Outside the Circle

Deuteronomy 10:12-22

November 16, 2025 • Mount Pleasant UMC

We’re about to enter—or maybe we’re already in—the “you deserve it” time of the year. Every advertiser from cars to coconuts will be telling you that whatever they have to offer (i.e., sell) is something you deserve. You deserve that expensive trip. You deserve that upgraded car. You deserve a break today! You owe it to yourself to have the latest and greatest. Just put it on the credit card or layaway. Take it home today because—you deserve it (cf. Goldingay, Numbers & Deuteronomy for Everyone, pg. 129)! We believe this message so much that in 2024, we spent $994.1 billion throughout the holiday season, a number doubled in just twenty years. We are third in the world for Christmas spending, by the way, only slightly behind Germany and Canada. $994.1 billion—that’s almost a trillion dollars spent during one season, because we deserve it.

But what have we done to “deserve” it? What makes us so deserving? Is it because we are so smart, so clever, so good-looking or so talented? Israel kind of thought that about themselves. They were God’s chosen people, and obviously God chose them because they deserved it, they were worth it, they were something special—no doubt! But when Moses was giving his farewell speech to the people who were about to enter the Promised Land, he had a different take on it. God, through Moses, basically tells them, “You don’t deserve it, but I love you anyway.”

This morning, we’re wrapping up this series on the importance of the Old Testament law to people who follow Jesus, and along the way we’ve been looking for “Roots of Hope” in these ancient stories. It should be enough for us, really, that Jesus himself said the law would endure, that none of it would ever disappear (cf. Matthew 5:18). And we’ve seen how God still has a message for us in that law, how Jesus, as he promised, came to fulfill it and not to abolish it (cf. Matthew 5:17). We’ve been saying all along that the law is ultimately about relationships—the way we interact with God and the way we interact with each other. But it’s even broader than that. As we wrap up this series, there’s one more message this law has for us and it comes (again) from the teaching of Moses in the book of Deuteronomy.

As I shared a couple of weeks ago, Deuteronomy is really Moses’ last will and testament. He’s reminding this new generation of what has happened to them over the last forty years. Most of the people standing before him were not with him when they passed through the Sea and escaped from slavery in Egypt. At best they would have been children and infants. These are the kids and grandkids of that original group and they need to hear the stories. They’ve probably heard them from their parents, but they need to hear them from Moses, the man who talked with God face to face like a friend. And so Moses, who will not enter the Promised Land himself, is passing the story along to those who will. He’s reminding them of the law, of the kind of people they are supposed to be, and of how God’s people are supposed to live.

But first, in the passage we read this morning, he reminds the people who God is. It’s an important perspective that they need and we need. Jesus does the same thing when he taught the disciples (and us) to pray. He also begins with who God is: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:9-10). God is Father, God is holy, and it’s ultimately God’s kingdom that matters and not our own. Who God is, according to Jesus, should set the tone for all our prayers. And according to Moses, it should set the tone for our life. We tend to do it the other way around and we tell God what we want and why we deserve it, right? Instead of God’s will, many if not most of our prayers focus on our own wills—or at least our own desires. Moses sets everything that is to come in the context of who God is. God is the one who owns everything—the earth and the heavens, and not just the earth itself but “everything in it” (10:14). That includes you and me. Everything and everyone ultimately belongs to God, even this Promised Land that God is giving to the Hebrews. It’s only on loan to you, Israel. It belongs to God. We might all do well to remember that in these days, and not just in Israel, because the whole “earth and everything in it” is not ours. It belongs to God.

The earth and the heavens are God’s, and so are the people. Moses then reminds Israel that God chose them long ago. And not because they are special. Not because they are better than everyone else on earth. Not because they are smarter than anyone else. God chose them because he loved them. He “set his affection” on them for no other reason than he loved them. You can’t really explain love. You can’t explain when there’s a connection between people. All you can do is experience it, and most of us know what it feels like to be chosen—by a spouse, perhaps, or by a close friend. You can think all day or all week about your relationships, and maybe, just maybe you remember the moment there was a connection, but you still can’t explain it. That other person chose you because you’re you and they loved you. That’s sort of how it has been with God and his people, Moses says. God set his affection on them, for no other reason than he loved them (10:15). Jesus will put it this way centuries later to a group of followers who might have been tempted to think they were something special. No, Jesus says. “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:6). God’s people are the chosen. He loves us just because we are.

