When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow (Isaiah 1:15-17).

Do you know who made the clothes you are wearing? Do you know how much the server makes at your favourite restaurant? Do you know where the components of your cellphone come from? Do you know any of the people who were involved in assembling that wonderful little device? Do you know the farmers who produced the food you eat? Do you know if they were paid adequately for their produce or if they provided sufficiently for their workers?

In our integrated economy there are many things we simple do not know. A century ago, such ignorance would have been unimaginable. But this is the world we live in – a world of unceasing productivity and commerce in which producer and consumer are severely separated. Many are exploited in the process.

Thus, reading Isaiah 1 ought to make all Christians deeply uncomfortable.

Israel was keeping Sabbath. Isaiah offers a grand list of liturgical practices that God's people were faithfully participating in – offerings, incense, new moons, convocations, solemn assemblies, prayer and Sabbaths. But God was not happy with any of it. He was, in fact, utterly repulsed by it, wearied.

Sabbath and all its liturgical practices were not having any effect on his people. It was all fake. Oh, they stopped working all right. At least with their bodies. But their minds were still fully engaged in profit making. Along with the unending meditation on the accumulation of goods, came anxiety. If the profits were not as high as anticipated, it might crimp the size of the new house. That anxiety produced plans for coercion and exploitation. Those with money and power often find ways to make more at the expense of others. The great festival of rest had become simply another venue for restlessness.

Sabbath was meant to be a return to the covenant: dependence on God and concern for neighbour. But they had created a false dichotomy between the sacred and the secular. Sabbath was for paying attention to God, the rest of the week for making money. As a result, liturgical practices were cut off from the well-being of the neighbourhood and the protection of the vulnerable. God's covenant with Israel insisted that those with resources cared for those who had less. They had lost this connection.

In our society, with the distance between those who produce and those who buy it is easy for us to fall into a similar problem. Spiritual rest is about me and God. But if we truly pay attention to God, and not just ourselves, the Spirit will point us towards concern for our neighbour. As Paul once wrote, "The only thing that counts is faith working itself out in love" (Galatians 5:6). We can't change the system. But we can ask God to show us how to have greater concern for our neighbour. We can expect Sabbath to change us.

As you journey on, hear Jesus' invitation:

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 (Matthew 11:28-29).

My heart is filled with longing for your laws at all times (Psalm 119:20).

I remember a group exercise, probably some ice breaker, in which we were asked what we would like on our tombstone. How is that a good icebreaker? Probably, to get into a conversation about legacy. I didn't like it then and I still don't. A more interesting question to ask is "What do people say about me right now?" but not as an icebreaker.

David, the shepherd boy turned king, is introduced in the Bible not by name, but by what God says about him, 'a man after my own heart' or 'a man who is dear to my heart' (1 Samuel 13:14).

That's high honour. But no one defines what that means. So, let's consider what it might mean, beginning with what seems like the most obvious: obedience. As that famous phrase from Psalm 119 puts it, "I have hidden your word in my heart". In 2 Chronicles 16:9, we find this, "For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him." When David sings the glory of God displayed in both the creation and in God's law, he ends with this prayer, "May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight" (Psalm 19). That great psalm about God's powerful and tender presence concludes with a prayer that God remove wrong from David's heart (Psalm 139).

We see David's obedience clearly in the years before he becomes king. He does not grab the throne. God says, "You will be the next king." But David recognizes that God needs to remove the current king before he can take the throne. Even though Saul has been rejected because he disobeyed God, David continues to honour him as king.

David's obedience foreshadows a central characteristic of Jesus himself. He claimed to have come to do the Father's will (John 6:38). When on the cross he called out, "it is finished", he was declaring that he had been obedient to the end.

The pertinent question for us is, "How do we grow in obedience?" How do we become fully committed to God? Is it even possible to hum with the psalmist, "My heart is filled with longing for your laws at all times" (Psalm 119:20)?

When we get started on this path, we often look to ourselves to get there. I don't think that is what David did. In Psalm 19, David spends the bulk of the Psalm looking at what God has made and said. It is only when he has composed his praise, does he ask for a pure heart. We don't get a longing for obedience by looking to ourselves. When we see God and who he is, our heart's get stirred.

So, where does your gaze linger? Is it time to look up again? As the writer of Hebrews once wrote, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus…" (12:2). See him on the cross. See him alive, emerging from the tomb. See him enthroned in heaven. Then obedience is not to gain favour with God but becomes an act of thanksgiving.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

"May God himself, the God who makes everything holy and whole, make you holy and whole, put you together—spirit, soul, and body—and keep you fit for the coming of our Master, Jesus Christ. The One who called you is completely dependable. If he said it, he'll do it" (1 Thessalonians 5:23).

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9).

There is hymn that begins with: "The church is not a building; the church is not a steeple; the church is not a resting place; the church is a people." And the refrain: "I am the church! You are the church! We are the church together! All who follow Jesus, all around the world! Yes, we're the church together!"

Intuitively, many Christians recognize that these lyrics are true. But we struggle with putting them into practice. Let's reflect on this challenge from the perspective of God's mission of reconciling the world to himself.

Let's first think about the people who carry out God's mission. I suspect that at least a few listeners will immediately think of pastors and missionaries as the agents of this mission. After all, these are the folks the church has set aside for God's work. We send missionaries to the mission filed and appoint pastors to lead congregations. Its as if these people are the most important in the work of God. But this does not do justice to the Biblical story of God's mission.

We need to change are understanding. Anne Rowthron wrote, "Through its laity the church is present in every area of human activity. It is in offices, in schools and universities, in hospitals, in stores, in factories and hotels" (The Liberation of the Laity).

We are all part of the priesthood of all believers. As such we have all been set apart, called by God and given a priestly authority to intercede on behalf of others and the world before him. Faithful people are living sacrifices holy and pleasing to God. Our skillful and worn hands praise God. Our priestly bodies, both in the sanctuary and on the factory floor, glorify God.

We can be involved in God's mission when we speak up and advocate for truth and justice in our daily work. As people reconciled to Christ we can work towards reconciliation in our spheres of influence. This usually begins with prayers of intercession.

Our churches are often pastor centric, program centric, and building centric. This gives the impression that the focus of God's work is in the building we label a church. Somehow, we need to broaden our perception of the church and God's mission to include every Christian wherever they are. Not pastors, but the laity, are the primary agents of a church's mission in the community.

In Leviticus, God is described as breathing in the aromas of the sacrifices Israel offered (2:9; 3:5,16). God is still hovering over his priests breathing into his nostrils the pleasing aroma of their worshipful work. God does not simply mandate human work; God delights in human work. God accepts it with joy, not as mere obedience but as worship.

The spaces which Christians spend their time are the primary spaces of a church's mission. Where you spend your week is the mission field of God.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

Wherever God takes you today, may He fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit and that you may live carefully—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity.