Elpis and Shalom

Our world thrives on the adage, “If you scratch my back, I will scratch yours.” This system of reciprocity has shaped our society for most of its existence. We deal with contracts, quid pro quo, engagement-rewarding algorithms, social networks built on mutual benefit, and relationships negotiated around equal emotional return. Our world moves as if there is no such thing as a free lunch. This bleeds into our faith, where we think that to be a good disciple of Christ, we live as though we must look to the world for respectability, comfort, and modest civic duty. Our version of being “countercultural” is limited to superficial taboos (what media we consume, what parties we skip, what places we avoid). As such, we avoid Christ’s far more unsettling countercultural command. Comfort lulls us into trusting our own resources and reducing love to a transaction. Jesus reveals that true discipleship emerges when comfort is dismantled, driving us to rely entirely upon God and empowering us to love where there is zero guarantee of return. This becomes clear as Christ gets down on the level with his disciples and delivers the Sermon on the Plain.

20 Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. 21 “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. 22 “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. 23 Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven, for that is how their ancestors treated the prophets. 24 “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. 25 “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. “Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. 26 “Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

27 “But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; 28 bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. 30 Give to everyone who asks of you, and if anyone takes away what is yours, do not ask for it back again. 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you. 32 “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive payment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 35 Instead, love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. 36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Lk 6:20–36.

Christ’s message opens with a call to patience and a warning, much like the prophets before Him, in the proclamation of blessings and woes. A woe is an exclamation of grief, pity, and warning, not, as some might think, a vindictive curse. Through the blessings, Jesus reminds the disciples that times will be hard and that, in those times, we cannot always dictate our circumstances and must rely more completely on the Almighty. In contrast, the woes are Jesus’ diagnosis that abundance insulates us from reality. When our pantries, investment accounts, and reputations are secure, our prayer that asks for “daily bread” becomes nothing more than liturgy, instead of an urgent cry that comes when we are poor. Comfort becomes a breeding ground for spiritual laziness; without urgency, we lose the sense of a grumbling stomach that is desperate for God. In the place of desperation, we misattribute the absence of trouble to the presence of God’s favor. When trouble and need show up, we find we no longer have certainty in what once comforted us. As Jesus calls the poor blessed, he identifies those uniquely positioned to recognize their absolute need for external help. The call is to turn our minds toward heaven, but we often cannot do so until we first realize this world offers us nothing permanent.

The Church’s mission is to become a countercultural force in our world. Jesus points to this by reminding us that grace is not only doing for others what will result in payback or payment of some kind, because Jesus shows us that grace goes against the tide of our cultural waves. Our churches are not meant to be another social club where we spend time only with people who look like us, share our politics, and will always return an invitation.  That is not countercultural witness, because it serves only self-preservation. We do not witness to the grace offered to us in Christ by simply doing all the same things the world does, nor do we do so by proving our worthiness through shallow cultural markers of holiness. We are not rewarded by shielding ourselves from media produced by the culture, because the media of the culture is a mirror held up to reveal the truth about society; thus, to be truly countercultural, we must not act and carry out the Church the way our culture does. After all, discipleship is not measured by sheltering ourselves from secular culture; it is demonstrated by stepping into broken spaces to extend mercy where they cannot return the sentiment.

By letting go of the need for reciprocity, we truly understand that God’s love is often given without any return, and that the Church is called to mimic the Almighty God’s pattern of love. In His command in verse 35, “Instead, love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return,” we are called to remove the idea of personal payback from our minds completely. As the Church, we are expected to give through our finances, our social capital, and our emotional capacity to people and things that will not or cannot give back. This does not come naturally to us and may be hard to imagine; however, we cannot do it by intention alone. Rather, Christ makes it a reality because we have been given grace upon grace, and oftentimes the giver in unilateral love, and we are beneficiaries of His unilateral grace. Through this act, God justified the ungodly through Jesus Christ. Before we ever moved toward holiness, Christ died for us. Therefore, as we approach verse 36, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful,” we are called to care for our community the way God has cared for us in bringing salvation to the people. We do not complain that the people are ungrateful, nor do we make people “sing for their supper,” as God’s love for us comes as a gift of unmerited grace.