Then there is this strange command that is at the center of the passage: “Circumcise your hearts, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer” (10:16). Moses says it as if they understand it, doesn’t he? He’s not thinking about us, centuries later, who wonder what that phrase is about. I mean, we know what circumcision is; they certainly did, too. All the males who belonged to Israel were required to be circumcised; it was the mark that you belonged to the people of Israel. It had been that way since the day Abraham had been commanded by God to “Walk before me faithfully and be blameless” (cf. Genesis 17:10). Now, apparently this practice had fallen into disuse during the forty years in the wilderness, because when they get ready to take the army into the Promised Land to conquer it, the first thing they do after crossing the Jordan River is circumcise every male. So here’s the picture: your army is ready to go and the first thing you do is to take them out of commission for several days while they recover from a painful medical procedure (cf. Joshua 5:2-12). But here’s the why: if they were going to conquer the land in God’s name, they had to be marked as God’s people. Circumcision was the mark of the relationship between God and Israel.

So what does Moses mean by “circumcision of the heart”? It’s wrapped up in the other image he uses, which is one that shows up often in the Old Testament to describe Israel: they are “stiff-necked.” It’s a farming image, like when a farmer is trying to get his ox to go in a particular direction so that he can plow the field. He would use a goad to point the ox’s head in the direction he should go, but sometimes the ox was stubborn and wouldn’t turn his head. He would stiffen his neck and refuse to go in the direction the farmer wanted him to. Moses tells Israel they are that stiff-necked ox (cf. Goldingay 130). Part of the reason they have been in the wilderness for forty years is because they are stubborn and often don’t want to go the way God wants them to go. The law was the goad, but the law was only good if they obey it. These people, Moses seems to say, are the very model of faithlessness.

That’s why “circumcision of the heart” is necessary. They need to be made God’s people once again, but not in a merely physical way. This transformation needs to go deeper, to the very core of who they are. Be marked in your heart (not just your body) as God’s people, Moses says. Circumcision of the heart is about “being open, responsive, and obedient to the Lord” (Kalland, “Deuteronomy,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 3, pg. 86). It means having an attitude that is “soft and sensitive toward” God, a life that has stopped resisting his will (cf. NIV Application Commentary on the Bible: One-Volume Edition, pg. 149). John Wesley, founder of Methodism, called it living a life of holiness—being who God wants us to be (cf. sermon “Circumcision of the Heart”).

And what God wants us to be is like him. Moses goes on to describe what that would look like, if God’s people took seriously the call to be his people. God “defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt” (10:18-19). Now, wait a minute. I’ve said before that the law was meant to determine who is in and who is out, but now Moses is saying that those who are “in” are supposed to be welcoming and even taking care of those who are “out.” That when they “circumcise” their heart, they will become more loving, welcoming, outgoing toward those outside the circle. What is going on here?

That is just the point. Being God’s people was never about “us vs. them.” It was about taking care of and welcoming those who were on the outside so that they might be brought inside. That’s why God “defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing” (10:18). It was never about ethnic identity or one group of people above another. From the very beginning, Abraham was told he was called and loved so that he could be a blessing to the nations (cf. Genesis 12:2). Why do you think God plopped his people in the geographic location that he did? Not because it’s the best land on earth. I mean, I’ve been there many times, it’s beautiful in its own way, but it’s not an easy land to live in. It’s partly desert and partly green and doesn’t have a lot of water and way too much sun and lots of rocks. It’s not where I would choose if I were God. But do you know what it is? It’s right in the middle of everything. All of the ancient trade routes and highways going to from Europe to Asia to Africa had to pass through this land, and that meant God’s people could show love and kindness and hospitality and generosity to all sorts of “foreigners.” They were blessed to be a blessing—not just to each other but to the entire world. They were to live that way because that’s how God is.

