Elpis and Shalom

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town. 4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. 6 And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. The Shepherds and the Angels 8 And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. 10 And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 14  “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” 15 When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. 17 And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. 18 And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. 20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. 

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 2:1–20.

We find ourselves in a season that pulls us in two directions. Out in the world, the pace quickens to a frantic rush. The lights are bright, the music is giddy, and the lists are long. It is a season of doing, of buying, of wrapping, of planning. Yet, at the heart faith is a story that begins not with a rush, but with a profound and holy stillness. It begins on an ordinary night, in the quiet fields outside Bethlehem, where a few shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks. Nothing was happening. The world was asleep. And it was into that silence that the heavens broke open with the song of angels. The central purpose of Advent is to seek the quietness in our own hearts, and to pause, as the shepherds did, and truly listen to the angel song that pierces the noise of our lives, which is the “good news of great joy” that is for all people. In Jesus, God did not just send a baby; He sent us a series of transformative gifts, wrapped not in paper and bows, but in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger. These gifts understood as Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love guide us to an understanding of why God sent the Savior in the form of a vulnerable baby, and to receive them is to understand our purpose. And to share them is to fulfill our highest and most sacred calling.

The season of Advent is, above all, a season of hopeful waiting. But the hope that Scripture speaks of is not the flimsy optimism our world so often peddles. It is not a feeling that things might get better. Biblical hope is a steadfast, rugged trust in the unchanging character of God and in His ancient promises—promises that find their ultimate and breathtaking fulfillment in the birth of Jesus. This is a hope that confronts worldly disappointment head-on. We have all known the ache of a broken heart, the sting of failure, the long shadow of grief. However, the hope found in Christ is different, because God offers it even to the “worst of sinners,” with a promise that when we turn to Him, He will pardon us, reconcile us, and never forsake us. In the Old Testament, the words for hope carry the meaning not of simple wishes, but of waiting with eager but patient expectation. Trusting that God will fulfill His promises precisely because of His faithful character. The angel’s announcement grounds it in historical fact. This Savior was “born this day in the city of David.” This happened on a real day, when Caesar Augustus was emperor and Quirinius was governor of Syria. It happened in a real city, a place you can visit today. Our hope is anchored in the fact that God broke into human history on a specific day, in a specific place, for a specific purpose. It is this certain and historical hope that provides the unshakable foundation for the next gift He brings.

When the heavenly host appeared, their song was strategically precise: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace…” This was not a call for a mere ceasefire or the absence of conflict. The peace they proclaimed was the deep, biblical concept of shalom which is a cosmic state of wholeness that blossoms organically from a just and righteous order. The world offers a fragile peace, dependent on treaties or fleeting goodwill, but Christ brings a peace that fundamentally reorders our reality. Because Christ tears down the barrier of sin, establishing our peace with God, a new reality dawns within us: the unshakeable peace of God that defies our circumstances. This tranquility that “surpasses all understanding,” guards our hearts and minds even when the storms of life rage around us. This reconciled peace is not passive, but it fuels the reconciliation between people. For when we are at peace with our Creator, we are empowered to become agents of His peace in a divided world. The Apostle Paul teaches that Christ Himself gives us our peace by breaking down the dividing walls of hostility between Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, right and left and continues to reconcile all people to one another in His one body. Once our relationship with God is restored through hope and peace, it naturally overflows into a profound and unshakable joy.

The angel’s message to the terrified shepherds was one of “good news of great joy.” And just like hope and peace, joy is radically different from worldly happiness. For it is not an emotion based on a personal achievement or a desire fulfilled. Rather, it is rooted within a deep sense of safety and freedom sourced from God’s loving and unchanging presence, thus this joy can even be experienced in the midst of sorrow. The angel announced this joy to the shepherds, but Mary poured out her joy to all of us through her song, the Magnificat, which reveals the anatomy of joy. She begins with, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” Thus Mary teaches us that joy flows from God-magnification. It begins with a posture of humility, which is an honest recognition of our own spiritual poverty, and dependence on God. The source of joy is not in what we have, but in Who has us. It is the joy of knowing God, and of being loved by Him, because we realize that through Jesus our sins have been forgiven. This is why the Apostle Paul could speak of being “sorrowful yet always rejoicing,” because this joy runs deeper than pain. It is a current of gladness that flows from the very heart of God, a heart that is, in its essence, selfless and perfect love.

