Kelsey Boudin

Last week, we discussed what God actually wants from us. We called out the performative nature of some Christians – yes, even some of the most faithful. Throughout Scripture we find so many references to God’s distaste for theatrics. What He calls us to live out daily is found at the intersection where worship and justice meet. 

What happens at that intersection? Relationship happens. Truth happens. Building a life of service, of social justice, of washing feet without the expectation of blessings in return.

In Isaiah 58, God’s people are fasting and praying. (Spoiler alert: God’s not impressed.) Admittedly, they’re seeking Him, but they’re missing the point. 

“Yet they act so pious! They come to the Temple every day and seem delighted to learn all about Me. They act like a righteous nation that would never abandon the laws of its God. They ask Me to take action on their behalf, pretending they want to be near Me.” (Isaiah 58:2, NLT)

Let’s emphasize that word: pretending. The work of children.

Sure, they’re doing the religious things. They’re showing up. They’re checking boxes, you might say. But God points out what’s missing: justice, mercy, and care for the hurting. So He describes the kind of worship He actually wants: freeing the oppressed, feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and not turning away from neighbors in need.

Essentially, worship that never leaves the sanctuary and never ventures forth to help the world here and now isn’t really worship at all.

We sometimes pigeon-hole worship into the church building itself. It’s warm there. We have friends and family there. We pray. We sing. We go home. We feel good about it. But the justice God seeks happens out in the world — food pantries, sheltering the homeless, community advocacy. 

That’s both beautiful and perhaps a bit uncomfortable, if you’re ill-prepared to walk the walk.

It’s easy to feel faithful because we attended church, sang the songs, and heard the sermon. But what happens when Monday rolls around and we’re back to the daily grind? How about Wednesday when the pressure mounts? Or Friday as the local bar calls on our drive home?  

It’s harder to let that faith shape what we do with our time, money, patience, and compassion when life takes over. Isaiah’s message isn’t that worship is bad — it’s that worship without justice is empty. God wants hearts that bend toward Him and hands that reach toward others.

Jesus had more to say in Matthew 5. He told His followers they are the “salt of the earth” and the “light of the world.” Salt preserves. Light reveals. Both change what they touch. Faith, Jesus says, is meant to be visible. Not flashy, but meaningful. Not performative, but practical.

“Let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” (Matthew 5:16, NLT)

Note the part Jesus left unspoken. He didn’t say, “Talk louder about your faith.” He told us to Live it in a way people can see. The kind of faith He describes shows up in honesty at work, restraint in anger, generosity when it costs something, and courage when truth matters. 

Justice and worship intersect when obedience becomes obvious in our everyday choices.

Paul adds another layer in 1 Corinthians 2. He reminds the church that God’s wisdom doesn’t look like the world’s wisdom. Paul didn’t rely on eloquence, status, or clever arguments. He relied on the Spirit’s power. Living our faith as Paul did keeps us from turning justice into self-righteousness and worship into a production.

True justice flows from humility. Real worship flows from dependence. Paul’s message is that both require the Spirit of God working in us and shaping motives, not just behavior.

Together these passages challenge us to the core:

• Is my worship changing how I treat people?
• Is my concern for justice rooted in God’s heart or just my opinions?
• Does my faith stay safely inside church walls, or does it travel with me into my work, my family, and my conflicts?

God doesn’t ask us to choose between worship and justice. He asks us to live at their intersection — in what might be a dangerous neighborhood.

“Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal. Your godliness will lead you forward … Then when you call, the Lord will answer. ‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.” (Isaiah 58:8–9, NLT)

That’s not a reward system. It’s our purpose. So this week’s question isn’t “How do I worship?” It’s “Who does my worship bless?”

Are we walking with God without a roadmap? Of course, the Bible is that roadmap, but even those who read Scripture and attend church regularly struggle with the question: “What does God really want from me?”

People have been scratching their heads asking this question since Creation itself.     

Is it to drag the family to church more often? To read the Bible more faithfully? To knock off those nasty habits? To convert a struggling coworker? Those are all fantastic things, but we’ll find those daily decisions come more easily if we stop trying to “measure” our own performance.

The prophet Micah wrestles with this question in Micah 6. God’s people ask, “What will make You happy, Lord? Burnt offerings? Sacrifices? Grander gestures of devotion?” 

God’s answer cuts through the noise and nonsense:

“No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this is what He requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8, NLT)

• Not impress Him
• Not perform for Him
• Not bargain with Him

Just three simple, life-shaping things: 

• Do justice
• Love mercy
• Walk humbly with God

Choose Him. Open our hearts for a relationship. Let him teach us and guide us. If we do that, all else falls into place. 

Jesus enters the chat in Matthew 5 with the Sermon on the Mount. He doesn’t begin with rules. He begins with people. The poor in spirit. The grieving. The meek. Those who hunger for fairness and righteousness in a cruel world. In other words, the ones who know they need God. The ones who don’t have it all together – as so many of us assuredly don’t – for reasons beyond our control or even of our own making. (And that’s OK! We must come as we are, but not stay as we are.) 

That’s both comforting and challenging. 

Comforting, because it means God isn’t waiting for us to clean ourselves up before He speaks to us. As one of our Tribe of Lions men’s microchurch members so aptly put it a few Mondays ago, “You don’t get clean before you take a shower.”

Challenging, because it means faith goes beyond belief alone — it’s something we are called to live everyday.

The apostle Paul goes a step further in 1 Corinthians 1. He reminds us that the message of the Cross looks foolish to the worldly. Weak. Defeated. Christ was executed in the most gruesome, torturous, and degrading of ways. But in dying, He conquered death. He also transformed a symbol of terror into one of hope. 

To those on the path to salvation, it’s the very power of God. God doesn’t choose people because they look strong or successful or spiritually impressive. He chooses what seems weak to show His strength.

That hits home in real life.

We live in a world that rewards being loud and winning. God is more interested in people who are humble, merciful, and faithful — even when no one is watching. People who care about fairness and compassion. People who don’t use faith as a weapon, but as a way of life.

So what does the Lord require of us today? Not bigger and flashier displays of faith (which may be disingenuous and performative, at best). Not spiritually curated lives that appear perfect on the outside (but may be morally decaying on the inside).

More likely:

• Doing the right thing when it costs us something
• Showing mercy when it would be easier to judge
• Walking with God instead of racing ahead of Him
• Trusting His wisdom when it doesn’t look impressive
• Choosing love over being “right”

That’s harder than it sounds. It’s much easier to measure church attendance than humility. It’s easier to debate theology than to forgive someone who hurt us. It’s easier to post Bible verses than to live them when life brings us to our knees.

But Scripture keeps pulling us back to the same place: faith that shows up in how we treat people and how we walk with God, not just what we claim to believe.

God isn’t asking for perfection. He’s asking for faithfulness.

He isn’t asking for spectacle. He’s asking for obedience.

He isn’t asking for performance. He’s asking for a relationship.

Turns out, what the Lord requires isn’t complicated. It’s just life-changing.