The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…

What else it means...

Luke 4:18–19 is a dramatic scene—that moment. Jesus, standing in the synagogue, unrolling the scroll, reading words that must have sent a jolt through the room.

Good news for the poor. Freedom for the captives. Sight for the blind. Liberation for the oppressed. Sounds like a party political manifesto.

He wasn’t just reading Hebrew words straight off the parchment; He was announcing something. It wasn’t a slick TED talk, it was more - so much more, something seismic, cosmic yet so stunningly local; at hand. 100% wow factor… He wasn’t just setting out, driving His Father-focused mission—He was inviting us into ours.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. Upon you. Upon us. And the question we have to wrestle with is: What on earth for? Do we get to chose to participate?

Here’s the thing: it’s not just for the miracles. Not just for the moments that take your breath away. Not just for the mountaintop encounters where, in a “Bethel way,” heaven touches earth in dazzling, undeniable ways. Those moments matter—and we want more—but the Spirit doesn’t come just to dazzle; He comes to shape lives—ordinary, everyday lives—into something extraordinary.

The Spirit comes to lead us into the spaces where Jesus lived. Into the mess. The tension. The grit of the everyday.

Jesus didn’t just preach good news to the poor. He was the good news. He didn’t just heal the sick; He touched them, even the really “icky” ones. He didn’t just speak about liberation and freedom; He sat with the outcasts, shared meals with sinners, and lifted the heads of the downtrodden.

And that’s where it gets real, where someone puts a coin in the jukebox, and you can hear the selection whirring, about to drop. If the Spirit is upon us, it’s not for us to retreat into some personal, spiritual high with gold dust, feathers, and all the other bizarre things that sometimes happen to us during worship. Instead, it’s to move toward the pain, the need, the brokenness of the world, and see poverty, injustice, and oppression and say, “This is where the Kingdom comes.”

What about leadership in this Spirit-driven mission? It’s not about polished platforms or carefully crafted personas. The world doesn’t need another—or even any—leader pretending to have it all together. It needs servant-leaders who are real, honest, and vulnerable, who admit their doubts, own their failures, and make space for others to flourish. Flourish… such a good, missional word.

Spirit-led leadership isn’t about wielding power; it’s about serving, carrying burdens, stepping off the stage and into the kitchens, the living rooms, the streets—into the unfiltered, unedited moments where life happens and transformation begins, where we demonstrate and celebrate our continuing relevance.

This isn’t about us swooping in to play saviour—that job’s already taken. Jesus doesn’t need us to fix the world. He’s doing that, but He invites us to step into it—to cooperate and partner with Him, to be His hands, feet, and voice. To walk alongside people, not as heroes, but as friends, brothers, sisters—proclaiming, with our words and our lives, “You matter. Your story matters. You’re not forgotten.”

And the Gospel? It’s not abstract. It’s not vague. It’s food on the doorstep of a family that’s barely holding on. It’s warmth on a freezing night. It’s practical, gritty, hands-on love that says, “This is what God’s love feels like.”

This isn’t just about charity; it’s about justice. Poverty isn’t just a lack of money—it’s isolation, broken systems with barriers that trap people in cycles of despair. And addressing those issues? It takes more than good intentions—it takes creativity, perseverance, and unity.

Where are we at with this? Around the world, churches are stepping into the challenge of Luke 4:18–19, living it out in bold, beautiful, Spirit-led ways. Others are stepping out tentatively, slowly... but they are rising to the challenge.

And yet, let’s not forget the quieter forms of captivity; the loneliness. The fear. The anxiety that isolates people even when their physical needs are met. The Spirit of the Lord calls us to proclaim liberty to those captives too. The Word of God sets people free. Perhaps our mandate is to create spaces where people find connection, friendship, family—a place where they’re loved as they are, not as they “should” be.

And slap-bang in the middle of all this is Jesus—the One who didn’t just preach good news but became good news, who didn’t just call out injustice but bore it on His shoulders, and who didn’t just promise freedom but shattered the chains Himself.

Don’t ask, “Is the Spirit of the Lord truly upon us?” He is. Our mission isn’t just to stand in awe of what He’s done (you can do that as you worship); it’s to roll up our sleeves, step into the pain, and then be good news in the mess, the brokenness, and all the places no one else wants to go.

Even if it’s just McDonalds.