⬇️ If you missed Part 1, Darkness Before Dawn, you can read it below before continuing.

Two weeks ago, we sat with Isaiah’s diagnosis of the world.

But Isaiah never intended his words to end in diagnosis.

Biblical prophecy, after all, is not merely about naming what is broken; it is about announcing what God intends to do about it.

Isaiah’s declaration is striking not only for what it says, but for how it says it:

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2 NIV

The verbs matter.

Isaiah speaks as though the future has already occurred.

The light has dawned.

This prophetic tense does not deny present darkness; it announces divine certainty.

God’s promised action is so assured that it can be spoken of as accomplished before it is fully seen.

When the Gospels recount Jesus’ birth and ministry, they do so with Isaiah’s words echoing in the background.

Matthew’s Gospel makes the connection explicit, locating the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in Galilee and declaring that this region, once named by Isaiah as a place of deep darkness, is now the first to see the promised light.

¹³ Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali— ¹⁴ to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah: ¹⁵ “Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—¹⁶ the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

Matthew 4:13-16 NIV

John’s Gospel goes even further, lifting Isaiah’s imagery into a cosmic register:

⁴ In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:4-5 NIV

What Isaiah promised, the Gospels proclaim.

Yet, the manner of fulfillment remains surprising.

The light did not arrive through domination or spectacle.

It did not announce itself with political power or religious force.

Instead, God chose incarnation.

The eternal Word became flesh.

The Creator entered creation.

The Light entered the darkness from within.

The Christian claim is not that God shouted instructions from a distance, but that He stepped into the human condition, taking it upon Himself.

Salvation did not descend as an abstract idea; it arrived as a vulnerable child, born into poverty, obscurity, and political occupation.

However, the birth of Jesus did not immediately alleviate the world’s suffering.

But something decisive did happen: the story turned.

The New Testament consistently frames Jesus not merely as a teacher or reformer, but as the beginning of a new creation. What began in Genesis, creation emerging from darkness, begins again in Bethlehem.

The light that dawns is not symbolic optimism; it is ontological change.

Reality itself has been altered.

From this point forward, darkness is no longer ultimate.

Sin is no longer sovereign.

Death is no longer final.

The Light has come, and the darkness cannot undo that fact.

Reflection Questions

Even though these are not red-letter words, they can help us work the red-letter life.

1. Since the Light has already come in Jesus, how does that reality reshape the way you interpret the darkness you still encounter in your life, relationships, and the world around you?

2. In what specific ways might God be inviting you to live as a person of new creation this Christmas, not by escaping the world’s brokenness, but by bearing witness to the Light within it?

As you reflect, I invite you to listen to “Never Lost,” a song that echoes the Advent confession that the Light has come and the darkness will not prevail.

May its words strengthen the hope you carry.

🎧 CLICK HERE TO LISTEN

Although these reflections don’t come directly from Jesus' teachings, they fit squarely within the mission of Work These Words.

Jesus didn’t appear in a vacuum; He stepped into a story that had been unfolding for centuries, a story shaped by Israel’s prophets and promises.

Therefore, to work the words of Jesus, we must understand the world He inherited and the hopes He fulfilled.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2 NIV

Before Isaiah’s words can speak to us, we need to hear them as they were first spoken.

The more clearly we understand their world, the more faithfully we can live in ours.

Isaiah 9:2 emerges from a scene of national trauma. The northern tribes of Israel, especially Zebulun and Naphtali, had been crushed under the weight of the Assyrian empire. These were border tribes, the first to be invaded and the hardest hit. Their land was ravaged, their identity shaken, and their future uncertain. They became known pejoratively as “Galilee of the nations,” a reminder that foreign powers now shaped what once belonged to Israel.

So when Isaiah speaks of people “walking in darkness,” he is not describing general discouragement or a bad season of life; he is naming people living under political oppression, military occupation, spiritual confusion, and social fragmentation.

Darkness, for Isaiah’s audience, was not a metaphor; it was their reality.

A reality not too different from ours.

Here in modern America, we’ve grown painfully familiar with darkness.

The darkness of loneliness in an age of hyper-connection.

The darkness of exhaustion in an age of relentless pursuit.

The darkness of disorientation in an age of guides and gurus.

But there is hope.

Isaiah’s words remind us that God does some of His best work in the dark.

Creation began in darkness.

And so did the first light of a new creation, when salvation slipped into the world on a quiet night in Bethlehem.

Next week, we will turn toward that Light, but for now, we sit in the tension.

For now, we hope.

