2026 Reading Plan Reflections - Day 34

The past couple of days have required a different posture for me. Illness has slowed my pace and shifted my role—from trying to be the primary voice to listening, responding, and tending the conversation that’s already unfolding. Honestly, that’s probably a good place for a shepherd to be.

Matthew 22 doesn’t lend itself to shallow readings anyway. It presses us. It unsettles us. And judging by the conversation that emerged, it’s doing exactly what Jesus intended.
One reflection that stood out named a tension many of us feel—especially if we were formed in traditions that emphasized divine anger or exclusion. The king in the parable can sound harsh. But the heart of the story isn’t punishment for imperfection; it’s grace extended far beyond expectation.

“The good and the bad alike.”

Everyone is invited. The invitation is not earned. But the parable makes one thing unmistakably clear: our response matters.

Showing Up Isn’t the Same as Surrender
The wedding garment is not a dress code. It’s not about external compliance or religious polish. It’s a symbol—repentance, righteousness, renewal. A life that has actually received grace.

In sacramental language, it’s an outward sign of an inward grace.

The religious leaders knew how to show up. They knew the customs, the language, the rules. What they resisted was transformation. And that’s the charge Jesus levels against them again and again: appearance without surrender, proximity without obedience.

Grace invites us freely—but grace also changes us deeply.

Why the Caesar Question Matters
One question that surfaced was about the flow of the chapter. Why does Jesus pivot from a wedding feast to a question about taxes?

Matthew is deliberate here.

The parable publicly exposes the religious elite: You were invited. You refused. You mistreated God’s messengers. And now the kingdom is being opened to others. That stings. So immediately afterward, Matthew tells us, “Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to entangle him in his words.” That “then” matters.

The tax question isn’t random—it’s a trap designed to force Jesus to choose between Rome and God. And Jesus’ response exposes the real issue: they know how to give Caesar his coin, but they refuse to give God what belongs to God—their hearts, their obedience, their lives.
Placed together, the parable and the trap reveal the same truth: cleverness cannot substitute for surrender.

Grace Clothes Us—But We Have to Wear It
Another voice in the conversation reminded us of the cultural context: wedding garments were often provided by the host. No one had an excuse to be without one. That’s gospel.

Christ clothes us in righteousness—unearned, undeserved, freely given. But we still have to take off the old self and put on the new. Grace supplies what we lack, but it doesn’t bypass transformation.

Or, to say it plainly: decisions have impact, actions have consequences, obedience matters.

We are invited.
We are given what we need.
We are called to respond.

We can accept the invitation.
We can show up.
We can even take a seat at the table.
But will we surrender?
If we refuse to let grace do its work—if we keep grace at arm’s length, treating it as permission rather than power—we shouldn’t be surprised when our lives remain unchanged.
As my mom-mom used to say, “Can’t means won’t.”
If you think you can’t embrace grace and move toward holiness, think again.
God supplies what God requires.
The question isn’t whether you’re invited.
The question is whether you’ll say yes—
and stay clothed in the grace you’ve been given.