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There’s something about autumn—the smell of the leaves breaking down in the soil, the dark evening coming sooner each day—that reminds us both of beauty and of what’s passing away. It’s a season that makes us pay attention. Maybe that’s part of why the prophet Amos feels so right for this time of year. 

Amos was not a polished prophet. He was a shepherd, a farmer—someone who knew what it was to work with his hands and see the land both flourish and fail. When he spoke, he spoke from that gritty, grounded place. And what he said wasn’t easy to hear: God’s people had become comfortable. They went through the motions of worship while ignoring the cries of those who were hungry, displaced, or afraid. The people loved singing their hymns, but they weren’t living God’s justice. 

“Let justice roll down like waters,” Amos says, “and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” 

That image—living water, flowing freely—sounds a lot like grace to me. Not something we control, but something that moves through us and reshapes the landscape around us. In a world where so much feels brittle—where fear rises, neighbors face hunger, and the news leaves us weary—Amos reminds us that real faith doesn’t stop at words or worship. It becomes a movement. It becomes love in action. 

It’s easy to feel uncertain. But maybe this is exactly the time to remember what roots us. We are people grounded in grace—God’s unshakable love for us—and from that grounding, we are moved outward to love others. Not with perfection, but with courage. Not with fear, but with faith. 

This Sunday, we’ll listen for what it means to let justice roll in our own time and place—to be a community where grace takes root deep enough to move us toward love that changes lives. 

 

Peace, 

Pastor Katie