Throughout Jesus’ sermon to the disciples on the Plain, Jesus did not sit on high and point at them in judgment, but rather He walked beside them on their level to show them an example of love that was not reciprocal. Sometimes it can feel comfortable standing at a distance and proclaiming to people about God’s love, but Jesus invites us to get down on our neighbor’s level and show them love that asks nothing in return. With the temptation to sit back in our safe enclave, where comfortable living silences the true urgent and intentional prayer, we must ditch self-reliance and actively trust in God’s providence, and heed the call to love without any thought of reciprocity. When making the decision to sell the church building several years ago, the church looked at its budget and spending and realized that the resources of the church were allocated to servicing the building, which in turn offered a space to keep going at what we had been doing, and nothing toward ministry outside the walls. We had to look and realize we needed to be radically giving in service to the Gospel, and in order to do that we had to start by letting go of the building. So the challenge is this: are our resources primarily allocated to spaces of mutual benefit, or are they flowing toward those who cannot repay you? There exists a challenge for the church and our personal lives to practice love as a one-way street. This means we must forgive someone who has not apologized, serve a person or group that cannot offer social capital or networking opportunities, and bless someone who could be considered an opponent in a time of deep political division and discourse. Jesus came off the mountain to walk with us, so we need to live radically like Jesus and do the same in our community.

Our minds can easily conjure up people that we find absolutely deplorable, whether we think of those who are on the opposite side of us politically, or those who come from places with different customs from ours. Every once in a while, we can unite behind the idea that some people who have committed the most heinous acts are the worst of the worst. We often see those who profit from others’ suffering as traitors to their community. This is exactly how the leaders in the church viewed Levi, and Jesus bypassed them and invited him to be a core leader in his movement. We often believe we must clean ourselves up to be found by God, and we complain when messy people enter the church. However, the gospel tells a different story. Jesus seeks us directly in our sin, and a repentant response leads to a joyous invitation; if we are honest when we look in the mirror, we need the Great Physician as much as the worst offenders and the truly messy folks in our community.

27 After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at the tax-collection station, and he said to him, “Follow me.” 28 And he got up, left everything, and followed him. 29 Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house, and there was a large crowd of tax collectors and others reclining at the table with them. 30 The Pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” 31 Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick; 32 I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Lk 5:27–32.

Looking to the results of Jesus approaching the tax booth in Capernaum. In Luke 5:27, we read: “After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” In the first century, tax collectors were the ultimate traitors, as they often used extortion while working for the occupying Roman Empire. They were so reviled that the Jewish leaders made special dispensation for them and allowed the people to hide the truth or outright lie to a tax collector because they were so closely tied to the practice of extortion. When Jesus arrives, Levi is not looking for Him, because he was actively working in a corrupt and sinful system. Jesus calling out to this agent for the Roman government is divine initiative, showing us that God reaches out to us before we ever have the sense to reach out to Him. Jesus is not repulsed by the messy nature caused by the spiritual dirt on Levi’s hands. Most people in Capernaum would avoid him by moving to the other side of the road; counterculturally, Jesus walked directly toward him and engaged the man. Jesus meets us as sinners without waiting for moral purity before issuing the call, completely unintimidated and unshocked by our worst mistakes or addictions.

Jesus’ invitation demands a response, and when we see Levi’s reaction, it reveals the full understanding of his need for repentance: “And he got up, left everything, and followed him. Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a large crowd of tax collectors and others sitting at the table with them” (Luke 5:28–29). As Levi encounters the true nature of Jesus’ unmerited grace, he is changed instantly. There isn’t a period of scolding or a forced recollection of all his errors, but instead, in Jesus’ presence he is made new. Repentance is not a somber, isolated sitting with guilt to be worked off; instead, it shines through a massive, joyful feast. Levi, affected by grace, wants to hold a banquet so that the others in his life can encounter Jesus and experience change. Jesus, in turn, is not adversely affected by spending time with the messy; there is no need for shame or a shower before entering into fellowship. That’s why so many who have experienced conversion seek to share the experience and the power that changed their life; this same experience prompts Levi to invite his entire network of fellow outcasts. Seeing this reaction, we should remember when we first encountered Jesus. Therefore, as we experience grace, our instinct shouldn’t be to hide in a holy huddle, but to throw the doors open wide.

