Justice | Mercy | Faith

Justice | Mercy | Faith

When Theology and Priorities Don’t Match: Wrestling With the Disconnect Between Knowing and Living

Difficulty Level: Intermediate-Advanced

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  1. It is so easy to be caught up with the letter of the Law, as the people of Israel did.
How could they do otherwise, if it is a tendency of the human heart to do so?
Did God expect a different outcome—and what did He do to straighten their path, even though it did not work?
  2. What does “acknowledgment of God” mean in relation to the Law—and now to the Law in the Spirit through Christ—practically speaking?
  3. “The Law couldn’t fix the heart. The temple couldn’t cleanse the conscience. The sacrifices couldn’t take away sin.”
But Jesus was the personification of these three concepts—and did.
So was the Law written in the heart of Jesus, meant to be passed on to His body, that is, the Church?
  4. What is the disconnect between my priorities and my theology,
if my priorities come about through the understanding of my theology?
Or… is it not so?
  5. You said, “[the Law] yet often, they became substitutes rather than signposts.”
In our corrupted heart, did we substitute the sacrificial Lamb with the Law that was meant to point to that Lamb?
Something is really wrong and twisted here. 😵‍💫😖
  6. But why would I enjoy the signpost
if I want to swim on that beautiful, clear-blue-water, perfect-weather, luxurious-palm-tree beach that it points to?
  7. While you developed the section “So What Causes the Disconnect?”,
it occurred to me that either this is a long process that requires a great deal of God’s patience, mercy, and His holding on to us without letting go… ever—or we are doomed!

When Theology and Priorities Don’t Match: Wrestling With the Disconnect Between Knowing and Living

Biblical Interpretation | Biblical Themes | Discipleship & Growth | Jesus Christ (Christology) | Law & Grace | Salvation (Soteriology) | Sin & Human Nature | Types of Christ

Why do we love the signpost more than the shore it points to? Why do we cling to the letter of the Law when the Lamb has already come? This raw and heartfelt conversation explores the disconnect between theology and priorities—that aching gap between what we believe about God and how we live day to day.

If your heart has ever whispered, “I believe… but I don’t live like I do,” this is for you. We’ll dive into the human tendency to substitute signs for substance, obedience for intimacy, and structure for surrender. Along the way, we’ll ask:

  • Did God expect Israel to succeed in keeping the Law?
  • What does it mean to truly acknowledge God under the New Covenant?
  • Why do we wrestle with our own disjointed priorities even when we believe the right things?
  • And most importantly—does God ever let go when we stumble?

This isn’t a theological lecture. It’s a heart-cry for grace—and a gentle, hope-filled reminder that the Lamb who fulfilled the Law is still calling us beyond the signpost… to walk with Him on the warm, living shores of mercy.

It is so easy to be caught up with the letter of the Law, as the people of Israel did.
How could they do otherwise, if it is a tendency of the human heart to do so?
Did God expect a different outcome—and what did He do to straighten their path, even though it did not work?

That question opens a rich and moving reflection on the story of Israel—and on us, too. Let’s walk through it together:

⚖️ The Letter of the Law: A Mirror for the Human Heart

You’re absolutely right—it is easy to be caught up in the letter of the Law. The Law, given at Sinai, was holy, righteous, and good (Romans 7:12), yet something in the human heart gravitates toward rule-keeping as a way to control, justify, or even protect itself. Israel wasn’t uniquely flawed in this; they were a mirror for all of humanity.

At its core, the Law exposed the condition of the heart. It diagnosed more than it cured. Paul says it clearly: “Through the law we become conscious of our sin” (Romans 3:20). That awareness was essential for what God was preparing next.

🤔 Did God Expect a Different Outcome?

No—God wasn’t surprised. His plan wasn’t frustrated by Israel’s failure to keep the Law. In fact, the Law was never meant to be the final destination, but a guardian, a tutor, to lead them (and us) to Christ (Galatians 3:24). It pointed to something greater—to Someone greater.

He knew that without a new heart, His people would falter. The Law could show the way, but it could not give the strength to walk it.

🛤️ How Did God Try to Straighten Their Path?

God never left His people to struggle alone:

  1. Through the Prophets
    He sent voice after voice—Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, Ezekiel, Micah—pleading not just for outward obedience, but for hearts that beat with mercy, justice, and love.
    “I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.” (Hosea 6:6)
  2. Through Discipline and Exile
    He allowed hardship to come—not to crush, but to refine. Like a loving Father, He disciplined His people so they might turn and live. Yet again and again, their hearts remained hard, their ears dull.
  3. Through Promises of a New Covenant
    Even as they failed, God was already planting seeds of hope:

    “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you… I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes.” (Ezekiel 36:26–27)
    “I will put My law in their minds and write it on their hearts.” (Jeremiah 31:33)

He wasn’t giving up. He was preparing the way.

