A lot of us have spent years going to church, reading our Bibles, and learning about God. And when you've spent that much time in church, it's easy to feel like we have God figured out.   But what happens when life doesn't go the way you expected, and God doesn't show up the way you thought he would? What if God is always bigger than anything we could ever figure out?

It's easy to learn about what Jesus wants from us. We can study scripture, discuss theology, and understand what God values. We can even agree that God's kingdom has no outsiders and that we're called to move toward the margins.   But knowing isn't the same as doing. Sometimes we'd rather stay comfortable in our sacred spaces than actually follow Jesus into the world. But we're not just called to know Jesus, we're called to follow him.

Jesus tells his followers, "You are the salt of the earth" and "You are the light of the world." But even though we know what salt and light are, that doesn't mean we completely understand what Jesus has to say.   In the ancient world, salt preserved food from rotting and light protected people from danger. But salt only works when it gets mixed in, and light only works when you shine it. So are you willing to really be salt and light?

"You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how will it become salty again? It's good for nothing except to be thrown away and trampled under people's feet. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill can't be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven."  Matthew 5:13-16 (Common English Bible) "You will be the salt of the earth... someday, if you work hard enough." "You can become the light of the world... eventually, once you get your act together." "You might be useful to God... if you prove yourself worthy first." That's not what Jesus said. But it's often what we hear. We assume that being who Jesus says we are is something we have to earn, something we have to work toward, something we have to prove we're qualified for. We think that maybe, someday, if we pray enough and read our Bibles enough and serve enough, we might finally become useful to God. But that's not what Jesus said. Jesus didn't say "you will be" or "you can become" or "you might be." Jesus said, "You are." Present tense. Right now. Already. "You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world." Not someday. Not eventually. Not if you work hard enough or prove yourself worthy. You already are. And this matters because when we think being salt and light is something we have to achieve, we spend all our energy trying to become good enough rather than actually being what Jesus says we already are. We wait until we feel qualified. We hesitate until we think we're ready. We hold back until we believe we've proven ourselves worthy. But Jesus doesn't tell us to wait. Jesus doesn't tell us to prove ourselves. Jesus tells us that we already are what we need to be. We're already salt. We're already light. The question isn't whether we'll become useful to God someday. The question is whether we'll actually be what we already are. Think about what this means. Salt doesn't have to wait until it's salty enough before it can preserve food. It's already salty. It just needs to be used. Light doesn't have to wait until it's bright enough before it can shine in darkness. It's already light. It just needs to shine. And you don't have to wait until you're good enough, or smart enough, or spiritual enough, or qualified enough before you can make a difference in God's kingdom. You already are salt. You already are light. You just need to actually be what Jesus says you are. This should be incredibly liberating. It means we don't have to spend years getting ourselves together before we can serve God. It means we don't have to prove ourselves worthy before we can make a difference. It means we don't have to wait until we feel ready before we can be used by God. We can start right now. Right where we are. With all our imperfections and insecurities and uncertainties. Because Jesus isn't waiting for us to become something we're not. Jesus is calling us to be what we already are. But if we already are salt and light, then we don't have any excuses. We can't say, "I'm not ready yet." We can't say, "I need more time to prepare." We can't say, "Maybe someday when I'm more qualified." Because Jesus has already declared that we are salt and light. The only question is whether we're going to actually function as what we already are. So who needs you to be salt in their life right now? Not someday when you're more spiritual or more qualified. Right now. Who needs you to be light in their darkness? Not eventually, when you feel ready. Today. Because you already are what you need to be. The question is whether you'll actually live like it. Prayer: God, thank you for declaring that we already are salt and light. Thank you for not making us wait until we're good enough or qualified enough. Forgive us for using our imperfections as excuses for inaction. Forgive us for waiting until we feel ready when you've already declared that we are what we need to be. Help us believe what you've said about us. Help us stop waiting and start being the salt and light you've declared we already are. Give us courage to step into our identity instead of hiding behind our insecurities. Amen.

