Is God Doing It Wrong?
There is a moment most of us have experienced — watching something unfold in a way that seems backward, inefficient, or simply wrong, and feeling the almost irresistible urge to step in and say so. We do it with our families, our coworkers, and if we are honest, we do it with God. We look at the circumstances of our lives, or the state of the world, and somewhere deep in our hearts we think: this is not how I would have done it.
Romans 9 invites us into exactly that tension. It is one of the most challenging passages in all of Scripture, and it refuses to let us stay comfortable. It raises enormous questions about God's character, His faithfulness, and His plan — and it does not always answer them in the neat, tidy ways we prefer. But that discomfort is not a sign that something has gone wrong. It is an invitation to trust someone whose understanding is infinitely higher than our own.
The Anguish of Unfinished Things
The apostle Paul opens Romans 9 with raw, personal grief. He is not writing from a distance about abstract theology. He is writing as a Jewish man who loves his people deeply, who recognizes everything God has given them — the covenants, the law, the promises, the patriarchs, and the Messiah himself who came through their very lineage — and who is heartbroken that so many have rejected Jesus as that Messiah. Paul goes so far as to say he would be willing to be cut off from Christ himself if it meant his people could be saved (Romans 9:3).
This is not the posture of someone who has given up. It is the posture of someone who cares so deeply that the ache is almost unbearable. And it sets the tone for everything that follows. Before we wrestle with doctrine, we are invited to feel the weight of what is at stake.
The Dangerous Deception of "Good Enough"
here's a particular kind of person who appears throughout history with remarkable consistency. They live respectable lives, maintain strong moral standards, and often find themselves looking down on those they consider less virtuous. They're the ones who shake their heads at society's decline, who point fingers at obvious sinners, who pride themselves on being decent human beings.
But what if this very posture—this confidence in personal goodness—is one of the most dangerous spiritual positions a person can occupy?
The Mirror of Judgment
Romans chapter 2 confronts us with an uncomfortable reality: "You therefore have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else. For at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things."
This isn't about refraining from all moral discernment. The Bible clearly calls believers to recognize evil and call it what it is. Isaiah warns against calling evil good and good evil. The issue isn't judgment itself—it's hypocritical judgment, the kind that condemns in others what we excuse in ourselves.
Consider the person who looks with disgust at someone caught in adultery while harboring lust in their own heart. Jesus made it clear that looking at someone with lust is committing adultery in the heart. The external actions may differ, but the heart condition is the same.
When we judge others while practicing the same sins, we reveal something profound: we already know there's a standard of right and wrong. Our very judgment testifies that God's moral law exists. But here's the problem—that same law condemns us too.
The Sacred Table: Rediscovering the Power of Communion
In a world filled with rituals that have lost their meaning, there exists one practice that has the power to transform us completely—if only we would approach it with the reverence it deserves. Communion, the Lord's Supper, the Eucharist—whatever name we know it by—this sacred moment was never meant to be a meaningless add-on to our spiritual lives. It was designed to be a living encounter with Jesus himself.
When the Extraordinary Becomes Ordinary
Somewhere along the journey of church history, we've allowed something extraordinary to become ordinary. We get excited about worship music, anticipate powerful sermons, but when it comes to communion, we often approach it with casual indifference. We go through the motions, our hearts disconnected, our minds wandering.
Yet consider this: Jesus himself, knowing everything that awaited him—the betrayal, the suffering, the cross—said with deep emotion, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." With everything ahead of him, his desire was to sit at the table with his people. That should stop us in our tracks.
The early church understood something we've forgotten. Their gatherings revolved around the Lord's table. They didn't view communion as something to squeeze into a service; it was the center of their worship. They believed Jesus was truly present among them, that they weren't just remembering him but actually communing with him.