God Stepping Into Our Mess – Why This Flesh Matters.

Check out the podcast version of this pondering here.

So, I preached on this passage yesterday, and I think there’s more to say on this topic. You see there’s this line in John’s Gospel, and it’s a profound line. I wanted to expound on it yesterday, but I just ran out of time. But this one verse is like a bright neon sign on a dark highway – it can be seen for miles. Are you ready for the verse? Brace yourself. It’s THE most important verse in all of John’s gospel, because this is how it went down. Here’s where we get our genesis. : “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” John 1:14.

It’s one of those verses we’ve heard so many times that it can feel like background noise—white noise for the soul. But let’s lean into it for a second. Let it hit you fresh. The Word—the cosmic, eternal, untouchable Logos, the blueprint behind everything that breathes and spins and sings (sometimes off key) —didn’t just stay out there, somewhere in the cosmos, the Word doesn’t hang out somewhere just watching us or hovering above us like some distant deity pulling levers. No. He became flesh. Skin and bones. Sweat and tears. He moved into our world.

Imagine that. The infinite zipped itself into the finite. The One who spoke galaxies into being traded the vastness of eternity for a heartbeat, for dusty sandals, for a stomach that growled when it was empty. And he didn’t just enter anywhere in the world, or a remote section of it —He entered into the thick of it, right here, among us. The Greek says He “tabernacled” with us, like God setting up camp in the middle of our mess. And it’s wild, right? The divine didn’t wait for us to climb some cosmic ladder to get to Him. He came down. He showed up. He knocked on the door of humanity and said, “Hey, I’m here. Let’s do this life thing together.”

But here’s the thing—here’s where it gets personal for each of us today – We have to ask the important question: what does that mean for you and me? Because it’s not just as a nice idea to nod at on Sunday and say our “amens” at just the right orchestrated time – but instead it’s a gut-punch truth that rewires how you live on a Monday? Because if the Word became flesh, then flesh matters. Your flesh. My flesh. The flesh of the person you scrolled past on your phone this morning, the one begging for a scrap of attention or a sandwich. If God wrapped Himself in skin, then skin isn’t just a disposable shell—it’s holy. It’s the stuff of eternity.

And that’s where it gets tricky, doesn’t it? Because we’re so good at splitting things apart—spirit over here, body over there. We’ve got this habit of acting like the “real” stuff is the invisible stuff, the prayers and the beliefs and the quiet times, while the physical world is just a waiting room we’re passing through. But John 1:14 says no. It’s not a waiting room. It’s the main event. God didn’t just send a memo—He became THE message. He didn’t just whisper from the clouds—He walked the dirt.

So what if you took that seriously? What if you stopped treating your body like a rental car you’re just driving till the lease is up? What if you stopped treating your neighbor like a side character in your story? Because if the Word became flesh, then every bit of flesh you bump into is a place where God might just show up. That’s the encouragement: you’re not alone. The divine is tangled up in the human. God’s not waiting for you to escape this messy, beautiful life—He’s in it with you.

But here’s the challenge: live like it. Stop pretending the sacred is only in the pews or the stained glass. It’s in the grocery store line. It’s in the argument you had with your spouse last night. It’s in the ache of your tired hands after a long day. The Word became flesh, so now you get to be the flesh the Word keeps speaking through. Are you listening? Are you showing up? Are you daring to let your ordinary, flawed, fragile life become a tent for something eternal?

Because that’s the invitation. Not to float above it all, but to dive in. To let your flesh—your actual, everyday, unglamorous flesh—become a place where grace leaks out. Where love gets loud. Where the invisible crashes into the visible and says, “This is home.”

So go ahead. Step into it. The Word is still flesh. And He’s still here.

“The Word That Cuts And Heals”

So, let’s talk about this wild, untamed thing we call the Word of God. Hebrews 4:12-13 drops us right into the thick of it, doesn’t it? It says, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”

Whoa. That’s intense, right? I mean, just sit with that for a second. Like, really mull over those words, and let them sink in for just a second…


The Word of God isn’t some dusty old book sitting on a shelf, collecting cobwebs. It’s alive. It’s active. It’s moving, breathing, slicing through the noise of our lives like a blade so sharp you don’t even feel it until you’re already opened up. Soul and spirit, joints and marrow—what does that even mean? Is there a part of you it doesn’t touch?

Let’s be honest: that can feel terrifying. A sword? Cutting into me? Judging my thoughts and attitudes? (No, Thanks!)
I don’t know about you, but there are days when I’d rather keep my thoughts tucked away in the shadows, thank you very much. Days when I’d rather not be laid bare. Because being seen—really seen—can feel like standing in the middle of a storm with nowhere to hide. Naked. Vulnerable. Exposed. It reminds me of that survival show on TV “Naked and Afraid.” There’s no way you could get me out in the wilderness WITHOUT clothes on…Okay, I digress.

