Formed for a Purpose

Inside my head, it is rarely quiet.

There always seems to be something rolling around in my brain—ideas, lists of things I need to do, things I need to remember, and, sometimes, things I’m worried about.

And when all of that gets quiet for a little while, there is usually music.

A song will get stuck in my head and play over and over again, sometimes for reasons I don’t completely understand. A few weeks ago it was Kermit the Frog singing Rainbow Connection.

More recently, another phrase has been playing in my mind:

“Make My Life an Alleluia.”

That is quite a prayer when you think about it.

Not simply, “Give me a song to sing.”

Not simply, “Give me something to believe.”

But make my life an alleluia.

Make the way I live, the way I love, the way I forgive, the way I serve, the way I treat my neighbor—make my whole life a song of praise to God.

Because an alleluia isn’t meant only to be something we sing in worship. It is meant to become something we live.

That gets to the heart of what it means to be the church.

Christ calls us to be a people centered on Jesus. A people shaped by grace. A people growing together in faith. A people who recognize that each of us has gifts to offer and a place in the body. A people learning to love and serve as the body of Christ.

Paul gives us that picture in Ephesians 4:15–16: a body growing together, each part doing its share, until the whole body is growing into Christ and building itself up in love.

And that raises an important question:

What is Christ forming us for?

We want meaningful worship, strong ministries, people using their gifts, children and youth growing in faith, and new people finding a place in Christian community.

Those things matter.

But they are not the destination.

Jesus never intended the church to exist simply for itself.

The church is formed by Christ because the church is sent by Christ.

And that brings us to a mountain in Galilee.

The tomb is empty. Jesus has been raised. The disciples have gone where Jesus told them to meet him.

These are people who followed Jesus and learned from Jesus. They also misunderstood Jesus. They failed Jesus. When everything fell apart, they ran away (Matthew 26:56).

And yet these are the people Jesus calls to the mountain.

Before Matthew brings his Gospel to an end, the risen Jesus tells them—and us—what comes next.

Matthew 28:16–20

Still Becoming Disciples

There is a remarkable detail in Matthew’s account of the disciples standing on that mountain:

“When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” (Matthew 28:17)

They worshiped.

And they doubted.

And Jesus sent them anyway.

Jesus doesn’t say, “Come back when you have everything figured out.” Jesus doesn’t wait until their faith is perfect, their questions are gone, and they finally understand everything he has been trying to teach them.

Jesus entrusts his mission to disciples who are still becoming disciples.

That sounds a lot like the church.

We worship, and sometimes we question.

We trust, and sometimes we struggle.

We follow Jesus, and sometimes we stumble.

Christ is still forming us. And these are the people Jesus sends into the world.

Not perfect disciples.

Disciples who are still learning to follow.

Come Follow Jesus With Us

So what exactly does Jesus send these disciples to do?

We usually call these words the Great Commission, and our attention often goes immediately to that first word: Go.

But the heart of Jesus’ command is make disciples.

Jesus does not say, “Go get more people.”

Jesus does not say, “Go fill some pews.”

Jesus says:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” (Matthew 28:19)

And Jesus tells us what that involves:

“Baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 28:19)

And:

“Teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:20)

Everything I have commanded you.

Matthew has spent an entire Gospel showing us what that looks like.

Love your enemies (Matthew 5:43–48).

Forgive (Matthew 6:14–15; 18:21–35).

Seek first God’s kingdom (Matthew 6:33).

Care for those others overlook (Matthew 25:31–40).

Reconcile with one another (Matthew 5:23–24; 18:15–20).

Serve rather than seek greatness (Matthew 20:25–28).

Love God and love your neighbor (Matthew 22:34–40).

Take up your cross and follow (Matthew 16:24–25).

So making disciples isn’t simply passing along information about Jesus.

It is helping people learn the way of Jesus.

That is much bigger than getting someone through the doors of a church.

Of course, churches want people to become part of their communities. We want congregations to grow. We want people to find places where they are known, loved, challenged, and supported in faith.

But getting someone into a pew is not the same thing as making a disciple.

A disciple is someone learning to follow Jesus.

And we don’t stand before the world as people who have Jesus figured out. We are still learning too.

Still learning to forgive.

Still learning to love.

Still learning to trust.

Still learning to serve.

So somewhere along the journey, we turn toward another person and say:

“Come follow Jesus with us.”

Not because we have all the answers.

Not because we’ve gotten everything right.

Come walk with us.

Learn with us.

Serve with us.

Grow with us.

Follow Jesus alongside us.

Because making disciples grows out of being disciples.

Make Our Life an Alleluia

And we don’t learn that life alone.

We learn it together.

“Make my life an alleluia” is a beautiful prayer.

But perhaps the church needs to change one word:

Make our life an alleluia.

Following Jesus is deeply personal, but it was never meant to be private.

Paul describes one body with many different people and many different gifts, growing together and building itself up in love (Ephesians 4:11–16; 1 Corinthians 12:12–27).

And that means people don’t only hear what Christians say about Jesus.

They see what following Jesus is doing among us.

They see how we treat one another.

They see whether there is room at the table.

They see how we respond when we disagree.

They see whether we notice the person who is hurting.