Unfortunately, much of the religious elite will not embrace this approach to welcoming in the sinner completely. Radical openness inevitably draws criticism from those who claim righteousness for themselves. If they have to live a certain way and do things for several years, then everyone should have to do the same. Instead of letting everything go in the presence of one who removes all shame and all sin, the religious complain about the sinner.  Luke’s account continues: “The Pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, ‘Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance’” (Luke 5:30–32). The complaints surface through their pride, which somehow convinces them they are superior to the people at Levi’s table. They view sin as something “those people” do. Still, Jesus’ response reminds them of the importance of repentance. We are all spiritually sick, in need of healing. If we think we are fully immune, the disease of pride has blinded us. In the grand scheme of God’s perfect holiness, we are no better off than the tax collector, and grace alone saves us, as we find no peace with God through our resumes, church attendance, or moral superiority.

To grasp the depth of Levi’s transformation in modern terms, consider Oskar Schindler. He was a member of the Nazi Party, a war profiteer, an opportunist, and a man who utilized the forced labor of Jewish people in his enamelware factory to make himself wealthy. By all accounts, he was an agent within the evil system. However, once the reality of the Holocaust became impossible to ignore, Schindler, even with his faults, eventually spent all of his money in order to bribe SS officers and buy black-market supplies to protect his Jewish workers, ultimately saving 1,200 lives. Schindler was similar to Levi: complicit in an evil empire, yet reached by grace’s transformative power. If God’s grace can reach Levi or Oskar Schindler, it can certainly reach the worst of us today. But to receive it, we must abandon the pride of the Pharisees, look in the mirror, and acknowledge our need for the Great Physician. We may be tempted to focus on others’ evil, but Jesus reminds us that grace leads to repentance. Therefore, we must stop complaining about the sinners in the world and fall back entirely on the amazing grace that saves us all.

14 Then Jesus, in the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding region. 15 He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth 16 When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, 17 and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: 18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, 19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” 20 And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21 Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” 22 All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” 23 He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’ ” 24 And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his hometown. 25 But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months and there was a severe famine over all the land, 26 yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. 27 There were also many with a skin disease in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” 28 When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. 29 They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. 30 But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Lk 4:14–30.

In the mid-twentieth century, people viewed computers strictly as massive, room-sized calculators. The military and scientific establishment saw them merely as computational machines, glorified abacuses used for calculating artillery trajectories and crunching numbers. But Commodore Grace Hopper, a brilliant mathematician and naval officer, saw something far greater. She envisioned a world where computers could help solve complex, real-time human issues. To make that vision a reality, Hopper invented the compiler, a revolutionary piece of software that translated human-readable, English-like instructions into binary machine code. Yet when she presented her breakthrough to the establishment, they flatly rejected her. They insisted computers were built strictly for arithmetic, dismissing her groundbreaking work by claiming she was “solving a problem that didn’t exist.” Their fixed assumptions about what a computer was supposed to do, and perhaps their biases about who was offering the solution, blinded them to a revolution, forcing Hopper to fight for years against institutional stubbornness just to integrate her compiler.

We are often blinded by our own established systems. When something, or someone, arrives to fundamentally disrupt how we operate, our immediate instinct is so often rejection. This dynamic played out vividly in the synagogue at Nazareth. When Jesus stood up to read from the scroll of Isaiah, declaring that he had been anointed to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, and sight to the blind, he was proclaiming Jubilee. Just as Grace Hopper sought to expand the computer from a mere calculator into a responsive problem-solver, Jesus was expanding the community’s understanding of God’s Kingdom. The Gospel was never intended to be a series of dry spiritual calculations, temple rituals, or self-serving religious math. It was a real-time intervention into human suffering. The congregation initially loved the poetic sound of Jubilee, assuming it meant liberation for them from Roman rule. But because Jesus’ message disrupted their comfortable expectations, they quickly turned hostile.

Much like the military leaders who could not look past their own institutional biases when evaluating Hopper, the people of Nazareth stumbled over familiar pedigree. “Is this not Joseph’s son?” they asked, unable to reconcile their expectations of a glorious, conquering Messiah with a local carpenter who had dirt under his fingernails. We recognize how deeply our own limited scope and sinful nature clouds our perception, leading us to reshape Jesus in our own image, a Savior tailored to our politics, socioeconomic status, and personal comfort. When the Gospel comes packaged in someone who lacks the proper credentials or cultural standing, our natural inclination is to dismiss them entirely.