He has told you, human one, what is good and what the Lord requires from you: to do justice, embrace faithful love, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8 (Common English Bible) Trust in the Lord with all your heart; don't rely on your own intelligence. Know him in all your paths, and he will make your ways straight.  Proverbs 3:5-6 (Common English Bible) Of the three things God requires – justice, mercy, and humility – walking humbly might be the hardest. Because justice and mercy at least feel like things we can do. We can pursue justice by standing up for people who've been pushed to the margins. We can show mercy by extending grace to people who are hurting. These are actions we can take, goals we can work toward, outcomes we can measure. But walking humbly? That's different. That's not about doing more. It's about releasing control. It's about recognizing that we're not in charge, that we don't have God figured out, and that God might be working in places we never expected, and through people we never would've chosen. Walking humbly means we have to follow God instead of trying to control God. It means we have to let go of our insistence on understanding everything. It means we have to acknowledge that our ways are not God's ways and our thoughts are not God's thoughts. And we hate this. We want to be in control. We want to understand how everything works. We want to predict where God will show up and how God will work. We want God to fit into our categories and meet our expectations. But walking humbly means releasing all of that. It means trusting God even when we don't understand. It means following God even when the path doesn't make sense. It means being open to God working in ways we never imagined. This is what we've been seeing throughout this entire series. God invited foreign priests to worship Jesus when we would have invited religious insiders. God stepped into the water with sinners when we would have maintained a safe distance. God called fishermen and tax collectors when we would have chosen qualified students. God started Jesus' ministry in Galilee when we would have started in Jerusalem. Over and over, God has worked in unexpected ways, in unexpected places, through unexpected people. And every time, it challenges our assumptions about how God should work. Every time, it requires us to walk humbly instead of insisting we know better than God. This week, we've explored what God actually requires from us. We've seen that God wants justice, mercy, and humility more than religious performance. We've confronted the ways we substitute activities for obedience. We've examined what biblical justice really means and what real mercy costs. But it all comes down to this: Are we willing to actually do what God requires? Not just know it. Not just agree with it. Actually do it. Are we willing to pursue justice even when it costs us something? Are we willing to show mercy even when people haven't earned it? Are we willing to walk humbly even when we want to be in control? Because knowing isn't enough. Agreeing isn't enough. Performing religious activities isn't enough. God requires us to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. Not as suggestions. Not as ideals we aspire to. As requirements for following God. But we can't do this in our own strength. We can't manufacture justice, mercy, and humility through sheer willpower. We need God's help. We need God's grace. We need God's Spirit working in us and through us. But we also can't use that as an excuse for inaction. We can't say, "Well, I can't do it perfectly, so I won't do anything." We have to start. We have to take steps. We have to actually do what God requires instead of just thinking about it or praying about it or performing religious activities that make us feel spiritual while avoiding the hard work. God has told us what is good. God has shown us what he requires. The only question is whether we're willing to actually do it. Prayer: God, you've made it clear what you require from us: justice, mercy, and humility. Not religious performance. Not activities that make us feel spiritual. Justice, mercy, and humility. Forgive us for substituting what's easy for what you actually require. Give us courage to pursue justice even when it costs us something. Give us compassion to show mercy even when people haven't earned it. Give us humility to follow you even when we want control. We can't do this in our own strength, so we need your help. But we also can't use that as an excuse for inaction. Help us actually do what you require. Help us be people of justice, mercy, and humility. Help us follow you faithfully. Amen.

