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So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived! All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation. In other words, God was reconciling the world to himself through Christ, by not counting people's sins against them. He has trusted us with this message of reconciliation. So we are ambassadors who represent Christ. God is negotiating with you through us. We beg you as Christ's representatives, "Be reconciled to God!"  2 Corinthians 5:17-20 (Common English Bible) God has given us the ministry of reconciliation. That's what Paul tells us. God reconciled us to himself through Christ. God didn't wait for us to clean ourselves up before moving toward us. God didn't keep his distance until we proved ourselves worthy. God moved toward us while we were still sinners, while we were still separated from him, while we were still unclean. And now God has trusted us to do the same thing. This means that our job isn't to avoid people who are considered unclean. Our job is to move toward them. Our job isn't to maintain a safe distance from people we think might contaminate us. Our job is to extend the same reconciliation to others that God extended to us. This week, we've explored what it means to move toward people instead of avoiding them. We've seen how Jesus stepped into the water with sinners. We've heard God tell Peter to never call anyone unclean. We've watched Jesus touch the untouchable. We've acknowledged that moving toward people costs us something. But here's what all of this comes down to: Are we going to be people who move toward others the way God moved toward us? Because it's one thing to understand intellectually that God moves toward what's unclean. It's another thing to actually embody that in our daily lives. It's one thing to agree that we shouldn't call anyone unclean. It's another thing to actually welcome people we've been avoiding. It's one thing to say we believe there are no outsiders in God's kingdom. It's another thing to actually step into the water with people everyone else is avoiding. This is hard work. It requires intentionality. It demands that we examine our own hearts and confront our own prejudices. It means asking ourselves uncomfortable questions about who we're avoiding and why. But this is what we're called to do. This is our ministry. God has entrusted us with the message of reconciliation. And we can't deliver that message from a safe distance. We have to be willing to move toward people the way God moved toward us. So what does this look like practically? It might mean sitting next to someone in church that everyone else is avoiding. It might mean inviting someone to your home who your neighbors might judge you for welcoming. It might mean standing up for people who are being pushed to the margins, even when it costs you something. It might mean crossing boundaries you've been taught to maintain your entire life. This is the new creation Paul talks about. The old way of avoiding people, maintaining a safe distance, and protecting ourselves from contamination has gone away. The new way of moving toward people, welcoming outsiders, and extending reconciliation has arrived. God moved toward you when you were an outsider. God welcomed you when you were unclean. God reconciled you when you were separated from him. And now God is calling you to do the same for others. So who do you need to move toward this week? Who have you been avoiding that God is calling you to welcome? What boundaries do you need to cross for the sake of extending God's reconciliation to others? Because you are an ambassador who represents Christ. And the world is watching to see if we really believe what we say we believe, if we really believe that God moves toward people instead of avoiding them, and that we're called to do the same. Prayer: God, thank you for moving toward us when we were outsiders. Thank you for reconciling us to yourself when we were separated from you. Thank you for welcoming us when we were unclean. Now help us extend that same reconciliation to others. Make us ambassadors who represent Christ well—not just in our words, but in our actions. Give us courage to move toward people instead of avoiding them. And help us become people who embody your radical welcome in a world that's constantly deciding who's in and who's out. Amen.