And so we live in a world where we’ve learned that, right? We don’t really need this sermon today because our world is full of peace and love and hospitality toward the stranger and the person who is different than us. We don’t draw circles and say, “You’re in and you’re out.” Right? You know I’m being sarcastic at this point because actually we live in one of the most divided times I think I’ve ever known. We live in a world that thrives on drawing lines and pushing others outside the circle. Social media has algorithms that make sure we mostly see stuff we agree with and that we connect with people who support our positions. And when you do encounter someone online who has a different (i.e., “wrong”) opinion, you’re supposed to “correct” them loudly and aggressively. Push them out. People have said things to me behind a keyboard that I know they would never say to me in person. We’re told by politicians that “the other side of the aisle” is the enemy and that all of their policies are disastrous. There is no middle ground; loyalty must be unquestioned, whether it’s to a person or a ideology. And the church? The people of God? The ones who follow a savior who died for all humankind? We’re no better. In a town with hundreds of churches, we struggle to get 5 or 6 to come to prayer meeting. There are people who won’t have anything to do with “that church” because they don’t agree with their positions, and we somehow think that if we pray with them or associate with them, we will be tainted. We forget that Jesus prayed that we would all be one (cf. John 17:21). I’ve said it before: it’s the great unanswered prayer of Jesus, and by the way, “all” in that prayer means everyone, not just those we agree with. The foreigners, the ones outside the circle, are sometimes closer than you think. Sometimes they are even our brothers and sisters down the road—or on the other end of the pew.

Moses says, “You are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt” (10:19). Who are the people you tend to push outside the circle, the ones you’d rather not have anything ever to do with? Democrats? Republicans? Conservatives? Liberals? The immigrant? The guy on the corner asking for money? The person who doesn’t understand the Bible the same way you do? The person who seems to take advantage of the system? The depressed, lonely and sad? The liar, cheat and thief? Who is outside the circle? You were once like them, Moses says. At the very least, you might be like that from their perspective. So don’t they deserve hope too? Don’t they deserve blessings also?

I’m going to be honest with you this morning—I don’t like sermons like this. I don’t like ones that sneak up on me and really challenge me. Because, to be honest, there are people I struggle to like. Maybe God has brought to your mind a person or two, a group or two that you’d rather not have anything to do with either. That’s why this command from Moses is for us still today. Circumcise your hearts. I mean, that was the example of Jesus, to the very end. Jesus went out of his way to wait at a well for a disrespected woman—a foreigner, a Samaritan—to come draw water at noon. She was the first one he told that he was the savior, the messiah they had been waiting for. When they return, the disciples are shocked—not that she’s a Samaritan but that Jesus is talking to a woman (John 4). Later Jesus knelt and scribbled something in the dirt when the religious leaders tried to trap him by bringing a woman caught in adultery before him. Would he condemn her? Or would he ignore her sin? Either way, they thought, they had him! But Jesus said, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7). This same Jesus let children sit on his lap, touched dead bodies, turned water into wine so that a family wouldn’t be embarrassed at a wedding, ate dinner at a tax collector’s house and at a Pharisee’s house. That would be like going for dinner one night at a leading Democrat’s house and the next night at a leading Republican’s house. What was that Moses said about God showing no partiality? But the most amazing moment, for me, is at the very end. Jesus is on the cross, surrounded by two confirmed criminals, and while one makes fun of him, the other reaches out and asks to be remembered: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus uses some of the last breath he has to say, “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:39-43). What kind of God is he? He is one who welcomes those who are outside the circle and expects his people to do the same.

One of the repeated themes of the Scriptures is to “remember.” Remember who you are. Remember whose you are. In the beginning of this passage, Moses puts it this way: “What does the Lord ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in obedience to him, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the Lord’s commands and decrees that I am giving you today…” (10:12-13). A lot of times we redefine “fear” to mean “respect” or “reverence,” and then far too often we treat God as if he is our fishing buddy or our shopping buddy. God is not our buddy. He is kind, and he is good, but he is also the Lord your God. He is the Lord of the universe who created everything out of nothing. He is more powerful than we can imagine and while I don’t think we’re supposed to live life scared out of our mind because of his power, I do think God deserves more “fear” than we normally give him. As I’ve shared before, one of my favorite quotes comes from my favorite Old Testament professor, Dr. John Oswalt: “The God who could fry you loves you.” And that’s exactly what Moses is reminding Israel of here. He loves you—not because you deserve it, not because you’ve earned it, not because you’re worthy of it, but just because he does. He loves you because you are. And he loves those who are outside the circle, too, just because they are. And above all of that, he calls us to love those outside the circle as well just because they are. Love God. Love people. Love life. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Let’s pray.