"Happy are people who show mercy, because they will receive mercy."  Matthew 5:7 (Common English Bible) "Go and learn what this means: I want mercy and not sacrifice. I didn't come to call righteous people, but sinners."  Matthew 9:13 (Common English Bible) Mercy isn't just feeling sorry for someone. Mercy is active compassion. It's seeing someone who's hurting and doing something about it. It's extending grace to people who've made mistakes. It's refusing to write people off just because they're different from us or because they've done things we may not approve of. And Jesus makes it clear that mercy matters to God. God wants mercy, not sacrifice. God wants us to show compassion, not just perform religious rituals. God wants us to extend grace, not just follow rules. But mercy is hard. Really hard. Because mercy requires us to engage with people's pain, and we'd rather keep our distance. Mercy requires us to extend grace to people who may not deserve it, and we'd rather they earn it first. Mercy requires us to refuse to write people off, and we'd rather maintain our categories of who's worthy and who's not. So we find ways to avoid the hard work of mercy. We pray for people who are hurting instead of actually sitting with them in their pain. We donate money to organizations that help struggling people instead of getting personally involved in their lives. We talk about how important it is to show grace while still judging people for their choices. But that's not mercy.  Real mercy gets messy. It means sitting with someone who's grieving, even when their grief makes us uncomfortable. It means extending grace to someone who's made destructive choices, even when we want to lecture them about what they should have done differently. It means refusing to abandon people even when their lives are falling apart and helping them feels overwhelming. Real mercy means we have to give up our need to fix people. We have to release our desire to control outcomes. We have to let go of our insistence that people earn our compassion by demonstrating they deserve it. We just have to show up, extend grace, and stay engaged even when it's hard. And Jesus tells us that when we show mercy, we receive mercy. This isn't transactional. It's not like we earn God's mercy by showing mercy to others. But there is something profound about the connection between giving mercy and receiving mercy. When we practice extending grace to others, we become more aware of how much we need grace ourselves. When we refuse to write people off, we become less afraid of being written off. When we stay engaged with people in their mess, we're more willing to let others stay engaged with us in our mess. We can't love mercy from a distance. We can't extend grace in theory. We can't show compassion without actually getting involved in people's lives. We have to do the hard work of actually being merciful…not just feeling sorry for people, but actively showing them compassion. And this is what God requires from us. Not just justice. Not just humility. But also mercy. Active, engaged, costly mercy that refuses to keep people at arm's length or write them off when their lives get messy. So who needs your mercy right now? Who needs you to extend grace instead of judgment? Who needs you to stay engaged even when it's hard? Who needs you to show them active compassion instead of just praying about their situation from a safe distance? Because God requires mercy. Not mercy in theory. Not mercy at a comfortable distance. Real, active, costly mercy that actually shows up for people who are hurting. Prayer: God, we'd rather feel sorry for people than actually show them mercy. We'd rather pray about problems than get personally involved. We'd rather maintain comfortable distance than do the hard work of extending grace. Forgive us for avoiding the cost of real mercy. Help us see people who are hurting and actually do something about it. Help us extend grace even when people haven't earned it. Help us refuse to write people off even when their lives are messy. And help us understand that mercy isn't optional—it's what you require from us. Amen.