Thus the greatest of the Advent gifts is God’s demonstrated love through The Incarnation, where God becomes flesh and dwells among us, becoming the supreme manifestation of God’s love. This gift is not just one of God’s attributes but exists as His very essence. The Apostle John states that God is love. Which ultimately is revealed in Christ, is a promised love because the Gospel was not a divine afterthought, because it was promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, and rooted in the ancient covenant God made with David. The baby in the manger is the fulfillment of a love story centuries in the making. Additionally, it is a powerful love, because it has the power to fundamentally change our identity. In the heart of the Roman empire, which defined people by status and power, believers were given a new name, saints. In a world that defines us by our performance and our failures, this love bestows upon us a new identity rooted not in what we do, but in whose we are. It is a love that silences the accuser and grounds our worth in the unshakeable affection of our Creator. Finally, it is a pervasive love. The Gospel was designed to break down every barrier. Paul’s mission was “to call all the Gentiles,” a living testament that God’s love knows no boundaries of ethnicity, culture, or geography. This gift is for “all people.” Our ability to love, therefore, is not something we conjure up on our own. It is always a response. As 1 John 4:19 reminds us, “We love because he first loved us.” Having received and become witnesses to these incredible gifts, God calls upon us to respond to the grace with obedience rooted in faith.

We are now commissioned to be His witnesses. This is not an optional extra for the spiritually elite; it is the natural, necessary, and joyful response to a genuine encounter with the living God. To receive these gifts is to be charged with sharing them. For this sacred task, God gives us a perfect model within the Christmas story in Luke 2. The shepherds model an active and urgent witness. After hearing the angelic announcement, they did not debate or delay. They said, “Let us go,” and they “came in a hurry.” And after they had seen the child, they “made known the message” to everyone they could. Let us not forget who these people were as they were social outcasts, despised by respectable society, whose testimony was not even admissible in a court of law. And yet, God entrusted His most important news bulletin to them first, proving forever that He gives His message to the humble. They received the message of God from the quiet fields of Bethlehem and carried to the world a firsthand witness to the very heart of God. We have received the gifts of Hope, an anchor in the darkness; Peace, the wholeness of God’s presence; Joy, the song of a humble heart; and Love, the very essence of our Creator. With these gifts come our sacred task, which is to be witnesses to what we have received, seen, and heard, just as the first witnesses responded. The angels filled the sky with a song: “Glory to God in the highest.” And the shepherds, after seeing the child, returned to their fields “glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen.” The first Christmas was not a silent night, but rather it was a night filled with praise, so we cannot go out keeping to ourselves about what we encounter in silence, but we can join the heavenly chorus. Our hearts, once cluttered by the noise of the season, are now tuned to the song of heaven. We enter into a waiting and weary world, carrying the light of Christ and singing His praises. Let us become living echoes of that good news of great joy. In the words of the song of old, Go, Tell It on the Mountain, that Jesus Christ is born!

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of his name among all the nations, including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,

To all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Romans 1:1-7.

While love is a powerful emotion that shapes our art and culture, it is often most palpably felt in the anticipation of a reunion, an excitement that seemingly cannot be contained. We are all familiar with the emotional resonance of viral videos showing soldiers returning from deployment or loved ones reuniting after long absences, and advertisers frequently capitalize on this sentiment during the Christmas season to suggest their products can complete these connections. However, Advent allows us to anticipate an enduring love found in Christ Jesus, a love that is not merely emotional manipulation but a transformative force that turns the world from an opponent of God into the very mission field Christ came to save. In the opening verses of Romans, the Apostle Paul offers a formal introduction and a theological handshake to a church he has never met to establish the foundation of the faith. In this opening, Paul unpacks a revolutionary love that is not fleeting or sentimental but is distinctively promised, powerful, and pervasive.

In a world captivated by fleeting trends and novel ideas, Paul begins by strategically grounding our faith in an ancient promise rather than a new philosophy. He insists that this love was not a divine afterthought but is deeply rooted in the Holy Scriptures, connecting Jesus directly to the Messianic prophecies of the Old Testament. Paul identifies Jesus as a descendant of David “according to the flesh” (kata sarka), a phrase that underscores Christ’s genuine human nature and validates the covenant found in 2 Samuel. This connection is theologically indispensable because it fulfills the prophecy of Micah, who foretold that a ruler would emerge from Bethlehem, a village explicitly called too little to be among the clans of Judah. By affirming Jesus as the seed of David, Paul validates His claim as the rightful Messiah and King. This doctrine of the Incarnation signifies that God’s love is not an abstract force but a tangible reality with a human lineage. Our hope is therefore not based on volatile feelings but on the unwavering faithfulness of a God who kept His word to send a King from an overlooked town, verifying that He works through humility to fulfill His historical promises.

Beyond its historical roots, this divine affection carries a transformative power that redefines human identity in radical ways. Paul introduces himself as a doulos of Christ, which translates to “bond-slave.” This term shattered the Roman ideal of the free citizen, as it was the most abject term used to denote a slave and represented the antithesis of honor, power, and significance. It signified a will completely swallowed up in the will of a master. He then further overturns the world’s hierarchy by addressing the believers in Rome as saints. Unlike the modern conception of a spiritual superstar, the Greek term hagios refers to all believers who are set apart by God, not because of heroic virtue or achievement, but simply because of God’s call. For a small, insignificant community living under the shadow of the eventual persecution of Nero, being called beloved by God was a defiant cry of hope. It declared that their true identity and security rested not in the emperor’s favor but in their unshakeable standing as God’s children. This is a truth Jesus Himself prayed for when He asked that the world would know the Father loves the disciples just as He loves the Son.