All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." When Jesus came to that spot, he looked up and said, "Zacchaeus, come down at once. I must stay in your home today." So Zacchaeus came down at once, happy to welcome Jesus. Everyone who saw this grumbled, saying, "He has gone to be the guest of a sinner."  Luke 15:1-2; Luke 19:5-7 (Common English Bible) The Pharisees and legal experts – the religious leaders who were supposed to know God best – grumbled about Jesus. They complained that he welcomed sinners and ate with them. They criticized him for going to Zacchaeus' house. They questioned his faithfulness because of the company he kept. And it wasn't just the religious elite who had a problem with this. When Jesus went to Zacchaeus' house, Luke tells us "everyone who saw this grumbled." Not just the Pharisees. Everyone. The whole crowd was talking about how Jesus was compromising himself by associating with a known sinner. Jesus knew this would happen. He knew that moving toward people others avoided would cost him his reputation. He knew that eating with tax collectors and sinners would make the religious establishment question his faithfulness. He knew that welcoming outsiders would make insiders uncomfortable. But Jesus did it anyway. Because moving toward people mattered more to Jesus than maintaining his reputation. Because embodying God's welcome mattered more than gaining approval from religious leaders. Because bringing outsiders in mattered more than keeping insiders comfortable. And if we're going to follow Jesus, we need to understand that moving toward people will cost us something too. It might cost us relationships. When we welcome people that others think don't belong, some people in our lives won't understand. They might question our judgment. They might worry that we're compromising. They might distance themselves from us because they don't approve of the company we're keeping. It might cost us our reputation. When we sit with people others avoid, when we stand with people others have pushed to the margins, when we advocate for people others have written off, some people will question our faithfulness. They'll wonder if we've gone soft on sin. They'll accuse us of caring more about being liked than being righteous. It might cost us our comfort. Moving toward people whose lives are messy is hard work. It requires emotional energy. It demands vulnerability. It means entering into pain we'd rather avoid and dealing with complexity we'd rather ignore. It's easier to stay where it's safe. But the cost of moving toward people is always less than the cost of avoiding them. Because when we avoid people, we might protect our reputation, but we lose our soul. We might maintain our comfort, but we miss out on seeing God at work. We might keep our relationships with other insiders, but we fail to embody the radical welcome Jesus demonstrated. Jesus was willing to pay the price of moving toward people. He was willing to be criticized by religious leaders. He was willing to be misunderstood by the crowds. He was willing to risk his reputation for the sake of welcoming outsiders. And he calls us to do the same. Not because it's easy. Not because it won't cost us anything. But because this is what following Jesus looks like. This is what it means to embody God's kingdom in a world that's constantly drawing circles and deciding who's in and who's out. So who do you need to move toward, even if it costs you something? Who needs you to sit with them, stand with them, welcome them, even if others question your faithfulness? What relationship, what reputation, what comfort might God be calling you to risk for the sake of following Jesus? Prayer: God, we want to follow Jesus, but we also want to protect ourselves. We want to move toward people, but we're afraid of what it might cost. Help us trust that you're with us when we risk our reputation for the sake of welcoming others. Give us courage to pay the price of moving toward people instead of avoiding them. And help us remember that following Jesus has always required us to give up something for the sake of gaining everything. Amen.

A man with a skin disease approached Jesus, fell to his knees, and begged, "If you want, you can make me clean." Incensed, Jesus reached out his hand, touched him, and said, "I do want to. Be clean." Instantly, the skin disease left him, and he was clean.  Mark 1:40-42(Common English Bible) In Jesus' day, people with skin diseases were the ultimate outsiders. It didn't matter if it was leprosy or some other condition. If you had a visible skin problem, you were considered ritually unclean. And that meant you couldn't go to the temple. You couldn't participate in community life. You couldn't even get close to other people. The Law required you to keep your distance and shout "Unclean! Unclean!" if anyone came near you. So when this man approached Jesus, he was breaking the rules. He wasn't supposed to get close to anyone. He was supposed to stay isolated. But he was desperate. He'd probably tried everything else. And now he was throwing himself at Jesus' feet, begging for help. And notice what he says: "If you want, you can