5th Street Meditation

Exodus 33:15
“Then Moses said to Him, ‘If Your presence does not go with us, do not lead us up from here.’”

Moses understood something essential:
If You do not lead, I am not going anywhere.

The truest work of God’s children is not found in activity, gifting, or even obedience, but in learning when to lay those things down long enough to sit with the Father—to rest close, to take His face in our hands, and to allow His gaze to meet ours.

Everything Moses had seen and experienced of God convinced him that there must be more—not more activity, but more presence.

Jesus seemed to know this too.
He consistently bypassed the religious elite and chose instead to share tables with the poor, the profane, and those written off as unworthy.

People are not starving for stories about Jesus.
They are starving for Jesus Himself.

So much of our striving comes from trying to be “godly,” when Jesus invites us instead to become fully human again—human in the way He was human. Present. Attentive. Available. Rooted in love.

In that light, the ordinary work of loving others—caring for family, showing up to a job, keeping small promises—often carries more spiritual weight than our most impressive religious efforts. Faithfulness lived quietly is not lesser; it is often truer.

Jesus said that He came so that we might have life—abundant life. He did not take on flesh simply so we could pray a prayer, attend church, and settle for a thin, semi-religious existence. His desire was that His own life would take root in us, restoring a way of relating to God that feels less like performance and more like belonging.

When Jesus prayed for His followers, He did not ask that they would grow churches, build platforms, or achieve spiritual success. He prayed that they would be drawn into the shared life of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—that they would belong to a family. And that belonging would ripple outward, grafting others not merely into belief, but into fellowship.

The incarnational way of life is not first about conversion.
It is about adoption.

From that place, real good begins to happen. We can stand against injustice, care for the wounded, welcome the overlooked, extend forgiveness, and work for healing. We can open our homes, share our tables, pray against darkness, and yes—even fix a few toilets. None of this happens automatically. But the good news is truly good news, and it becomes visible whenever we choose to join God in what He is already doing.

For the Christian, nothing in life is disconnected from God. Whatever we are doing—serving across the world, participating in the life of a local church, working an ordinary job, or simply making it through a quiet day—it all unfolds in union with Jesus, before the attentive presence of a loving Father. By a grace beyond measure, God receives even our imperfect offerings—given with mixed motives and fragile hearts—as pleasing in Christ.

This is the quiet scandal of grace. The whole mess of our lives is gathered up and transformed—not because it is impressive, but because it is joined to Jesus. The addict who can only whisper a broken prayer for mercy stands on the same ground as the most faithful servant. There are no ladders to climb, no gates to unlock, no feats to accomplish.

There is only Jesus—who opens the way, welcomes us home, and invites all who are thirsty to come and receive life.