Continuing the mission, this love is inherently pervasive and intended to break down barriers to reach all of humanity. Paul’s greeting of grace and peace is a paradigm-shifting summary of the Gospel that fuses the Greek charis with the Jewish shalom. This blessing signals that the Gospel is universal and designed to dismantle the wall between Jew and Gentile. The mission is explicitly for all the nations, and Paul includes his Roman audience in this global mission by affirming that they are living proof of the Gospel’s reach. This universal offer requires a responsive hearing, or the obedience that comes from faith. It is not a demand for legalistic works to earn favor but a natural response of trust to the good news that God’s love knows no boundaries as it reaches every nation and person regardless of their background.

Ultimately, the opening greeting of Romans establishes the Gospel not merely as a set of doctrines but as the active power of God that fundamentally changes who we are, transforming those who were once enemies into beloved children and captives of sin into willing slaves for Christ. As we navigate the Advent season, we see that the baby in the manger is the fulfillment of this grand story. He is the Promised King of David’s line, the Powerful Son of God, and the source of Pervasive grace for all nations, in whom there is no longer Jew or Gentile. This reality offers us more than the temporary emotional high of a commercialized holiday; it fills the one waiting with a determination to overcome any current circumstance because we understand the love God has for us. Therefore, let us respond to this love not with mere sentiment but with the surrender of responsive hearing, becoming agents of grace and peace in a divided world that desperately needs to know there is a love strong enough to heal its deepest divisions.

46 And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, 47  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48  for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49  for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50  And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51  He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; 52  he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; 53  he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. 54  He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55  as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 1:46–55.

Music and poetry have long served as vehicles to reveal the hidden depths of the human heart, using melody and lyric to convey emotions that mere prose cannot capture. While genres like country and folk are often credited with emotional storytelling, worship music holds a distinct purpose: it is written not only to invoke an emotional connection with the Almighty but to lay the believer bare in humility before Him. During Advent, we look to the song of Mary known as the Magnificat as the ultimate expression of this posture. To understand her song, one must first understand the singer. Mary was not a queen safe in a palace, but a poor teenager from an obscure village, marginalized by the mighty Roman Empire and facing a potentially life-threatening scandal. She was pregnant, unmarried, and powerless, possessing a story the world would likely dismiss or disgrace. Yet, in the face of fear and rigid social codes, Mary chose to sing a radical anthem of joy. This joy was not a result of her circumstances, but a theological outpouring allergic to pride; it was the joy that comes when one steps back to admire all that God has brought through Christ Jesus.

This radical joy is rooted in a profound humility that seeks to magnify God rather than the self. When Mary declares, “My soul magnifies the Lord,” (Luke 1:46), she does not mean she is making God larger, as He is already infinite, but rather that she is extolling Him to make His greatness visible and clear to others. Just as a magnifying glass makes an object clearer to an observer, Mary’s humble life becomes the lens through which the world sees God. This praise is structurally and thematically parallel to the song of Hannah in 1 Samuel, revealing that Mary’s mind was saturated in the Scriptures. She weaves together concepts from the Psalms, Isaiah, and the Torah, placing her own story within the continuum of Israel’s history. In a modern culture obsessed with self-magnification and brand-building, Mary invites us to a counter-cultural shift: honestly acknowledging our spiritual poverty and finding gladness in our absolute dependence on God. It is this posture of humility that serves as the fertile ground for the revolution of God’s kingdom.

The content of Mary’s praise provides a rich articulation of God’s character, celebrating Him as Savior, Mighty, Holy, Merciful, and Faithful. Her declaration identifies the “Mighty One” as the God of the Exodus who performs great miracles, now demonstrated through the virgin conception. She recognizes that His holiness is what necessitates salvation, and His mercy is the active faithfulness extended to those who fear Him with the utmost reverence and awe. Crucially, Mary anchors the birth of Jesus in the ancient, unconditional covenant God made with Abraham, understanding that the Incarnation is not an isolated miracle but the fulfillment of a redemptive plan for the entire world. By connecting her personal experience to Abraham, Mary transcends her own moment in history, offering a timeless assurance that God remembers His mercy. Thus, the song is not an abstract expression; instead, it demonstrates that God is faithful across generations and that His character is the foundation of all hope.

Through the Magnificat, God’s nature is revealed to have radical, concrete consequences for the world’s social and political order. Mary operates as a prophet, delivering a message promoting and unveiling a significant reversal that reorders values where the powerful are brought down, and the lowly are lifted up. She speaks of these revolutionary acts in the past tense, “He has scattered… He has put down,” even though it appears that the proud still sat on their thrones. With the eyes of faith, Mary sees that God’s choice of a poor maiden from Nazareth is the decisive invasion of history; the victory is guaranteed because the King is already in her womb. For the marginalized, this is an anthem of liberation, but for the comfortable, it is a challenge to find freedom not in status, but in joining God’s work. The Incarnation signals that the world is being turned right-side up, acting as an earthquake at dawn that shatters human schemes and establishes a kingdom operating on principles opposite to the world.