make me clean." He's not questioning whether Jesus has the power to heal him. He's questioning whether Jesus wants to. Because this man knew what everyone else thought of him. He knew that most people would rather avoid him than help him. He knew that even if someone had the power to make him clean, they probably wouldn't want to risk contamination by getting too close. So what does Jesus do? Jesus reaches out his hand and touches him. Let that sink in for a moment. Jesus didn't have to touch this man. Jesus could’ve healed him from a distance. Jesus could’ve spoken a word and made him clean without any physical contact. But Jesus touched him anyway. And according to the purity laws, that should’ve made Jesus unclean. By touching someone with a skin disease, Jesus should’ve become contaminated. Jesus should’ve needed purification himself. But that's not what happened. Instead of Jesus becoming unclean, the man was made clean. This is what happens when God moves toward what's unclean instead of avoiding it.  We're afraid that if we get too close to people whose lives are messy, we'll be contaminated. We're afraid that if we engage with people who are struggling, their problems will become our problems. We're afraid that if we associate with people others consider outsiders, we'll become outsiders too. So we keep our distance. We offer prayers from afar. We donate money to organizations that work with "those people" so we don't have to get our hands dirty. We create buffers between ourselves and anyone who might threaten our comfort or our reputation. But Jesus didn't keep his distance. Jesus touched the untouchable. Jesus moved toward the people everyone else avoided. And instead of being contaminated by their uncleanness, Jesus brought healing and wholeness. So who are we afraid to touch? Who have we been keeping at arm's length because we're worried about what might happen if we really engage? Who needs us to reach out and make contact instead of maintaining a safe distance? Maybe it's someone struggling with addiction. Maybe it's someone whose mental health challenges make us uncomfortable. Maybe it's someone whose lifestyle choices we don't approve of. Maybe it's someone whose past is too messy or whose present is too complicated. But here's what we need to understand: When we move toward people the way Jesus did, we're not the ones who get contaminated. We're the ones who bring healing. We're not the ones who become unclean. We're the ones who extend God's cleanness to others. Jesus touched the untouchable. And he calls us to do the same. Prayer: God, we're often afraid to get too close to people whose lives are messy. We're afraid of contamination, afraid of what others might think, afraid of getting in over our heads. But Jesus touched the untouchable. He moved toward people instead of avoiding them. Give us courage to do the same. Help us reach out to people instead of keeping our distance. And help us trust that when we move toward others the way Jesus did, we bring healing instead of becoming contaminated. Amen.

At noon on the following day, as their journey brought them close to the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted to eat. While others were preparing the meal, he had a visionary experience. He saw heaven opened up and something like a large linen sheet being lowered to the earth by its four corners. Inside the sheet were all kinds of four-legged animals, reptiles, and wild birds. A voice told him, "Get up, Peter! Kill and eat!" Peter exclaimed, "Absolutely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean." The voice spoke a second time, "Never consider unclean what God has made pure." Peter continued talking with him and entered the house. He found a large gathering of people. He said to them, "You all realize that it is forbidden for a Jew to associate or visit with outsiders. However, God has shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean."  Acts 10:9-15, 27-28 (Common English Bible) Peter sees a vision. He hears a voice telling him to kill and eat animals that the Law of Moses forbids. And his immediate response isn't "Yes, Lord." His immediate response is "Absolutely not, Lord!" So Peter would rather disobey a voice from heaven than break purity laws. Think about that for a minute. That's how deeply ingrained the importance of ritual purity was for Peter. The rules about what was clean and unclean weren't just suggestions. They were fundamental to his identity as a faithful Jew. They were the boundaries that separated God's people from everyone else. They were non-negotiable. So when the voice tells him to eat unclean animals, Peter refuses. And when the voice speaks again and says, "Never consider unclean what God has made pure," Peter is confused. He's spent his entire life following these purity laws. How can God suddenly say they don't matter? But then there's a knock at the door. Messengers from a man named Cornelius are looking for Peter. And Cornelius wasn't just a Gentile. He was a Roman soldier. He was part of the army occupying Israel. He represented everything Peter had been taught to avoid. If Peter went to Cornelius' house, Peter would become