They see whether the grace we proclaim on Sunday becomes grace we practice on Monday.

Our life together says something about the Jesus we invite people to follow.

That doesn’t mean we have to be a perfect church.

Those people on the mountain certainly weren’t.

Neither are we.

But even while Christ is forming us, our life together can point beyond us to Christ.

When someone is welcomed, our life can say:

There is room for you.

When someone is hurting and discovers they don’t have to carry it alone, our life can say:

You are not alone.

When someone makes a mistake and encounters grace, our life can say:

Grace is real.

That is an alleluia the world can hear even when no one is singing.

I Am With You Always

To make our life an alleluia is a beautiful calling.

It is also a big one.

And we could hear all of this and think, “The church has a lot of work to do.”

We do.

But if that is all we hear, we have missed the final words of Jesus.

Jesus does not end with a command.

Jesus ends with a promise:

“And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)

Those words take us all the way back to the beginning of Matthew.

Before Jesus was born, Matthew told us:

“They shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” (Matthew 1:23)

Matthew begins the Gospel with God with us.

Matthew ends the Gospel with I am with you.

And everything Jesus asks of his disciples stands between those two promises.

The future of the church does not finally depend upon how capable we are.

It doesn’t depend upon whether we have enough people, enough money, all the right programs, or all the answers.

The future of the church belongs to Jesus Christ.

The same Christ who calls us is with us.

The same Christ who forms us is with us.

The same Christ who sends us is with us.

We do not have to have the future figured out before we faithfully step into it.

We begin where we are.

We use the gifts God has already placed among us (Romans 12:4–8).

We love the people God has already placed around us (Matthew 22:37–40).

We keep learning to follow Jesus.

We invite others to follow Jesus alongside us.

And we trust the promise of the risen Christ:

“I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20)

We are sent. But we are never sent alone.

Through the Doors

Every worship service eventually ends.

A final hymn is sung. A blessing is given. People gather their things, get up from their seats, and walk through the doors.

But walking through those doors does not mean worship is over.

It means we are being sent.

Sent back to our homes, our work, our schools, our neighborhoods, our friends, and the people whose stories we have not yet heard.

We go as disciples still learning to follow Jesus.

We go carrying the grace we have received.

We go looking for opportunities to serve, listen, forgive, encourage, and love.

And along the way, we invite others to follow Jesus alongside us.

That is what Christ has been forming us for.

Not simply to come to church.

Not simply to keep a church going.

But to be the church—the body of Christ alive in the world (1 Corinthians 12:27).

So when we walk through the doors, our prayer continues:

Make my life an alleluia.

Make our life an alleluia.

May the life we share inside the church become good news beyond its walls.

May the grace we have received become grace we freely share.

And wherever Christ sends us, may we remember:

“I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20)

We have been formed. Now we are sent. And Christ goes with us.

What Peter and Cornelius can teach the church about grace, belonging, and learning to see one another differently.

Scripture: Isaiah 56:6–8; Acts 10:1–48

None of us shows every part of ourselves to everyone we meet.

There are parts of our lives we share easily. There are stories we tell only to people we trust. And there may be parts of ourselves we rarely talk about at all.

Sometimes that is simply healthy privacy. But sometimes experience has taught us to be careful about how much of ourselves we reveal.

We learn what people expect from us. We learn what seems acceptable and what might cause someone to see us differently. And somewhere beneath all of that can be a much deeper question:

If you really knew me, would you still receive me?

Would there still be room for me?

That question isn’t only about how other people see us. It can shape the way we see other people too.

Because just as others never see everything about us, we never see everything about them.

We see part of the story.

And sometimes we decide what the rest of the story must be.

Throughout the Christian life, we continue to discover what it means to be a people centered on Christ—a people shaped by grace, welcome, love, and growth. Following Jesus means continuing to allow Christ to shape us.

Acts 10 gives us a remarkable example.

Peter had followed Jesus from the beginning. He had heard Jesus teach. He had watched Jesus welcome people others overlooked. He had seen the risen Christ. He had received the Holy Spirit and become a leader in the early church.

And Peter was still learning.

Acts 10 brings Peter together with a man named Cornelius, a Roman centurion and a Gentile.

Cornelius is praying when he receives a vision telling him to send for Peter, so he sends messengers to find him (Acts 10:1–8).

But before those messengers arrive, Peter has a vision of his own (Acts 10:9–16).

By the time these two men meet, Peter will discover that God has been at work in ways he did not expect.

God Is Already at Work

One of the things that strikes me about this story is that God is already at work before Peter and Cornelius ever meet.

Cornelius is praying, giving generously to people in need, and seeking God (Acts 10:2).

And God is reaching toward him.

At the same time, God is at work in Peter.

While Cornelius is sending messengers to find him, Peter receives a vision that challenges some of the assumptions he has carried throughout his life.

Neither man can see the whole picture yet.

But God can.

Before Peter ever arrives at Cornelius’ house, God is already at work on both sides of the door.

In the Methodist tradition, we call this prevenient grace—the grace that goes before us. The church never goes anywhere that God has not already gone ahead of us.

We don’t carry God into someone else’s life as though God were absent until we arrived. We go with open eyes, paying attention for the signs of grace already at work.