Mary’s song serves as the enduring template for Christian worship and leadership. It challenges us to move beyond a superficial Christmas spirit and embrace the call from Mary’s song: to lead from humility, actively pursue justice for the oppressed, and rely on God’s faithfulness. True worship requires our joy to be made complete by removing pride and focusing entirely on the character and actions of God. This Advent, we are called to reject the joy of cozy nostalgia and instead practice the revolutionary joy Mary proclaimed. We must consciously shift our focus away from ourselves, finding practical ways to “exalt the lowly” through charity and advocacy, and anchoring our hearts in the promises of Scripture. By doing so, we participate in the holy disruption of the gospel, testifying that God is indeed saving His people just as He promised.

1  Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to the royal son! 

2  May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice! 

3  Let the mountains bear prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness! 

4  May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the children of the needy, and crush the oppressor! 

5  May they fear you while the sun endures, and as long as the moon, throughout all generations! 

6  May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth! 

7  In his days may the righteous flourish, and peace abound, till the moon be no more!

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 72:1–7.

In a world defined by conflict and division, the peace we often witness is nothing more than a fragile, temporary truce maintained by negotiation or a delicate balance of power. However, the season of Advent invites us to look beyond these secular versions of stability toward the deep, holistic peace promised in Scripture: shalom. Unlike a mere cessation of hostilities, shalom represents comprehensive well-being, wholeness, and universal flourishing. While King Solomon, whose very name, Shlomo, means “peace,” enjoyed a reign that extended from the Euphrates to the border of Egypt, even his dominion was ultimately marred by human failure. No earthly leader can perfectly sustain the lofty ideals of peace; thus, the genuine peace we await in Advent is not a passive state achieved by human hands, but a dynamic reality founded on divine justice and destined for universal dominion under Christ the King.

This biblical peace is not an abstract concept but the direct outflow of justice and righteousness. Psalm 72 establishes a non-negotiable theological sequence: true shalom can only exist when it is built upon the foundation of righteousness and justice. In the Hebrew imagination, righteousness is the ethical blueprint of God’s character, while justice is the active application of that standard to correct wrongs and restore community order. When a ruler governs according to these divine attributes, the result is a flourishing that permeates all of creation, where even the “mountains will bring peace to the people.” This imagery teaches us that shalom is not a man-made compromise, but a cosmic state of wholeness that blossoms organically from a rightly ordered society.

Furthermore, the credibility of this peace is measured by its impact on the most vulnerable members of society. The job description of the Just King is focused entirely on his unwavering commitment to the powerless, making the defense of the needy the engine of true peacemaking. Crime and oppression are not merely violations of abstract laws but violations of people; therefore, the King’s justice is restorative, seeking to rescue the victim and repair the harm done. By intervening on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves and reversing their powerlessness, the King provides the “truth-telling” necessary for healing. Consequently, our participation in Advent peace must move beyond sentimentality to the humble, determined work of intervention and advocacy for the downtrodden.

The hope we embrace during Advent is also global in scope, envisioning a transformation that reorders the entire world. The King’s influence is described as life-giving, descending “like rain upon the mown grass” to bring renewal to the earth. This justice is generative rather than zero-sum; it creates an environment where abundance and life flourish, symbolized by grain growing even on the tops of mountains. This vision of global submission is a missional mandate, inviting believers to participate in the expansion of the King’s reign. By supporting global missions and serving the needs of others, we bring tribute to our King, ensuring that His peaceful dominion extends to the farthest reaches of the earth.

Ultimately, true shalom is not a product of human compromise but the fruit of divine justice established by Christ. The recurring failures of earthly political systems serve as a reminder that our ultimate hope cannot rest in human hands but must be fixed steadfastly on the return of Jesus Christ, the only King possessing the perfect righteousness required to fulfill these promises. Yet, while we wait, we are called to reflect His character as agents of peace in a broken world. This Advent, by committing to defend the cause of the poor and championing laws that protect the vulnerable, we not only honor our King but offer the world a tangible foretaste of the eternal shalom that will define His coming reign.

100 A Psalm for giving thanks. 1  Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! 2  Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! 3  Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. 4  Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! 5  For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 100:title–5.

Many families have a myriad of traditions that they carry out during the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US. Most will cook some sort of poultry and have a number of sides, all gathering around the table for a meal. The people around that table might be family, friends, or in some cases complete strangers. There are a good number of people that carry out traditions that have survived through many generations. One of the great traditions that many partake in is volunteering at food kitchens every year, or that if there is anyone that needs a home for dinner most families will make an extra space for anyone that is not going to be near their family. Thanksgiving often brings the best out of many of us, and it is rooted within the sense that no matter what has happened we can find a spirit of thanksgiving for the blessings that we have experienced. This spirit of Thanksgiving has a long tradition within the worshipping community. It is with a sense of Thanksgiving that we are called to come to worship, and a sense of thanksgiving that reminds followers to lean upon God in all things. For the table of thanksgiving that we approach in worship has been set before us, and we are called to simply come. Just like at many a Thanksgiving table, the table that we approach with worship is open to anyone and everyone to experience the blessings of God.