Wash! Be clean! Remove your ugly deeds from my sight. Put an end to such evil; learn to do good. Seek justice: help the oppressed; defend the orphan; plead for the widow.  Isaiah 1:16-17 (Common English Bible) When we hear the word "justice," we usually think about the legal system. We think about courtrooms, lawyers, judges, and juries. We think about criminals being punished and victims getting what they're owed. We think about law and order. But that's not what the Bible means when it talks about justice. Biblical justice isn't primarily about punishment. It's about making things right. It's about standing up for people who have been pushed down, speaking up for people who've been silenced, and including people who have been left out. Isaiah gives us a clear picture of what this looks like: help the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. These are people who have been pushed to the margins. These are people who don't have power, who don't have resources, who don't have anyone speaking up for them. And God says that pursuing justice means showing up for these people. It means using whatever power, resources, or voice we have to stand with them. This is active, not passive. Justice isn't just feeling bad about injustice. It's not just praying about problems from a safe distance. It's actually doing something to make things right. And this is where it gets uncomfortable for us. Because pursuing justice costs us something. It requires us to pay attention to things we'd rather ignore. It demands that we get involved in situations that are messy and complicated. It means taking risks and making sacrifices. It's easier to donate money to organizations that work with the poor than it is to actually get to know people who are struggling financially and advocate for policies that would help them. It's easier to post about racial justice on social media than it is to do the hard work of examining our own biases and building authentic relationships across racial lines. It's easier to talk about caring for vulnerable children than it is to become foster parents or support foster families or advocate for better child welfare policies. But biblical justice isn't about doing what's easy. It's about making things right, even when it costs us something. And this isn't optional for followers of Jesus. This is what God requires. Not suggests. Not recommends. Requires. God says through Micah, "Do justice." Not "think about justice" or "pray about justice" or "feel bad about injustice." Do justice. So what does this look like practically? It might mean using your voice to speak up when someone is being treated unfairly at work. It might mean advocating for better policies in your community that help vulnerable people. It might mean showing up at school board meetings to ensure all children are being served well. It might mean supporting organizations that are working for systemic change. It might mean building relationships with people who are different from you and learning to see the world through their eyes. But here's what it can't look like: it can't look like just going to church, reading your Bible, praying, and giving while ignoring the oppressed, the orphans, and the widows. It can't look like performing religious activities while avoiding the hard work of actually pursuing justice. Because God has made it clear what he requires: do justice. Not as an add-on to our faith. Not as something we'll get to eventually. Not as something we delegate to others. Do justice. That's what God requires. Prayer: God, we've made justice optional when you've made it required. We've turned it into something we think about rather than something we do. Forgive us for settling for religious performance while ignoring what you actually require. Help us understand what biblical justice really means—standing up for the oppressed, defending the vulnerable, speaking up for those who've been silenced. Give us courage to pursue justice even when it costs us something. And help us remember that this isn't optional—this is what you require from us. Amen.

I hate, I reject your festivals; I don't enjoy your joyous assemblies. If you bring me your entirely burned offerings and gifts of food—I won't be pleased; I won't even look at your offerings of well-fed animals. Take away the noise of your songs; I won't listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.  Amos 5:21-24 (Common English Bible) God hates our worship. That's what Amos says. Not "God is mildly disappointed in your worship" or "God wishes you'd try a little harder." God hates it. God rejects it. God won't even look at it. And these aren't people who've stopped coming to worship. They're not people who've abandoned their faith or stopped following God. They're still showing up to festivals. They're still bringing their offerings. They're still singing their songs. From the outside, everything looks fine. They're doing all the religious things they're supposed to do. But God says, "I hate it. Take it away. I don't want any of it." Why? Because they were performing religious rituals while ignoring justice. They were singing songs while oppressing the poor. They were bringing offerings while exploiting their neighbors. They had perfected religious performance, but they'd completely missed what God actually cared about. And this is deeply uncomfortable for us to hear. Because we like to think that God is pleased when we show up to worship, when we sing the songs, when we pray the prayers, when we give our offerings. We like to think that our religious activities matter to God regardless of how we're living the rest of our lives. But Amos tells us that's not how it works. God doesn't want our worship if we're not pursuing justice. God doesn't want our songs if we're not showing mercy. God doesn't want our offerings if we're walking in pride instead of humility. This doesn't mean worship is unimportant. It doesn't mean we should stop going to church or singing songs or bringing our offerings. But it does mean that worship without justice is worthless. Religious performance without mercy is meaningless. Spiritual activities without humility are empty. God isn't interested in separating our Sunday morning behavior from our Monday through Saturday behavior. God isn't impressed when we perform spiritually on Sunday and then ignore injustice, withhold mercy, and operate in arrogance the rest of the week. God wants integration, not compartmentalization. God