Perhaps that should not surprise us.

Long before Peter and Cornelius met, Isaiah described God gathering people who might have wondered whether there could possibly be a place for them. God declares:

“My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
—Isaiah 56:7

God’s vision was already larger than the boundaries people expected. And now, in Acts, Peter is about to discover just how large that vision really is.

Peter Has Something to Learn

Cornelius isn’t the only person in this story in whom God is at work.

God is changing Peter.

That is important, because Peter’s hesitation doesn’t come out of nowhere. He has been formed by religious practices that helped define what it meant to live faithfully as part of God’s people. There were foods he would not eat and boundaries he would not ordinarily cross.

Peter believed he understood where the boundaries were.

Then God gave him a vision.

Three times Peter sees something like a large sheet lowered from heaven, filled with animals he has been taught not to eat. He hears a voice telling him to kill and eat, and Peter resists (Acts 10:9–16).

Peter is trying to be faithful.

But God is showing him that faithfulness is going to require him to see something differently.

That becomes clear when Peter finally enters Cornelius’ home.

Peter says:

“God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.”
—Acts 10:28

Notice those words:

“God has shown me.”

Peter doesn’t say, “I’ve decided to become a little more open-minded.”

He doesn’t say, “I’ve decided to make an exception for Cornelius.”

Something deeper is happening.

God is changing the way Peter sees another person.

And that is one of the more challenging parts of following Jesus.

We may like the idea that God is still working on us when we imagine God making us more patient, more loving, or more faithful.

But sometimes God’s work in us involves challenging something we were certain we already understood.

Sometimes following Jesus means discovering that God’s grace is larger than our understanding of God’s grace.

Peter had gone to Cornelius’ house thinking he knew where the boundaries were.

But when he arrived, he discovered that God had gotten there first.

Perhaps that is a next faithful step some of us are called to take.

Not deciding how somebody else needs to change.

But becoming open to the possibility that God may still be changing us.

When People Wonder Whether There Is Room for Them

This brings us back to the question we began with:

If you really knew me, would there still be room for me?

The good news of grace is that God already knows.

God knows our strengths and our wounds, our faith and our questions, the things we celebrate and the things we carry quietly.

And still, God moves toward us in love.

That doesn’t mean every part of our lives remains unchanged. Grace receives us, and grace continues to shape us.

But we do not have to become someone else before God will love us.

As Paul writes, “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

And if that is how God has received us, then it raises an important question about the kind of church we are becoming.

What would it mean for our churches to be places where people do not have to pretend in order to belong?

This doesn’t mean everyone has to tell everyone everything. Trust takes time, healthy boundaries matter, and some people have good reasons for being careful with their stories.

But the church can become a community worthy of greater trust.

A place where questions do not disqualify you.

Where struggles do not make you an outsider.

Where your past does not become the only thing people see when they look at you.

Where you do not have to become more like everyone else in the room before someone believes God might be at work in your life.

Peter entered Cornelius’ home and discovered that God was already there.

Perhaps part of having an open heart is learning to believe that about the people who enter our lives as well.

God may already be at work in them before we know their story.

Open Hearts Begin with Seeing Differently

When Peter begins to speak in Cornelius’ home, he says:

“I truly understand that God shows no partiality.”
—Acts 10:34

Peter is beginning to see differently.

And perhaps that is where an open-hearted church begins.

Being welcoming matters. But an open heart goes deeper than being friendly.

We can welcome someone into the room and still quietly expect them to become more like us before they really belong.

Peter discovers that he cannot simply make a little more room for Cornelius while holding on to all of his old assumptions. God is changing the way he sees Cornelius in the first place.

So perhaps the question isn’t only:

“How can we welcome more people?”

Perhaps it is:

“Whom is God inviting us to see differently?”

Who have we already decided probably wouldn’t be interested?

Whose story have we assumed we already understand?

And where might God already be at work beyond what we can see?

Following Jesus is gradually freeing us from both the need to prove that we belong and the temptation to decide who else belongs.

Peter entered Cornelius’ home and discovered that God’s grace was already there.

Then something happened that Peter and those who came with him could not ignore. While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon the Gentiles who were listening (Acts 10:44–46).

Peter did not bring the Spirit into the room.

God was already acting.

Peter’s task was to recognize what God was doing.

He responded:

“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”
—Acts 10:47

An open-hearted church learns to live with that same expectation.

We look at the people God places before us and remain open to the possibility:

God may have something to show us here.

There Is Room

Long before Peter entered Cornelius’ home, Isaiah spoke of God’s promise:

“My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
—Isaiah 56:7

Generations later, Peter walked through a doorway he once would not have crossed and said:

“God has shown me.” (Acts 10:28)

Maybe those words are worth carrying with us.

God has shown me that grace is already at work.

God has shown me that I do not always see the whole story.

God has shown me that the boundaries I expect are not always the boundaries of God’s grace.

And God is still showing us.

We began with a question:

If you really knew me, would there still be room for me?

The good news is that God already knows.

God sees beneath every layer. God knows the stories we tell and the stories we carry quietly. God knows our faith and our questions, our hopes and our wounds.

God sees us fully, and God loves us still.

That grace also invites us to examine our own hearts.

