Luke begins his story about Jesus’ last journey with an expression, ‘When the days drew near.... he set his face to go to Jerusalem.’ The statement is kind of raw, leaving us with questions. What does Luke really mean? Is this more than just a change in direction?
Luke seemed to have framed the statement deliberately for a purpose; he wanted to draw his audience's attention to the words, ‘He set his face to go to Jerusalem.’ And this is what I found out: In biblical context, “setting one’s face” is an idiom that conveys firm and unwavering resoluteness. It’s an Old Testament language, where prophets like Isaiah spoke of setting his face “like a flint” in the face of suffering. In Isaiah 50:7 it reads, ‘The Lord helps me; therefore, I have not been disgraced; therefore, I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame.”
Setting a face like flint is a hyperbole which means, walking straight into the storm. Let me explain how powerful this expression is: a ‘flint’is ‘a massive hard dark quartz that produces a spark when struck by steel.” So, Luke wants us to understand that Jesus wasn’t just heading to Jerusalem geographically. Jesus was resolutely embracing his destiny headlong; meaning, Jesus knew fully well that a storm was moving headlong and this move would lead to his suffering, and ultimately, the cross. And Luke wants to establish that this is a turning point in Jesus’ story. Up to this point all Luke has given us is series of reports about Jesus’ ministering in Galilee. “Setting his face to Jerusalem” echoes what Jesus says of his mission: “No one takes my life from me - I lay it down of my own accord” (John 10:18). It means Jesus proceeds into the storm with eyes wide.
To start the journey towards Jerusalem, Jesus sends messengers ahead into a Samaritan village. “But the people refused to receive him.” That rejection reflects centuries-old deep religious and ethnic tension and hostility between Jews and Samaritans [not much has changed]; yet Jesus decided to take this route. That sends a clear message that Jesus’ journey was for the Samaritans as well as for the Jews, and there’s no room for prejudice or tradition.
And what is beautiful about how this enfolds is that along his way, and despite rejection in Samaria, he tells some of his most beloved parables—the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the Persistent Widow – all of which are relational about the boundless love of God. It’s as if, while walking toward his own suffering, he’s pouring out wisdom and compassion and reconciliation and love for others, and Luke makes the parables fit the theme of the journey perfectly. Every encounter on his way becomes a lesson not only for his disciples but for us. And lesson number one is that sometimes, following Jesus means pressing forward and refusing to respond to rejection with resentment. Instead of sowing seeds of hostility, Jesus invites his followers to embody a radically inclusive love.
Secondly, we are to learn to set our faces toward the difficult and impossible situations, knowing that just as Jesus walked resolutely into uncertainty and opposition, we too can be bearers of hope and reconciliation in a fractured world. So, When James and John asked to call down fire on their enemies, Jesus rebuked them, setting the message that peacemaking is the key to transforming the hearts of those we have differences with.
We know by now that Jesus is a radical in his own ways. He didn’t just forgive the rejection—he tells a parable where he elevates a Samaritan as the model of compassion and neighborly love, in contrast to the religious insiders (a priest and a Levite) who pass by the wounded man (Luke 10:25–37). By telling this parable, Jesus redefines what it means to love in a way that challenges the prejudices. The Samaritan, once seen as “the other,” becomes the embodiment of mercy. So, what Jesus is saying here is: Don’t let rejection harden your heart. Let it expand your vision of who your neighbor is. And offer your neighbor love even when you are experiencing rejection. It’s a stunning reversal which mirrors Jesus’ own journey. Though rejected by the world, he still set his face to go to Jerusalem. All because he loved the world.
We can beautifully thread Jesus’ teaching to Paul’s exhortation to the letter to the Galatians – (Galatians 5:1), urging the believers to “stand firm,” and not to return to the “yoke of slavery”—which, in context, refers to the pressure to observe the Mosaic Law as a means of justification. Then, in verse 14, Paul distills the entire law into one radiant command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s a direct echo of Jesus’ words [in Matthew 22:39 and Leviticus 19:18], and it shows how Paul sees love not as a soft alternative to the law, but as its very fulfillment.
What’s striking is this: Paul is writing to Gentile believers, not Jews or Samaritans, and yet he’s applying this universal ethic of love across cultural and ethnic lines. Just as Jesus shattered boundaries by exhorting a Samaritan as the model of neighborly love, Paul is urging the Galatians to live out that same radical, inclusive love in their own context.
And there’s a subtle brilliance in how Paul frames it: love isn’t just a feeling—it’s an act of freedom. Love goes both ways. In Christ, we’re not bound by the old law, but we’re also not free to indulge the self. Instead, we’re free to serve one another in love (Gal. 5:13). That’s the paradox of Christian liberty—a freedom that expresses itself in self-giving.
Paul develops this paradox as the “fruit of the Spirit.” He lists the qualities that the fruit produces—they aren’t separate qualities that we pick and choose from but are all facets of one unified life that flows from the Spirit’s presence within us.
What comes first is love - the root from which all the other traits grow. In fact, it’s the source of the rest:
Joy is love rejoicing; Peace is love resting.
Patience is love enduring; Kindness is love reaching out.
Self-control is love, reigning in the self for the sake of others.
This is a picture of a life that’s not driven by rules or fear, but by the Spirit’s quiet, transformative power. It’s not about striving harder—it’s about abiding deeper. Just as fruit grows naturally on a healthy tree, these qualities emerge when we’re rooted in Christ.
And here’s the kicker: Paul says, “there is no law against these virtues.” That’s Paul’s way of saying: this is what true freedom looks like. It’s not the license to do whatever we want, but the freedom to be who we were always meant to be—spirit-filled people who love deeply, live joyfully; people who have regard for each other, and reflect God’s character in the world.
That’s a lot to chew on, my friends! But what’s striking is this; before listing the fruit of the Spirit, Paul outlines what he calls the “works of the flesh;” and these aren’t just random vices – they're symptoms of a life disconnected from the Spirit driven by self-centered desires. Many of these are relational which fracture community; they erode trust and feed division. And Paul isn’t just wagging a finger at a bad behavior, he is showing how the flesh isolates us, while the Spirit draws us into deeper connection and love. And here’s the warning - “Those who do such things will not inherit the Kingdom of God.” Paul is urging the Galatians to examine the trajectory of their lives. Are they being shaped by the Spirit or pulled by the flesh?
This is a powerful call to live not by impulse, but by indwelling of the Spirit, and it is a beautiful image of daily, Spirit-led living. This is the message for the church. AMEN!