experience and just projecting it BIGGER for God's scale. And in the early 20th century the Swiss theologian Karl Barth criticized the generation that had come before him for just acting like God was simply the word "Man" but "written in larger letters." We have a way of assuming that the meaning of the word "God" is basically just "the biggest thing around." And therefore, we end up thinking (perhaps without realizing it) that the thing that makes God "God" and therefore worthy of our worship is simply that God is more powerful than we are.  Human beings end up worshiping power because we think that's what makes God... God.

But Jesus shows us something different.  He insists that we don't really know what God is like--what the heart of God is truly like--until we see Jesus' own self-giving way in the world. And Jesus isn't interested in mere displays of power or force; rather, he embodies love even when the world calls it weakness or foolishness.  He shows us a God who does not always need to look like the "biggest," the "greatest," or the "toughest" in order to intimidate, but who washes feet, weeps with grief, and gets nailed to a cross.  He reveals a God who does not need to attack the Roman soldiers or the angry mob crying for crucifixion, but bears the insults and responds with prayers for forgiveness.  He shows us, like Elijah learned from the "still small voice," that God doesn't always have to be seen in the whirlwind, the fire, or the earthquake.  God may just choose to be revealed in smallness, ordinariness, weakness, foolishness, and fragility.  That is, of course, ultimately what Christians confess about Jesus--that we do not fully know who God is until we have seen God in the Crucified One.  Whatever else we thought about God, or whatever else we meant by the word "God," it is incomplete until we have seen the way Jesus loves, the way Jesus welcomes, the way Jesus heals, the way Jesus empties himself that we might be filled.

These words from Matthew 11, which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday, are essentially Jesus' way of saying all this pretty plainly: we don't really know the One Jesus calls "Father" until we know the character of Jesus the "Son." Without seeing that God chooses to break bread with sinners, welcome children, touch the untouchable, wash the feet of the betrayer, and pray forgiveness for executioners, we will always end up thinking that God is just the biggest fish in the pond or the top of the celestial food chain.  We'll end up thinking that what defines God is raw power, when Jesus insists that God's "God-ness" is grounded in God's goodness--the love, generosity, patience, mercy, and compassion that don't always make the big splash we expect.

Too easily we end up focused only on might, power, and force as signs of divinity--we call natural disasters "acts of God" in insurance policies, for example. Jesus helps us to see where the meaning of the word "God" is truly centered--on the character of the One who has created us, not simply the size of the divine muscles.  When we are clear on that, it certainly does affect how we live in the world and what we think is truly worthy of honor and worship. So today's work is to let Jesus show us again the meaning of the word "God" by showing us his own love--so that we may indeed reflect the likeness of the One in whose image we are made.

Lord Jesus, enable us to see God in you, so that others may see God's goodness in us.

Unexpected Epiphanies--July 7, 2026

Unexpected Epiphanies--July 7, 2026

At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will." (Matthew 11:25-26)

You can't deduce the Reign of God like a geometric proof.

You can't prove the Good News of the Gospel with a laboratory experiment.

And you can't reason your way into the community of Jesus by a philosophical debate.

It's not like that.

I don't mean to say that the Christian message is nonsense, or that is merely wishful thinking like a fairy tale.  I mean that some things in life--perhaps often the best and most important things, in fact--are not accessible by sheer brain power or human logic.  

Brilliant economists can calculate the ideal interest rate for the purposes of holding off inflation while promoting commerce, but they cannot use the same tools to explain the economy of mutual flourishing between the trees, the birds, the insects, and the fungi in the forest.  Astronomers can tell us how far away a particular star is in the night sky, and even how much longer it will keep shining, but they cannot thereby explain to us why we find ourselves captivated by the night sky and universally call these points of light "beautiful." Evolutionary biologists and experts in anthropology can give us plausible theories to explain why humans (and other creatures) live in groups, care for children, or even tend to the sick within our tribe, but not a scandalous notion like love for one's enemies.  And yet, all of those things are real and present on any given day.