Where have our assumptions shaped the way we see another person?

Where have we decided that we already know someone’s story?

Where has fear made it difficult to make room for someone else?

And where might God be inviting us to cross a doorway we once would not have crossed?

The story of Peter and Cornelius reminds us that an open-hearted church is not simply a church that opens its doors.

It is a church whose people remain open to God.

Open to grace.

Open to growth.

Open to seeing our neighbors differently.

Open to discovering that God has been at work in places—and in people—we never expected.

Because sometimes we walk through the door believing we are bringing the welcome of God with us.

And then we discover:

God was already there.

Following Jesus is not about becoming less human. It is about becoming more fully the people God created us to be.

Have you ever been talking with someone and realized that, although you were physically present, your mind was somewhere else?

Maybe you were thinking about the next thing you needed to do. Maybe you were distracted by something on your phone. Or maybe you were already thinking about what you wanted to say next instead of really listening.

Most of us have experienced something like that.

We live in a world that can make it difficult to remain attentive to one another. We can become hurried, distracted, isolated, or so focused on achievement that we lose sight of the people around us.

And I don’t think most of us intend to live that way.

We want to be present. We want to be patient. We want to be people who notice and care. Yet sometimes there is a distance between the kind of people we want to be and the way we actually live.

That raises a question worth considering: What does it mean to be fully human?

Christian faith gives us a particular way of answering that question. We look to Jesus.

In Christ, we see a life shaped by love, mercy, courage, faithfulness, and service. Following Jesus is not about becoming less human. It is about becoming more fully the people God created us to be.

And that doesn’t happen all at once.

Christ Has Taken Hold of Us

The apostle Paul gives us a picture of this continuing journey in his letter to the Philippians. He has followed Christ for years, yet he does not speak as though he has arrived.

He is still pressing on.

“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.”

— Philippians 3:12, NRSVUE

Despite years of faithful ministry, Paul acknowledges that there is still more to learn and more ways his life can be shaped by Christ.

But notice what gives him the confidence to keep going.

He presses on because Christ Jesus has already made him his own.

That order matters.

Paul is not trying to earn Christ’s acceptance. He is responding to the grace that has already taken hold of his life.

There is a difference between spending our lives trying to prove that we are enough and living because we have discovered that we are already loved.

Sometimes we approach faith as though, if we pray enough, serve enough, or become good enough, God will finally be pleased with us.

But Paul gives us a different picture. He presses on because Christ has already taken hold of him. Christ’s grace has given his life a new direction.

We are not trying to become someone God might someday love. We are learning to live as people who are already loved.

This is deeply connected to the Methodist understanding of grace. God’s grace comes before our response, awakens us to God’s love, and continues shaping us throughout our lives. We do not grow in faith in order to make God love us. We grow because God’s love is already at work in us.

As Paul writes elsewhere, “For by grace you have been saved through faith,” and we are created in Christ Jesus for good works (Ephesians 2:8–10).

Grace is not the reward for our progress. Grace is the beginning, the strength, and the continuing source of our growth.

Becoming More Fully Human

If Christ has taken hold of us, what kind of life is that grace drawing us toward?

The opening chapter of 2 Peter offers a helpful picture. Before calling believers to make every effort to grow, the writer reminds them that God has already given them what they need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).

Once again, grace comes first.

But grace also invites us to participate in the work God is doing.

The passage calls believers to grow in faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, endurance, godliness, mutual affection, and love (2 Peter 1:5–7).

This is not a checklist for proving that we are good Christians. It is a picture of the character God’s grace is forming in us.

For some, that may mean learning self-control. For others, it may mean patience when change takes longer than hoped. It may mean growing in courage, becoming more attentive to others, or recognizing more deeply that we belong to one another.

And all of it moves toward love.

Not simply love as a feeling, but love that takes shape in the way we live.

This brings us back to our question about humanness.

What if becoming more like Christ is also becoming more fully human—more capable of love, more attentive to others, more faithful in our relationships, and more willing to serve?

The New Testament describes this transformation in several ways. Paul speaks of being “transformed by the renewing of your minds” (Romans 12:2). He describes the fruit of the Spirit as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22–23).

These are not qualities that make us less human. They help us become more fully the people God created us to be.

In Methodist theology, this continuing work of grace is often called sanctification. It is the process by which God’s love increasingly shapes our hearts and lives. John Wesley understood Christian perfection not as flawless performance, but as being perfected in love.

The goal is not to become people who no longer need grace. It is to become people whose lives increasingly reflect the love of Christ.

And that kind of growth often takes shape in the ordinary moments of life.

The Next Faithful Step Is Often Ordinary

Sometimes spiritual growth involves major decisions or new opportunities to serve. But often the next faithful step is much closer to home.

It may be learning to listen when we would rather respond.

It may be offering forgiveness, setting a healthy boundary, asking for help, or making time for prayer.

It may be noticing something that needs to be done and choosing to do it in love, even when no one else will notice.

It may be speaking up when someone is being treated unjustly, making room for a person who has been excluded, or choosing compassion when it would be easier to turn away.

Jesus reminds us that love of God and love of neighbor belong together (Mark 12:29–31). The letter of James similarly reminds us that faith takes shape in action, particularly in our care for those in need (James 2:14–17).