The good news of Advent isn’t that the darkness is gone; it’s that the Light is coming.

Reflection Questions

Even though these are not red-letter words, they can help us work the red-letter life.

1. How does understanding the historical darkness of Isaiah’s audience deepen your awareness of the places in your own life and the world around you where God’s light is needed most?

2. What practices (prayer, rest, attentiveness, confession, community) can help you carry hope into the places where you are most tempted to despair, retreat, or numb out?

It may come as news to you, but this week, the Department of Education, or what’s left of it, announced a proposal that would redefine the meaning of professional degrees.

This “redefinition” would cause several essential professions to lose their professional degree status, in turn significantly limiting access to loans for those pursuing them.

Some of the affected fields, if this proposal goes into effect, would include: Education, Nursing, Social Work, Public Health, Occupational Therapy, Physical Therapy, Audiology, and Speech-Language Pathology.

Although I’m not in any of those fields, I am a public theologian, so what goes on in the world around me matters to me.

Most importantly, though, I’m an advocate for the marginalized, so I can’t ignore that this proposal affects fields heavily populated by women.

Frankly, it pisses me off.

But I’m working on not calling people names at this stage in my Jesus journey.

Speaking of Jesus, let’s turn the corner and get to the heart of this post.

There’s a story recorded in Mark’s Gospel that I want to explore briefly.

It was now two days before Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread. The leading priests and the teachers of religious law were still looking for an opportunity to capture Jesus secretly and kill him. ² “But not during the Passover celebration,” they agreed, “or the people may riot.”

³ Meanwhile, Jesus was in Bethany at the home of Simon, a man who had previously had leprosy. While he was eating, a woman came in with a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard. She broke open the jar and poured the perfume over his head.

⁴ Some of those at the table were indignant. “Why waste such expensive perfume?” they asked. ⁵ “It could have been sold for a year’s wages and the money given to the poor!” So they scolded her harshly.

Mark 14:1-5 NIV

Mark 14 places us in the home of Simon the Leper. A woman enters the room carrying an alabaster jar worth a year’s wages. She breaks it and pours it on Jesus.

Her act is both sacrificial and prophetic.

But the men in the room don’t see any of that.

Instead, the text says they rebuked her harshly.

The Greek carries the sense of “snorting with indignation,” a phrase used for scolding someone as if they are beneath you. In the Greco-Roman world, it was the verbal posture men used toward children, slaves, or the socially inferior.

In other words, they weren’t simply “annoyed.”

They were offended that she had stepped into a space they believed was theirs.

This moment only makes sense when you understand the world Jesus lived in. It was a world where women were barred from testifying in court because their voices were deemed unreliable; where theological reasoning was considered a male domain; where women ate separately at public banquets, and where a woman stepping into a room of men, especially without invitation, was seen as a breach of social order.

So imagine then how this woman stepping forward with a costly offering would send the men into a frenzy.

To be clear, when they rebuke her, they are not just concerned with money or propriety; they are protecting a system that allows only men to make meaningful, public contributions.

It’s discrimination disguised as discernment.

But then Jesus, the Master Teacher, steps in.

⁶ “Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. ⁷ The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. ⁸ She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. ⁹ Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

Mark 14:6-9 NIV

The point I’m making here is that this proposal is not accidental.

It communicates, “this work doesn’t count,” which really means “this work doesn’t count when certain people do it.”

It is the modern equivalent of the same old story:

Women bring their gifts, and systems try to push them back.

But I can hear Jesus’ words echoing as loudly today as they did back then.

🗣️ LEAVE HER ALONE.

Whether she’s following in her mom’s footsteps by becoming a teacher, or a passion for helping others has led her into nursing, leave her alone.

Whether she is single and trying to make ends meet or a wife doing everything she can to fill in the gaps, leave her alone.

Whether she is counting down to her final student loan payment or is so far in debt she feels like she’s drowning, leave her alone.

I believe that’s what Jesus would say.

Reflection Questions

The way of Jesus is accessible to us when we put His words into practice.

So this week, work these words:

👩🏾 As a woman:

By not shrinking your calling to fit their comfort. Break the jar anyway.

👨🏾As a man:

By using your (male) privilege to defend women’s right to belong.

✝️ As the church:

By honoring women’s voices, gifts, scholarship, leadership, and presence.

Jesus didn’t just teach new things; He taught us to rethink old things.

Six times in Matthew 5, He says, “You have heard that it was said…but I say to you.”