Jesus is convinced that this is God's calling card. God has a way of acting beyond the bounds of what human logic considers reasonable, and yet in ways that are receivable by the foolish, uneducated, and childlike.  That's clear from these verses many of us heard this past Sunday from Matthew's Gospel, as Jesus continues to reflect on why his message (and that of his predecessor, John the Baptizer) was rejected by so many people when they came on the scene.  Whether it was John's raw and bombastic declaration, "The Kingdom of God has come near!" from the shores of the Jordan River, or Jesus' invitation to sinners and outcasts, "The Kingdom of God has come near!" (funny, how both had the same message, isn't it?), the Respectable Religious Leaders scoffed at both of them and dismissed their words.  So... why didn't they get it?  Why did so many supposedly educated, scholarly, and credentialed "God experts" ignore the news of God's Reign breaking in around them?

Well, Jesus' answer here is basically, "Because they treat God like an academic subject to be mastered, rather than always beyond our complete grasp."  Maybe we can't reduce knowledge of God to a set list of facts like learning your state capitals or the periodic table of elements.  Maybe we can't circumscribe God's actions within the bounds of laws and rules we have reached by logical conclusion--maybe God is not confined like the laws of planetary motion and orbital gravitation.  And yet, maybe God can still choose to be revealed, known, and encountered without any advanced degrees at all, in the least intellectual places around: a sprouting seed, a broken loaf, or open arms.

In fact, maybe the clearest and most powerful expression of God's very nature and presence is in something that looks utterly foolish, weak, and unworthy of the divine--say, a man nailed to a Roman cross.  This, of course, is exactly the point that Paul the apostle will make in his letter to the Corinthians when he says that God's wisdom looks like foolishness to the world and God's strength looks like weakness, since those are revealed ultimately in the Crucified Christ.  Our older brother in the faith Martin Luther would take that idea and run with it, saying that ultimately we don't find God in the places we expect, but precisely in the one place no respectable deity would go: the cross.  All the proofs of the scholastic theologians, and all the philosophical arguments meant to demonstrate the existence of God fall apart in the face of the cross and resurrection--nobody would predict the Creator of the universe to save all of us by becoming one of us and then getting killed by the worst in us.  And yet... there is the cross and the empty tomb, defiantly overturning our logic and reason.

Being a Christian, then, is really about a new kind of vision. Jesus intends to teach us his way of seeing things. We don't try and reason our way into understanding how God works, calculate the limits of where God's love is allowed to go, or deduce rules which God must follow because we say so.  In fact, we give up on trying to "master" God like multiplication tables, and instead allow God's love to reshape the way we see everything else.  

That's the invitation of this day: can we allow God to be revealed to us beyond our cleverness, right in the midst of the things the worlds calls foolish, weak, and small? Could we allow such unexpected epiphanies today?

Because God is already there, waiting to be seen--if only we will adjust our eyes.

Lord God, let us see you in unexpected ways, even when that means you defy our assumptions and conclusions about where to find you.

More Than a Shrug--July 6, 2026

More Than a Shrug--July 6, 2026

[Jesus spoke to the crowd saying:] “To what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,
  ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
  we wailed, and you did not mourn.’

 “For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” (Matthew 11:16-19)

T.S. Eliot once wrote, "This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper." I wonder if his criticism of our time would be that we would meet the end of the world with a shrug either way.

Ours is a time of profound indifference and often willful ignorance--when terrible things happen around the world on any given day, and often our go-to response is to change the channel, turn away, deny it is actually happening, or otherwise bury our heads in the sand.  Wars rage, while we simply complain about the impact on gas prices rather than those killed and injured.  Neighborhoods in our cities and communities struggle with poverty and access to good food, and we obsess over when the next chain restaurant or coffee franchise will come to our area.  Masked white supremacists march on the nation's capital during the 250th anniversary of our founding (with white face masks as contemporary versions of the old white hoods of an earlier time), and we can so easily dismiss it as merely "just another day's news." For all the ways that 24/7 news channels and the relentless barrage of social media posts keep us agitated and anxious, we are also increasingly desensitized to all of it and encouraged to tell ourselves, "This is fine" (like the famous cartoon of the dog sitting in a room that is on fire). And when someone speaks up to get our attention to see what is going wrong around us, it is very easy for us to dismiss them with a shrug as "just being dramatic" or "overreacting." We can always change the channel to something else, right? As the famous title of Neil Postman put it back in the 1980s, we are endlessly "amusing ourselves to death."