But here’s the thing: what if that’s not the whole story? What if this sharpness, this cutting, isn’t just about judgment? What if it’s about something deeper, something more alive than we’ve dared to imagine? I always love to ask the ‘what if’ questions…

Think about a surgeon for a minute. A scalpel in their hand isn’t there to destroy—it’s there to heal. It cuts, yes, but it cuts to get to the stuff that’s killing you, the stuff you can’t see until it’s exposed. What if the Word of God is like that? What if it’s piercing through all the layers we pile on—our masks, our defenses, our endless scrolling distractions—not to shame us, but to free us? To get to the marrow of who we really are?

Because that’s what this text is whispering to us: You can’t hide, but maybe you don’t have to. Everything’s uncovered, it says. Laid bare. Before God’s sight. And yeah, that’s a lot. It’s a lot to take in. That’s God seeing the late-night worries you don’t tell anyone about, the anger you bury, the dreams you’re too scared to chase. But what if the One seeing you isn’t holding a gavel? What if the One seeing you is the same One who breathed you into being, who knows the you beneath the ‘you‘ you’ve been pretending to be?

Here’s where it gets challenging: Are you willing to let the Word do its work? (and by ‘Word‘ I also mean the moving and convicting presence of the Holy Spirit). Are you brave enough to stop running, to stand still, and let it cut through the noise? Because it will, He will. It’ll slice through the excuses, the half-truths, the “I’m fine” you keep saying when you’re not. It’ll find the places you’ve locked up tight and say, “Hey, let’s look at this together.” And that’s hard. That’s messy. (sorry, more dumpster fire talk here). That takes guts.

But here’s the encouragement: You’re not alone in it. This isn’t about you getting dissected and left on the table. This is about a God who sees it all—every jagged edge, every hidden wound—and stays. The same God who wields this living, active Word is the One who says, “I’m with you in the mess.” The One who doesn’t just judge the thoughts and attitudes of your heart, but knows them, loves them, redeems them.

So, what’s it going to be? Will you let the sword fall? Will you trust that the cut is where the healing starts? Because this Word—it’s not here to end you. It’s here to begin you, again and again. It’s here to strip away what’s dead so you can step into what’s alive. And that’s not easy. But it’s beautiful. It’s something truly beautiful. It’s worth it.

So, friends, take a deep breath. You’ve got this. The Word’s already moving. The Holy Spirit is still moving, too.
Can you feel it?
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

Light our way!

Psalm 119:105 (NIV)
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

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Have you ever stumbled around in the dark?  I have on numerous occasions and usually it ends with me finding a light source only after finding unidentified objects in my path with my shins and toes!  Walking around in darkness is never desired, we need to see where we’re going in order to navigate safely through.  

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A few years ago I went on a cave tour in the mountains of Tennessee.  We descended down into this cave with our tour guide, at the surface it was a hot summer day, but when we arrived to the bottom of the cave it was a chilly fifty degrees.  After some instructions from our guide, we took another hike through some narrow portions of the cave.  We even crawled through some spaces at one point, which made it just a little bit claustrophobic for some.  Finally after we had climbed through the narrow crevice we found ourselves in a large cavern with walls that were at least 15 feet tall.  The ceiling sparkled as there were numerous deposits of some kind or another.  Finally our tour guide asked us to trust him and to do something unthinkable.  He asked us to turn our lights off.  So we did and suddenly our entire group was plunged into complete and total darkness.   It was momentarily unnerving when I considered how deep we were and all of the rock that hovered over our heads.  It was so dark that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.  Our tour guide then spoke and said, this is what complete and total darkness feels like.  

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Sometimes in our spiritual lives we find ourselves in places like this.  Suddenly the light goes out and we’re standing there in the dark afraid and on the verge of panicking.  Perhaps we get there by our own strength and resources, we stray from God and try to do everything ourselves.  Other times we neglect our devotion and prayer life with God and we become disconnected with the Father.  And again suddenly we are plunged into a darkness  of our own choices.  

Whatever situation you may identify with know that this darkness can be conquered by His Word and His love!  He can and will guide us through this life if we let Him.  All too often I identify with the darkness because I take back my cares and concerns and think that I can do it all in my own strength.  Have you ever done that?  At times I think (and wrongly so) I don’t need any one’s help I’ve got this…but I couldn’t be more wrong.  

His Word will light our path if we’re consuming it daily!  But don’t stop there, allow His grace to fall on you each day, moment by moment as you invite Him into your day throughout your day!  

He will be your guide…do you trust Him?  

 

A tale of flight, fright, feast and follow.

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On a perfectly clear crisp morning just as the colors were shifting from the deep purples of pre-sun rise to blinding gold sun streaked sky, Jonah received a message from God.  The message wasn’t preceded by fan faring trumpets or angelic presence with feathery wings whooshing in midflight.  Instead God simply spoke to Jonah and his message was loud and clear.  Messages from God were rare and so Jonah was slightly shaken by the earth shattering theophany.  It took a few moments for God’s word to sink in.  It was a message that Jonah was not happy to hear.  Like a poor poker players ‘tell’, indications of Jonah’s displeasure were clear as the morning sun and written all over his face.  “Nineveh?  Are you kidding me?” He whispers under his breath.  “That’s the last place that I want to go!”   Ruffling the blankets in the now uninviting bed, He gets up and shuffles to the front door.  “I didn’t sign up for this!” He thinks to himself.   Why was God sending him to that place?  It was a wicked city and just thinking about it put a bitter taste in his mouth as if he were sucking on lemons.