(See Matthew 5:21–26, 5:27–30, 5:31–32, 5:33–37, 5:38–42, and 5:43–48)

These weren’t random cultural proverbs; they were rooted in the Torah (the first five books of the Hebrew Bible). To be clear, no, Jesus wasn’t against Scripture; He was, however, against misinterpretation, which often leads to misuse.

To anchor His teaching, Jesus first offers these foundational statements:

¹⁷ “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. ¹⁸ For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. ¹⁹ Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. ²⁰ For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 5:17-20 NIV

Then he proceeds to deconstruct (their interpretations) to reconstruct God’s original intent.

Let’s go ahead and address the elephant in the room since we’re here. 😬

Deconstruction and reconstruction are hot-button terms right now, and depending on where you’ve heard them, they may carry some baggage. So, for the sake of clarity and charity, here’s what I mean when I use them in this context:

Deconstruction is the critical process by which individuals interrogate inherited theological frameworks, cultural assumptions, and ecclesial traditions to discern their fidelity to the person, teachings, and mission of Jesus Christ. It entails a hermeneutical re-evaluation, often prompted by spiritual dissonance, historical insight, or cultural critique. Properly understood, it is not an end in itself, but a means of purification, stripping away syncretisms, distortions, and ideologies that have accrued around the faith.

Reconstruction is the constructive theological task that follows deconstruction, rebuilding one’s faith with intentionality, rooted in a Christocentric reading of Scripture, informed by historic orthodoxy, and practiced within a faithful community. It prioritizes integration over fragmentation, humility over certainty, and spiritual formation over dogmatic rigidity.

That should bring some relief to our modern minds because, although the challenges we face regarding the misuse of Scripture may feel nefarious, they’re not new. Humans have long twisted sacred words to fit personal or political agendas, even in Jesus’ day.

But the remedy He offered then still holds today. It’s the essence of spiritual growth: not just learning, but also unlearning.

Surprisingly, cognitive science also supports this.

Neuroplasticity research shows that growth isn’t just about adding new information; it’s about making room for it. The brain must prune old neural pathways to create space for new ones. In other words, transformation demands subtraction as much as addition.

Paul frames it this way as he challenges believers in Rome to resist the cultural influences that distort God’s intent:

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

Romans 12:2 NIV

Of course, this gets personal. Because behind every bad belief is often a beloved teacher.

I’m not here to villainize them; they’re human. They passed on what they knew, shaped by the time and culture in which they lived.

So we can reject the teaching without demonizing the teacher.

We can honor their sincerity even as we outgrow their conclusions.

Unlearning, then, becomes both an act of humility and holiness. It’s how we make room for Jesus to correct, clarify, and deepen our understanding.

The question is, will we let Him?

Reflection Questions

The way of Jesus is accessible to us when we put His words into practice.

So this week, let’s work these words by asking:

1. What’s one assumption about God (or faith) Jesus is asking you to rethink?

2. What’s one assumption about others Jesus is asking you to rethink?

3. What’s one assumption about yourself Jesus is asking you to rethink?

Is it just me, or does everything feel urgent?

The email needs a reply.

The text bubbles are blinking.

The deadline was yesterday.

Oh, and if you don’t post in the next hour…well, good luck with reach.

We’re living in an age where our timelines have become tyrants.

They don’t just demand our attention; they dictate our actions.

If it’s not fast, it’s not fitting.

If it’s not visible, it’s not valuable.

If it’s not immediate, it’s not important.

The problem is, the modern world is made for speed; your soul is not.

We can’t go on living like this.

And the good news is, we don’t have to.

Here’s what Jesus (a man who lived a busy life but not a hurried one) says:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

No, He wasn’t talking about sleep. He was talking about soul relief.

But how can we attain it?

By accepting his two invitations:

“Come to me,” & “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.”

The first is fairly straightforward, but the second requires more context.

In first-century Judaism, “yoke” was an idiom used to describe a rabbi’s teaching and the lifestyle expectations that accompanied it. There were yokes of the law, wisdom, and even yokes imposed by political empires. To “take someone’s yoke” meant to come under their authority by submitting to their interpretation of Scripture and embracing their way of life.

In Jesus’ day, disciples weren’t just interested in learning about their rabbi; they were committed to becoming like their rabbi. So when Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” He is inviting His followers into more than instruction. He’s inviting them into imitation.

Jesus’ yoke is not about control, but communion. It is an invitation to walk with Him, not just work for Him. To learn from Him is to apprentice in His way, one marked by gentleness and humility that promises rest for the soul.

Reflection Questions

The way of Jesus is accessible to us when we put His words into practice.