Jesus seems to have been prepared for addressing people in such an apathetic mindset.  Here in these words from Matthew 11, which many of us heard this past Sunday in worship, Jesus laments that so many people in his day ignored both the jarring prophetic speech of John the Baptizer and the gentler dinner-party approach of Jesus himself. Both John and Jesus brought the same core message, the Gospels note: "The Reign of God has come near!" Both declared God's inbreaking kingdom and called people to turn their lives to be a part of it--John with his stark wilderness declarations, and Jesus with his personal invitations to the outcasts and sinners. But by and large, the crowds and the Respectable Religious Leaders rejected John and Jesus alike. The announcement of God's kingdom was like the end of an old order, an old world, and the beginning of something brand new, and yet, no matter how Jesus or John announced it, their listeners shrugged with indifference.  That seems to be Jesus' concern here: how can we just look the other way and continue on with business as usual if this news is true?  How can we remain unchanged and unmoved in the wake of their message?

Jesus' words, both to his own time and to ours, are meant to wake us up and jar us out of our indifference.  The people of Jesus' day shrugged off both the fiery speeches of John and the winsome welcome of Jesus with the same apathetic, "So what?" response, and perhaps we are just as numb in our own time. We have learned to tune out the suffering of others and the facts that don't fit our preferred perspectives. We have taught ourselves we can ignore Jesus any time his words would challenge us or interrupt our routines, even if he is also bringing us the Good News of God's Reign. We have made ourselves unresponsive to the voices God keeps raising up to get us to pay attention, to see when things are not "just fine," and also to respond when we are summoned to participate in God's new thing.

The challenge for us today is to let Jesus unsettle us. Instead of shrugging off the people God sends to wake us up, we can listen.  Instead of muttering "This is fine" to ourselves when the house is on fire, we can get up and start putting out the flames.  Instead of finding ever newer ways of distracting ourselves, we can look where Jesus directs our attention.  It can be difficult--and scary--but the alternative is a zombie sort of life in which we are unmoved or unaware of what is going on around us.  Today is a day to let Jesus get our attention, and see what he would have us see.

As God's Reign breaks in among us even now, day by day, it is like an old world coming to an end and a whole new creation beginning.  That is worth more than a shrug.

Lord Jesus, help us to see what you would have us see, and to respond along with you.

The Often-Overlooked Anybodies--July 3, 2026

The Often-Overlooked Anybodies--July 3, 2026

[Jesus said:] "Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” (Matthew 10:41-42)

It's a beautiful but surprising collection of people you find gathered at God's table. It's not so much the folks from the covers of magazines, the celebrities on the red carpet, the tycoons on the Forbes 500 list, or the big names carved into marble or put up in obnoxious gold letters, but more the often-overlooked anybodies who care about speaking the truth, doing right by their neighbors, and simple acts of kindness. Like Kurt Vonnegut put it, "You meet saints everywhere. They can be anywhere. They are people behaving decently in an indecent society."

Rarely do those sorts of people make headlines or become famous, but Jesus says that he is building a community of people learning to see--and to welcome--those kinds of unsung saints.  And he also seems to know that the wider world may not see the worth or beauty of these blessedly ordinary people, but that God certainly does.  