unclean. And Peter knew it. But he also remembered the vision he'd just had. And he realized the vision wasn't really about food. It was about people. That's why Peter says, "God has shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean." This was revolutionary. For Peter's entire life, he'd been taught that there were clean people and unclean people. There were insiders and outsiders. There were people you could associate with and people you couldn't. These categories weren't just social conventions. They were religious requirements. But God was telling Peter that those categories were wrong. God was telling Peter that while we try to avoid what's unclean, God moves toward it. And God wanted Peter to do the same. Here's what we miss when we read this story: Peter's struggle is our struggle. We may not follow the same purity laws that Peter followed, but we absolutely have our own categories of clean and unclean. We have people we think will contaminate us if we get too close. We have people we avoid because we're afraid of what might happen if we really engage with them. We avoid the coworker whose lifestyle choices we don't approve of. We avoid the family member whose beliefs challenge ours. We avoid the neighbor whose past is too complicated. We avoid people struggling with addiction, or mental illness, or homelessness, or any number of other things that make us uncomfortable. And we tell ourselves we're being faithful. We tell ourselves we're protecting our families or our values or our witness. We tell ourselves that avoiding contamination is the responsible thing to do. But that's not what God told Peter. God told Peter, "Never call a person impure or unclean." Not "be careful around unclean people." Not "keep your distance from people who might contaminate you." Never call a person impure or unclean. So who have we been calling unclean? Who have we been treating like they might contaminate us? Who have we been avoiding because we're afraid of what might happen if we get too close? Because if God told Peter to never call anyone unclean, then that applies to us too. And if we're going to follow Jesus, we have to stop avoiding people and start moving toward them. Prayer: God, forgive us for calling people unclean when you say they're not. Forgive us for avoiding people you've called us to move toward. Forgive us for creating categories you've told us to tear down. Help us see people the way you see them—not as threats to avoid, but as beloved children you're inviting us to welcome. Give us courage to cross the boundaries we've been taught to maintain. Amen.

Jesus didn't need to be baptized. Everyone at the Jordan River was there because they were sinners seeking purification. Jesus was without sin, so he had no reason to step into that water.   So why did Jesus insist? Because while we try to avoid what's unclean, God moves toward it. The question is: are we willing to do the same?

At that time Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan River so that John would baptize him. John tried to stop him and said, "I need to be baptized by you, yet you come to me?" Jesus answered, "Allow me to be baptized now. This is necessary to fulfill all righteousness." So John agreed to baptize Jesus. When Jesus was baptized, he immediately came up out of the water. Heaven was opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God coming down like a dove and resting on him. A voice from heaven said, "This is my Son whom I dearly love; I find happiness in him."  Matthew 3:13-17 (Common English Bible) John was baptizing people in the Jordan River, and everyone who came to him knew exactly why they were there. They were sinners. They needed to be made clean. That's what John's baptism was all about: turning away from sin and washing away the dirt that had accumulated in their lives. So when Jesus showed up, John was confused. He knew who Jesus was. He recognized that Jesus was different from everyone else standing in line. And John's response makes perfect sense: "I need to be baptized by you, yet you come to me?" John understood the problem. If baptism was for sinners who needed purification, and Jesus was without sin, then Jesus had no reason to be there. Jesus was already clean. There was nothing to wash away. But Jesus insisted. He told John, "This is necessary." To understand why it was necessary, we need to understand what ritual purity meant to the people of Israel. Being ritually clean wasn't just about personal hygiene. It was about whether God's holiness could dwell among his people. And there were all kinds of things that could make someone ritually unclean. Things like touching a dead body, having certain kinds of skin conditions, eating forbidden foods, or even touching someone else who was unclean. When you were unclean, you had to do something about it. You had to go through a purification ritual by immersing yourself in water. This wasn't optional. If you were unclean and you didn't purify yourself, you were separating yourself from God's presence. So everyone at the Jordan River that day was there because they knew they were unclean. They knew they had messed up. They knew they needed to be made clean, not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. But Jesus didn't need any of that. So Jesus had every reason to stay on the shore. He had every reason to keep his distance. He had every reason to avoid contamination. But Jesus stepped into the water anyway. And that's the point. Jesus didn't get baptized because he needed to be purified. Jesus got baptized because he chose to identify with sinners. He chose to stand with people that everyone else said were unclean. He chose to move toward people instead of avoiding them. This is who God is. While we try to avoid what's unclean, God moves toward it.  