So this week, let’s work these words by asking:

1. Where in my life have I confused urgency with importance?

2. What’s one daily habit I can implement to reclaim my peace?

3. What would my calendar look like if my soul were a priority, not an afterthought?

[This quote is commonly attributed to Edmund Burke, an 18th-century Irish statesman and philosopher, though no direct source exists. It’s widely regarded as a paraphrase of his writings rather than a verbatim quote.]

Christian apathy is dangerous.

For this writing, I’m defining Christian apathy as:

The quiet rejection of our biblical responsibility to love God and love our neighbor.

It is about the danger of doing nothing when something needs to be done.

It looks like turning a blind eye to the challenges facing the world around us under the assumption that if it doesn’t affect us, then it doesn’t concern us.

But as people attempting to order our lives around the teachings of Jesus, we have to ask:

Is apathy a trait that describes Jesus?

No.

So then, how is it that apathy has become the posture of so many who claim to follow Him?

In this Work These Words article, we’ll explore why apathy contradicts the way of Jesus, and what it looks like to re-engage with the world around us.

Apathy & The Way of Jesus

First, let’s say the quiet part out loud:

Apathy doesn’t barge in.

It creeps in quietly, often masquerading as wisdom.

We say things like “I’m staying in my lane” or “protecting my peace.”

We hide behind busyness, exhaustion, cynicism, or self-preservation, and before we realize it, Christ is no longer forming us; convenience is.

The problem isn’t that we’ve stopped caring about everything.

The problem is that we’ve stopped caring about the things that matter most.

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ life and teachings records this moment:

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:34–40 NIV)

Here, Jesus does more than pass the test; He clarifies what matters most.

Love God. Love people. Everything else flows from there.

Unfortunately, we’ve learned how to pursue God while ignoring people.

We have no problem challenging those who don’t pray enough, but what about those who don’t say enough?

Because in the way of Jesus, you can’t get God right if you’re getting people wrong.

Jesus cared about the spiritual and the existential, the soul and the system, the eternal and the everyday.

It was never God or people. It was always God and people.

The incarnation or the entrance of God into human affairs through the person of Jesus is the loudest contradiction to Christian apathy.

Our faith exists because a man was willing to step into a mess He didn’t make.

What would it look like for us to do the same?

Re-Engaging the World

Let’s say the quiet part out loud, again.

Apathy for some is a consequence of misapplied theology.

Take Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 6:17 NIV.

Therefore, “Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. Touch no unclean thing, and I will receive you.”

Often used to justify Christian detachment, this verse gets quoted without its context and weaponized as a call to retreat from culture, community, or anything deemed “secular.”

But that’s not what Jesus did.

And that’s not what Paul meant.

Paul wasn’t teaching isolation; he was warning against idolatry and unequally yoked partnerships that distort our witness.

Jesus, by contrast, was the most holy person ever to walk the earth, and yet He was intimately present with those considered impure, irreligious, or unclean.

He ate with tax collectors.

He touched lepers.

He crossed cultural, ethnic, and gender boundaries to offer living water and lasting hope.

Jesus didn’t come out from among them.

He went in among them not to blend in, but to bear witness.

So re-engagement isn’t compromise, it’s Christlikeness.

But what does that look like in our modern world?

Apathy thrives where curiosity dies.

Re-engaging starts with becoming more informed and then more involved.

We can no longer use ignorance as an excuse for disengagement.

It keeps us from learning, listening, and leveraging our voice for the good of others.

This doesn't mean hopping on every headline or posting to prove something.

It means allowing the Spirit of God to stretch our awareness, deepen our convictions, and move us toward action rooted in love.

Advocacy doesn't always look like a megaphone.

Sometimes it looks like asking better questions and learning what you didn't know you didn't know.

In the age of information, willful ignorance is not an option for those who follow Jesus.

Here are three questions to help you re-engage.

1. Where have I chosen comfort over curiosity when it comes to the brokenness around me?

   (What issue, person, or reality have I ignored because it felt overwhelming or outside my lane?)

2. What’s one injustice, issue, or group I feel God is prompting me to learn more about?

   (Where is the Spirit leading me to be more informed, not for clout, but for compassion?)

3. What’s one small act of advocacy I can take this week?

   (Is there a conversation to have, a resource to share, a prayer to pray, or a space to show up in?)

I hope this piece adds value to your Jesus journey wherever you are and whatever you’re carrying.

If it resonated with you, would you consider sharing it with someone who needs this nudge, too?

Share

And I’d love to hear your thoughts:

How are you re-engaging with the world around you in this season?

👇🏾 Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments below.

We’re better when we work His words together.