The next step will not look exactly the same for everyone. We have different gifts, different circumstances, and different places where God’s grace is inviting us to grow.

The goal is not to compare our progress with someone else’s. It is to respond faithfully to the grace already at work in our lives.

So perhaps the question is:

Where is Christ inviting me to become more loving, more faithful, and more fully human in the life I am actually living?

Paul offers a helpful word here. In Philippians 3:16, he encourages believers to continue faithfully from where they are.

We do not have to pretend we are somewhere we are not. And we do not have to begin again from nothing.

We can take the next faithful step from where we are today.

We Were Never Meant to Grow Alone

Following Jesus was never meant to be a solitary journey.

The Christian life is personal, but it is not private. We grow through relationships, shared practices, encouragement, accountability, and opportunities to love and serve.

The early church devoted itself to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42). The writer of Hebrews encourages believers to consider how they might “provoke one another to love and good deeds” (Hebrews 10:24).

That is a beautiful description of what Christian community can be.

A healthy church does more than invite people to attend worship. It helps people discover what following Jesus looks like in their lives and encourages them as they take the next step.

That means doing more than telling people they should pray, study Scripture, serve, or grow in faith. It means helping one another discover how.

Someone who wants to begin praying may need another person to show them that prayer doesn’t have to be complicated.

Someone exploring Scripture may need a place where questions are welcome.

Someone who wants to serve may need help discovering where their gifts fit.

And someone who is struggling may need a trusted person who will listen without immediately trying to fix everything.

Sometimes the next step is not taking on another responsibility. It may be learning to rest, asking for help, or allowing others to care for us.

A church that helps people grow should not simply become a church that keeps asking people to do more.

We are called to help one another become more fully the people God created us to be.

We learn from one another. We share our gifts, our questions, our struggles, and our hopes.

We are not here to measure one another’s progress.

We are here to encourage one another’s faithfulness.

A Community of Grace

This is one reason Christian community matters so deeply.

When someone becomes part of a church, the hope is not simply that another name will be added to a membership roll. The deeper hope is that another person will find a community in which to discover Christ, grow in grace, and share in the life and mission of the church.

Membership is not a declaration that someone has arrived. It is a commitment to continue following Christ within a community that promises to walk alongside one another.

And that invitation extends beyond formal membership.

Whether someone has been part of a church for decades, is returning after time away, is exploring faith for the first time, or is simply wondering what it might mean to follow Jesus, there is room to take a next step.

The church is not meant to be a gathering of people who have already figured everything out. It is a community of people learning to respond to grace together.

That is part of the beauty of the Methodist tradition’s emphasis on the means of grace—practices such as prayer, searching the Scriptures, worship, Holy Communion, Christian fellowship, and works of mercy.

These practices are not ways of earning God’s love. They are ways of making ourselves available to the grace that is already seeking and shaping us.

They help us grow in love of God and neighbor.

And they remind us that spiritual growth is not simply about becoming more religious. It is about becoming more loving.

Pressing On Together

Paul writes:

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

— Philippians 3:14, NRSVUE

He is not standing at the finish line congratulating himself. He is still following.

And so are we.

Following Jesus is not about becoming less human. It is about becoming more fully the people God created us to be.

People whose lives are shaped by love. People who notice one another, make room for others, serve, forgive, seek justice, and continue learning what it means to follow Christ.

We have not arrived. But Christ has taken hold of us, and grace is still at work.

So perhaps the question for each of us is:

What is my next faithful step?

Not the step I think I should have taken years ago. Not someone else’s step. The next step Christ is inviting me to take now.

And how can we help one another take those steps?

Because the goal is not simply to become busier, more accomplished, or more religious. It is to become people and communities whose lives more fully reflect the love of Christ.

And we do not have to accomplish that on our own.

The same Christ who calls us has already taken hold of us. The same grace that brought us this far will continue to guide us.

Christ is still calling. Grace is still working. And we can keep following together.

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A Question for Reflection

Where might Christ be inviting you to take your next faithful step? Perhaps it is a step toward prayer, reconciliation, service, rest, or a deeper connection with others. Consider sharing that question with someone you trust, and look for one small way to respond to God’s grace this week.

Scripture for Further Reflection

Philippians 3:12–16; 2 Peter 1:3–8; Ephesians 2:8–10; Romans 12:1–2; Galatians 5:22–23; Mark 12:29–31; James 2:14–17; Acts 2:42–47; Hebrews 10:23–25.

Following Jesus isn’t about arriving. It’s about allowing God’s grace to keep shaping who we are becoming.

Growth is a funny thing.

With children, we tend to notice it pretty quickly. A pair of shoes suddenly doesn’t fit. Pants that were fine a few months ago are suddenly too short. They learn something new, take on more responsibility, or begin seeing the world in a different way.

Sometimes it feels like you can almost watch them grow.

With the rest of us, growth can be a little harder to see.

The same can be true of our spiritual lives.

Following Jesus is a journey. There really isn’t a point where we get to say, “There. I’ve arrived. I’ve figured out this whole discipleship thing.”