We spend so much energy trying to protect ourselves from contamination. We avoid people whose lives are messy. We keep our distance from people who might make us uncomfortable. We stay in our safe spaces with people who are already clean. But that's not what Jesus did. Jesus stepped down into the water with sinners. Jesus identified with the people everyone else was avoiding. And Jesus calls us to do the same thing. So who are we avoiding? Who have we decided might contaminate us if we get too close? Who are we keeping at arm's length because we're afraid of what might happen if we really engage with them? Because if we're going to follow Jesus, we can't stay on the shore. We have to be willing to step into the water with the people everyone else is avoiding. Prayer: God, thank you for sending Jesus to step into the water with sinners. Thank you for moving toward us instead of avoiding us. Thank you for choosing identification over separation. Help us follow Jesus' example. Give us courage to move toward people we'd rather avoid. And help us stop being afraid of contamination when you've called us to step into the water. Amen.

After this I looked, and there was a great crowd that no one could number. They were from every nation, tribe, people, and language. They were standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They wore white robes and held palm branches in their hands. They cried out with a loud voice: "Victory belongs to our God who sits on the throne and to the Lamb."  Revelation 7:9-10 (Common English Bible) When God invited the magi, who were Persian astrologers, to be among the first to worship Jesus, it wasn't random. When God included Ruth the Moabite and Rahab the Canaanite in Jesus' family tree, it wasn't an accident. When Jesus ate with tax collectors and talked with Samaritans, it wasn't just being nice. All of it was pointing toward this vision of a great crowd that no one could number, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, all standing before God's throne together. This is what God has always been working toward. Not a kingdom where everyone looks the same, believes the same, or comes from the same background. A kingdom where diversity isn't just tolerated but celebrated. A kingdom where the barriers we've spent centuries building are completely torn down. A kingdom with no outsiders. But this isn't supposed to be some distant future hope. This is the reality we're called to live into right now. When we welcome outsiders, we're giving people a glimpse of God's coming kingdom. When we tear down barriers instead of building them, we're showing the world what God's kingdom actually looks like. When we refuse to treat anyone as less than human, we're proclaiming that there are no outsiders in God's kingdom. But when we exclude people, when we draw circles and tell some people they're out, when we rebuild barriers that Jesus tore down, we're working against what God is doing. We're saying that the future kingdom where everyone is welcome isn't something we actually want to see here and now. This week, we've explored how God has always chosen outsiders, how insider thinking is dangerous, and how we're called to practice radical welcome. But it all comes down to this: Do we really believe that there are no outsiders in God's kingdom? And if we believe it, are we willing to live like it's true? Because knowing this isn't enough. Agreeing with it isn't enough. We have to examine our own hearts, confront our own biases, and change our own behavior. We have to stop creating categories of who belongs and who doesn't. We have to stop requiring people to prove themselves before we'll welcome them. We have to stop acting like gatekeepers of God's kingdom. This is hard work. It will cost us something. Some people won't understand. Some people will question our faith. Some people will accuse us of compromising. But this is what following Jesus requires. Because Jesus made it clear: God's kingdom has no outsiders. The only question is whether we're going to keep creating them in ours. Prayer: God, thank you for creating a kingdom where everyone belongs. Thank you for tearing down the barriers we keep trying to build. Thank you for inviting us in when we were outsiders. Help us live into the reality of your kingdom right now—not someday in the distant future, but today, in our relationships, in our communities, in our churches. Give us courage to welcome the people you're already inviting in. And help us stop creating outsiders when you say there are none. Amen.