Rather than backing down, Jesus pressed deeper into the offense of sovereign grace. He reminded his listeners that during times of famine and sickness, God sent the prophets Elijah and Elisha not to Israel’s elite, but to outsiders: a poor widow at Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian. In doing so, he declared that God’s expansive, unmerited grace reaches beyond traditional boundaries to solve the real-time suffering of people we might consider enemies. Where the military establishment responded to Hopper with initial skepticism, the crowd in Nazareth responded to Jesus with outrage. Realizing that salvation was not their exclusive privilege, their pride turned to violence, and they drove him to the edge of a cliff to destroy him.

Ultimately, Grace Hopper had to persevere so her compiler could be integrated to transform modern computing; Jesus went to the cross so his grace could be deeply integrated into our broken lives. We must stay vigilant against the racial, economic, political, and social biases that lead us to reject his message today. We have to ask ourselves whether we are truly willing to accept a Jesus who brings freedom to those we might prefer to keep at a distance. Instead of clinging to our conditions for God’s grace or reacting like the crowd in Nazareth, may we cultivate the humility to listen, accept his disruptive proclamation, and join him in setting the oppressed free.

Living in the desert makes you familiar with the tumbleweeds, succulents, and wildlife, and helps you understand that what something looks like on the outside may not accurately be predictive of what lies beneath. One who has spent any significant time in the desert or even on the hilly trails knows that what might look like a dead branch or stick on the dirt road might just end up being a snake. As the heat begins to bring its fury upon the desert floor, we see the fires fueled by the dead brush and dry landscape. This prompts the creatures nested in the brush to emerge from their smoky hovels and try to understand what is happening. Meanwhile, on the banks of the Jordan, John stands addressing the crowds arriving from the comfort of Jerusalem, relying on the name given to them by their ancestors. However, John addresses them with disdain: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?” This serves as a reminder to the people that a snake fleeing fire is still a snake, and just wearing a particular name and saying you belong to Abraham is not enough, because proximity to religion is not life in the Spirit. Therefore, any journey to begin following Jesus cannot start with flashing credentials or spiritual posturing; it must begin at the root, with genuine repentance.

7 John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? 8 Therefore, bear fruits worthy of repentance, and do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 9 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” 10 And the crowds asked him, “What, then, should we do?” 11 In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none, and whoever has food must do likewise.” 12 Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” 13 He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” 14 Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” 15 As the people were filled with expectation and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16 John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” 18 So with many other exhortations he proclaimed the good news to the people.

Luke 3:7-18 NRSVue

There is nothing that grants us access to the change of the Holy Spirit short of making this repentant turn. In our world, there are membership clubs and all-access passes that might grant us entry into areas that the public may not be able to gain admittance to, but that doesn’t exist within the kingdom of God. Similarly, those that came out to see John relied on their covenant lineage: “We have Abraham as our ancestor.” Thus, assuming that the baptism offered was necessary for the Gentile outsiders but not required for respectable insiders. However, that type of good-for-thee but not-for-me thinking is shattered through John’s statement that “God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” God is never captive to our traditions or our heritage. Carrying this into our church, we must be wary of relying solely on what is visible within it. How long our name has been on the roll sheets, the focus on the pews our family has sat in for years, or the fact that our friends and family funded or built this or that. Simply calling ourselves Christian or members of a particular congregation will not withstand scrutiny against what God actually requires of a follower. What makes us feel as if we belong to God’s flock? If we view our faith as a family heirloom rather than a living, fruit-bearing branch, we are prime for being cut off. 

We then come to the question of what is required of a true follower of Christ. John speaks to the crowds with a succinct prescription about the requirements of one who wants to be a part of God’s kingdom. He does not need time to come up with a list, nor does he need to separate himself from the group, because the instructions are direct and obvious. Stop doing things that harm people; repent of your sin. This call reminds us that genuine repentance is relational, ethical, and economic. Share your excess. Winter nights bring freezing winds off the mountains; therefore, a second coat sitting idle in a closet is life-saving warmth withheld from a neighbor. The more challenging aspect is that we are specifically told not to hoard our belongings, which includes our money. The bunker mentality of saving against tomorrow’s fear is completely foreign to Kingdom living, because we cannot earn security, and to live repentantly, we must learn to open our hands to provide resources to those in need. Use your position to show grace through justice. John’s instruction to government officials and those who enforce the power of the state was not to flee, but rather to show God’s grace through justice enforcement, because proximity to power tempts us to lean into how justice can edify oneself, but a repentant life will use that position to reflect the grace of God. Therefore, for those working locally in schools, county offices, clinics, or running small businesses, the call is simple: we must refuse to pad the bill. Refuse to leverage authority to humiliate subordinates. In all circumstances, we must choose equity over leverage. Repentance isn’t a feeling of guilt; it is the joyful, concrete reordering of our ordinary lives to love our neighbors as God has loved us.

