2026 Reading Plan Reflections - Day 41

“Now when the Human One comes in his majesty and all his angels are with him, he will sit on his majestic throne. All the nations will be gathered in front of him. He will separate them from each other, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.” Matthew‬ ‭25‬:‭31‬-‭32‬ ‭CEB‬‬

Today’s reading is familiar. So familiar that it’s easy to rush past the weight of it.

When Jesus speaks of the Son of Man coming in glory and taking His seat on the throne, I can’t help but picture the throne room described in the early chapters of Book of Revelation. Not a cold seat of judgment, but a throne occupied by One who still bears the marks of sacrifice—appearing as a Lamb who was slain.

Yes, Jesus comes as Lord and King. But He does not shed His humanity to assume His glory. He carries it with Him. The One who judges the nations is the same One who chose to dwell among us, to suffer in the flesh, and to pay the cost of reconciling us to a loving Father who cannot abide sin.

Judgment, in this passage, is not arbitrary. It is deeply personal. What separates the sheep and the goats is not doctrine quizzes or religious intensity. It’s recognition—or lack of it.

“I was hungry… I was thirsty… I was a stranger… I was naked… I was sick… I was in prison.”

Both groups are surprised. Both ask, “When did we see You?”

The righteous didn’t set out to find Jesus hidden in suffering humanity. They simply lived lives shaped by mercy. Love had become so natural, so reflexive, that they did not recognize it as exceptional. Grace had done its quiet, sanctifying work.

From a Wesleyan perspective, this is holiness put on display—not withdrawal from the world, but transformation within it. Entire devotion to God that spills outward in acts of compassion. Faith working through love.

Israel knew the law. They knew the commands. They knew what righteousness was supposed to look like. And yet, time and again, they reduced faithfulness to rule-keeping and boundary maintenance. They prepared for judgment instead of participating in God’s redeeming work. Jesus exposes that posture here.

You can follow the rules and still miss the King standing right in front of you—especially when He shows up hungry, vulnerable, and inconvenient.

This passage reminds us that readiness, once again, is not about waiting for Jesus to come someday. It’s about recognizing where He already is. The King who will one day judge the nations is the same Lamb who chose solidarity with “the least of these.”

To ignore them is not merely a social failure. It is a failure of recognition. And the sobering truth is this: when we choose comfort over compassion, distance over involvement, safety over love—we may be choosing without realizing it.

Let judgment begin as self-examination. Ask: Where have I grown numb to suffering because it feels too common or too complicated? Pray for softened sight, not hardened certainty.
Look for Jesus where it costs you something. This week, intentionally step toward someone or someplace that disrupts your routine—an act of mercy that requires presence, not convenience.
Practice embodied holiness. Holiness is not separation from need; it is faithful love within it. Choose one tangible way to serve—feed, visit, listen, advocate.
Refuse abstract faith. If your faith rarely intersects with real people and real pain, ask whether it has drifted into safety instead of obedience.
Pray to recognize Christ rightly. “Jesus, give me eyes to see You—not only in glory, but in the places You have chosen to dwell. Shape my life so that love becomes instinct, not exception.”