“It’s not fair!”

Three conversations, all in relatively close succession.

Two parents were bemoaning skyrocketing costs in a household with three teenage boys. I mentioned that my teen nephews can scarf enough in one meal to last me a couple of weeks. “Yes!” stated the mom, laughing but with a bit of an edge in her voice. “Then multiply that times three meals, for seven days a week!”

Then the father turned serious. “How did we get here? EVERYTHING IS SOOOOOOO EXPENSIVE. And it’s not just the needs of the boys. High housing costs, wages that don’t keep up with basic expenses, inflation, energy costs, gas that we see increase by the day.”

“Boxes and bags on store shelves with as much air as food,” the mom interjected.

We didn’t say it, but we were all thinking it: It’s not fair. The father sighed. “And we’re better off than some. I can’t imagine how lower-income families manage.” The truth is, many don’t.

How did we get here? There are many ways we might answer that question. We could talk about economic policies and decisions made decades ago whose consequences continue to shape people's lives. We could talk about housing, wages, inflation, investment and the distribution of wealth. We could talk about choices that have benefited some while leaving others increasingly vulnerable. Whatever explanations we offer, one thing is clear: economic anxiety is real, and the consequences are not experienced equally.

The second conversation was with a recent college graduate. She was on the verge of tears, and anxiety had taken hold in a way that left her almost trembling. “Why don’t people care that the world is becoming unlivable? Why do people seem so blind to the impacts of climate change? I can’t imagine what life will be like when I’m your age,” she declared. And then, “It’s your generation that is doing this to us,” she said, perhaps more forcefully than she intended.

She isn’t wrong, though she is leaving a lot out. My generation and generations before us have made decisions, sometimes out of ignorance and sometimes despite increasingly overwhelming evidence, that have contributed to the climate crisis. But pointing fingers across generations doesn't solve the problem. Once again, the words were hanging in the air: It’s not fair.

The third conversation was about our political life. We were talking about extreme polarization and specifically trying to find ways to address the dehumanizing language that many people use about those who are vulnerable, as well as the objectifying language that treats God's creation as though it were disposable. “It’s not fair to vulnerable people or our vulnerable planet,” one person said. “Actually, it’s not fair to anyone.”

“And it’s even how they are with each other, or anyone that disagrees with them,” another person added, referring to politicians, though the whole team had already agreed that the problem has permeated much more broadly through society. “Why can’t they just disagree on the issues? Why do they feel such a need to tear each other apart?”

Economic anxiety. Climate anxiety. Political anxiety.

People are suffering as a result of economic inequities, climate disruption, political polarization, and language that diminishes the dignity of people and the value of creation. It isn’t fair. And so we come to Ezekiel.

Ezekiel: The Mirror and the Turn

In our Ezekiel passage, we hear the complaints of people living in exile. Jerusalem has fallen. The Babylonians have carried leaders and others into exile. The people are living with the consequences of a catastrophe they did not create themselves.

They have an explanation for what happened. “The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” In other words: We are suffering because of what someone else did. They blame their ancestors, who had rejected God, worshiped idols, and strayed from what God had called them to do and be. And they blame God, too. “Why should we have to suffer for the sins of our forebears? God, you aren’t being fair.”

God responds with a question: “Is my way unfair? Is it not your ways that are unfair?”

God does something uncomfortable here and holds up a mirror. The people want to look backward to their ancestors, to the decisions of others, and to the circumstances that brought them to this place. God redirects their attention to themselves.

What does God see when looking at them? Are they living rightly? Are they treating other people justly? Are they taking advantage of those who are vulnerable? Are they oppressing others? Are they giving food to the hungry? Are they returning what they have taken or what has been entrusted to them?

The people may have been worshiping the right God and following the right religious practices, but God makes clear that righteousness cannot be separated from how they live with their neighbors. Throughout the prophetic witness, righteousness and justice are deeply intertwined. Righteousness is not simply about being personally “good” or having the right relationship with God. It is lived out in right relationship with other people and with the world God has entrusted to our care. Our relationship with God cannot be separated from our relationship with our neighbor. And our relationship with our neighbor cannot be separated from our relationship with creation. It is all part of one whole.

So God calls the people to repent. The Hebrew idea of repentance includes the sense of turning, returning, turning back, changing direction. It is an about-face or a u-turn.

It is as though God holds up the mirror and says: What do you see? What are you doing that is unjust? Where are your relationships broken? Where are you participating in ways of living that diminish your neighbor or God's creation?

And then, Turn. But turn toward what? Not simply away from something. Turn toward righteousness and justice. Turn toward right relationship with God, right relationship with one another, and right relationship with creation. That is where the story moves next.

Philippians: The Mindset of Christ

Paul's letter to the Philippians gives us a glimpse of what that turning looks like from the inside. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” The Greek word Paul uses is a form of phroneo. It has to do with one's mindset, attitude, orientation, or way of thinking. It is deeper than a fleeting thought. It describes the orientation that shapes how we see ourselves, how we understand power and status, and how we regard other people.

Paul is saying, in effect: Let Christ shape the way you understand the world. That matters because anxiety can shape our mindset, too. When we are anxious, our instincts often turn toward fear and self-preservation: hold on tighter, protect what is ours, make sure we have enough, find someone to blame, defend our position, protect our status, win.

Political polarization can reinforce that mindset. We begin to see the world as “us” and “them.” People become categories, while opponents become enemies, and differences become threats. But Paul points us toward a different mindset. The mindset of Christ.

Christ does not cling to status or power, but rather empties himself, taking the form of a servant and entering fully into the vulnerability of human life. This self-emptying (described with the Greek word kenosis) is not about destroying ourselves or pretending that our needs don't matter. Instead, it is about releasing our grip on status, privilege, power, and self-protection in order to love and serve.

