I’ve lived in some great places. Each town or city we’ve called home has shaped our family, our story and our ministry in unique ways. Every place offers its own kind of beauty, opportunity, or culture.

Of course, no place is perfect. As great as these cities are, each has its needs. Some have more needs than others.

In 2 Kings 2, the people of Jericho tell Elisha, “The location of this city is good.” They probably didn't know how right they were. Jericho is one of the oldest cities in the world today. But not everything's good. There's a great need in the city. The people say, “The water is bad, and the land is unfruitful.” There's an idea that the unfruitfulness of the land is akin to loosing a child or being barren. That represents a great loss.

Having bad water is no small issue. Think of the people in Flint, MI. They've been fighting for ten years for water justice. Contaminated water means poor health, failed crops, struggling livestock and hunger. It touches every part of life: physical, economic and emotional.

When the residents of Jericho bring this concern to Elisha, the prophet responds. He acts. He trusts. He puts salt in a bowl, throws it in the spring and declares, “This is what the Lord says: I have healed this water.” To be sure, the healing didn’t come from a bowl, the salt or even the prophet. It came from God. But it still required Elisha’s faithful obedience.

I assume James and John had Elijah on their minds. In Luke 9, Jesus sends messengers ahead of him into a Samaritan village. It probably didn't surprise the disciples when the people do not welcome him. To them, those were Samaritans, after all. Their rejection stirred a memory of how others rejected God's word and power.

"Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?"

That's something Elijah did. Twice.

Now, they wanted to defend Jesus with that same divine force they thought they could control. But Jesus rebuked the brothers.

In scripture, fire coming down from heaven is a sign of God's power and approval. Fire came down on Elijah's drenched offering to show that "you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant, and that I have done all things at your word" (I Kings 18). Later, the Lord directed Elijah to speak against King Ahaziah. The king sent men up to Elijah and commanded him to come down. Notice the up and down play on words. But Elijah anticipated that fire would come down again.

And it did.

By the way, the king was in Samaria.

James and John remind me how so many times we want to put people in their place. Especially when they reject what we believe. But Jesus didn't call down fire. He called his disciples to follow a different way.

Remember that Jesus said his followers would do greater works than he did. And after his resurrection, they did. In Acts 8, Philip preaches in a Samaritan city and the people receive the good news. As a result, "There was great joy in that city."

Some researchers say your personality is pretty much set by age three. And, by first grade, you've already got a pretty good glimpse of the kind of adult you'll become.

But that doesn’t mean nothing ever changes. You’re always becoming something. The question is what.

Maybe you’re becoming more generous, more patient. Or maybe you’re growing more bitter, more impatient or more distracted. To think you're the same person you've always been may ignore the way life shapes you. It doesn't take into account how your experiences of culture, community, pain and joy, for example, have all played their part in what you're becoming.

Evagrius Ponticus was a well known theologian of the church in the fourth century. His theological insight led him to the position of Archdeacon in Constantinople. With that position came power, status and reputation. But the weight of that life began to pull at him. He recognized what that influence was doing to him, and he made a bold move. He left it all behind. Went out to the desert. Traded the noise of the city for the stillness of the monastic life.

He wrote extensively on spiritual development. One of his reflections says: "A man in chains cannot run; nor can the mind enslaved by worldly attachments ascend to God."

The prophet Elijah spoke judgment against Ahab and Jezebel. They would both die, and the dogs would take care of what remained. Ahab died about three years before Jezebel. Her death was as gruesome as prophesied. 2 Kings 9 tells this story.

I assume she knew what was coming. But she didn't run away or even ask for mercy. She stood at her window after "she painted her eyes and adorned her head." She glared outside and called out to her accuser, not as a victim, but as a queen. It was a final performance. A defiant, composed image she chose to show everyone.

And then she fell.

As I'm reflecting on that story today, I keep thinking about that image: Jezebel fixing herself up. It’s so like us. When things fall apart, we reach for whatever helps us feel in control. We can't help it. For some of us it might be makeup, a sharp outfit, the perfect social media post or even religious language. But it’s all a mask. It helps us look composed on the outside without actually being made whole.

This isn’t faith. That's managing an image. Some might call it "playing church."

But God isn't asking us to put on a show. None of us need more performances. We need God's presence. We need a Savior who meets us with grace when we’re undone. And the good news is that's exactly who Jesus is.

As an eleven-year-old, I didn’t understand what I was watching in November 1989. I saw crowds of people standing around and on a wall. They cheered as they chipped away at it with hammers and pickaxes. Then a big chunk of it fell to the ground. I remember how excited a TV announcer was in a commercial later on. He was selling pieces of the Berlin Wall.

But I didn’t know the history or the tension that wall represented. So, the joy of destroying such a powerful symbol of division went over my head. It doesn’t anymore. The Berlin Wall was more than just concrete. It stood for years of hostility, separation, and fear. When it came down, people celebrated freedom, unity, and the hope of something better.