For at the core of our worship lies the understanding that we are creatures made by a loving God, a truth that grounds our emotions in theological reality. Therefore, true worship must be cognitive to be effective; knowing that “the LORD, He is God” ensures that our right feelings are the goal of right thinking. This acknowledgment that God created us, and not of our own creative endeavors that establishes our existence as a created reality, thus shattering our self-realized pride while simultaneously affirming our value through the lens of redemption. We are not merely universal creatures but distinctively belong to the Creator and we are “the sheep of His pasture,” a metaphor that transitions our understanding from a distant Creator to an immanent Shepherd who offers sovereign care. Consequently, our worship is an inevitable, grateful response of a flock that recognizes the voice of the One who guides, protects, and provides.

This internal meditation on God’s character as Creator and Covenant Lord naturally propels us toward prescriptive, external action, for a heart filled with gratitude that cannot remain passive. The psalm commands us to “make a joyful shout”, a public, triumphant acclamation of God’s sovereignty that rejects private, quiet faith in favor of an external loud declaration. We are further instructed to “serve with gladness,” a directive that fuses submission to the Almighty with delighting in His goodness, thereby discarding reluctant legalism and affirming that a redeemed heart finds its highest pleasure in obedience. Finally, the summons to “enter” His gates marks the necessity of corporate, gathered worship, calling the covenant community out of their scattered lives to assemble in a consecrated space for the primary purpose of communal praise. Thus worship requires a multi-faceted understanding that we are a greater part of the plan of the Creation, and are not mere witnesses, but participants in worship.

Ultimately, this structure of worship serves as a dynamic pattern of covenant renewal that transforms both the worshiper and the surrounding community. Recognizing that our dignity is derived from God acts as a powerful antidote to both arrogance and despair; it declares that while the image of God in humanity may be defaced by sin, it is not eliminated, thus demanding that every person be treated with incalculable worth. While our culture is often dominated by criticism, this insistent call to joy serves as a counter-cultural protest song, redirecting our focus from fallible earthly powers to the one true King. Thus, our corporate gathering becomes the LORD’s service, a holy encounter where God meets with, serves, and renews His people, empowering us to bring transformation to the very geography where we worship.

For at its core worship and approaching God’s table begins with an understanding that we must be thankful for all the blessings God has bestowed upon us, including our very lives. That which outpours from that is pure and blessed worship that is prescriptive and life giving, which flows out of us as an active outpouring of grace, not just watching, but living out our thanksgiving. This in turn becomes action where we become those that bring a blessing to the poor, sharing the Gospel through our voices and our actions. The fact that our generosity comes out most when we celebrate Thanksgiving is no mistake, because it is when we take a thankful mindset we also put on the Gospel for the world to see and experience. This giving renews our community and cannot only happen during the holiday season but must be a focus and an outpouring of worship inside and outside the church. As we approach our Thanksgiving tables this week, we must remember that God calls us to giving thanks for all that the Almighty has done, and through our worship: meditating on God’s goodness, joyfully exalting, serving, and coming together we are able to glorify God and share with our world all that we have received and share with others the grace of the Gospel.

6 Now we command you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is walking in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. 7 For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, 8 nor did we eat anyone’s bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. 9 It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. 10 For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. 11 For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. 12 Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. 13 As for you, brothers, do not grow weary in doing good.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), 2 Th 3:6–13.

The main reason many people dread group projects in school is the inevitable imbalance of effort; frequently, a minority of the students do the majority of the work while everyone receives the same grade. This dynamic breeds resentment, as the engaged student works tirelessly to ensure the team succeeds, while the disengaged student contributes nothing yet reaps the benefits. A similar tension was plaguing the church in Thessalonica, where some members were laboring for the community while others neglected their duties, perhaps assuming there was no point in working. Just as in a classroom, this disparity created deep fissures within the congregation. The hardworking members grew resentful, and the idlers, rather than helping, began criticizing those who were actually upholding the message of Christ. As we examine Paul’s message, we are forced to look within our own congregations and ask if we are allowing a similar division between active workers and passive recipients to damage our witness to the outside world.

The call of the Gospel is a call to participation, not spectatorship, because God’s work is never truly finished. In Thessalonica, the problem wasn’t a lack of opportunity or physical inability, but a willful unwillingness to work, likely stemming from a misguided belief that Christ’s imminent return made daily labor unnecessary. This mirrors a common issue in modern churches where a minority of the congregation often shoulders the majority of the service and financial giving. Paul warns against this consumerist mindset, urging the entire body to contribute to the good of the community. He didn’t just preach this; he lived it, inviting them to imitate his own refusal to be a burden. By working with his own hands, Paul moved his teaching from abstract theory to concrete reality, standing in sharp contrast to the destructive influence of those who had abandoned their responsibilities to live off the generosity of others.