These few verses from Matthew 10 might sound familiar, since many of us heard them in worship this past Sunday.  Jesus has been preparing his disciples for going out into the surrounding towns and villages where he is sending them, basically, to be his representatives all around: they will do what he does and speak his same message. They'll heal people, cast out evil spirits, raise the dead, relieve illness, and announce Jesus' message that "the Reign of God has come near."  And even though he has warned them that there will be some places they might not be welcomed or well-received, there will definitely be others who receive them with open arms.  Those will be the people who realize that when they are welcoming Jesus' disciples, they are really opening their homes to Jesus himself, and to the God who sent him.  And then Jesus goes on, here in today's verses, to describe an even broader welcome: there are indeed people who will recognize the truth-telling prophets who come across their path, and they will listen.  There will be people who take notice when other do the right thing and act for justice in the world around them--and they will open their doors to such decent people doing decent things in the world.  There will be folks who will show compassion and hospitality as simple as a cup of cold water, simply because they recognize that they are in the presence of someone God has sent into their lives.  The world may not think much of any of these people, but Jesus insists that God does... and God keeps opening the eyes of folks to recognize them, too.

That's how we have to hear this business about "rewards"--whether for "prophets" or "the righteous" or even those coming "in the name of a disciple;" the world may not see any of these people as worthy of noting, but God sees, and God will be sure to honor and care for them all.  Prophets, after all, were not often well-received by their initial listeners, and in the Bible at least, the prophets were often rejected, insulted, run out of town, or even killed because they spoke truth to power and made the complacent uncomfortable. The same is true about those who are truly committed to doing "justice" or "righteousness" (one word means both in Greek): often, those who do what is right and call out wrongdoing around them get labeled "divisive" or "disagreeable" or "troublemaking." Jesus, of course, also famously announced "blessing" on "those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake," which tells us that Jesus certainly knew that the world does not always applaud the folks who care about justice. And yet Jesus also is confident that God still sees... and vindicates the ones who are dismissed or harassed by the world for speaking up against bullies or doing what is right but unpopular. In fact, God's goodness overflows so abundantly that even the ones who welcome a prophet will be regarded as prophets themselves in God's eyes. Even those who just offer a cup of water to another person as an act of kindness to a disciple of Jesus will be honored, Jesus says.  The wider world may look on such people as nobodies being welcomed by other nobodies, but Jesus says that God sees differently, and treasures them all.

And so you end up here with a glimpse of a different kind of community at the center of Jesus' vision.  He's not interested in establishing some exclusive country club for the Big Deals and Important People, but rather in gathering folks who would be otherwise ignored, dismissed, or excluded by the world. Jesus is interested in creating a found family in which we listen to prophets and pay attention to the ones committed to decency even when it is costly, a beloved community in which we take the time and make the effort to extend basic kindnesses to one another without obsessing over "what we will get in return." Such a community will always be attuned to interests wider than just "Me and My Group First," because it will be willing to listen to those prophets who help them see the people on the outside who have been overlooked, and it will be willing to see the example of those who do what is right even when it is inconvenient.  And in the company of such people, we will be changed.  We will become more like Jesus, and at the very same time more fully who we were meant to be all along.

Honestly, that kind of life in community seems pretty compelling to me. Jesus is teaching us how to be such a saintly people, in Kurt Vonnegut's sense--who try to be "decent people in indecent times," who tell difficult truths even when it makes them into gadflies, who do the right thing when nobody is looking, and who gladly open their tables to strangers without worrying about getting paid back. If that kind of life seems compelling to you, too, I've got good news for you. This is what Jesus has brought us into.

Lord Jesus, shape us into people who reflect your goodness by placing us alongside others you are shaping, too.

What Sort of Witnesses--July 2, 2026

What Sort of Witnesses--July 2, 2026

[Jesus said to the twelve:] “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. (Matthew 10:40)

In yesterday's devotion, we were reminded from the letter to the Romans (and Bob Dylan) that we cannot not serve someone in this life--the real question, instead, is whom we will serve.  Well, today, these words of Jesus (which are also likely to have been ones you heard this past Sunday) add a corollary: we cannot not be a witness with our lives.  The real question is what impression we will make with our lives, or what picture people will get of the God we represent.  But since people will know we are followers of Jesus--whether by our cross necklace jewelry, fish bumper stickers, attendance on Sunday mornings, or the words that come out of our mouths--the issue is what sort of glimpse of Jesus people will get from what they see in our lives.  And on that count, we have an ambiguous track record.