That’s the same kind of hope scripture points to in Ephesians 2. Jesus tore down the wall of hostility between Jews and Gentiles, making peace where there had been only division.

Unfortunately, we’re still surrounded by walls today. Walls stand between races, classes, political camps and even pews. But Christ didn’t just tear down spiritual walls; he calls us to keep swinging our hammers of love, mercy, and justice in real, practical ways.

Pay attention to the walls around you today. You might be surprised at who’s on the other side of a wall you didn’t even know existed. What bias, fear, or even long-held tradition has kept you from crossing over and making peace? Ask God to show you one wall you can help bring down today. Maybe you can do that through a conversation, an apology, or even a simple invitation.

I like to tease a local lawyer every time I catch his TV commercial. To reassure potential clients that he really cares, he says, “Nobody’s a nobody.” Yes, I agree. That's a little cheesy.

But it's also a great, gospel-oriented line. Because in the kingdom of God, that’s not marketing. It’s truth.

The lawyer wants you to believe that your case matters. God wants you to believe that you matter. Not because of your résumé, your reputation, or your reach, but because of how deeply you are loved. You don’t earn that kind of worth. You receive it.

It’s not just that nobody’s a nobody. It’s that everybody is beloved. 

We often talk about when we decided to follow Jesus. What led us, what changed in us. Of course, that’s an important part of our story. But 1 Corinthians 1 reminds us of another important part: "It is because of God that you are in Christ Jesus."

Yes, you chose to follow. Yes, you’re walking the walk. But God was already walking toward you before you took your first step. In Wesleyan terms, that’s called prevenient grace— God moving first, choosing us before we even knew we had a choice to make.

Why were the Titanic's lifeboat drills cancelled the very day she sank? No one really knows. But in hindsight, it's hard not to see that as a missed moment. A miss that cost many people their lives.

Of course, no one boards a ship expecting it to sink. No one wakes up thinking this will be the day that unravels everything. Everything is always fine until it's not. In some way, then, we all live with a bit of a "tomorrow will be fine" mentality. We take for granted things will work out the way we plan them. That there's always more time.

Now, to be sure, I'm not an alarmist. But I have learned how fragile life is. And not just life, but the societal systems around it we think will always hold. They don't always. And the don't hold for everyone.

I am a hopeful person. Mainly because of what I believe about the promises of God. But real hope doesn't mean ignoring the realities of the world around us. Tomorrow will be fine is a privileged position. Please recognize that. As someone wisely said: "Just because it's not happening to you doesn't mean it's not happening." For many, tomorrow doesn't feel fine. It feels heavy, uncertain and already like a fight that began today.

No one's ever accused me of being a picky eater. But even I can appreciate Daniel's choice to refuse a royal spread.

Most likely, the food offered to Daniel and his friends was the same King Nebuchadnezzar enjoyed at his table. Taste and variety aside, there were good reasons for Daniel's refusal to "defile himself with the royal rations of food and wine." Namely, the food likely didn't meet kosher laws, and it may have been used in pagan worship.

Interestingly, Daniel was willing to learn the "literature and language." He even took on a new name from his oppressors. He served in the king's court. But he drew a line at food. In exile, Daniel held onto something that kept him connected to who he was. His diet became a powerful, quiet act of resistance.

A friend of mine move to the U.S. for a few years for school. When he returned home, his family and friends immediately noticed how his eating habits had changed. American food had shaped him more than he realized. That's because the way we eat, dress, speak and behave tell a story about where we belong and who we are. Daniel's choice reminds us that faithfulness often requires us to pay attention to those kinds of little things. It means setting spiritual boundaries that keep us connected to our identity in Jesus.

I only know this because I've watched Interstellar several times and take to Google after every viewing. In physics, time dilation means that time doesn't move the same for everyone. It moves differently depending on your speed and gravitational pull. So, astronauts moving super fast in space age slightly slower than people who remain on Earth. The faster you move, the slower time seems to pass.

That sounds strange, but we already know what that feels like. Think about how time crawls when you're bored. Or how time flies when you're having fun. And don't some days feel like a blur while others just seem to go on and on?

We experience time differently depending on what we’re doing and how we’re moving.

Reflect on that as we consider some of the words of Ephesians 5. The apostle Paul says, because the days are evil, to make the most of the time. He's not telling us to cram more into our schedules. This isn't about filling up every second.

Beloved, we are a people who have been delivered. The word Hebrew is thought to mean "from the other side." That might point to a geographical beginning, ancestors who crossed rivers and borders. But it also stirs memories of God delivering Moses and the people from Pharaoh across the other side of the sea. In that sense, God's deliverance means we were there and now we're here.