Jesus’ invitation is wonderfully simple:

“Follow me.” — Mark 2:14

But that invitation assumes something important:

God is still working on us.

The people Jesus calls are people Jesus continues to shape.

Jesus Calls Levi Before Levi Has It All Together

In Mark 2:13–17, Jesus encounters Levi sitting at a tax booth.

That detail matters.

Jesus doesn’t meet Levi after Levi has changed his life or figured out what faithfulness will look like. Jesus meets him right in the middle of his ordinary, complicated life and says:

“Follow me.” — Mark 2:14

Jesus doesn’t say, “Clean yourself up first.”

Jesus simply says, “Follow me.”

Grace comes first.

Jesus doesn’t wait for finished people. Jesus calls people and begins forming them as they follow.

Levi’s unfinished life isn’t an exception to discipleship.

None of us begins the journey finished.

This pattern appears throughout the Gospels. Jesus calls ordinary people who still have much to learn. Peter will misunderstand Jesus, make promises he cannot keep, and even deny knowing Christ—and yet Jesus continues to form and restore him (Mark 8:31–33; Luke 22:54–62; John 21:15–19).

Discipleship has never required perfection as its starting point.

It begins with grace.

Jesus Knows We’re Still Becoming

Mark doesn’t leave Levi at the tax booth for long.

Soon Jesus is sitting at Levi’s table, surrounded by tax collectors and others whom Mark calls “sinners” (Mark 2:15–16).

When religious leaders question Jesus about the company he keeps, Jesus responds:

“Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick people do.” — Mark 2:17

Jesus’ welcome doesn’t depend upon anyone at that table pretending they have everything together.

In fact, Jesus seems to assume the opposite.

There are things in us that need healing. There are attitudes that need changing. There are places where we still need to learn, forgive, trust, and love.

Jesus knows all of that when he calls us.

Jesus doesn’t call us because we are finished. Jesus calls us knowing there is still work to be done.

Recognizing our need to grow isn’t evidence that we are failing at following Jesus.

It is part of following Jesus.

There are no finished people at Jesus’ table.

God Is Still Working on Us

Being unfinished doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

Paul writes to the Christians in Philippi:

“The one who started a good work in you will stay with you to complete the job.” — Philippians 1:6

There is tremendous hope in those words.

Paul doesn’t say, “You started a good work, so try harder to finish it.”

He points to what God is doing.

The God who began this work is still at work.

In the Methodist tradition, we sometimes describe this as sanctifying grace—God’s grace continuing to work within us, healing what needs healing, challenging what needs changing, and shaping us toward Christlike love.

John Wesley described the Christian life as growth in holiness and love of God and neighbor. That growth isn’t something we accomplish apart from grace. It is God’s grace working in us as we respond to it.

As Paul puts it elsewhere:

“God is the one who enables you both to want and to actually live out his good purposes.” — Philippians 2:13

Grace isn’t only what brings us to Christ.

Grace continues shaping us as we follow Christ.

Christian growth, then, isn’t about earning God’s love.

God already loves us (Romans 5:8; 1 John 4:9–10).

Growth is what God’s love begins producing in us.

So perhaps the question isn’t whether we have arrived.

Perhaps the question is whether we are still willing to be shaped.

Growth Looks Different in Different People

If we are all still being shaped, we need to remember something else:

Growth doesn’t look exactly the same in everyone.

We aren’t all starting from the same place. We haven’t had the same experiences. We don’t carry the same wounds, ask the same questions, or struggle with the same things.

The next faithful step may look very different from one person to another.

For one person, growth may mean learning to forgive (Colossians 3:13).

For another, it may mean establishing a healthy boundary.

For someone else, it may mean serving in a new way (1 Peter 4:10), admitting they were wrong (James 5:16), asking for help (Galatians 6:2), or simply learning to trust God one day at a time (Matthew 6:34).

Growth isn’t a competition.

Instead of measuring our faith against someone else’s journey, we can ask:

Where is God’s grace inviting me to grow?

Paul offers us an important sign of what that growth might look like:

“This is my prayer: that your love might become even more and more rich.” — Philippians 1:9

One of the signs that God’s grace is shaping us is that love is growing.

Maybe we are becoming a little more patient.

A little more willing to listen.

A little slower to judge.

A little quicker to notice someone who is hurting.

A little more courageous about doing what is right.

Not all at once. Not perfectly.

But over time, something begins to change.

Paul describes the fruit of God’s Spirit as “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23).

The grace we have received begins shaping the people we are becoming.

So perhaps one way to ask, “Am I growing in my faith?” is to ask another question:

Is love growing in me?

We Help One Another Grow

Paul’s prayer in Philippians isn’t simply about individual growth.

He is writing to a community. He gives thanks for their partnership (Philippians 1:3–5). He prays for them. He speaks about the work God is doing among them.

Following Jesus was never meant to be something we do alone.

We need one another.

Scripture repeatedly describes Christian discipleship as a shared life. We are called to “encourage each other and build each other up” (1 Thessalonians 5:11), to “carry each other’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2), and to consider how we can “motivate each other to show love and to do good works” (Hebrews 10:24).

A healthy church, then, isn’t simply a building filled with individuals working on their own spiritual lives.

It is a community where we help one another grow.