May the God of endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude toward each other, similar to Christ Jesus' attitude. That way you can glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ together with one voice. So welcome each other, in the same way that Christ also welcomed you, for God's glory.  Romans 15:5-7(Common English Bible) Paul's instruction here sounds simple: welcome each other the same way Christ welcomed you. But when you really think about how Christ welcomed us, it becomes radical. Christ didn't wait for us to get our lives together before welcoming us. Christ didn't require us to have perfect theology before inviting us in. Christ didn't demand that we prove ourselves worthy before offering us grace. Christ welcomed us while we were still sinners, still struggling, still figuring things out. And Paul says that's exactly how we're supposed to welcome each other. But we don't do this naturally. Our instinct is to welcome people who are like us – people who share our values, our background, our beliefs, our lifestyle. We're comfortable welcoming people who won't challenge us or make us uncomfortable. We're happy to invite in people who already fit. That's not radical welcome. That's just hospitality to people who are already insiders. Radical welcome means welcoming people the way Christ welcomed the magi. It means inviting in people who practice a different religion. It means making space for people whose backgrounds are complicated. It means embracing people whose beliefs don't perfectly align with ours. It means sitting at tables with people who make us uncomfortable. This is hard. It costs us something. When we practice radical welcome, we might face judgment from other Christians who think we're compromising. We might have to answer difficult questions from people in our lives who don't understand why we're associating with "those people." We might have to examine our own prejudices and biases. But this is what following Jesus requires. Jesus didn't just talk about welcoming outsiders from a safe distance. Jesus actually ate with tax collectors and sinners. Jesus touched lepers. Jesus talked with Samaritans. Jesus welcomed people that the religious establishment said didn't belong. And he calls us to do the same. So what does this look like practically? It might mean sitting next to someone in church that everyone else is avoiding. It might mean inviting someone to your home who your neighbors might judge you for welcoming. It might mean standing up for people who are being pushed to the margins, even when it costs you something. It might mean choosing relationships with people who don't look like you, worship like you, or vote like you. Radical welcome isn't just a nice idea we talk about. It's a practice we actually live out. It's the difference between agreeing that there are no outsiders in God's kingdom and actually welcoming the outsiders in our own lives. Paul reminds us that when we welcome each other the way Christ welcomed us, we glorify God together with one voice. Not separate voices for insiders and outsiders. Not different voices for people who are like us and people who aren't. One voice. Together. That's the vision. The question is whether we're willing to actually live it out. Prayer: God, you welcomed us before we had it all figured out. You invited us in before we proved ourselves worthy. You extended grace to us when we were still outsiders. Help us welcome others the same way. Give us courage to invite in the people we'd rather avoid. Give us humility to learn from the people we've dismissed. And help us create communities where everyone knows they belong. Amen.

