1-11-26 “Sent to Serve, Sent in Love”
“Sent to Serve, Sent in Love”
Happy New Year to all of you! Today is a beginning. A new Sunday. A new year of ministry. When we stand at a beginning like this, it is natural to ask a simple question: What is your New Year’s resolution? At the beginning of every year, we make decisions and create a New Year wish list. But in this moment, I would like to invite you to pause and consider a different question: What does God desire from us? Not just from this church as an institution—but from us as people who are trying to follow Christ in this place and time.
That question is not new. God’s people have asked it for centuries. And from the prophet Micah (6:6–8), we hear one of the clearest answers in all of Scripture:
“With what shall I come before the Lord?” “Shall I come with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?” “Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand of rivers of oil?”
In other words: What is enough, God? What do you want from us? And then comes the answer—simple, direct, and life-shaping: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”
It is not grand religious performance. Not dramatic sacrifice. But a way of life.
Today, as we reflect on what it means to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, we also pause to recognize Law Enforcement Appreciation Sunday. This is a day to acknowledge those in our communities who are sent to serve in difficult, complex, and often unseen ways—men and women who step into situations most of us hope to avoid, carrying responsibilities that weigh heavily on both body and soul. Doing justice is not simple work. It requires discernment. Loving kindness is not easy in moments of conflict or fear. Walking humbly demands restraint, wisdom, and the courage to act without certainty of thanks or safety.
Many in law enforcement live at the intersection of these calls every day. They are asked to uphold justice, protect life, and serve the common good—often under pressure, scrutiny, and risk. Today, we give thanks for their service, acknowledge the burdens they carry, and pray for God’s wisdom, protection, and peace to surround them and their families.
On the last Sunday of 2025, it was a snowy, stormy day. I received an “Avoid travel” notice from the Grantsburg Police Department’s Facebook page, and also from parishioners who knew my travel plans. As a result, our church service was canceled. Still, I decided to drive toward Wisconsin Dells to attend the Korean Caucus Family Retreat.
However, within 30 minutes, I began to regret not listening to the advice I had received. As snowstorms came toward my car, fear set in. I kept asking myself, ‘What am I doing here?’ ‘Why didn’t I listen?’ ‘Should I turn back?’ As I struggled through the storm, I saw many cars stuck in ditches—and police vehicles stopped to help them. Officers stood beside dangerous roads so others could be safe. When I saw those police cars, I felt a sense of relief. I thought, ‘If something goes wrong, they might help me.’
In that moment, I wondered who they were—and why they did what they do.
Remember this: like all of us, they are not defined only by what they do. They, too, are beloved children of God—claimed by grace before performance, before success or failure, before public judgment. They courageously take risks to serve others. They are people in need of prayer, compassion, accountability, and community.
“Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God.” This is not a checklist to earn God’s favor. This is a description of how people live when they already know they belong to God.
That truth becomes even clearer when we turn to the Gospel story of Jesus’ baptism.
Matthew tells us that Jesus comes to the Jordan River, where John is baptizing. John is calling people to repentance—to turn their lives back toward God. When Jesus steps forward, John is confused. “I need to be baptized by you,” John says, “and you come to me?” John knows what we know: Jesus has no sin to confess, no repentance to make. And yet—Jesus steps into the water anyway. Before he preaches. Before he heals the sick. Before he calls disciples, confronts injustice, or walks the road to the cross—Jesus steps into the river with the people. He does not stand above them. He does not separate himself from them. He joins them in the world’s dangers, taking the risk to serve his beloved people.
And when Jesus comes up out of the water, the heavens open, the Spirit descends like a dove, and a voice says: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
Notice the order. Jesus has not yet begun his ministry. He has not yet done the work we remember him for. And yet God calls him Beloved.
This is so important for us to hear at the beginning of a new year and a new season of ministry. God’s blessing comes before the sending. God’s love comes before the serving. Jesus is not loved because of what he will do. He serves because he is loved. And that is where our parish theme for 2026 is rooted: “Sent to Serve, Sent in Love.”
We are sent—but not pushed. We are sent—but not pressured. We are sent because, in baptism, we are first named and claimed as God’s own. In baptism, God speaks over us the same promise spoken over Jesus: “You belong to me. You are my beloved.”
Baptism is not just about forgiveness of sin. It is about being drawn into a new covenant—a life shaped by Christ’s way in the world. To be baptized is to be marked not only with grace, but with purpose. In Micah’s words:
• We are sent to do justice—to pay attention to who is hurting, who is overlooked, who is pushed to the margins.
• We are sent to love kindness—not as an occasional gesture, but as a way of being, rooted in God’s steadfast, covenant love.
• We are sent to walk humbly with God—not rushing ahead, not claiming all the answers, but trusting that God walks beside us.
This is what it means to be sent to serve. And we are sent in love—not our own strength, not our own goodness, but the love that first met us at the waters of baptism and still flows through our lives.
As we begin this year together, we do not begin with a list of everything we must accomplish. We begin where Jesus began: Standing in the water. Listening for God’s voice. Remembering who we are. Beloved. Blessed. And sent.
So may we step into this year gently and faithfully— Doing justice. Loving kindness. Walking humbly with our God. And may we go from this place, sent to serve, sent in love.
Thanks be to God. Amen.