The repentant life culminates in the purpose behind why we live the way that we do, so that our lives ultimately point to Jesus. Our world is constantly in search of deliverance from its ills. In the same way, the crowds coming to John are hungry for a deliverer, wondering if he might be the one, the Messiah. Instead of basking in the power that might come from people seeing him as such, John points decisively toward Jesus: “One more powerful than I is coming… He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Water only goes skin-deep, cleaning only the outside. While this is a good start and an act of preparation, Jesus comes to surgically reconcile us to God. For only Christ brings the internal refining fire of the Holy Spirit to burn out our greed, division, and fear. No matter what good we might be able to do for people in the world, it becomes utterly meaningless if we don’t ensure that the glory goes to Christ. Jesus is light, and brings life to a world that has been decimated by brokenness and division. Therefore, we must embrace that Christ strips away our masks, pretenses, and poisonous instincts so that the true person God created can flourish. This is the Gospel, as it is good news because we no longer have to pretend we are whole when we are cracked. We are invited to let Christ’s life shine through us.

However, we cannot point others to Christ without first fixing our lives upon Jesus. John the Baptist clears the path so that we can be prepared to hear the teaching and understand Jesus’ life. Just because we may have heard the stories of Jesus and the Bible hundreds or even thousands of times, we are in no better position than those who are hearing them for the first time; we must allow our lives to be changed by them. This is the only way we can open ourselves to the repentant life. Those who sought to wear the badge of Abraham are just like those of us who lay claim to heritage and tradition, and those are nothing more than snakes hiding in the brush. However, when we see that John points out to the religious that they are called to give up false security, just like the false security the snake finds by hiding in the brush, and the false security we have in our excess, then we are able to walk the repentant life in the light of Christ, and the Spirit can refine us through the fire that helps purify us. Then we can be a wonderful manifestation of the person that God calls us to be, and we can then point to Christ as the one that follows, for whom we are merely preparing the way. Faith is not an inheritance we coast on; it is a life we turn toward.

9 Let love be genuine; hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good; 10 love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. 11 Do not lag in zeal; be ardent in spirit; serve the Lord. 12 Rejoice in hope; be patient in affliction; persevere in prayer. 13 Contribute to the needs of the saints; pursue hospitality to strangers. 14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with one another; do not be arrogant, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. 17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. 18 If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. 19 Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord.” 20 Instead, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink, for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” 21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Ro 12:9–21.

The forces of this world love nothing more than to isolate us, make us feel like we’re on our own, and cause us to see everyone else as a threat. Even when we put on our spiritual armor, we are not intended to stand alone. The body of Christ is meant for us to stand shoulder to shoulder, unbroken. The armor is essential for standing firm against incoming arrows because armor protects life; however, it doesn’t create life. When we stand in defense of the Gospel, we defend the communion of grace and community. It is easy to slip into isolation. Many of us head to work, battling the freeways or public transportation, only to return in the evening. Pulling out our keys and entering our home with the door closing firmly behind us. We turn on the air conditioning, and the outside world stays outside, and inside, we retreat into our quiet, private silos. The world wears us down, and our closed doors might protect our evening peace; the gospel of Jesus Christ cannot be lived out behind it. In Romans 12, believers shift from a defensive stance to an active, life-giving offense. He shows us that Christian community isn’t a social club we join if we have spare time. It is the counter-cultural, Spirit-breathed discipline of showing up for each other, opening our tables, tearing down silos, and proving that grace is stronger than the desert wind.

This life-giving posture comes into sharp focus in Romans 12:9–13, where Paul calls the church to a love marked by unhypocritical, transparent devotion to one another and to the service of the Gospel in the world. Since the world trains us to keep our guard up and engage with each other only in a transactional manner, the Church is meant to be the sacred space where we can remove the armor and where people are genuinely known. This unmasked care naturally pours outward into a radical hospitality that actively meets tangible needs and embraces the stranger. So many of us live in fragmented or transient areas where people arrive, seeking community amid the commuter lifestyle. Therefore, God’s calling takes on urgent importance in the life of our communities. Thus, this passage reminds us that the Lord’s Supper welcomes every believer purely by grace; here we must understand that there is no wiggle room for us, as we must ensure that the church doors and even our personal dinner tables must be unconditionally open, because they become the table of Christ.