My brothers and sisters, when you show favoritism you deny the faithfulness of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has been resurrected in glory. Imagine two people coming into your meeting. One has a gold ring and fine clothes, while the other is poor, dressed in filthy rags. Then suppose that you were to take special notice of the one wearing fine clothes, saying, "Here's an excellent place. Sit here." But to the poor person you say, "Stand over there"; or, "Here, sit at my feet." Wouldn't you have shown favoritism among yourselves and become evil-minded judges? You do well when you really fulfill the royal law found in scripture, Love your neighbor as yourself. But when you show favoritism, you are committing a sin, and by that same law you are exposed as a lawbreaker.  James 2:1-4, 8-9 (Common English Bible) We all do it. We all make snap judgments about who belongs and who doesn't. We all create mental categories of insiders and outsiders. And we all think we're justified in doing it. James calls this out directly. He describes a scenario where two people walk into a gathering. One is dressed in fine clothes with a gold ring, the other is in filthy rags. And he points out that we naturally pay attention to the person who looks like they belong while dismissing the person who doesn't. But James calls this what it is: sinning by showing favoritism. That's strong language. But when we decide who's in and who's out based on external factors, we're not just being rude or unwelcoming. We're actually denying the faithfulness of Jesus Christ. Think about what that means. When we show favoritism, when we treat people differently based on their background, their appearance, their past, or their beliefs, we're saying that Jesus' faithfulness isn't enough. We're saying that God's grace needs our approval before it can reach certain people. We're saying that Jesus might welcome everyone, but we know better. That's what was happening with the insiders in the story of the magi. Herod, the chief priests, and the legal experts knew where to find the Messiah. They had all the right knowledge. They had the right credentials. They were in the right place. But they never made the trip to Bethlehem because they couldn't imagine that God would actually show up for people like them in a place like that. Meanwhile, Persian astrologers who practiced a different religion traveled for months because they believed God was doing something worth finding. So the outsiders had more faith than the insiders. And we do the same thing. We assume that because we show up on Sunday, read our Bibles, and know the right theological language, we're the ones God is most interested in working through. We assume that people who don't fit our mold – people whose lives are messy, whose beliefs are different, whose backgrounds are complicated – need to prove themselves before God will really accept them. But that's not how God works. God doesn't require people to become insiders before inviting them in. God invites outsiders and makes them insiders. And when we refuse to do the same, we're not protecting God's kingdom. We're blocking people from entering it. So here's the question we need to ask ourselves: Who have we been treating like they don't belong? Who have we dismissed because they don't fit our expectations? Who have we decided needs to prove themselves before we'll welcome them? Because when we show favoritism, we're not just being exclusive. We're denying the faithfulness of Jesus. Prayer: God, forgive us for the ways we've shown favoritism. Forgive us for thinking we get to decide who belongs in your kingdom. Forgive us for requiring people to prove themselves before we'll welcome them. Help us see people the way you see them—not as outsiders who need to earn their place, but as beloved children you're already inviting in. Amen.

But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to abandon you, to turn back from following after you. Wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord do this to me and more so if even death separates me from you." So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, "May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn't left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She's better for you than seven sons." Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, "A son has been born to Naomi." They called him Obed. He became Jesse's father and David's grandfather.  Ruth 1:16-17; 4:13-17 (Common English Bible) The story of the magi isn't an isolated incident. No, choosing outsiders is what God has always done. Take Ruth, for example. Ruth was a Moabite. And if you know anything about the relationship between Israel and Moab, you know that's a problem. The Moabites weren't just neighbors the people of Israel didn't get along with. They were enemies. The book of Deuteronomy specifically says that Moabites weren't allowed to enter the assembly of the Lord, even to the tenth generation. So Ruth was about as much of an outsider as you could be. She was ethnically wrong. She was religiously wrong. She was from the wrong nation. And yet, when you trace Jesus' family tree back in the Gospel of Matthew, there she is. Ruth the Moabite became King David's great-grandmother. Ruth, the outsider, became part of the lineage of the Messiah. Or think about Rahab. She was a Canaanite prostitute who helped Israelite spies escape from Jericho. She was an outsider because of her nationality. She was an outsider because of her profession. And yet, she's listed in Jesus' genealogy too. She became the mother of Boaz, who married Ruth, and together they're part of the story that leads to Jesus. We see this pattern over and over again throughout Scripture. Moses was a murderer who fled to the wilderness. The Samaritan woman had been married five times. The thief on the cross was literally a criminal. And Jesus chose fishermen, tax collectors, and zealots to be his disciples instead of priests or religious scholars. This is who God has always been. This is what God has always done. God doesn't choose people based on their résumés. God doesn't wait for people to clean up their lives before inviting them to be part of the story. God chooses outsiders and makes them insiders. But if God has always worked this way, then why are we so surprised when God keeps doing it? We're surprised when someone with a complicated past encounters God's grace. We're shocked when someone from a different background becomes part of our faith community. We're uncomfortable when people who don't fit our mold claim to follow Jesus. But maybe the problem isn't with them. Maybe the problem is that we've forgotten this is exactly how God works. God chose Ruth. God chose Rahab. God chose Moses. God chose the Samaritan woman. God chose the magi. And God is still choosing people who don't fit our categories of who belongs. So instead of being surprised when outsiders show up, maybe we should start asking ourselves why we ever thought God would work any other way. Prayer: God, thank you for choosing Ruth and Rahab and Moses and so many others who didn't fit the mold. Thank you for showing us throughout history that you don't choose people the way we would. Help us trust your pattern of working through unexpected people. And help us celebrate when you choose outsiders instead of questioning whether they really belong. Amen.