wants our whole lives, not just our religious activities. And here's what makes this especially challenging: religious performance is easier than pursuing justice. It's easier to show up to church than to actually work for justice in our communities. It's easier to sing songs about God's love than to show mercy to people who are hurting. It's easier to pray about problems than to actually do something about them. We can check the box on church attendance without really being challenged. We can pray for the homeless without allowing affordable housing in our neighborhoods. We can sing about God's love for all people without actually welcoming people who are different from us. We can perform all the religious activities while avoiding the hard work of justice, mercy, and humility. But God sees through it. God isn't fooled by our religious performance. God knows when we're using worship as a substitute for obedience. God knows when we're performing spiritually while avoiding the demands of justice. So we need to ask ourselves some hard questions. Are we using church attendance to avoid working for justice? Are we using prayer as a substitute for action? Are we performing religious activities while ignoring what God actually requires? Because Amos makes it clear: God doesn't want the noise of our songs if justice isn't rolling down like waters. God doesn't want our worship if righteousness isn't flowing like an ever-flowing stream. God wants justice, mercy, and humility…not religious performance that makes us feel spiritual while avoiding the hard work of actually following God. Prayer: God, forgive us for thinking our religious performance is enough. Forgive us for believing we can worship you on Sunday while ignoring justice the rest of the week. Forgive us for substituting activities for obedience. Help us hear your rejection of worship that isn't accompanied by justice. Help us understand that you care more about how we treat people than how perfectly we perform our religious rituals. And help us pursue justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with you instead of just singing songs about it. Amen.

With what should I approach the Lord and bow down before God on high? Should I come before him with entirely burned offerings, with year-old calves? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with many torrents of oil? Should I give my oldest child for my crime; the fruit of my body for the sin of my spirit? He has told you, human one, what is good and what the Lord requires from you: to do justice, embrace faithful love, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:6-8 (Common English Bible) "Am I doing what God wants me to do?" It's a question most of us have asked at some point, even if we've never said it out loud. We wonder if we're praying enough, reading the Bible enough, serving enough. We wonder if we're being good parents, good employees, good neighbors. We wonder if we're living up to what God expects from us. But before we can figure out if we're doing what God wants us to do, we have to know what God wants us to do. And that's where things get complicated. Because even though we may not say it explicitly, we have some pretty strong ideas about what God requires from us. Most of us think God requires us to go to church regularly. We think God wants us to read our Bibles and pray daily. We think God expects us to give financially to the church. We think being a good Christian is primarily about religious practices. And we think this because these are the things the church seems to talk about most. We hear sermons about the importance of prayer. We participate in programs designed to teach us how to study the Bible. We sit through business meetings where people discuss how important our financial giving is. We get invited to special events aimed at bringing our friends to church. So we naturally assume that these religious activities must be what God requires from us. We assume that if we're going to church, reading our Bibles, praying, and giving, we're doing what God wants. But what if we're wrong? What if we've been asking the wrong question? What if the question isn't "Am I doing enough religious activities?" What if the question is "Am I doing what God actually requires?" Because here's what Micah tells us: the people of Israel thought they knew what God required. They were offering sacrifices. They were performing religious rituals. They were doing all the things they thought good religious people should do. They were bringing their best offerings to God. But God wasn't impressed. Through the prophet Micah, God makes it clear that religious performance isn't what he's looking for. What God requires is something completely different: to do justice, to embrace faithful love, and to walk humbly with God. Not more sacrifices. Not more religious activities. Justice, mercy, and humility. And this should make us stop and ask ourselves some hard questions. Have we been so focused on religious performance that we've missed what God actually requires? Have we been measuring our faithfulness by church attendance and prayer habits when God is measuring it by how we treat people…especially people who've been pushed to the margins? Because if God requires justice, mercy, and humility more than religious performance, then we might be asking the wrong question entirely. The question isn't "Am I doing enough religious activities?" The question is "Am I doing justice? Am I showing mercy? Am I walking humbly with God?" This week, we're going to explore what it really means to do what God requires. We're going to examine why religious performance is easier than justice work. We're going to confront the ways we've substituted activities for action. And we're going to be challenged to actually do what God requires instead of just performing what we think looks spiritual. Because Micah made it clear 2,700 years ago what God requires. The question is whether we're willing to actually do it. Prayer: God, we're good at religious performance. We're good at showing up, at going through the motions, at doing the things we think you want. But help us hear what you actually require from us. Help us understand that you care more about how we treat people than how many church services we attend. Help us see that justice, mercy, and humility matter more to you than our religious activities. And give us courage to actually do what you require instead of settling for what's easier. Amen.