While opening our doors and tables is a wonderful starting point, true fellowship requires that we remain in community to cultivate deep roots with our authentic presence. We find in Romans 12:14–16 that we are called into the demanding discipline of emotional connection with people as we are instructed to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” To do this requires genuine spiritual energy to sit alongside a neighbor in their sorrow without offering hollow platitudes, or to celebrate their triumphs without envy. Much like the Joshua trees and desert chaparral that endure relentless drought and gale-force gusts only because their roots interlock deep in the dry soil, if we remain isolated, we will have shallow roots that will be quickly destroyed and fall away when the elements are at their worst. The community described in Romans develops the unseen root system that keeps us firmly anchored when trials batter our health, families, or livelihoods. This is bolstered by the understanding of the priesthood of all believers, because we strip away the world’s pretense of status, rank, or title. At this shared table and in this common ground, we stand leveled by the cross, interlocking our lives as humble, equal recipients of the very same redeeming grace. 

Once our lives are interlocked in this shared humility, the Church is challenged to take this rooted grace into an active, counter-cultural offense. In Romans 12:17–21, our instruction is clearly stated to “live peaceably with all.” In our high-stress, deeply polarized climate, our instinctual human reaction to hostility is to match the rising temperature with heat and vitriol. Yet the Scripture demands that we practice holy de-escalation and cooling of tension. Choosing to feed an enemy when they hunger, offer a cup of water when they thirst, and bless those who oppose us is far from passive surrender; rather, it is the disruptive, offensive power of grace that shatters the vicious cycle of bitterness and revenge. When we actively pursue unity and reconciliation, we do so as both a divine gift and a solemn obligation given to the church. We cannot sit back and wait for the world to become peaceful before we step forward as peacemakers. Instead, we conquer the darkness of our time by actively unleashing the radical, disarming goodness of God.

If you look out across the Mojave Desert, you will see that a lone plant relying on a shallow taproot is quickly torn away by the wind, joining the tumble weeds blowing across the landscape. While the native Joshua trees endure the fierce winds and scorching sun because their roots reach wide, intertwining horizontally beneath the hard crust to hold one another upright. That unseen, life-giving bond is precisely what God envisions for His Church when he calls us to rejoice together, weep together, outdo one another in honor, and live peaceably with all. Guided by our shared conviction that reconciliation is both a sacred gift and an urgent obligation, the most radical witness we can offer in a weary, divided culture is to be a community where genuine, unmasked love actually lives. So as we enter our homes, we cannot simply hide behind the armor of a closed door; pause to greet your neighbor, reach out to the exhausted commuter running on empty, take time at fellowship to listen deeply to someone from a different walk of life, and refuse to meet the world’s hostility with your own. Stand together, hold tightly to one another beneath the surface, and overcome evil by unleashing the relentless Gospel of grace.

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power; 11 put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil, 12 for our struggle is not against blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places., 13 Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on the evil day and, having prevailed against everything, to stand firm. 14 Stand, therefore, and belt your waist with truth and put on the breastplate of righteousness 15 and lace up your sandals in preparation for the gospel of peace. 16 With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints. 19 Pray also for me, so that when I speak a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it boldly, as I must speak.

New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Eph 6:10–20.

We live in a culture that measures success by the space and territory that we have gained. Thus conditioning humanity to think in terms of conquest, progress, and expansion. The business world suggests that if you fail to grow, you risk entering a death spiral. While in the political world, you are required to capture ground; if you don’t, then you are prone to ceding ground to your opponents. Even in church life, we often slip into a language of crusade and victory as we talk of claiming and taking our cities for Christ and claiming ground for the Almighty. Thus, as we approach the words of Ephesians 6 and hear mentions of armor and battle, we are conditioned to our immediate cultural impulse to picture an aggressive charge. We imagine soldiers advancing into enemy lines, shields raised, swords swinging, taking the field. However, paying closer attention to the letter’s context, we notice a word that tells the believer to stand, appearing four times in just four verses. The armor of God helps us stand against the devil, withstand evil, and stand firm in all trials. The armor is not an offensive tool for territorial conquest but a link to a defensive Gospel. The ground has already been won at the Cross and in the Resurrection. The battle we face is not about seizing new territory from evil, but refusing to yield the territory of grace, peace, and reconciliation that Jesus Christ has already secured for us.

