Luke 8:20-21
And Jesus was told, "Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, desiring to see you." But he answered them, "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it."
Jesus is informed that his biological mother and brothers are waiting to see him. And he uses this opportunity to posit an idea about discipleship. He redefines family, suggesting that, "those who hear the word of God and do it" are his family.
Hearing:
Being willing to listen and understand God's teachings. Something we recently learned is only possible for those who God has given the spiritual ears to hear him with.
Doing it:
And being willing to put those teachings into practice. As James says, being a doer of the word through active obedience.
Jesus seems to value a shared commitment to God's purposes over an ancestral family blood bond. And indirectly we see this clearly in Jesus' attitude by virtue of the fact that he is never recorded making a case for his kingship because of his biology. He doesn't mention or give credit to either his mother Mary's lineage or his father Joseph. And here he's making a broader point that true family is determined by faith and obedience. Not by obligation to any bloodline, though some of the Jewish disciples felt it was important because of the scripture prophecy. Jesus instead prioritizes a relationship with him based upon Spirit and Truth rather than an earthly connection.
So, the door is open to anyone who has hearing and who is doing what his Heavenly Father teaches them. And that doing is critical because it's not enough to have heard about God, Jesus stresses the importance of living it.
On a personal level:
I can remember very little about my "godfather". My dad chose as my Roman Catholic godfather a buddy of his he was good friends with. I met the guy a couple of times, but I don't have a lot of memory at all of him. I don't think my dad and him stayed very close over the years. And so in terms of his role as my "godfather", he really didn't fulfill that role very well if at all. My family weren't church going family. And I was fostered out to a family down the street anyhow. So I didn't really know my family or their spiritual life at all if they had one. I was pretty much left on my own, spiritually speaking and family wise. This is why I jokingly say I was raised by wolves. Because I was sort of left out in the wilderness to make a way for myself with nothing really, no tools, no clothing, no family, no anything, and I was a very young boy. I did grow up to love my foster family, and I was heartbroken when I was taken away from them at six years old. As I reflect back upon this, I don't recall the foster family having a life of faith either. I suppose they might have, but if they did, I have no memory of it.
The only spiritual memory I have from that time is of my grandfather. When I happened upon him in his room alone, and he didn't know I was there. I saw he was looking at a painting on the wall. It was a painting of the last supper, da Vinci style, on a wood cut. And he had his hands lifted in the air and he was saying words in Italian that I didn't understand. I do understand today that he was likely praying. I don't know what he was praying for. So, I like to tell myself that he was praying for me, and that he knew I was there.
Later on, during a time when my dad was hospitalized for an injury. I was sent to live with one of his sisters. And I loved this aunt's cooking, so I was happy to be there. And she took it upon herself to take this young wolf boy and get him some church. So, she put me on the fast track to confirmation And I got my first official church learning in that time. I learned my prayers and my catechism. I learned the things that they told me I needed to know by heart so that I could recite them over and over again. I had all this head knowledge, but I had no relationship with my Lord Jesus Christ. But as far as the church is concerned, I was officially one of the church family.
Throughout my entire life, and sometimes even now, I've always carried around this feeling of abandonment. And likewise, I felt this way regarding God. I had a relationship with the Roman Catholic Church I suppose but I was a runaway kid from that family. I had religion, but I didn't have Jesus Christ. I'd been left to figure it all out on my own. But I can reflect upon several characters along the way who offered glimpses into something spiritual. And these people exposed me to the idea that there was something more for me yet to come if I would just search Him out.
I've since learned that I must be born again into that spiritual family with Jesus. I saw glimpses of him throughout my life. I've even experienced miraculous moments when I'm convinced today that Jesus stepped in and saved my soul from sure destruction.
I was taught Protestant tenets of faith when would join a childhood friend's family on their Sunday outings at their local Lutheran church. I learned some about end times prophecy from my father-in-law who was really out there on a limb in my mind. And mostly I learned the vast majority of what I now understand as faith by reading and studying God's word. In God's word I found the home I was longing for. In his word I found my family. My faith isn't some abstract concept, for me it's personal and its family.