We've all seen the wise men in nativity sets, but we rarely ask who they actually were. They were foreign priests who practiced a different religion and worshiped different gods. They were outsiders in every way.   But God chose them to be among the first to worship Jesus while leaving the religious insiders behind. What does that reveal about who belongs in God's kingdom?

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in the territory of Judea during the rule of King Herod, magi came from the east to Jerusalem. They asked, "Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We've seen his star in the east, and we've come to honor him." When King Herod heard this, he was troubled, and everyone in Jerusalem was troubled with him. He gathered all the chief priests and the legal experts and asked them where the Christ was to be born. They said, "In Bethlehem of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote: You, Bethlehem, land of Judah, by no means are you least among the rulers of Judah, because from you will come one who governs, who will shepherd my people Israel."  Matthew 2:1-6 (Common English Bible) If you were throwing a party for the most important event in human history, who would you invite? You'd probably make a guest list of people who matter. People who are respected. People who are influential.  That's exactly what makes the story of the wise men so shocking, they were unexpected guests. The wise men weren't rabbis from Jerusalem. They weren't priests from the temple. They were astrologers from Persia who worshiped different gods and practiced a different religion. They represented everything the people of Israel were supposed to avoid. If the religious leaders in Jerusalem had been making the guest list for Jesus' birth, the wise men wouldn't have even made the cut. But God wasn't using their guest list. Here's what we need to understand about the wise men: they were outsiders in every possible way. They were geographically distant, living hundreds of miles away from Israel. They were religiously different, with their own scriptures, rituals, and understanding of the divine. They were ethnically foreign and came from an empire that had once ruled over Israel's ancestors. And they practiced astrology, something the Law of Moses explicitly forbade. So when Matthew tells us that these Persian priests were among the first to come and worship Jesus, his original audience would have been scandalized. They would've thought, "What are they  doing in this  story?" But that's exactly the point. God's first move after Jesus was born wasn't to alert the religious establishment in Jerusalem. God's first move was to invite outsiders. Meanwhile, the insiders – like Herod, the chief priests, the legal experts – knew exactly where to find the Messiah. They could quote Micah 5 from memory. They were only six miles away from Bethlehem. But they never made the trip. The people who should have been first at Jesus' cradle were left on the sidelines while outsiders traveled months, possibly years, to get there. And this reveals something fundamental about who God is. God doesn't wait for people to get their theology right before inviting them in. God doesn't require the right credentials or the right background. God invites people we would never think to include. But here's where it gets uncomfortable. If God invited outsiders to be among the first to worship Jesus over 2,000 years ago, what does that mean for us today? It means we need to examine who we've decided doesn't belong. Who have we written off because they don't believe exactly what we believe? Who have we excluded because they don't look like us or worship like us? Who have we dismissed because their lives are too messy or their past is too complicated? Because if God chose Persian astrologers to be among the first to worship Jesus, then God is still choosing people we'd never expect. God is still inviting people we'd leave off our guest list because there really are no outsiders in God's kingdom. Prayer: God, we confess that we're good at creating categories and deciding who's in and who's out, who belongs and who doesn't. Help us see people the way you see them. Open our eyes to the outsiders you're already inviting into your kingdom. Give us the courage to welcome the people we'd rather avoid and the humility to learn from the people we've dismissed. Amen.