There is a profound danger when idleness transforms into destructiveness; those who aren’t working for the common good often find time to complain about how things are done. Paul uses a clever play on words in the Greek, mēden ergazomenous alla periergazomenous, to describe these people not as busy workers, but as “busybodies” who mind everyone’s business but their own. Instead of contributing, they meddle, stirring up division and gossip that distracts leaders from the actual work of the Gospel. This unruly behavior is scandalous for those professing Christianity because it actively harms the church’s reputation among outsiders. Recognizing that such conduct is not in accord with the Gospel, Paul issues a strong command to withdraw from those walking in this disorderly manner, not to be cruel, but to protect the integrity of the work and prevent the disruption from spreading.

However, the goal of addressing this disorder is always redemptive; the intent is not to treat the offender as an enemy, but to admonish them as a brother to bring about restoration. While the topic of discipline is often uncomfortable in the modern church, a healthy community must know how to lovingly correct those who go astray so that the faithful do not grow weary in doing good. Ultimately, our faith is not an abstract belief but is demonstrated through practical, everyday diligence. By fulfilling our duties with integrity and refusing to cut corners, we offer a powerful visible witness to the world. We are called to persevere without becoming cynical, ensuring that when we do encounter irresponsibility, we respond with a spirit of love that seeks to lift others back up into the productive life of the Body of Christ.

Ultimately, we cannot allow division, whether from idleness or meddling, to rise within the church and compromise our mission. The tension between the few who work tirelessly and those who do little but complain is a distraction from our primary purpose. As Paul reminded the Thessalonians, our main calling is to share the Gospel with the world. While his original audience was sidetracked by a misunderstanding of eschatology, we face the same core issues today; people still twist scripture or embrace apathy to justify their own passivity. We must reject the notion that the church’s work is only for a minority. By refusing to be mere spectators and instead using our voices and hands to bring glory to God, we can break free from these distractions, embrace the grace of Jesus, and faithfully work to bring His message of good news to the darkest of places.

2 In the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the hand of Haggai the prophet: 2 “Speak now to Zerubbabel the son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua the son of Jehozadak, the high priest, and to all the remnant of the people, and say, 3 ‘Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes? 4 Yet now be strong, O Zerubbabel, declares the Lord. Be strong, O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest. Be strong, all you people of the land, declares the Lord. Work, for I am with you, declares the Lord of hosts, 5 according to the covenant that I made with you when you came out of Egypt. My Spirit remains in your midst. Fear not. 6 For thus says the Lord of hosts: Yet once more, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land. 7 And I will shake all nations, so that the treasures of all nations shall come in, and I will fill this house with glory, says the Lord of hosts. 8 The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, declares the Lord of hosts. 9 The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts. And in this place I will give peace, declares the Lord of hosts.’ ” 

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Hag 2:1–9.

Do you recall the excitement of anticipating something significant? Whether it was a Prom, Graduation, Birthday, or Wedding, these events filled you with a sense of anticipation. Our hearts naturally prepare for something ultimately wonderful, and this anticipation is a beautiful feeling. Many carry this same sentiment into the holiday season. Now, imagine if we had a previous event to which we constantly compared everything. If our thoughts were consumed by how that past event appeared or how others presented similar occasions, we would allow this comparison to steal the joy we are meant to experience. Magazines, television, and social media thrive on making us compare our lives and experiences to the most extravagant, glamorous scenarios that are often impossible to replicate. The prophet Haggai delivered a prophetic word to people in a situation very similar to theirs. The elders remembered the true grandeur of Solomon’s temple and its adornments, which was a sight that would have made even the most famous modern-day influencer envious. However, the people of Haggai’s time were not as wealthy, and neighboring countries were not offering their best goods. Consequently, the comparison to the old temple fostered a mindset that needed a reminder: God calls us to anticipate not worldly possessions but God’s Glory.

Haggai was sent a message meant to correct the reliance on comparison inherently that steals the beauty and sincerity of the present moment simply because it isn’t what came before. The message was delivered on the final day of the Feast of Tabernacles, which happened to be the very same festival during which Solomon had dedicated the original temple centuries prior. The parallels naturally led to the painful comparisons for the elders, who, while disappointed by the lack of grandeur, found that their frustration was amplified by their current reality. As they celebrated the harvest festival, they were in the midst of a prolonged period of both drought and scarcity, thus it wasn’t just about how the temple looked, but it was also a comparison against past splendor, leading them to the dangerous error of equating physical magnificence with God’s favor. Haggai’s message, therefore, was a call to abandon the need to return to a previous standard, teaching that when we are too troubled by looking backward, we cannot anticipate the glory God is preparing for us right now.