It is a place where questions can be asked without embarrassment.

Where mistakes don’t have to define us.

Where someone who has followed Jesus for fifty years can still learn something new, and someone who is just beginning doesn’t have to pretend to have everything figured out.

It is a place where we encourage rather than compare.

Sometimes helping someone grow means encouraging them. Sometimes it means speaking “the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). Sometimes it means walking beside someone as they take a difficult step.

But we do all of this remembering that God is working on all of us.

We don’t need everyone to be in the same place.

We need to remain open to where God’s grace is leading next.

What Is Your Next Faithful Step?

That leaves each of us with a question:

What is my next faithful step?

Not someone else’s next step.

Mine.

Where is Christ calling me to follow?

Where is grace inviting me to grow?

Who has God placed around me to encourage me along the way?

Because we are all still becoming.

And we don’t have to become alone.

A Table for People Still Becoming

There is one more beautiful detail in Levi’s story.

Jesus is at the table.

Jesus is eating with people whose lives are unfinished.

That is a powerful image of grace—and it points toward something Christians continue to experience at the Communion table.

We don’t come to Communion because we have grown enough, figured everything out, or earned our place.

We come because Christ invites us.

In the United Methodist tradition, the Communion invitation describes Christ as inviting to the table all who love Christ, earnestly repent of their sin, and seek to live in peace with one another.

We come as people still learning.

Still growing.

Still being shaped by grace.

We come honestly, bringing the places where we still need healing, forgiveness, and change.

And we trust the promise:

“The one who started a good work in you will stay with you to complete the job.” — Philippians 1:6

God is not finished with us.

So perhaps the most important question isn’t:

“Have I arrived?”

Perhaps it is:

“Where is God’s grace inviting me to grow next?”

Whatever your answer may be, remember the table where Jesus sat with Levi.

Christ is still calling.

Grace is still working.

Love is still growing.

And nobody here is finished.

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A Prayer for People Still Becoming

Gracious God,
thank you for meeting us where we are and loving us before we have everything figured out. Continue the good work you have begun in us. Heal what needs healing. Challenge what needs changing. Teach us where we still need to learn. Grow within us the love of Christ—for you, for our neighbors, and even for those we find difficult to love.

Give us courage to take our next faithful step, patience with those whose journey looks different from ours, and grace to encourage one another along the way.

Keep shaping us until your love becomes more fully visible in the way we live.

Amen.

Scripture for further reflection: Mark 2:13–17; Philippians 1:3–11; Philippians 2:12–13; Galatians 5:22–23; Ephesians 4:15–16; Hebrews 10:23–25.

Every person, every business, every community develops a reputation.

Mention a favorite restaurant and someone remembers the food. Mention a particular store and someone remembers how they were treated there.

Churches develop reputations too.

So here is a question worth asking: What do we hope the church is known for?

Friendly. Caring. Generous. A place where people belong?

Those are all good things. But Jesus invites us to ask a deeper question: What does it mean to be a community centered on Christ?

The Christian life begins with an invitation: “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19). It begins with grace—with God moving toward us before we ever move toward God. And people welcomed by grace learn to make room for others.

But what does that life increasingly look like?

Matthew’s Gospel gives us an answer when someone asks Jesus a deceptively simple question:

Out of everything God asks of us, what matters most?

Jesus Goes to the Heart

In Matthew 22:34–40, a legal expert asks Jesus:

“Teacher, what is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
— Matthew 22:36

By this point in Matthew’s Gospel, religious leaders have repeatedly challenged Jesus, and Matthew tells us that this question is another test.

But it is also an important question. With hundreds of commandments in the Law, Jewish teachers wrestled with how they fit together and what stood at the center.

In other words: What holds all of this together?

Jesus answers by drawing from two passages in the Hebrew Scriptures—Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18:

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: You must love your neighbor as you love yourself.”
— Matthew 22:37–39

Then Jesus says something remarkable:

“All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commands.”
— Matthew 22:40

Everything hangs here.

Like a door hanging on its hinges, everything else depends upon these two commands:

Love God. Love your neighbor.

Love is not simply one piece of the Christian life. Love is at the heart of the Christian life.

And if love is at the heart, Jesus’ answer raises a deeper question for anyone seeking to follow Christ:

What does it actually mean to love God with all that we are?

Love God With Your Whole Life

Jesus says:

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, and with all your mind.”
— Matthew 22:37

In other words, love God with all of you.

For some, loving God has been part of life for as long as they can remember. Others may still be discovering what it means to know or trust God. Wherever we find ourselves, Jesus describes a life increasingly turned toward God.

Our thoughts. Our desires. Our choices. Our relationships. Our priorities. The way we use our time and resources.

All of it.

Loving God with our whole lives means more than feeling affection for God. It means learning to trust God, seeking God in prayer and worship, listening for God’s direction, and allowing God’s love to shape what matters most to us.

Loving God is not something we add to the rest of our lives. Love for God begins to shape the way we live the rest of our lives.

That understanding is deeply rooted in the Wesleyan tradition.

John Wesley believed that the goal of Christian life was holiness. By holiness, Wesley was not talking about becoming more religious than everyone else. He was describing a life increasingly filled with love for God and love for others.