I learned Jesus was there all along. Not just Jesus on a cross, not an iconic figure in a painting. He is my Father. He is my family. And he was there all along waiting for me to recognize him through all the chaos and abandonment.
In Luke 8:20-21 we started with Jesus saying His true family are those who hear and do God’s word, and I've lived that out. I found my peace with God. I found my place in his family. It’s not some distant, theoretical thing, it’s very personal, it’s real, it’s relational. I call it "family" because it's clear to me now that this faith thing isn’t about checking boxes or following a system; it’s about belonging to something, to Someone, who’s been there through it all with me.
Eventually I found joy in Christ when I joined a parachurch Emmaus Walk community while serving in a United Methodist Church. I learned to share Christ's word with others. I learned the "doing" part of being in the family of God. And out of that experience I started serving in the Kairos Prison Ministry. And it was there that I discovered why I'm-where I am-doing what I'm doing. I learned that those incarcerated men were like me. Many have experienced a terrible family history. They knew abandonment. They knew sin and were paying their due for that sin and dealing with the lasting consequences of that sin. And I learned that they want to know Jesus' forgiveness.
Everything clicked when I began putting that faith into action. When I stepped into the "doing" part of being in God’s family, just as Jesus described in Luke 8:20-21. That shift from hearing to living it out seems to have unlocked a deep sense of purpose for me.
Serving in Kairos and connecting with those incarcerated men was powerful. I saw myself in them. The abandonment, the broken family ties, the wilderness of it all. It’s like my "wolf boy" days gave me a lens into understand their stories. And then to bring Jesus’ forgiveness into that space, to share the same hope I found, feels like a heart of spiritual kinship. I'm not just part of the family; I'm helping others find their way into it too.
That was always my hope. When I was at my lowest point in my life. When I was homeless and drugged up, living on the edge, I always hoped that someone would come along and pick me up, save me out of that pigsty that I created for myself. Like the prodigal son I had to determine on my own to get out of my mess. No one ever did come along. And so, somewhere deep down I determined I would try and be that someone for others if I ever got that chance. Not just survival but redemption with a purpose.
Faith and spiritual kinship became bigger than I ever imagined. It never occurred to me that one day I'd be willingly walk through those prison doors to advocate for Jesus Christ. I've seen hardened men, rival gang members who participate in blood feuds, all locked up for terrible crimes, and in one weekend they're transformed into a family serving each other in peace and love. For me that’s answered prayer in living color. It’s like I got a front-row seat to God’s word breaking through the toughest walls, both literal and spiritual. Those men, like me, knew abandonment and they knew sin on a level that most will never know, but there they were, finding the same forgiveness and kinship I did.
Prison ministry feels like a mirror in some ways. My own story of being pulled from the pit of despair reflects in theirs. That’s the kind of "doing" that Jesus points to in Luke 8:20-21. Hearing His word and living it out, not just for myself, but together as a family.
I'll forever remember my first trip into the prison. I was sent ahead to walk with the donuts we were bringing in for our time with the prison residents. So, there I am with seven or eight dozen Krispy Cream glazed donuts, and I have no idea what to expect. Down the hallway I see them coming my way. And I don't know what I was feeling. I was anxious, a little nervous about what they will do and say. But mostly I was worried about what I would say.
They walked up to me with huge smiles and hands reaching out to help me with the donuts. And then we greeted each other in Christ with the typical man hugs and back patting. And I instantly felt at home. Later that night back in our hotel room I remember feeling like as I was walking down that hallway, I was seeing Jesus's walking towards me. I realized that those donuts were just an excuse. The real gift was that instant sense of home.
Seeing Jesus walking towards me in those men is like seeing Luke 8:20-21 come alive right in front of me. I saw his family and I knew I was sharing in that spiritual kinship. Those men with their scars, stories and tattoos, became my spiritual kin in Christ.
And I've never doubted that I am in Christ since. It was a cornerstone moment for me. Jesus used that place to give me the family I always wanted and sealed my life in him. Not by my own bloodline, but in his blood.