How can those who have known God’s rescue still chase worldly compromise that looks so much like success? That is the exasperated cry of Isaiah 1:21 as the faithful city becomes a harlot—once full of justice, now only murderers, its silver turned to dross.
We’ve all tried to manage our relationship with God on our own terms—keeping up appearances, going through the motions, assuming good effort is good enough. Isaiah 1:18 cuts through that with a direct invitation: “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord”—and the question it presses is whether we’ll actually stop and think about what he’s offering.
How much religious activity would it take to make up for the parts of life we still withhold from God? In Isaiah 1, Israel brings a multitude of sacrifices, gathers for solemn assemblies, and makes many prayers—yet God addresses his people as Sodom and Gomorrah and says their worship has become a burden to him.
We’ve all charged after something we thought would finally set things right, only to watch it cost us everything we hoped to protect. That’s the dumb-ox pattern God confronts in Isaiah 1 when he asks his people, “Why will you still be struck down? Why will you continue to rebel?”
An ox knows who feeds it; a donkey knows its master’s crib. But what about God’s people — including us? We forget.
Being in the right group, studying the right things, living a decent life—it feels like that ought to be enough. But in Acts 13, Paul announces to a synagogue full of people who had done exactly that: there are things the Law of Moses simply could not free you from, and being part of the in-group won’t close that gap.
Comfort, institutional preservation, and tribal identity can crowd out obedience to God’s call in our lives. Do we hear His call to reach those in need of His Grace and to live in the “risky repentance” that involves?
Jim Wolfe traces God’s redemptive plan through four Old Testament “roadside attractions” that foreshadow Christ — skins, boxes, baskets, and snakes. Along that scenic route, we arrive at the true meaning of Christmas, an attraction we actually need.
Do we only come to God when everything’s falling apart—when we’re without a prayer and just need a favor? In Psalm 10, it’s clear God is our Father, not just our favor giver, but too often we approach him only as the latter.
We often walk into church feeling as though we should polish up our pain and act like everything is under control. Psalm 10 gives us a different perspective, making room for the days when evil seems to prosper, God feels distant, and honest faith sounds more broken than triumphant.