The call to anticipate God’s present work is the very foundation of hope, a hope that requires the faithful to let go of the past and trust in the Lord’s promises. To empower this shift, God commanded the leaders through Haggai to find strength and ask the people to be empowered by the mandate that was also given to Joshua when preparing to engage and enter the land the Lord had promised, which connects their task of the temple and overcome their current circumstance to a legacy of overcoming challenges. This encouragement was not based on human ability but on the divine assurance given to us through the following: the unwavering promise of His presence, the enduring validity of God’s covenant, and the internal power of the Holy Spirit. Haggai ultimately communicates, both to the original audience and us now, that true strength and hope are not found in wealth or even the comparisons to the past opulence. They are, however, a gift of faith, reminding all of us to keep our eyes fixed on God and allow His Spirit to fill our hearts with anticipation for the glorious future promised.

Looking forward with anticipation is essential because God promises something new, that shakes the heavens and earth which will remove the temporary and establish God’s kingdom, which is unshakeable. Although most of the world looks at precious metals as luxurious and beautiful, Haggai through prophesy redefines glory, because all silver and gold already belong to God, which redefines the new temple’s splendor, as it would not be material but profoundly spiritual. This prophecy was fulfilled as the Second Temple possessed a far superior glory. Within its courts held the personal presence of the Messiah, Jesus Christ, who taught within its courts. This living, manifest glory, combined with the purity of its worship and the subsequent proclamation of the gospel, reveals a fulfillment that surpasses all worldly wealth. Ultimately, this new glory brings shalom, which is a complete spiritual peace secured by Jesus and is the very reason we can now approach the Lord’s Table with anticipation, remembering the life He gave to redeem us.

When we allow past experiences to cloud our judgment, we tend to compare present blessings from the Almighty to what once was, lamenting how things “used to be better.” This tendency to compare, much like those whom Haggai addressed, blinds us to the anticipation he calls us to embrace. Hope, fueled by faith, reveals the beauty that becomes possible when we trust in the Almighty God, and as we partake in the offering of Christ we are reminded that, regardless of our present circumstances, whether in abundance or scarcity, the provision of bread and wine signifies something far greater. It underscores that our reliance must come solely from Christ, not from our own contributions. We are called to an anticipation that surpasses the excitement of a child on Christmas morning or a couple on their wedding day. For the Almighty God promises a future of transformation, immeasurable blessings, the Gospel, joy, and peace. This is the peace we long for, when God restores all things, the hungry are fed, and wealth disparity disappears, which leads to harmony with God and one another. It is with this profound anticipation that we gather at the table and invite others to join us.

So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, 2 complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. 5 Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Php 2:1–11.

The concept of reformation often evokes images of division, but its original intent, as seen in figures like Luther, was not to shatter the Church but to realign it with the mission of Christ. The goal was to purify the Church from worldly power and call it back to a ministry of grace, mercy, and peace. This need for reform, however, is not a distant historical event; it is a constant, personal summons. It would be dangerous to misread the Reformation as a simple rejection of authority. Rather, just as Luther sought a return to Christ’s teaching, we must continually examine where the Church today embraces power over the authority of Christ in our own lives. This perennial call for renewal is precisely what the Apostle Paul urges in his letter to the Philippians, reminding them to shed all “selfish ambition” and unite in the mind of Christ as we establish a pattern required to overcome every temptation toward sin.

Our primary aim in coming to the table of Christ must be to bring ourselves closer to Christ by intentionally drawing closer to one another, particularly to those with whom we most disagree. Paul builds his appeal for this unity in Philippians 2 by grounding it in the profound, shared spiritual realities of the believers. He employs four “if” clauses, not as statements of doubt, but as powerful rhetorical affirmations meaning “since.” He argues that since they have experienced “encouragement in Christ,” “comfort from love,” “participation in the Spirit,” and “any affection and sympathy,” these truths must compel them toward unity. Paul’s joy would be complete, he states, if they would manifest this intense unity through four reinforcing phrases: “being of the same mind,” “having the same love,” “being in full accord” (souls beating as one), and being “of one mind” (thinking the one thing).

To achieve this profound unity, Paul provides specific commands that target the roots of dissension: pride and self-interest. He mandates that the Philippians “do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit.” Selfish ambition refers to a spirit of factionalism and rivalry, while vain conceit denotes an empty, groundless pride. In direct opposition to these destructive attitudes, Paul commands them to act “in humility,” a concept Christianity ennobled from a term once meaning “base” or “groveling.” This humility is not false modesty but a conscious, deliberate judgment to “count others more significant” than themselves. This posture requires a radical shift in perspective, compelling each believer to “look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