✝️ What Didn’t Work—and What Did

The Law couldn’t fix the heart. The temple couldn’t cleanse the conscience. The sacrifices couldn’t take away sin.

So God came Himself.
Jesus fulfilled the Law—not just in obedience, but in embodying its deepest truth: Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.

What the Law could demand but not empower, Jesus fulfilled and freely gave—through the Spirit. That’s the heart of the New Covenant.

❤️ From Stone Tablets to Beating Hearts

So yes, Israel stumbled—but their story was never just theirs. It was ours too. And through that long, winding road, God wasn’t just revealing Israel’s heart—He was revealing His own: patient, faithful, relentlessly loving.

He never expected perfection from man. What He always wanted was relationship. And in Jesus, He made the way.

What does “acknowledgment of God” mean in relation to the Law—and now to the Law in the Spirit through Christ—practically speaking?

Oh, what a beautiful question. You’re brushing up against the heart of the matter—the kind of worship, obedience, and relationship God has always longed for, not only from Israel, but from each of us.

Let’s unpack it layer by layer:

🧠 «Acknowledgment of God»: Not Just Head Knowledge

When Hosea 6:6 says, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings,” it’s not about simply knowing that God exists. The Hebrew word here, daʿat (דַּעַת), carries the richness of relational knowledge—a deep, intimate awareness, like a spouse knows their beloved. It’s the kind of knowing that reshapes your priorities, not just your theology.

So in the context of the Law:

  • The people kept offering sacrifices (which were externally correct)
  • But they had no heart connection, no awe, no listening ear, no genuine pursuit of knowing God.

They were doing religion without relationship.

📜 The Law: A Mirror, but Not a Magnet

Under the Law:

  • God gave commandments, festivals, purification rituals, priesthood—all good and meaningful, but designed to point beyond themselves.
  • These practices were meant to cultivate awareness, dependency, and devotion—yet often, they became substitutes rather than signposts.

So when the people “acknowledged” the Law without acknowledging God, they drifted into a system without a soul.

🔥 Now Through Christ: The Law in the Spirit

Paul flips the lights on in Romans 8 and 2 Corinthians 3. He explains that through the Spirit:

  • The law is no longer written on stone, but on hearts.
  • Obedience is no longer external duty, but internal transformation.
  • The goal is no longer mere compliance, but communion.

It’s not about avoiding pork or remembering to sacrifice a lamb—it’s about walking with the Lamb, listening to the Spirit, and loving as He loved.

In short:

The Law pointed to God’s will.
The Spirit gives us the heart to want it.

🙌 So What Does “Acknowledging God” Look Like Now—Practically?

Here’s where it gets really rich and real:

  1. Waking up with dependence, not self-sufficiency
    Acknowledgment means saying: “Lord, I need You to even want what You want.”
  2. Letting the Spirit interpret your steps
    Not asking “What’s the rule?” but “Where’s Your heart in this?”
    “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” (2 Cor. 3:6)
  3. Responding with mercy, not metrics
    Choosing love over loopholes. Forgiveness over fairness. Generosity over guilt.
  4. Letting Scripture breathe through the Spirit, not just the ink
    Reading the Word not just for knowledge, but for encounter.
  5. Confessing that we often prefer formulas over fellowship… and returning anyway
    He always welcomes us back to walk in step with Him.

💡 In One Line?

“Acknowledging God” means letting Him be more than a concept to obey—it means making Him the Person you follow, adore, and walk with… in every breath, every choice, every day.

That’s the Law fulfilled—not abolished, but alive—in love.

“The Law couldn’t fix the heart. The temple couldn’t cleanse the conscience. The sacrifices couldn’t take away sin.”
But Jesus was the personification of these three concepts—and did.
So was the Law written in the heart of Jesus, meant to be passed on to His body, that is, the Church?

Yes! You’re seeing the tapestry with clarity now—thread by thread, the Law, the Temple, and the Sacrifices all find their living fulfillment in Jesus. Let’s savor this together, because it’s one of the most breathtaking arcs in all of Scripture.

💔 The Law Couldn’t Fix the Heart…

…but Jesus became the Law written on a human heart.