This is where the pieces begin to fit together. What kind of mindset are we being called to adopt? The mindset of Christ. What is that mindset for? It’s for loving God and loving our neighbor and living into the righteousness and justice to which God calls us. It’s for seeing the hungry person not as a problem, but as our neighbor, and seeing the immigrant not as a threat, but as our neighbor. It’s for seeing the person with whom we disagree not as an enemy, but as our neighbor, and seeing the earth not simply as a collection of resources, but as God's creation entrusted to our care. The mindset of Christ leads toward self-emptying love. And self-emptying love leads toward servanthood.

Christ the Servant

Paul says that Christ takes the form of a servant. This is a striking claim for Christians. The one we call Lord becomes the servant. Although he holds ultimate authority, he doesn’t use that authority to elevate himself above others. Instead, Christ pours himself out in love. This gives us a different understanding of Christian power.

Christian discipleship is not about protecting our position, proving our superiority, or winning against someone else. We follow a servant Lord and we are invited into a servant way of life. That brings us to Matthew.

Matthew: Into the Vineyard

In Jesus' parable, a father asks two sons to go and work in the vineyard. The first says no, but later he changes his mind and goes. The second says yes, and then he doesn't go. Jesus asks which one did the will of the father. The answer is obvious. It’s the first son. But what is striking is that Jesus does not hold up the first son's initial “no” as the model. His first response is not what’s important. What matters is that he changes direction. He turns. And then he goes. The second son has the right words, but his words never come to fruition.

We see the connection back to Ezekiel. Turning matters. There is the connection to Philippians. The orientation of our heart and mind matters. And it connects back to Christ's self-emptying and servanthood. Eventually, our lives have to move toward action. The first son gets up and goes into the vineyard.

Faith is not merely about saying the right things. It is not only about having the right opinions. And it isn’t even just about having the right intentions. God's call eventually reaches our hands and feet. We go into the vineyard.

Returning to Our Anxiety

So now we can return to the anxieties with which we began. Economic anxiety. Climate anxiety. Political anxiety.

What do these biblical texts have to say to people living in a world that genuinely feels frightening and unfair? They don’t tell us that everything is fine. Ezekiel does not deny suffering. Philippians doesn’t deny vulnerability. Jesus doesn’t deny that there is work to be done in the vineyard. Instead, these passages offer us a way to live faithfully in the midst of anxiety.

Turn.

When we find ourselves blaming everyone else, Ezekiel invites us to look in the mirror. What do I need to acknowledge? Where have I participated in injustice? How have fear, resentment, consumption, indifference, or tribalism shaped my life? Where is God calling me to turn? And turn toward what? Toward righteousness and justice.

Adopt the mindset of Christ.

When our culture tells us to protect ourselves at all costs, Christ gives us another way. When it tells us to divide the world into winners and losers, Christ teaches us to look toward the interests and dignity of others. And it encourages us to treat people as categories or creation as disposable, Christ calls us into a different way of seeing and being.

Empty.

What are we being invited to release? Some of our consumption or convenience? Or perhaps some of our insistence on being right? Maybe it’s a portion of our resources? Could it be some of the power or privilege we have come to take for granted? Self-emptying does not mean that we have nothing. Rather, it means that we no longer have to cling to everything we have because our security is ultimately in God.

Serve.

Finally, we go into the vineyard.

Sometimes that means very tangible acts of care. We feed someone who is hungry, welcome someone who is lonely, or accompany someone who is struggling. We care for a piece of creation. We plant a garden or pollinator plot. We restore a damaged place. We share what we have and we show up. These things matter.

However, Christian servanthood does not stop there. When someone is hungry, we feed them, and we ask why they are hungry. When they are unhoused, we offer welcome and shelter, and we also ask what forces make housing inaccessible. When a community suffers because of climate-related disasters, we respond with compassion, and we also ask what choices or structures are contributing to the crisis, and what changes might protect our neighbors and God's creation. When people are harmed by dehumanizing systems or language, we stand with them, and we also ask what needs to change so that human dignity is honored in the first place.

These are not competing forms of Christian service. They are both part of seeking justice and righteousness. We are called to love the person in front of us and to care about the structures that shape that person's life. We serve our neighbor today while also working toward a world in which fewer of our neighbors are placed in situations of hunger, homelessness, exploitation, exclusion, or environmental harm. This is part of what it means to enter the vineyard.

We Do Not Do This Alone

If all of this begins to sound overwhelming, perhaps that is exactly when we need to remember the gospel. We do not do this alone. The call to turn, to adopt the mindset of Christ, to empty ourselves, and to serve is not a demand that we somehow become superheroes to fix the world. We cannot. We are not God. The good news is that God is already at work. Christ is with us. The Holy Spirit is at work in us and among us.

We turn because God is already turning us toward life. We learn the mind of Christ because the Spirit is forming Christ in us. We open our hands because we trust that our lives are held by God, and we serve because Christ has first come among us as servant.

Perhaps that changes how we face the anxiety of our time. We don’t have to pretend that the problems are small, or that injustice isn't real. We don’t have to carry the responsibility for fixing everything, Neither should we remain frozen by the enormity of it all.

We can turn. We can allow Christ to reshape our minds and hearts. We can loosen our grip. We can serve. We can seek righteousness and justice in the small things immediately before us and in the larger structures that shape our common life. And we can trust that the vineyard belongs to God. We are not entering it alone. Christ is already there. The Spirit is already at work.

So, even in an anxious and broken world, we can step forward, not because we have all the answers, but because we belong to Christ, and Christ calls us into the vineyard.