God calls those who are ready. And before we all make excuses, before we say “that can’t be us,” I want to remind us that we are ready. The seeds have been sown. The groundwork has been laid. 

We’re ready to hear the call of God, to drop our nets and immediately follow. We’re ready to repent, to have our minds be blown away with the beauty of the kindom of heaven unfolding among us. We’re ready to repent from the hatred and dehumanization of those whom we call our enemies. We’re ready to repent and to move towards the good, to choose love instead of violence, to get wrapped up in justice, kindness, and jubilee instead of death and tyranny. 

Image: "Fishers of men" by Rex DeLoney

All around us things are not right. We are not showing hospitality and love to the foreigners in our land. We are not loving our neighbors as ourselves. 

And we are the ones, God’s hands and feet, God’s body in the world today, witnesses. We must be Church together, to be light so that we together, like Isaiah can be God’s servant not only for those we know, our own tribes, but so that the light of God’s salvation may reach to the ends of the world. 

We must look and see. We must tell these stories to one another. But we are not alone and this work is not impossible. We have one other; we’re in this together.  

Joseph gets a sign, a dream, an angel — a messenger from God — he didn’t have to be afraid, God was with him, he could live his part of his story with courageous joy. The God who saves is with us.

Don’t be afraid. Ask for the sign. Listen to your dreams. And be ready to live in awe-filled dread.

We don't think that we need a savior if everything is going smoothly. But when things aren’t going well. That’s when we start worrying, start praying, start begging God for something else. 

Maybe it’s not happening all in an instant, a moment of divine healing, the fire coming down from heaven. It’s happening inch by inch as we decide and then live the truth that all human life is worth preserving. It’s happening little by little as we decide and then live it, that all humans have dignity. It’s happening slowly and stubbornly as we decide and then live the hope and the faith and the love that in us, small at first, growing to great. 

We are in a “we’re lost and we need God more than ever” moment. This is a time to double down on our love, to read those Baptismal vows daily and then to do them. This is a time to look deeply as we offer the peace of Christ, to surrender to the love of God, to let ourselves be found by the Good Shepherd, and to pray for those who are lost.

Image: Shepherd in Spring by J. Kirk Richards

What if our  imaginations were utilized for the glory of God?

Where equity, justice, and even angels are so normative that we expect them to be guests at our table. Where we promise to love our neighbors as ourselves and respect the dignity of every human being. Where we don’t give ourselves a pass, but sit in the ditches with those who suffer, honing our empathy. 

When you feel the rage, you’ve got to be able to know which one it is. Is it a rage, like that leader of the synagogue, one that leads to oppression, or one that is leading you or someone else to releasing, pardoning, or freeing? Is it one that needs a long walk by yourself, or one that burns until you speak it? Is it one that you need help with? It is one that you need to fan a little, to keep your energy faced in the right direction, towards those who need your voice? 

Image credit Nazar Ivanyuk

So besides loving God and our neighbor, what are we to do? In this time and place of division we must be followers of Jesus before we’re anything else. We must be seeking first the kindom of God. We must be doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with our God. We must be enjoying this beautiful world that God has given us, always mindful that it is a gift and a delight to be cherished and shared. We need to laugh, to find those places where we can just delight. We must be looking for those fingerprints of God, for that strange and odd work of convergence and hope, for those quick glimpses of clarity in the midst.