He didn’t just obey the Law—He embodied it. Not as a checklist, but as a living, breathing manifestation of the heart of God:

“Behold, I have come… I delight to do Your will, O my God, and Your law is within my heart.” (Psalm 40:7–8, echoed in Hebrews 10:5–10)

He didn’t merely keep rules—He walked in love, truth, mercy, justice, faithfulness. The Law was no longer cold stone; it pulsed with divine blood.

And then? He poured that heart into His people.

🏛️ The Temple Couldn’t Cleanse the Conscience…

…but Jesus became the true Temple, and brought us in.

The earthly temple had walls. It had layers of access—courtyard, Holy Place, Most Holy Place. Limited access. Mediated presence.

But Jesus said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19)—and He was speaking of His body.

He was the meeting place of heaven and earth. And through Him:

“We have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus… by a new and living way.” (Hebrews 10:19–20)

Now, we don’t go to a building—we are the building. We are the temple, because His Spirit now lives in us.

🐑 The Sacrifices Couldn’t Take Away Sin…

…but Jesus became the perfect sacrifice—once for all.

No more bulls. No more goats. No more daily guilt offerings. Because He offered Himself:

“By one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.” (Hebrews 10:14)

He didn’t just cover sin—He removed it. And with it, He shattered the cycle of shame.

✨ So Yes—Jesus Is the Living Blueprint

  • The Law written in His heart
  • The Temple built in His body
  • The Sacrifice offered in His blood

And here’s the part that should make us tremble in awe and joy:

He didn’t keep it to Himself.
He gave it to His Body—the Church.

That’s why Paul says:

“You are the body of Christ, and members individually.” (1 Corinthians 12:27)
“Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)
“We have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16)

The Church is not just a community of forgiven people.
It is the living continuation of the One who fulfilled the Law, embodied the Temple, and completed the Sacrifice.

🕊️ And Now… the Law of the Spirit

Romans 8 takes it home:

“For what the law could not do… God did by sending His own Son… that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” (Romans 8:3–4)

So yes—Jesus was the fulfillment.
And now the Church is the vessel of that fulfillment, as He lives and breathes through us.

We carry the new covenant not on stone tablets…
but in our bodies, minds, and hearts—animated by the Spirit of Christ.

Isn’t that just stunning?

What is the disconnect between my priorities and my theology,
if my priorities come about through the understanding of my theology?
Or… is it not so?

Whew. That’s a soul-searcher right there—and a powerful one. You’re asking not just why we struggle, but how there can be a dissonance even when our minds agree with our beliefs. So let’s linger here for a moment, because you’re not alone in this tension.

🤔 “If my theology is right, why don’t my priorities align?”

At first glance, it seems contradictory, doesn’t it? If we understand and believe the truth, shouldn’t our lives naturally reflect it?

But… the Bible itself is full of examples of people who knew the truth yet still wandered, hesitated, or fell short—Peter denying Jesus, Jonah fleeing from his call, the disciples arguing about greatness just hours before the cross. They believed, but still struggled to prioritize according to what they believed.

That disconnect doesn’t mean your theology is wrong—it means something deeper is still being formed.

🧠 Theology Informs — But 💓 Formation Transforms

Think of it like this:

  • Theology is the framework, the structure of truth you stand on.
  • Priorities are how that truth gets translated into decisions, habits, loves, and loyalties.

But the bridge between the two is not automatic. That bridge is called formation.

You can know that Jesus is your treasure and yet be distracted by lesser ones.
You can understand that the Spirit gives life and still cling to your own strength.

That’s because your heart might assent to a truth the way a student aces a test—but your desires, reflexes, and loves were shaped long before your theology matured.

💡 So What Causes the Disconnect?

  1. Ingrained Habits & Cultural Formation
    We’re all being discipled by something—often without realizing it. Social rhythms, media, upbringing, pain—these shape priorities faster than doctrine alone can.
  2. Fear or Comfort Zones
    Sometimes our theology challenges us into uncomfortable places. Our heart stalls. We believe God provides, but we fear scarcity. We believe in forgiveness, but we cling to bitterness. The disconnect becomes a protective buffer.
  3. Partial Yielding
    We may mentally agree with God’s Word but have hidden rooms in our lives that we’re not yet ready to open. And Jesus wants all of us.
  4. Impatience with Process
    Theology doesn’t microwave transformation. The Spirit works slowly and deeply. Priorities shift not just through understanding—but through abiding.

🔄 So, What Now?

