For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

I have made it a habit, in my study of scripture and my personal faith, to always take special note of Old Testament passages that Jesus quotes. I figure if they are important to him, they ought to be important to me and to us. So this prophecy of Hosea is the passage that Jesus was quoting in the NT lesson this morning: Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

In scripture, if you were to take the time to trace it back through the Greek and the Hebrew, Mercy is the same word as Steadfast Love and that is a little different than what we understand in the English, isn’t it?

Mercy, in American English, is often limited to a beaten-down foe who has had enough. In sports we speak of a Mercy Rule when an opponent is ahead by what seems to be an insurmountable score and we, most of us at least, have had moments when we have been so beaten down by life, by meaningless jobs, by inauthentic relationships, by random accidents and debilitating illnesses and perhaps most of all, by a sense that we are alone in our struggle, and so we ask God for mercy, we cry “uncle” to our Father.

But the mercy of scripture is something we are called to practice more than ask for, the mercy of scripture is steadfast love. It is not a blessing received once and then put aside, it is a way of life, an attribute of our character, it is what faith looks like in action.

That is what we see in this whirlwind day of Jesus life that Matthew tells us of, a day filled with calls and responses, a day populated with people who are no big and spectacular, but people who remind me an awful lot of us, people who point us to a faith that belongs to the rest of us.

First Jesus encounters Matthew himself, the tax collector whose work was funded by Rome and would have been considered an unpatriotic traitor to most Jews, and he calls him to follow and Matthew does and they sit and eat together.

Then a religious leader, ignoring the criticism of Jesus by the Pharisees, driven by his love for his daughter, comes and kneels and proclaims his faith that Christ has power, even over death and Jesus hears his call and follows.

Then a woman who has a 12 year affliction that left her ritually unclean, unadmidable to worship, separated from God and her community, finds a hole in the crowd, and reaches out in faith to touch Christ, calling his power into her life and she is restored.

Then finally the dead girl, an insignificant figure in their culture, an anonymous figure in scripture, the love of her family brought Christ to her and, in the midst of mocking laughter Jesus broke the rules and touched the hand of the corpse and she rose.

No wonder Jesus spoke of his mission as being that of a healer: those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.

And where are you today in that story of a few hours in Jesus life.

Are you Matthew, defined only by your job? I know how that one feels. Are you able to walk away from your work and still have an identity, still be able to relate to the world, still, as Matthew learned to do, be able to tell people of God’s steadfast love?

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Are you, as I am, a religious leader? Are you, or have you ever been, an Elder or a Deacon? Remember, once ordained always ordained. Are you, within your immediate or extended family the “Church person” the one who is asked to say grace at

Thanksgiving and provide strength for everyone when crises and troubles arrive? And are you willing, for love of your family, to go find God, in new and unfamiliar and perhaps even distasteful places and people, and to beg for his presence for all?

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Are you, as most of us have been, one who has suffered for years and years with some affliction or another that has caused you to be rejected. Maybe it is physical, but more likely it is an affliction of pride or prejudice or hate or apathy, but will you make an effort to get close enough to Christ that you could touch him? Will you believe that you can be whole and holy and healed?

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Or are you the one who is so loved by family and friends that they continually and faithfully seek to restore you to life, to bring you back from the sorrows, pessimism, pain and anger that have left you dead to all of the joy and beauty of life.

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

I doubt there is a person in the room who can’t find their life story overlapping all of those life stories.

We are the ones who are sick and need Christ the healer, those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Are there others in the world just as sick and sicker? Of course there are, but what difference does that make? Why are we so eager to point out the shortcomings of others, is it so that we don’t have to deal with our own?

You see, Christianity for most us is not a one, dramatic moment faith, or even a 40 day or 40 year faith, it is a life-long, day-in, day-out, year-in, year-out, faith-filled journey all in the same direction, the road we are traveling back home to God.

Christianity is a faith of love and knowledge, of heart and head feeding our souls.

It is a faith for those who are far more aware of their own spiritual illnesses than they are of the flaws and shortcomings of others: those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.

Maybe we just have a cold of the soul, or a sprained ability to forgive, or a hyperactive need to criticize others, or a spiritual cancer that is ripping through us, but what ever ails us this much is certain: Christ responds to those who call him, Christ responds to those who know they need him.

Hosea had it this way: Come let us return to the Lord; for it is he who has torn, and he will heal us; he has struck us down, he will bind us up . . . that we may live before him. Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord; his appearing is as sure as the dawn; For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

You see Christianity is the perfect faith for the imperfect people, the forgotten ones, the insecure ones, the frightened ones, the hurting ones, the scapegoats, the impatient ones, all of the rest of us.

Life is as full today as it was that day with stories and experiences of calls that Christ issues and calls that he responds to, stories of overwhelming compassion and surprising restorations, stories of trust and hope and perseverance shared by those who travel home to God through years and decades, together.

And then there is one more thought, if I may, as we enter this summer season and the different pace of life.

The sermon title states that Christianity is a faith for the rest of us.

But let me change the emphasis, Christianity is a faith for the rest, of us. And we need rest. I asked the Consistory, the other night, where they hoped to gain rest this summer and they struggled with the question.

That is not good.

Christ was consistently calling his disciples off to some quiet time together where they could rest their souls, the story of creation is a 7 day process with the 7th being the day of rest.

Do you really think that God was exhausted?

No, there is something inherently holy about rest, something that is a full part of what God is.

And we, who are created in the image of God, we neglect rest at our own risk.

I can think of more than a few lives and marriages that I have known, souls and careers that I have seen wrecked by a failure to be able or willing to shift gears and find restoration in a hobby, in a book, in time away.

We need to learn and practice the intimate pleasures of summer evening conversations on the deck, unplugged from the false world of electronic urgency and the expectations of others, immersed in the real world of God’s creation and our sacred relationships.

Christianity is a faith for the rest, of us. Use these next 12 or so weeks to move closer to God, do it through prayer, through worship, through conversations and through relationships for it through those things that Christ calls us further along the road of our steadfast love.

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.