This pathway of humility finds its perfect, ultimate expression in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Paul commands the Philippians, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.” Though Jesus existed “in the form of God” (morphē), possessing the very essence of Deity, He “did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped.” Instead, He “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant,” demonstrating His humility by “becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Because of this ultimate act of self-giving, “Therefore God has highly exalted him.” Christ’s exaltation is God’s thunderous repudiation of all human power structures built on pride. God’s answer is clear: true greatness is found in self-giving, and this greatness results in the highest “super-eminent exaltation,” where every knee in heaven, on earth, and under the earth will bow and “every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Christ completed His work on the cross by reconnecting humanity to the Almighty, and He calls on us to carry on that work by connecting with one another. The only path to the unity He commands begins by humbling ourselves, putting on the shoes of our neighbor, and seeking to understand and connect. This mission perfectly reflects the character of Christ, who showed us how to look out for one another. While the Reformation was sparked by items for discussion, its human result often reflected our sinful nature to divide, slicing the Church into denominations that segregate us. This hubris of “always being right” stands in opposition to the humility of Christ. Our true reformation, therefore, is an imitation of Christ. We must be transformed by the renewal of our hearts and minds, allowing the Spirit to root out sin and instill in us the attitude of Christ. Only through this humility and desire for unity will we finally find the exaltation of the Body of Christ.

A Psalm of David. 

 1  The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 

 2  He makes me lie down in green pastures. 

  He leads me beside still waters. 

 3  He restores my soul. 

  He leads me in paths of righteousness 

for his name’s sake. 

 4  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, 

  for you are with me; 

your rod and your staff, 

they comfort me. 

 5  You prepare a table before me 

in the presence of my enemies; 

  you anoint my head with oil; 

my cup overflows. 

 6  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 

all the days of my life, 

  and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord 

forever. 

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 23:title–6.

Starting something new, whether joining a group or navigating an unfamiliar path in the dark, can fill anyone with anxiety. We fear being left behind, getting lost, or doing something wrong. This common human experience highlights a deeper anxiety about the darkness and hardships we encounter in life. The life of King David, though he was a king, was filled with near-death experiences and profound struggles. Yet, through it all, he found a constant light in the darkness because the Almighty Shepherd was present to guide him. Having been a shepherd, David uniquely understood the care and concern a shepherd has for his flock, and he used this powerful metaphor in Psalm 23 to illustrate God’s personal concern, guiding presence, and abundant provision for His people.

The foundation of the psalm’s comfort rests on the Lord’s deep, personal concern for our individual well-being. The power of the psalm is not just in its corporate truth, but in its intensely personal claim: “The LORD is my shepherd.” This confidence establishes God’s all-sufficiency in the midst of our struggles. This care is first expressed as provision for rest and refreshment. “He makes me lie down in green pastures” and “he leads me beside still waters” are images of spiritual nourishment and deep, consoling peace. Furthermore, this personal concern extends to spiritual renewal, as “He restores my soul.” He also provides moral direction, leading us in “paths of righteousness” not for our own merit, but “for his name’s sake,” an action consistent with His perfect character and covenant promises.

Even with this intimate care, life involves profound struggles, yet the Shepherd guides us through the most significant challenges. The psalm’s tone shifts dramatically as the serene landscape gives way to the “valley of the shadow of death.” In this place of terror, the psalmist declares, “I will fear no evil,” a courage founded not on self-reliance but on the Shepherd’s unwavering presence: “for you are with me.” This “valley” is not a permanent destination but a transient journey; the psalmist “walks through” it, suggesting a calm, composed pace toward safety on the other side. This comfort is symbolized by the “rod and staff,” the shepherd’s tools representing God’s dual function of powerful protection from external threats and gentle guidance back from danger. Our valleys, even when they are dire and at the point of death, are temporary, but the love of the Almighty is eternal.

The Shepherd’s guidance does not just end after the trial; it culminates in a display of abundant blessing, public vindication, and eternal security. The metaphor changes from God as Shepherd to God as gracious Host, who “prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” This act signifies God’s ultimate protection and public declaration of His faithfulness, honoring His child with a feast while enemies watch, powerless. This provision is extravagant, not minimal: “You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.” This relentless love, or chesed, is lifelong, as “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” The journey finds its ultimate destination in eternal, unbroken fellowship: “and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” Therefore, we have no worries or concerns as Christ prepares the communion table for us, bringing restoration, renovation, and renewal to everyone who partakes in the bread and the cup. This isn’t a temporary act, but rather leads us into eternity.

Just as we find grace and peace leading us into eternity, the psalm reminds us that all of our doubts and fears can be put to rest because of the Almighty Shepherd. For in the run club, many a new runner fears being lost on a dark trail; we all face threats and valleys in our lives. Psalm 23 provides assurance that we have a Good Shepherd who cares for us, leads us from danger, and guides us into peace. This protection and guidance come at no cost to us; God prepares the table and pursues us with His relentless love. Therefore, just as we have been comforted, we are called to be instruments of that comfort for others, acting as God’s rod and staff to protect and guide those who are afflicted. God’s grace prepares our path, undeterred by our failures, and works continuously toward our full restoration. We must also strive for the same goal for those in our community, bringing God’s peace to the whole world.