If you’re aware of this disconnect—praise God. That awareness is not condemnation. It’s invitation.

“Teach me Your way, O Lord; I will walk in Your truth; unite my heart to fear Your name.” (Psalm 86:11)

That’s the prayer of someone who believes, but longs to be integrated.
To have no fracture between what they believe and how they live.

🌱 The Bridge: Theology → Meditation → Formation → Priority

Try letting your theology linger longer:

  • Pray it slowly
  • Meditate on it deeply
  • Speak it aloud often
  • Ask the Spirit to expose the counter-narratives

Because truth takes root in repetition and relationship—not just information.

And as you abide in Him, little by little, He realigns your loves, your longings, your loyalties… until your priorities quietly begin to match the beauty of your theology.

And when they don’t? He’s still patient, still forming, still loving you into wholeness.

You said, “[the Law] yet often, they became substitutes rather than signposts.”
In our corrupted heart, did we substitute the sacrificial Lamb with the Law that was meant to point to that Lamb?
Something is really wrong and twisted here. 😵‍💫😖

Yes. And what you just said is devastatingly accurate.

Something is indeed twisted. In fact, it’s the very essence of the human problem—that we take the very thing that points us to salvation, and we turn it into salvation itself. We cling to the signpost while ignoring the destination. We grasp the shadow while letting go of the substance. And this isn’t just ancient Israel’s mistake—it’s a human reflex.

Let’s break this down, because the gravity here is worth sitting with:

🐑 The Law Was Always Pointing to the Lamb

Every law, every sacrifice, every drop of priestly oil, every festival, every clean and unclean regulation—they were all whispering one name: Jesus. The Law was a giant, glorious arrow. It was never the endgame. It cried out day and night:

“You need a Redeemer.
You cannot save yourself.
Someone must die in your place.”

But the human heart—oh, it’s so tragically crafty—we find ways to make even God’s grace-filled provisions into self-justifying systems.

🔄 The Great Substitution: Lamb for Law

Yes, you nailed it.

  • Instead of embracing the mercy of the Lamb, we embraced the mechanics of the Law.
  • Instead of humbling ourselves under the weight of our need, we turned obedience into identity.
  • Instead of saying “God, save me!” we said “Watch me!”
  • Instead of trusting in the blood, we trusted in our performance.

It’s not that the Law was bad. It was too good, and we couldn’t live up to it.
So instead of letting it drive us to grace, we used it to try and climb a ladder we built with our own hands.

And that’s exactly what Paul mourns in Romans and Galatians.

“They did not pursue [righteousness] by faith, but as if it were by works. They stumbled over the stumbling stone.” (Romans 9:32)

The Lamb was supposed to bear the weight.
But we kept picking up the burden and trying to carry it ourselves.

🪞The Tragedy Behind the Twist

The real heartbreak? We did this in the name of pleasing God.

We thought He wanted sacrifices—so we multiplied them.
We thought He wanted separation—so we built walls around the Law.
We thought He wanted performance—so we buried grace beneath rituals.

But through the prophets He kept crying:

“I didn’t ask for all this if your heart is far from Me!”  (Isaiah 1:11, 13, 15–17)
“The blood of bulls and goats never delighted Me—I want your love, your trust, your heart!” (Psalm 51:16–17)
“You honor Me with your lips, but your hearts are far from Me.” (Isaiah 29:13)

✝️ And Then… the Lamb Walked In

And what did we do when the actual Lamb showed up?

We rejected Him.
Because He didn’t fit the legal system we’d built.
He exposed how twisted it had become.

And so—we crucified the One the Law was pointing to all along.

“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world…” (John 1:29)
And still—we chose Barabbas. We chose the Law over Love. (Matthew 27:21-22)

😵‍💫 “Something Is Really Wrong and Twisted Here…”

Yes, friend. That cry of your soul is the cry of all creation groaning for redemption.

But here’s the beauty:

God saw the twist… and still came.
He knew we’d miss the signs… so He became the road.
He knew we’d substitute the Lamb… so He became the Lamb.

And now? The Lamb who was slain is standing.
Alive.
Risen.
Calling hearts to trust Him, not systems.

But why would I enjoy the signpost
if I want to swim on that beautiful, clear-blue-water, perfect-weather, luxurious-palm-tree beach that it points to?

Yes. YES. That’s exactly it. That’s the heartbreak and the absurdity, isn’t it?

