Life often presents a complex tapestry of profound joy and deep sorrow, sometimes simultaneously. It can be challenging to hold onto the wonder of God's presence when the world around us is filled with unrest, violence, and suffering. We may find ourselves asking how to be amazed by God when grace feels distant, and hope seems to dim. Yet, even in these moments of struggle, there is an invitation to seek God's light, trusting that divine grace is never truly far away, even when it's hard to perceive. This journey of faith calls us to reconcile the beauty of new life with the pain of the world, believing that God is present in both. [02:15]
Matthew 3:13-17
Jesus traveled from Galilee to the Jordan River to be baptized by John. John hesitated, feeling unworthy to baptize Jesus, but Jesus insisted it was right to fulfill all righteousness. So John agreed. As Jesus came up from the water, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and resting upon him. Then a voice from heaven declared, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."
Reflection: When you observe the suffering in the world or experience personal grief, where do you most struggle to perceive God's presence or feel His grace drawing near?
At the very beginning of Jesus' public ministry, a profound declaration was made from heaven. As Jesus emerged from the waters of baptism, God's voice resonated, affirming His deep love and pleasure in His Son. This moment was not just for Jesus, but for all who would hear, revealing the true identity and mission of the one who would walk among us. It was a clear sign, a divine endorsement, meant to anchor our understanding of who Jesus is and, through Him, who God is. This affirmation reminds us that Jesus is the perfect revelation of God's character and purpose for humanity. [03:45]
Isaiah 42:1
God says, "Behold my servant, whom I uphold; my chosen one, in whom my soul delights. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will bring justice to all the nations."
Reflection: How does knowing that God publicly declared His love and pleasure in Jesus at the start of His ministry deepen your trust in Jesus' teachings and example?
In a world that often equates justice with force, power, or retribution, God offers a radically different vision. Divine justice does not coerce, dominate, or crush; instead, it restores and heals through love, restraint, and mercy. This approach challenges our human assumptions that real change only comes through control or fear. God's way of making things right is patient, gentle, and faithful, refusing to heal injustice by repeating its methods. It is a profound strength, echoing the life and teachings of Jesus, who consistently rejected violence even when it seemed justified. [07:30]
Isaiah 42:2-4
He will not shout or raise his voice in the streets. He will not break a bruised reed, nor will he extinguish a dimly burning wick. With faithfulness, he will bring forth true justice. He will not falter or be discouraged until he establishes justice throughout the earth, and the distant lands will place their hope in his teaching.
Reflection: Where in your life or community do you see opportunities to pursue justice not through force or argument, but through gentle, patient, and faithful acts of love and restoration?
God's heart is deeply committed to those who are fragile, exhausted, or barely holding on. The divine servant does not break a bruised reed or snuff out a dimly burning wick, illustrating a profound compassion for the vulnerable. In a society that often values strength and success, God's attention moves in the opposite direction, bending towards those harmed by injustice, violence, poverty, or grief. This commitment offers immense comfort, assuring us that God protects what is fragile and preserves hope even when it flickers faintly. God's justice begins not with fixing people, but with faithfully staying beside them in their pain. [08:45]
Isaiah 42:6-7
"I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness; I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and make you a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, to open the eyes of the blind, to free captives from prison, and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness."
Reflection: Think of someone in your life or community who feels bruised or like a dimly burning wick. How might God be inviting you to offer faithful presence and compassion, rather than trying to "fix" their situation?
We are called to be a light to the nations, bringing freedom and sight not through conquest or control, but through lives that faithfully reflect God's character. This means living as an alternative community shaped by peace, reconciliation, simplicity, and shared life. Our witness is not about dominating society or managing the world's outcomes, but about embodying God's healing future in our daily choices. When we choose nonviolence, practice forgiveness, and stand with the marginalized, we become a visible sign of God's grace. Justice is not only something we demand; it is something we embody, one faithful step at a time. [10:15]
Matthew 5:14-16
You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl; instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.
Reflection: What is one specific, practical way you can embody God's grace and peace in your daily interactions this week, allowing your life to be a quiet witness to His character?
This week has held deep joy and sharp ache at the same time: a newborn in our family, the ordinary scramble to reset routines, and the heavy weight of violence and unrest in the world. Even in moments of celebration it’s possible to feel bewildered, wondering how to be amazed by God when news and grief make grace seem distant. At the Jordan, Jesus came forward to be baptized—not because he needed cleansing, but to fulfill what righteousness looks like in solidarity and obedience. John hesitated, then baptized him; the heavens opened, the Spirit settled like a dove, and God’s voice declared, “This is my Son, whom I love.” That heavenly affirmation is not a private comfort but a public unveiling of who God is in Christ.
Isaiah’s portrait of the servant helps explain how God acts when the world looks most broken. The servant brings justice without shouting, does not crush a bruised reed or snuff a dim wick, and faithfully brings light to nations. These images push back against the cultural assumption that force or domination are the only ways to fix evil. Instead, God’s justice moves through humility, patience, and careful tending of the vulnerable.
For us as Mennonite believers, these scriptures give three converging calls. First, justice can and should be enacted without mirroring the violence we oppose; nonviolence is not weakness but a form of strong, restorative action. Second, God bends toward the fragile—we are summoned to stay with the wounded rather than discard them for not being whole yet; presence often matters more than solutions. Third, our witness is lived: the church is a visible, alternative community whose everyday practices—peace, simplicity, mutual care—point to a different way of being human that slowly invites others into God’s reign.
When grace feels far away, remember that God’s coming is neither loud nor coercive but steady and intimate. The baptism scene anchors us: God identifies with the vulnerable and marks a servant who will lead with gentleness. We are invited to imitate that pattern—refusing violence, protecting the faintest light, and living in ways that reveal God’s justice and mercy one faithful step at a time.
How are we supposed to be amazed as we see violence and suffering in the streets of our own country? How do we reconcile those looming darknesses with being amazed by God when grace feels so far away?
Friends, even amidst the joys of this week, my heart hurts when I watch the news, read the headlines, and visit with those directly impacted. It’s difficult to find God amidst darkness and hope amidst despair.
One might think the baptism and heavenly voice would have been enough, but history shows many refused to believe, forgot, or twisted Christ’s name for power instead of compassion.
God's justice comes without violence; the servant does not shout, dominate, or rely on force. Instead, justice unfolds quietly, patiently, and faithfully, refusing to heal injustice by repeating its methods.
God stays with the wounded. The servant will not break a bruised reed or snuff out a dimly burning wick—God bends toward those harmed, protecting what is fragile and preserving hope where it flickers faintly.
God’s people witness by how they live. The church is not called to dominate society but to embody peace, reconciliation, simplicity, and shared life—becoming a visible sign of God’s grace through faithful presence.
God’s justice begins not with fixing people, but with staying faithfully beside them. It calls us to choose compassion over judgment and presence over quick solutions for the vulnerable and worn down.
When grace feels far away, remember God has not withdrawn. God comes quietly, refuses violence, guards the fragile, and stays close to the wounded. Justice arrives through faithful love that does not give up.
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