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Finally, with determination on his face, Jonah puts on his outer cloak and makes his way to the nearest sea port.  If God wanted him to go somewhere, go he would…but it wasn’t going to be to that hell hole called Nineveh.  Instead, Jonah books himself passage on a cruise in the exact opposite direction, destination: Tarshish.  If the destination alone was any indication of Jonah’s stubborn defiance towards God’s wishes, traveling to the furthest destination from Nineveh in the world would give anyone pause.  Yet aboard the vessel headed for Tarshish, Jonah, now travel weary, falls asleep in a bunk below deck.  Soon he is sawing logs like a skilled lumberjack…slow, still and steady.     Hoping the distance from home and Nineveh is enough to get away from God, he rests comfortably…until the entire room tilts sharply to the left dropping Jonah out from slumber and from the warm sheets of the bunk.  The once steady rocking lullaby of the boat is now replaced with a violent rollercoaster, as the sea vessel soars up steeply one wave wall only to plummet sharply down below another.  This pattern repeats over and over again, until the now sea sick sojourner makes his way up to the deck to discard any and all remnants of last night’s meal.

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Looking to the right towards the stern, Jonah sees the ship’s captain tossing luggage and other nonessentials overboard.  The ship’s crew are there also lending a hand in dire desperation.  If Jonah wasn’t alarmed by being rudely awakened and tossed from his bunk in the sudden squall, seeing panic and fear in seasoned sea farers eyes seals it.  He is going to die.  The Captain comes over, clothes drenched and stuck to his frame, he yells something but Jonah can’t make it out.  The screaming of the wind and the crashing of the thunder and waves drowns out all other sounds.  Jonah lets go of his safety and the rail to hear what the Captain is saying; “Pray to whatever god you know so that maybe we will be saved!

His words are like a slap in Jonah’s face.   “to whatever god I know…”  Realization hits Jonah like a swinging pulley from the main mast.  “I can’t run from God!”  A second ephiphanic wave like that of this squall hits Jonah; “this storm is meant for me!”   When his feet finally catch up to his epiphany, he joins the Captain at the stern who is busy again discarding nonessential weight in the hopes of saving them all.  It doesn’t look good.  “Throw me over board!”  Jonah tells the Captain, half to himself and to the deafening tornadic gale.   The ship’s Captain doesn’t hear him, so begrudgingly Jonah attempts to match the pitch of the wind to catch the Captain’s ear.  “THROW ME OVERBOARD!”  This time he hears Jonah and at first refuses to even acknowledge his request.   But another wave crests and washes over the deck, white foam and sea life litter it as if to say ‘you’ll make a welcomed addition to the sea floor!’  Out of sheer panic and no other alternatives, the Captain complies.  He beckons a ship hand to help, and after finding soaked purchase of Jonah’s clothing, they pick him up and throw him into the violent green salted sea.

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Almost, as if on cue, with a stage director behind the scenes, the sea suddenly becomes calm and Jonah finds himself alone atop a measureless abyss of cresting surf with his ticket to paradise sailing smoothly out into the horizon.  He is going to die.  This realization sinks in and soon so will he…deep below a watery grave.  Just as Jonah loses strength and succumbs to the stabbing cramps in his legs and arms something spectacular yet horrifying takes place.  A monster appears from beneath the dark foreboding sea, and in one swift motion, Jonah is swallowed whole.  From one instant Jonah has faced certain death by drowning and now is horrified to consider his certain fate and painful death in being digested by this great fish.  Inside the digestive tract of this creature Jonah prays earnestly to the God he ran away from.  He confesses his sins, and pleads for God to deliver him.  It’s a last minute hail Mary, but it’s all that he’s got left.    He doesn’t know how long he sits there in the muck and the stench, but moments of sleep flash nightmares of terror and dread, so he avoids closing his eyes.  Yet, his prayers continue.  Suddenly, it could have been hours or even days, Jonah never knew, but the great beast lurches.  His involuntary digestive taxi begins to fill with more disgusting fluid and then all at once he is launched along with the spew of vomit out of the beast’s mouth.   He awakens on a sandy beach, covered is filth and reeking of the sea at its worst.  Recalling his persistent prayers and promises while being digested to death by the beast, Jonah gets up, finds his bearings and finally obeys what God had asked him to do all along.  Destination: Nineveh.

No matter where we live, or where we go, we can never run from God.  He wants our commitment, not our excuses or our exit strategies.  For Jonah and for all of us, things will always go easier if we simply obey the first time He asks.  The alternative and consequence of our disobedience is never a desirable notion, and is filled with restlessness, unfulfillment and loneliness.  Just remember this: God will not give up on us!

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