What does God require from us as Christians? Most of us would say going to church, reading the Bible, praying, and giving. We think being a good Christian is primarily about religious activities.   But Micah tells us God wants something different. God cares more about justice, mercy, and humility than religious performance. So what does it actually mean to do what God requires?

In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, the road by the sea, across the Jordan. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light. On those living in a pitch-dark land, light has dawned.  Isaiah 9:1-2 (Common English Bible) This fulfilled what Isaiah the prophet said: Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, alongside the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people who lived in the dark have seen a great light, and a light has come upon those who lived in the region and in shadow of death.  Matthew 4:14-16 (Common English Bible) Isaiah saw it coming centuries before it happened. The people walking in darkness would see a great light. The light wouldn't dawn in Jerusalem, the city already filled with light. It would dawn in Galilee, the place Isaiah describes as "pitch-dark." And Matthew wants us to understand that this wasn't a mistake or a backup plan. This was God's plan all along. God always intended to start in Galilee. God always intended to bring light to the people living in darkness rather than adding more light to the place that already had plenty. This week, we've explored what it means that Jesus started his ministry in Galilee instead of Jerusalem. We've examined why we expect God to work in the center when God consistently shows up at the margins. We've acknowledged the ways we dismiss places and people because they don't fit our categories. We've confronted the danger of being so invested in our expectations that we miss what God is actually doing. But it all comes down to this: Are we going to keep waiting in Jerusalem, or are we going to join God in Galilee? Because God is in Galilee. Right now. God is working in the overlooked neighborhoods, through the dismissed people, in the unexpected places. God is bringing light to those living in darkness. God is honoring what the world has humbled. God is doing powerful work at the margins while we're waiting for something impressive to happen at the center. So what does it mean to join God in Galilee? It means noticing the kingdom work happening in small churches, community organizations, and grassroots movements that will never make headlines. It means recognizing God at work through ordinary people doing extraordinary acts of love even when they don't have platforms or credentials. It means investing our time, our energy, and our resources in places we've been overlooking. It means showing up in neighborhoods we've been avoiding. It means partnering with people who are already doing the work rather than insisting they join our programs and fit our models. It means letting go of our need to control how God works. It means releasing our insistence that God should show up in the ways we expect, through the people we recognize, in the places we've decided are important. It means trusting that God's logic is better than ours, even when it doesn't make sense to us. And it means being willing to be part of Galilee ourselves. Because some of us aren't just being called to join God in Galilee. We are Galilee. We're in the small churches, the overlooked neighborhoods, the dismissed places. We're the ordinary people without platforms trying to love our neighbors well. And we need to hear this: God chose Galilee. God is working through you. God is bringing light through your faithfulness even if it never gets recognized or celebrated in Jerusalem. So stop waiting for permission from Jerusalem. Stop looking to the center for validation. Stop believing the lie that God only works in impressive ways through impressive people in impressive places. Because God chose Galilee. God is in Galilee. And God is inviting you to join what's already happening there. Isaiah saw it coming. Matthew showed us it happened. And it's still happening today. The people walking in darkness are seeing a great light. And that light is dawning in Galilee, not Jerusalem. At the margins, not the center. In the places we least expect. The only question is whether we're paying attention. The only question is whether we're willing to join God there. Prayer: God, you chose Galilee over Jerusalem. You chose the margins over the center. You chose the unexpected over the obvious. Forgive us for waiting in Jerusalem while you're working in Galilee. Help us join what you're already doing at the margins. Open our eyes to see the kingdom work happening in overlooked places through dismissed people. Give us the courage to invest ourselves in Galilee instead of waiting for something impressive to happen in Jerusalem. And if we are Galilee, if we're the ones being overlooked and dismissed, help us trust that you've chosen us, that you're working through us, that you're bringing light through our faithfulness. Thank you for consistently showing up where we least expect. Help us learn to expect you there. Amen.