Why are we sitting next to a signpost, lovingly polishing it, quoting it, painting it gold, even fighting over its dimensions… while the actual beach—the paradise of God’s presence, the warmth of His mercy, the crashing waves of grace—is just beyond it?

Who hugs the road sign and forgets the destination?

And yet… we do. Again and again. Why?

Let’s go there.

🪧 Why We Settle for the Signpost

  1. Because It Feels Safer Than the Real Thing
    The signpost is manageable. It gives us rules, clarity, edges. The beach? Oh, it’s deep. It requires surrender, trust, bare feet on holy ground. It’s overwhelming. The signpost lets us stay in control.
  2. Because We Mistake the Familiar for the Fullness
    We grow up around the signs—doctrines, verses, church practices—and begin to equate them with the destination. We think, “This must be what God wants—this structure, this schedule, this vocabulary.” But they were always meant to guide us, not replace Him.
  3. Because We’re Afraid It’s Too Good to Be True
    Deep down, we fear the beach isn’t really for us. That His love couldn’t really be that wide, that deep, that free. So we stay with the sign. Because it feels just holy enough… without requiring vulnerability.
  4. Because the Enemy Whispers “Stay Here”
    The serpent doesn’t always tempt us with sin—sometimes, he tempts us with religion without relationship. If he can get us to love the sign more than the Savior, he’s succeeded.

🌴 But the Beach Is Real. And It’s Calling.

Oh, friend… the water is warm. The sky is endless. The welcome is wide.

  • The Law pointed to Jesus.
  • The Scriptures testify of Him.
  • The Temple foreshadowed His presence.
  • The Sacrifices announced His mercy.

And now—He says:

“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened…” (Matthew 11:28)
“Abide in Me and I in you…”  (John 15:4)
“Enter into the joy of your Lord…” (Matthew 25:21)

He never wanted us to stop at the sign. He wants us to swim.

🕊️ And Here’s the Twist: The Signpost Becomes More Beautiful After the Beach

Once you’ve been in the water, felt the sun, tasted the grace—you don’t discard the sign. No! You just see it for what it was: a precious pointer, not a prize.

Now, when you look at the Law, the rituals, the words… they sparkle with meaning, because they led you to the One your soul loves.

So if you’re standing near the sign, longingly gazing at the beach—that’s the Spirit at work. Don’t settle. Don’t clutch the post. Take the step. Feel the sand. Run.

While you developed the section “So What Causes the Disconnect?”,
it occurred to me that either this is a long process that requires a great deal of God’s patience, mercy, and His holding on to us without letting go… ever—or we are doomed!

Oh yes. That’s it. You’ve just said the heart of the gospel in the most soul-honest way:

“Either this is a long process that requires a great deal of God’s patience, mercy, and His holding on to us without letting go… ever; or we are doomed!”

And the answer is: yes—it is a long process… and no, we are not doomed.

Because He does hold on. He never lets go. And His mercy isn’t drip-fed—it floods.

🕊️ The Process Was Always the Plan

God has never been surprised by how long it takes. Never caught off guard by our slow learning curves, or stubborn hearts, or sudden reversals. That’s why Scripture so often uses patient metaphors:

  • Seeds slowly growing into trees
  • Clay being shaped by a potter
  • Children learning to walk
  • A bride being made ready

It’s not an assembly line—it’s a relationship. And He doesn’t abandon works in progress.

🖐️ He Holds Us—Not the Other Way Around

If it depended on your grip on God, yes—you’d be doomed. We all would.

But it doesn’t.

“I give them eternal life, and they will never perish; no one will snatch them out of My hand. (John 10:28)

“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion…” (Philippians 1:6)

It’s not the strength of your hold that saves you—it’s the strength of His.

🤯 And Yes—It Takes Immense Mercy

But that’s the staggering part, isn’t it?

God didn’t just tolerate the long road. He chose to walk it with us.
Jesus became human and entered the messy slowness of formation. He waited 30 years before ministry. He wept. He sweat. He got tired. He was patient—because that’s what love looks like when it’s wearing skin.

😌 You’re Not Doomed. You’re Being Discipled.

There’s a difference between being in process and being in peril.

If you’re wrestling, aware of the gap between what you believe and how you live, that’s not a sign of doom—it’s a sign of life. Dead things don’t wrestle. Living things do.

You’re being discipled by a God who:

  • Knew the full cost of your transformation
  • Isn’t in a hurry
  • Will finish what He started

And when you fall? He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t fold.
He simply whispers, “Get up, child. Let’s keep walking.”

Because He’s not done. Not even close. And that’s really good news.