Jesus himself connects these things. Love God. Love your neighbor.

At the heart of holiness is love.

That gives us an important way to think about spiritual growth.

Sometimes we measure our faith by how much we know, how often we attend church, how many Bible studies we have completed, or how many years we have followed Jesus. Those things can help us grow, but they are not the goal.

The deeper question is:

Am I becoming more loving?

Jesus does not allow us to answer that question only by looking at our relationship with God. He refuses to separate love of God from love of neighbor.

Love Takes Shape in the Way We Live

First John puts the matter rather directly:

“Those who say, ‘I love God’ and hate their brothers or sisters are liars.”
— 1 John 4:20

Those are strong words. John is not giving Christians another group of people to condemn. He is confronting the contradiction of claiming love for God while refusing to love people.

Love of God becomes visible in the way we love people.

When Jesus says, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” he is quoting Leviticus 19:18. The surrounding verses show just how broad and concrete that love is.

God’s people are instructed to provide for the poor and the immigrant (Leviticus 19:9–10), not to steal or deceive (vv. 11–12), to pay workers fairly (v. 13), not to take advantage of people who are vulnerable (v. 14), to practice justice (v. 15), and not to stand by when another person’s life is threatened (v. 16).

These are not simply instructions for isolated acts of kindness. God is describing the kind of community God’s people are meant to become—a community whose life together is shaped by love.

In other words, biblical love is not simply a feeling.

Love does something.

Sometimes love listens. Sometimes love gives. Sometimes love protects. Sometimes love tells the truth. Sometimes love makes room. And sometimes love asks us to change.

Love seeks the good of another person, not simply the preservation of our own comfort.

That is where Jesus’ command becomes more challenging than it first sounds.

Love God.

Love your neighbor.

Simple enough to remember. Much harder to live.

There are people we find easy to love and others we struggle to understand. There are relationships where love is complicated. Some hurts cannot simply be brushed aside. Sometimes discerning what love requires takes prayer, wisdom, courage, forgiveness, justice, and healthy boundaries.

So what do we do with the truth that none of us loves perfectly?

We Are Still Learning to Love

Even after years of following Jesus, we discover places within ourselves where love still needs to grow.

We lose patience. We make assumptions. We hold onto resentment. We choose what is comfortable instead of what is loving.

Following Jesus is not something we finish. Neither is learning to love.

Perhaps, then, a better question than “Have I arrived?” is:

Where is God inviting my love to grow?

Maybe toward someone I find difficult to understand.

Maybe in a relationship where I need to listen more carefully.

Maybe in the way I speak about people with whom I disagree.

Maybe in making room for someone whose experience is different from mine.

Maybe even in learning to receive grace and love for myself.

John Wesley believed that God’s grace does not simply meet us once and then leave us on our own. God’s grace continues working within us, helping us grow in holiness and love.

Methodists traditionally call this sanctifying grace.

As Paul writes, God is at work within us, enabling us to desire and work toward what pleases God (Philippians 2:13).

God is still at work in us.

Still softening what has become hard.

Still healing what has been wounded.

Still challenging what has become self-centered.

Still teaching us how to love God and our neighbors more fully.

We have not arrived. We are being formed.

And if all of this leaves us thinking, I don’t love like that very well, the Christian life does not begin with our ability to love God or our neighbor.

It begins with God’s love for us.

We Love Because God First Loved Us

First John brings us back to the foundation:

“We love because God first loved us.”
— 1 John 4:19

Notice the order.

God loves first.

We do not love God so that God will love us. We do not love our neighbors to prove that we are good Christians. Holy love is not something we manufacture by simply trying harder.

God’s love comes first.

As Paul reminds us, “God shows his love for us, because while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

Grace meets us before we have everything figured out. Grace meets us before we have learned to love well.

And grace does not leave us where it found us.

God’s love meets us, works within us, and begins reshaping our hearts and lives. As we learn to trust that love, the love we receive begins to flow through us toward others.

Love received becomes love lived.

It becomes compassion when someone is hurting.

It becomes courage when someone needs an advocate.

It becomes listening when someone needs to be heard.

It becomes generosity when someone is in need.

It becomes truth when silence would be easier.

It becomes making room when our instinct is to protect our own place at the table.

Not perfectly. Not all at once.

But grace keeps shaping us toward holy love.

What Will We Be Known For?

So what do we hope Christians—and Christian communities—will be known for?

There are plenty of good answers.

But somewhere near the top of the list should be this:

They love.

Not simply that we talk about God’s love, but that people experience something of God’s love among us—in the way we speak, in the way we treat people with whom we disagree, in the way we care for those who are hurting, in the way we seek justice, and in the way we make room for one another.

Jesus told his disciples:

“This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, when you love each other.”
— John 13:35

Perhaps the question to carry with us, then, is not simply, “Do I love God?”

Perhaps it is:

“Where is God’s love inviting me to grow?”

We will not love perfectly. We are still being shaped, still learning, still following.

But we do not begin with our ability to love.

We begin with God’s love for us.

“We love because God first loved us.”
— 1 John 4:19

And by the grace of God, love received becomes love lived.

May that love shape us.

May that love become visible in us.

And may that be what followers of Jesus become known for.