And the people of God have long seen deliverance as part of their identity. You see it repeatedly throughout the psalms. God parted seas, broke chains and made the impossible possible. Thankfully, that story doesn't stop with the Old Testament.

God's beloved today live in deliverance. In Jesus, God has broken our captivity. We are freed from our sin, shame, fear and even the sting of death itself. As our liturgy affirms, Jesus frees us for joyful obedience. So, we may not call ourselves Hebrew, but God has brought us from the other side.

There are things in life that just fall into place. Unity isn’t one of them.

The apostle Paul reminds us to make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit. Notice, he didn't say to merely wish for it or want it to happen. God desires a unity for us that takes more than social media posting. You definitely can't assume it's someone else’s job. We are to make every effort. And that’s work.

The word “keep” implies something already given. So, unity isn’t something we manufacture. Instead, it’s what God has created through Christ. Our task is to guard it, nurture it, protect it. Realize that unity is less about getting everyone to agree and more about refusing to let go of peace when disagreement shows up.

But here’s the truth I'm sure you know: it’s easier to walk away. It’s easier to pick apart, to assume the worst and to give up on people who frustrate us. Peace takes patience. Unity takes humility. Community takes guts.

"Just remember," Barbara Jordan once said, "the world is not a playground but a schoolroom. Life is not a holiday but an education. One eternal lesson for us all: to teach us how better we should love."

I don’t think she meant we’re not allowed to enjoy life. Instead, she had come to value the lifelong process of learning. Not just in classrooms, but in every moment life offers. She saw life as a training ground, one that deepens our capacity to love and expands our ability to serve.

When we understand that, we begin to glimpse wisdom. And wisdom, the writer of Proverbs says, is one of God’s great gifts: “Happy are those who find wisdom.” Not because life becomes easier, but because life becomes richer.

Of course, life's lessons aren’t always enjoyable. They’re often difficult, uncomfortable and even painful. Maybe that’s why we sometimes distract ourselves with temporary, surface-level things. But the more we recognize the steady hand of God’s wisdom, the more we begin to trust what it’s shaping in us. The world says life is about getting ahead. God says wisdom is what guards your soul.

I'll admit to you that I'm the worst photographer in my family. I've always loved snapping photos, but I walk away with more memories than great shots. Still, I've learned something from the real photographers I know. They don't start by aiming a camera. They start by looking for the light.

And since I'm being so honest, I'm only technically a musician. Recently, I was asked to lead worship at this year's Annual Conference. I don't know what they heard about me, but I'm not that kind of musician. All I do is have a little fun with chords and beat on drums. But I do know you start with tuning.

Whether it's photography, music or life, how we start matters. I've known people who've had hard starts, emotionally, spiritually or even just a bad start to a day. It can color how you see everything that comes next. It can make you feel like you're always trying to catch up.

If that's your experience, the good news is you don't have to be stuck where you start. Hear me say that with my preacher voice and know that I've lived it as well.

All that said, Psalm 48 gives us a good starting (or restarting) point. The psalm is a joyous celebration of the city of God. In the midst of a turbulent world, God has established this place forever. So, "let Mount Zion be glad."

But this celebration starts with knowing who and what God is, not just in the blessing of what God has provided. "Great is the Lord," the psalmist says. This perspective shapes how he sees what God has done.

It always surprises me when we in the church expect people outside the faith to "act right." Sometimes, it even seems like we want them to behave better than we're willing to ourselves.

1 Corinthians 2 tells us that those who are unspiritual consider "the gifts of God's Spirit" foolishness. If that's true, of course they're going to avoid God, the church or anything that smells spiritual. Why would you expect anything different? Spiritual things don't make sense without spiritual eyes. We lose our footing, and our witness, when we respond with judgment or ridicule.

The more faithful way is to model something different.

God has given us a new way of thinking. Paul puts it this way: "We have the mind of Christ." We are only in our right mind when we live out of his.

And where did Christ's mind take him? How did it shape his heart, his priorities and his compassion for the world?

What surprises me even more is when the church forgets that we have that mind. When we speak without grace, chase influence over humility or belittle those we disagree with, we aren't following the Spirit's lead. We're following a mindset that isn't Christ's.

Our church celebrated Pentecost Sunday yesterday. As a small reminder of the Holy Spirit's presence, I gave everyone red pinwheels. It was a symbol of wind, breath and movement.

Later in the day, someone shared a picture from our worship. In it, an older saint was sitting next to one of our youth. The elder is blowing into the pinwheel while the young person watches with a wide, joyful smile.

When I saw that I wondered if this was an image of what the prophet Joel saw?

The prophet said, "your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions." This happens when God pours out the Spirit on humanity. All people are meant to be drawn together in prophetic vision.

Joel saw a Spirit-led community where generations sit side by side. They aren't divided. They don't compete. Instead, they share the same sense of awe at the Spirit's presence. What Joel knew is what we need to remember: all God's people need all God's people.