Evening Prayer: The Peculiar Politics of Christ

Lord Jesus, You never played by the world's rulebook — and tonight, I'm grateful You didn't.

In Romans 16, Paul does something the Roman Empire would have found absurd. He entrusts his most important letter — the theological masterpiece that would reshape history — to a woman named Phoebe. Not a senator. Not a military courier. A deaconess from the port town of Cenchreae, where sailors cursed and merchants haggled and nobody expected the Kingdom of God to show up carrying a scroll.

But that was always Your way, wasn't it? You built Your church with the people the powerful overlooked. You called fishermen to outpreach philosophers. You commissioned a former demoniac to evangelize his whole region. And You handed the first Easter sermon — "He is risen!" — to women the courts wouldn't even allow to testify.

Holy Spirit, set my heart on fire with this same upside-down Kingdom. Forgive me for the times I've measured people by their résumés instead of their anointing. Forgive me for trusting titles more than faithfulness.