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who were sent to you! How often I wanted to gather your children together in the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you didn't want that. Look, your house is abandoned. I tell you, you won't see me until the time comes when you say, Blessings on the one who comes in the Lord's name."  Luke 13:34-35 (Common English Bible) Jesus had a complicated relationship with Jerusalem. Jerusalem was the holy city, the place where God's presence dwelt, the center of Jewish religious life. Jesus taught in the Temple. He celebrated Passover there. He went to Jerusalem for the major festivals. Jerusalem mattered to Jesus. But Jerusalem also rejected Jesus. The religious leaders in Jerusalem plotted against him. They challenged his authority. They eventually arranged for his crucifixion. And in this passage, Jesus mourns over Jerusalem because the city refused to recognize what God was doing. Jesus says, "How often I wanted to gather your children together in the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you didn't want that." Jerusalem had every opportunity to recognize the Messiah. The religious leaders knew the scriptures. They knew the prophecies. They had all the right knowledge. But when God showed up in their midst, they missed it. They missed it because Jesus didn't fit their expectations of what the Messiah should be or how God should work. And there's a warning here for us. Because we can be so invested in our Jerusalems, the places and ways we expect God to work, we completely miss what God is actually doing. We can be so focused on attracting people to our church buildings that we miss the kingdom work happening in our neighborhoods. We can be so concerned with creating impressive worship experiences that we ignore the people right outside our doors who need love and justice. We can be so committed to defending our theological positions that we fail to notice when God is moving in ways that challenge our categories. This is the danger of waiting in Jerusalem. We can be so convinced that God will show up in the ways we expect, through the people we recognize, that we completely miss what God is doing at the margins. But while we're waiting in Jerusalem, insisting that God should work the way we think God should work, people are encountering Jesus in Galilee. Lives are being transformed. Communities are being healed. Justice is being done. The kingdom is advancing. And we're missing all of it because we refused to look beyond our expectations. Jerusalem rejected Jesus because he didn't fit their picture of what the Messiah should be. The religious leaders were so invested in their understanding of how God should work that they couldn't recognize God working in a different way right in front of them. And we do the same thing. We reject what God is doing in Galilee because it doesn't fit our picture of what God's work should look like. We dismiss kingdom work because it's happening through the wrong people in the wrong places in the wrong ways. We wait in Jerusalem, convinced we're being faithful, while God is working in Galilee. So here's the question we need to ask ourselves: What are we so convinced about regarding how God should work that we might be missing what God is actually doing? What expectations are we holding onto so tightly that we can't recognize God working in unexpected ways? What Jerusalems are we waiting in while God is working in Galilee? Because the danger isn't just that we'll miss what God is doing. The danger is that we'll actually work against what God is doing because it doesn't fit our expectations. The danger is that we'll become like the religious leaders in Jerusalem who rejected Jesus because he didn't match their categories. Prayer: God, we don't want to be like Jerusalem. We don’t want to be so invested in our expectations that we miss what you're actually doing. We don't want to reject your work because it doesn't fit our categories. Help us let go of our insistence that you work the way we think you should work. Give us humility to recognize that your ways are not our ways. And help us pay attention to what you're doing in Galilee instead of waiting for you to show up in Jerusalem. Amen.