20 January 2026
God looks at the heart
Today’s readings confront us with a fundamental question about how God sees
and how easily we misunderstand what matters most.
In the first reading,
Samuel is sent to Bethlehem to anoint a new king.
Saul has failed,
not because he lacked ability or authority,
but because he stopped listening.
Now God tells Samuel to go to Jesse’s house,
where the future king is already waiting.
When Jesse’s sons pass before Samuel,
everything looks familiar.
Eliab is tall, impressive, confident,
the kind of man people expect to lead.
Samuel assumes the choice must be obvious.
But God interrupts him with a line that echoes throughout all of Scripture:
“Not as man sees does God see,
because man sees the appearance,
but the Lord looks into the heart.”
That sentence explains everything that follows.
One by one, the sons are rejected.
Not because they are bad,
but because they are not the ones God has chosen.
Finally, David is brought in from the fields.
He is young.
He has no credentials.
He is not impressive in any way.
He is not even considered important enough to be present at first. And yet, God says,
“There—anoint him, for this is the one.”
God’s choice reveals something crucial:
His purposes are not driven by visibility, strength, or conformity to expectation.
God’s work begins in the hidden places,
in hearts that are open to Him,
even when the world overlooks them.
That same tension appears in the Gospel.
The disciples walk through the fields on the Sabbath and pluck grain to eat.
The Pharisees object immediately.
From their perspective, the law is clear.
Work is forbidden.
Rules matter.
Order matters.
Jesus does not deny the importance of the law.
Instead, He reveals its purpose.
He reminds them of David
—ironically the very David we meet in today’s first reading—
who ate the bread of the Presence when he was hungry.
Bread meant for priests alone.
A violation, at least on the surface.
And yet Scripture does not condemn him.
Why?
Because the law was never meant to crush life.
It was meant to serve it.
Jesus then gives the key:
“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.”
This is not a dismissal of God’s commandments.
It is a reorientation of how they are understood.
The law exists to protect our relationship with God and with others.
When rules are separated from their purpose,
they no longer lead to holiness;
they lead to control.
That is why Jesus can say something so astonishing:
“The Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.”
In other words, authority does not belong to the rule itself,
but to the One who gives it.
Both readings expose the same spiritual temptation:
to rely on appearances and structures
instead of trusting the living God.
Samuel initially assumes God will choose the strongest.
The Pharisees assume holiness is proven by strict observance.
In both cases,
God redirects attention inward
—to the heart, to intention, to relationship.
And that is uncomfortable.
Because hearts cannot be managed as easily as rules.
Because appearances are simpler than obedience.
Because control feels safer than trust.
But God does not build His kingdom on what is impressive.
He builds it on what is faithful.
David will become king not because he looks the part,
but because he belongs to God.
The disciples are not condemned for hunger
because their relationship with Christ matters more than a technical violation.
Jesus is teaching that true authority flows from communion with God, not from power or performance.
As this week unfolds,
the Church will continue to show us what it means to live under God’s kingship.
It begins here
—with learning to see as God sees,
and to let Him redefine what truly matters.
The question left with us today is simple but demanding:
Are we judging our lives by outward standards
—or allowing God to form our hearts?
Because God is still choosing.
Still calling.
Still working—often in places we least expect.