Jesus sends his disciples out as his ambassadors in Matthew 10 with this awareness that people will draw conclusions about what Jesus is all about based on what his representatives are like.  And beyond that, the world will make some assumptions about what God is like, based on the way this people who speak about God and speak in God's name act in the world.  We are all, in a sense, walking billboards with our very lives.  The question is what message we will hold up to be seen by the world from what they see in us.  But there is no option of not being a witness--only what sort of a witness we will be.

That doesn't mean we are supposed to put on a fake self or project some manufactured air of moral perfection so that we can impress other people into believing in Jesus.  It doesn't mean we need to be the people who curate their social media posts with memes that look religious or present us as being perpetually pious.  Jesus isn't asking us to pretend to be people we're not.  But he is calling us to remember that our actions are often a more powerful witness of the Christ we follow than any religious pamphlets, tracts, or memes we might share.  And he does challenge us to remember that the watching world will draw conclusions about what Jesus is really like from what they see in us.  And that means we have to ask ourselves regularly what sort of God we hope people can glimpse in us.

When I am mean, self-centered, and petty in my interactions with other people, they'll come to the conclusion that either (a) the Christ I confess as Lord must also think that mindset is an acceptable way to live, or (b) that our faith in Jesus really doesn't make a whiff of difference in our actual lives, and therefore isn't worth paying any attention to.  When we are indifferent to people on the margins and ignore folks who feel overlooked, we give the impression that those folks don't matter much to God, either.  When we base our decisions on what makes us the most money rather than what love should look like in any given moment, we tell the world that our God is just as stingy as we are.  When we obsess over whom we keep out rather than on ways to bring people in, we are already preaching a wordless sermon that God is a curmudgeonly gatekeeper rather than the hospitable host at a big table.  When we say "Jesus loves you" but then act like there is fine-print, conditions, or limits to that love, people will take our actions more seriously than our lip service.  We cannot not be witnesses, but it is very much an open question what people will come to believe about Jesus from what they see in us.

On the other hand, the other side of this amazing truth is that you and I really can offer people a compelling glimpse of what God is like from what they see in us.  Jesus is not ashamed of being represented by us--us, in all our ordinariness, all of our fragility, all of our weaknesses, and all of the ways we struggle and stumble.  And beyond that, Jesus is convinced that God's own glory can be conveyed through the medium of our humanity--these lives, these words, these actions. That's amazing when you consider what it's like to stand beneath a starry night sky or the splendor of the Grand Canyon and to think to yourself, "Even as majestic as this is, God is even greater!" and then to realize that Jesus doesn't say, "You people are too plain and common to be representatives of the glory of God." Jesus doesn't tell his disciples, "If you want to introduce people to God, take them to this really lovely landscape or show them the power of a waterfall." He doesn't say, "We must build magnificent towers in marble and gold to convey the grandeur of God," either.  He says to his very earthy, very ordinary disciples (comprised largely of peasant fishermen and tax collectors of questionable repute), "You are ones I choose to represent God for the world.  You, as you are.  You, without needing any dressing up or spin-doctoring, you are the ones who will give people a glimpse of God's goodness."

And with that in mind, it really is amazing to consider that we have the opportunity every day to be reflections of the goodness of God. Beyond our accessorizing or empty slogans, we can be witnesses of what God is really like, simply in the ways we love. The willingness to go out of our way for a neighbor in trouble... the time taken to sit with someone in their sorrow... the care shown to a stranger when it would have been easier to look away... all of these and a million other actions that might not look very "dazzling" are ways we represent God to the world.  And when people catch a glimpse of that kind of generosity, welcome, empathy, compassion, and integrity from us, they might just realize they have seen a hint of what God is like. They might just realize, like Jacob after his dream of angels, "Surely God was in this place, and I did not know it!"

All of that brings us back to the question that might offer some guidance for the day: if we can't help but be witnesses for something in our day, what sort of witnesses will we be?  If we have the chance to send one message to the world with our lives in this day, what will convey the goodness of God? If, as the old saying goes, "You might be the only Bible someone else ever reads," how can we try to let our lives embody the Good News to be read by others?