The defensive Gospel begins with divine initiative rather than human achievement. We do not build the Kingdom of God by our own spiritual muscle; God establishes the Kingdom in Jesus Christ. The role of the believer is to abide in the result of the Cross, not to achieve victory through human achievement and strength. The opening of the argument is the following: “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.” This strength and power don’t come from humanity’s acquired prosperity and power, but rather from the power obtained through the Lord, through which we allow ourselves to be strengthened by the Lord. We do not manufacture this strength. We do not forge our own armor out of sheer willpower or doctrinal precision. The armor in Ephesians 6 is God’s own armor. The prophet Isaiah describes God equipping Himself with righteousness as a breastplate and salvation as a helmet to deliver the oppressed (Isaiah 59:17). When the church in Ephesus is told to put on this armor, they are instructed to wrap themselves in the character and presence of God. Therefore, we are asked to stand in what God has already provided, rather than forge a new path on our own. This is because “Our struggle is not against enemy flesh and blood.” Every time we reduce our struggles to human enemies needing to be defeated, we have already lost the spiritual battle. The principalities and powers Paul writes about are the systemic, unseen forces that divide, dehumanize, instill fear, and tear apart the human community: cynicism, despair, hatred, and imperial violence. Against those heavy powers, human fighting fails. We cannot charge them down with human rage. We can only stand firm, rooted in the sovereign grace of God.

To be able to stand firm, the follower of Christ must have sufficient footwear. Thus, we see the command to: “lace up your sandals in preparation for the gospel of peace.” This would be connected to the image of a Roman soldier and the heavy leather sandals studded with sharp iron nails. They served the purposes of giving the soldier traction on slippery ground so he wouldn’t be pushed back, and enabling him to march long miles over harsh terrain. Yet the Christian is called to transform these articles of war to serve a contradictory purpose; to share the Gospel of peace. The heart of Christian life is rooted in our readiness for spiritual warfare, which is anchored entirely in the peace reconciled by Christ. We do not fight our spiritual battles with weapons of violence or rhetoric of division, but rather we stand wearing the peace that Christ made on the Cross. Earlier in Ephesians, Christ is directly referred to as our peace, which is not a passive quietism or the mere absence of conflict. Jesus on the Cross is shalom, which is the deep, structural wholeness, justice, and reconciliation that brings humanity back to God and neighbor to neighbor. Directly enabling the believer to love God and love their neighbor. In a world full of hostility, standing for peace is a defensive act of spiritual resistance. When the world demands that we view our neighbors with suspicion, stepping into the room with shoes of peace is peaceful resistance. Additionally, when political and social forces pressure us to demonize others and label them as enemies, standing firm in Christ’s reconciliation is a form of defense. Finally, when systemic injustice tries to grind down the vulnerable, taking a firm stance for justice, mercy, and human dignity defends peace. We do not march out to make war on the world, but rather we stand firm in the world, anchored in Christ’s peace.

After gearing up, the passage does not end with a battle cry, as we have become accustomed to seeing in the movies. Instead, we see the church being called to prayer and perseverance.  The letter doesn’t come from a position of great power and might, but rather comes from “an ambassador in chains.” Therefore, the Church does not get called to dominate and overthrow. The Church has a purpose of sharing peace, as the Gospel is formed and structured upon God making peace with humanity, not war. As a Church finds itself in a world where it seemingly lacks influence, we can feel, from a human perspective, restricted, bound, and powerless. Yet we are called to pray not for vengeance or overcoming the forces of the world, but for boldness to speak the Gospel in our circumstances. The Gospel of Jesus Christ does not need us to conquer the world for it, but rather we are called to stand firm within it. When the days feel evil, when division runs deep, when the powers of despair and hostility seem overwhelming, remember the posture of the church: We do not retreat in fear, nor do we charge in violence. We put on the truth. We strap on righteousness. We take up faith and salvation. We hold fast to the Word. And we plant our feet firmly on the ground, trusting that God, who established peace, will keep us standing to the end.

“Hear, everyone who thirsts; come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your earnings for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. See, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. Now you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.”

