Feeling anxious? God gets it. God meets us in our worries and assures us that HeR17;s with us.
We think status, heritage, and credentials make us a somebody or a nobody, yet those are not what God values. In Matthew 8 a Gentile centurion—nobody by race—approaches Jesus with a suffering servant, forcing the question of what actually makes anyone able to approach GodR17;s kingdom.
We easily draw safe boundaries around God’s grace, welcoming those who seem familiar while overlooking those who feel foreign or difficult. Yet the distant wise men of Matthew 2 and the rejoicing Gentiles of Acts 13 confront those boundaries: Jesus came to reach the world. Who might God be placing beyond our comfort, yet within the reach of his good news?
A folding map only works if you already know where you are. Enough wrong turns, and youR17;re stuck staring at it with no idea how to find yourself—let alone get back on course. Psalm 89 asks what GodR17;s promises do for those of us who arenR17;t the Hannahs and Davids, who look at the map and go the wrong way.
Most of us have something weR17;d rather not put on the table before God—something weR17;re holding just tightly enough that we hope He wonR17;t notice. In Luke 18, a ruler who has kept the commandments since his youth comes to Jesus asking what he still must do to inherit eternal life, and Jesus names exactly the one thing he isnR17;t ready to hear.
We can say all the right things about Jesus and still expect the wrong things from him. In Luke 19, the crowd welcomes its King with praise, peace, and glory—but what happens when the Savior we celebrate does not pursue the earthly victory, security, or power we wanted?
Most of us havenR17;t murdered anyone this week, so we figure weR17;re keeping the sixth commandment just fine—but Jesus suggests the problem runs deeper, into the anger we harbor and the contempt we broadcast, long before any blade is drawn.
Little sins that seem almost harmless still multiply until they leave us too blind even for grace. In Genesis 4, CainR17;s story is one of just such little sins and it serves as a caution as we tend our own “harmless sins.̶1;
WeR17;ve all felt the crash that follows a sugar high—the emotional win, the reassuring word, the earthly success that lifts us for a moment before the bottom drops out again. Paul knew that feeling too, which is why he doesnR17;t merely greet the Ephesians with good wishes but with something that doesnR17;t fade: “grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.̶1;
How does a people God has blessed so richly turn their backs on him? Isaiah 1 opens with God’s lament over Jerusalem—once full of justice, now a harlot filled with murderers—and brings the question home for Lent: when he looks at you, does he lament?