Jesus is convinced that we are the right people to be his representatives--what if we lived today as if we believed he was right?

Lord Jesus, let your goodness be seen in us, rather than in spite of us.

The One Worth Serving--July 1, 2026

The One Worth Serving--July 1, 2026

"But now that you have been freed from sin and enslaved to God, the fruit you have leads to sanctification, and the end is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 6:22-23)

To hear the apostle tell it, Bob Dylan was right, and Frank Sinatra was wrong.

Old Blue Eyes famously sang about the importance of doing things "My Way," without anybody else telling him what do to, and how to do it, while Bob Dylan (riffing on Jesus) said, "You gotta serve someone--it may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you gotta serve someone." Once singer imagined that it is possible (and even good!) to be captain of your own soul and master of your own fate, without any allegiance or ties to anybody. And the other said, rather honestly, that no matter what we think we are choosing in this life, we are always giving our allegiance to somebody or another. Sinatra's song suggests that the goal of life is to somehow disentangle yourself from having to live under anybody else's direction, authority, or "lordship," and Dylan seems to say "You can't be free of serving somebody--the only question is who is worthy of giving your allegiance."

Paul the apostle would seem to agree.  In these words that many of us heard this past Sunday in worship, he offers two choices to his readers in Rome, the beating heart of the Empire itself:  they had been enslaved to sin and under the dominion and tyranny of sin's grip of them, but now they have become servants of God. There is no third option of running around untethered and unclaimed by someone's reign.  There is no "I did it MY WAY," as Paul sees it. Or maybe more accurately, he would say that the "I did it MY WAY" philosophy, along with its cousin, "Me and My Group First," are both ways of being sold out to sin and under the dictatorship of self-centeredness.  And again, the only real alternative to being enslaved to sin is to be dedicated to God.  You can hear Bob Dylan underneath it all: You gotta serve someone.

But Paul goes one further than just telling us it's either God or sin that we end up serving.  He points out that the benefits packages between the two choices are completely different.  "The wages of sin is death," he says, "but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."  If we spend our lives forever giving in to the demands of that voice that leads us to greed, indifference, hatred, violence, and fear, the outcome is a dead-end.  But to be oriented toward God in Christ is different--it doesn't operate by the logic of earning and deserving, but by the logic of grace. And therefore, belonging to the lordship of Jesus' community yields not "wages," but a "free gift."  Dylan may be right that "you gotta serve someone," but Paul makes it very clear which option actually brings us to life.  As Paul sees it, serving God isn't bondage but our deepest fulfillment.

See, the dirty little secret about the "I did it MY WAY" mentality is that it advertises itself as some great life where you don't have to care about other people and don't have to listen to anybody else's directions, but it ends up being permanently unsatisfied and disconnected from both God and neighbor--the two primary relationships that give us deepest fulfillment and identity.  To see ourselves as servants of God--which always also includes serving our neighbors, because of who God is--is actually what makes us truly free, because it allows us to be fully alive in relationship with others, rather than constantly withdrawn behind barriers and walls inscribed with the words, "You can't tell me what to do!"  And as our older brother in the faith Martin Luthern once insisted (in his treatise on Christian Freedom), we are simultaneously most free when we step into our identity as servants of all.

I know that in the week leading up to our annual celebration of Independence Day (especially in the 250th anniversary of that date) it is tempting to believe that there is some way to live that comes without strings, without allegiances, and without reliance on someone else.  But the Gospel insists that whatever freedom really is, it comes precisely as we let go of "Me and My Group First" sloganeering and give our allegiance to the God we meet in Jesus, who summons us to serve all people the way he served and still serves. All of our insistence on doing it "My Way" ends up futile and unconvincing, but when our lives are spent serving God and neighbor, we find ourselves more fully alive.

If indeed it is true that we've all "gotta serve someone," Paul sure does make it clear who is worth giving our lives to.  The living God doesn't deal in terms of wages and earning, but in giving the free gift of life.  That's the One worth serving.

Lord Jesus, pull us always out of sin-centered orientation in our lives and pull us toward serving you and the people you place in our lives.  Make us truly free.