Isaiah 55:1–5 (NRSVue)

If you’ve paid attention lately, you realize it is expensive to exist; the proof is in your grocery receipt and in the feeling of sticker shock you’ve had over the last several years. Whether it’s inflation at the supermarket, interest rates, or the sheer cost of keeping gas in the tank, we live in a world where everything comes with a price tag, and that price tag keeps going up. We are constantly calculating, budgeting, and asking ourselves: Can I afford this? Is it worth the cost? We are so conditioned by the economy that we bring that same mindset into our spiritual lives. We ask ourselves: Have I done enough this week to earn God’s favor? Is my faith strong enough? Into our calculated, transactional world, the prophet Isaiah speaks the word of God with staggering contrast: “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” Isaiah is speaking to a people in exile. The Israelites in Babylon had spent decades trying to rebuild their lives in a foreign land. They were spending their energy and hard-earned resources on things that could never truly satisfy them. And God interrupts their striving with an invitation to a feast where the bill has already been paid.

This text goes straight to the heart of what we believe about God, that Grace always arrives first. We do not initiate our relationship with God; God initiates with us. Isaiah asks, “Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?” That is the human condition as we try to buy identity, security, and worth through our own effort. However, God tells us: Stop spending. Start listening. Incline your ear and come to me. Through this, God makes an extraordinary promise: “I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David.” Through God’s promise, which was a covenant originally made with David for a promise of steadfast, unfailing love, which is now broadened to include everyone who hears the call. It is not a temporary contract dependent on our performance; it is an everlasting covenant sealed by God’s own character. It is absolute, unmerited grace. You cannot buy it, you cannot earn it, and you cannot forfeit it by coming to God with empty hands.

God’s promise to us is revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and through worship and gathering at the Lord’s Table, we connect with the opening of the promise to all of us. Looking at the Gospel story of Jesus looking out at a crowd of thousands who are hungry and exhausted in a deserted place. Though the disciples, just like us, look at the crowd and see a scarcity problem: “Send them away to buy food for themselves.” That mentality relies on the market, but Jesus sees a covenant opportunity in the crowd. He takes only a few loaves and fish, gives thanks, breaks the bread, and feeds everyone until they are satisfied, and there are twelve baskets left over. Jesus turns scarcity into abundance, and thus Jesus demonstrates that in the Kingdom of God, scarcity is an illusion in the presence of the Creator. When Jesus later sat in the upper room with his disciples, he took bread and wine and opened the covenant to the entire world. Jesus does not say, “Come to this table if you have your theology completely figured out.” Nor does Jesus say, “Come if you haven’t sinned this week.” Rather we echo the invitation by saying, “Come, because Jesus invites you.” The Lord’s Supper is not a reward for the righteous; it is nourishment for the needy. It is the visible sign of the wine and milk without money and without cost. 

As the church has a feast this good they cannot keep it to themselves. Isaiah reminds the people that: “Surely you will summon nations you know not, and nations you do not know will come running to you, because of the Lord your God.” Grace is not a private treasure to hoard; it is a public feast to host. When we approach the unmerited grace of God at the Lord’s Table, we are transformed from guests into hosts. We are sent out into the world with an urgent mission: to tell every thirsty, hungry, tired soul we meet that there is a seat waiting for them at God’s table. Look around our community today. People are exhausted from trying to earn their worth. People are hungry for real connection, thirsty for genuine forgiveness, and seeking a love that won’t abandon them when times get tough. They are spending their value on what is not bread. Our call as Christ’s church is to be the living invitation. We do not go out with judgment; we go out with news of a feast. We say to our neighbors, our co-workers, our families, and the stranger: “Come to the waters. The host is gracious, the meal is free, and there is a chair with your name on it.”

Ultimately, we must stop trying to buy what God gives away for free. In a transactional world defined by constant calculations and spiritual striving, we are called to completely lay down the heavy burden of self-sufficiency. Instead of attempting to earn divine favor through our own efforts, we must bring our empty hands, our thirsty souls, and our deeply longing hearts to the God who loves us unconditionally with an absolute, everlasting covenant. Let us feast deeply on the radical, unmerited grace offered to us in Jesus Christ, recognizing that all human scarcity is turned into divine abundance at the Lord’s Table. And then, fully transformed and fueled by that grace, let us throw open the doors of this church and go out into the world as active hosts. We must become a living invitation to our neighbors, co-workers, families, and the strangers in our community, inviting everyone to taste and see for themselves that the Lord is good.