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“Good News in Ordinary Places”

Matthew 4:12-23

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

January 25, 2026

A few years ago, I found myself at a crossroads I didn’t expect.

I loved being a pastor. I still do.

And at the same time, I had this growing sense that something inside of me was shifting. That God was inviting me into unfamiliar territory, without giving me a full explanation of where it would lead.

I didn’t have a dramatic moment. No burning bush. No weird dreams. Just a quiet, persistent nudge that said, pay attention.

Following that nudge eventually led me to graduate school at Penn State- something I never imagined I’d do, and something I didn’t fully understand when I said yes. I didn’t know exactly how it would fit. I didn’t know what it would change. I just knew it felt like a faithful step into the unknown.

And if I’m being honest, that yes came with some resistance on my end. I knew grad school would require spreadsheets, and careful scheduling, and late nights I wasn’t sure I had in me. I also had questions. Questions about whether this made sense, whether it was selfish, whether it would even matter. Saying yes didn’t make things simpler- it made them more complicated. But sometimes faithfulness doesn’t simplify our lives. Sometimes it stretches them.

Looking back, I realize that what I was practicing wasn’t career planning as much as discipleship- learning how to follow when the path ahead wasn’t clear. And what I’ve learned is this: following Jesus rarely means having everything figured out. It usually means trusting God enough to take the next faithful step- right where you are.

When Jesus begins his public ministry, Matthew is very clear about where it happens. And maybe even more importantly, where it doesn’t.

Jesus doesn’t begin in the center of religious authority. In places like Jerusalem or the Temple. He doesn’t gather the Pharisees or the teachers of the law for an impressive parade to mark the beginning of a new kind of kingdom.

Instead, Matthew tells us that Jesus withdraws to Galilee. To a small town. Along the sea. To boats and nets and people just doing their jobs.

Galilee was not the center of power or prestige. It was rural. Economically fragile. Politically complicated. It was a place people passed through, not a place people aspired to. And that matters- because it tells us something about the kind of kingdom Jesus is bringing.

A kingdom that doesn’t wait for permission.

A kingdom that begins among people who are tired, overlooked, and just trying to get through the day.

And Matthew says that this, of all places, is where Scripture is fulfilled: The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.

This is the first peace of good news in this text: God does not wait for ideal conditions to begin again. God shows up in ordinary places, in real lives, in the middle of history as it actually is.

And then Jesus begins to call people.

Not Scholars.

Not religious professionals.

Fishermen.

Simon and Andrew are casting their nets. James and John are mending theirs. They are working. They are on a deadline. They are mid-task.

Which means that when Jesus shows up, he is interrupting something real. There are fish to catch. Nets to repair. A living to be made. Following Jesus doesn’t arrive when their work is finished- it arrives right in the middle of it. And that’s often how God’s call comes to us too: not when our lives are tidy, but when they are already full.

To them Jesus says just five words:

Come and follow me.

Notice Jesus doesn’t offer a long explanation. He doesn’t tell them where they will be going or what they will be doing once they get there. All Jesus offers is an invitation. And somehow-somehow- these ordinary fishermen recognize this invitation as a call worth answering.

I think this matters, because most of us don’t experience God’s call on our lives in big, dramatic, once-in-a lifetime moments. Most of us experience it quietly. Gradually. In the middle of life as it already is.

Following Jesus usually looks less like spotlight moments and more like showing up again when we don’t feel like it. Doing the work in front of us. Paying attention. Being faithful where we are.

Which brings us to this moment in the life of our church.

After worship today we’re going to move from worship into our annual congregational meeting. And I want to say this clearly: what we are doing today is not a business meeting bracketed by a few rushed prayers.

It is one of the ordinary places where we practice following Jesus together.

Because sometimes, following Jesus doesn’t mean dropping a net and walking away from everything. Sometimes it means picking something up in the middle of a life that is already full and busy.

Sometimes discipleship looks like delivering flowers to a shut in.

Or praying for one another.

Or caring for a building.

Or showing up to a finance committee meeting.

Or making decisions for the long-term health of a community you love.

In the Presbyterian church, we give some of that work a name. We call it agreeing to serve as a ruling elder. Or as a corporate officer. Or as a teaching elder. We give this work its own name, not because the work is holier than other types of work. But to show that engaging in the ordered ministries of the church is a particular way of responding to Jesus’ invitation.

Serving in these ways will not always feel glamorous or gratifying. It will sometimes be frustrating. Sometimes thankless. Sometimes slow. And yet, this is how love takes shape in community- not through perfection, but through presence. Through people willing to stay, to listen, to pray, and to make decisions with care.

In my almost ten years of serving as a pastor, I can tell you with great confidence that the best church leaders are not usually the most spiritually obvious person in the room. They are not the people who have all of the answers. And they are certainly not the people who do everything perfectly.

But they are the people who are willing to say

I am willing to follow Jesus here.

I am willing to help tend to what has been entrusted to our care.

I am willing to offer my time, my wisdom, and my care for the sake of this community.

Their willingness is discipleship.

Quiet. Ordinary. Faithful.

And that’s how God’s kingdom comes near. Not all at once. Not always through a great rushing wind and bushes lite on fire. But through steady, ordinary, I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing, but I’m willing to try anything acts of faithfulness.

After Jesus calls these first disciples, Matthew tells us that Jesus goes throughout Galilee-teaching, proclaiming good news, healing. The kingdom shows up not through Jesus’ power, but through his presence. Through walking alongside people. Through eating a second helping of the bread and fish someone brought to the potluck. Through showing up tomorrow even though today was hard.

Friends, saying yes to following Jesus does not mean that we will have everything magically figured out. The good news is that Jesus still walks along ordinary shores. Still calls ordinary people. Still builds the kingdom through small, faithful responses.

So today, as we move from worship into meeting, we do so as people who are still listening, still responding, still following Jesus into the unknown.

Because following Jesus does not end at the baptism font or at the communion table. It continues in how we care for one another, how we lead together, and how we say yes to God’s work in the ordinary places of our life together.

Thanks be to God.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.