America's corporations thrive on strategic plans. Back when I read business journals, it seemed like every six months some great new strategic plan fad would sweep the business world, guaranteeing businesses a competitive edge as they unpacked "who they are" in this new way. Exploring their identity helped the corporations define their business, get all their employees working for the same goal, pursuing the same level of product excellence with a targeted customer base. The assumption is, a good definition of one's corporate "who-we-are-ness" was supposed to translate into higher profits.

       It's not just businesses. Church experts also buy into fads, which is ironic, because Paul says Christianity is an "un-fad." In 1 Corinthians today he says that defining ourselves by Jesus is going to be perceived as foolishness by people into worldly success, since God's not wound up about bottom line and competitive edge. Obviously not! Look at God's stubborn loyalty to a band of chosen people who consistently ignore, undercut, and try to control, if not down-right change, everything God proposes. Instead of blasting us to kingdom come, God's loyalty to us causes him to withhold punishment, forgoing divine privilege in order to die for love of us, on the chance it will be possible to lure us back into relationship.

       Loyal and merciful as God has been since the first contact with sinning humans, it is not about God passively accepting the grief we give our Maker. Take a look at what's happening in Micah today. God is suing the pants off Israel in a covenant lawsuit, because their worship stinks. It's not that the Divine doesn't like the hymn arrangements, or hates that they've been using generic incense. The problem is that Israel has been micro-managing the worship trees, forgetting the forest. Their worship life has been compartmentalized into perfection. Worship professionals execute it perfectly. Ladies wear white gloves, gentlemen remove their hats when they enter, everyone stands at the right time, the worship leader doesn't get lost between the Prayer of Confession and Passing the Peace, the preacher does three-points-and-a-poem, and everything is done in 59-3/4 minutes. The stink is because Israel acts as if, as long as worship is perfect, what we do the rest of the week doesn't matter. It takes the sheriff showing up with a summons to get the point across: God isn't interested in gestures-even if they are perfect.

       What God is interested in is very simple: be fair in human relationships, be loyal to God and to each other, acknowledge God is in charge. We'd rather have rules and sub-rules, explanations and dissertations on rules, and God wants relationship. God's doing the Jackie Kennedy thing and we're doing the new Mrs. Trump. Jackie Kennedy's glamour was simplicity itself-tailored slacks, simple scarf, single pin, elegant sheath, a little beading on a black dress. The new Mrs. Trump prefers something more elaborate. I heard it took 5,000 hours just to embroider her wedding dress, which was so complicated that she claimed to need a special stool to sit on while she wore it.

       After than, simple can be a relief. Our family used to have a picture book like that. The story is of an older couple who hire a photographer to come to their farm to take their picture. As they get bright ideas about what else should be in the picture, the photographer cautions that "simple pictures are best." But they continue to pile in front of the camera their prized animals and possessions until finally the photographer snaps the picture as everything collapses in a heap. He was right: simple pictures are best.

       Especially in our relationship with God. Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God. Those words are the beautifully simple summary of God's covenant expectations for Israel. God saw those requirements as response to grace! It is also how Jesus lived. You remember Jesus-the One who refused to give up on his followers, even when they abandoned him and got confused about his mission, who ate with some desperately creepy people, who stuck up for beggars and hungry people, who talked with mentally ill and incurable people. Treat each other fairly, be loyal to God and humans, let God be in charge. And then die because of it. Foolishness.

       The covenant lawsuit in Micah says there is more to relationship with God than perfect worship; it's about the rest of our lives. Those code words-justice, loving kindness or loyalty, and humility-came with a whole world of baggage for religious Jews. The implication of those words is, refocus your life.

       I knew a man who took Micah's expectations seriously. He was the pastor of a what was called a servant-church in a Mexican border town. A simple man, he moved his family from a secure, middle-class life in the capital to a frontier church. His understanding of "do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God" meant living in a desert barrio surrounded by violence and disease. Water in the barrio was a chronic problem, and babies died because they had to drink the water their parents hauled to the rusty storage barrels outside their shacks. The city had brought water mains to the street, but officials required huge bribes to tap into the main to bring water to the houses. This pastor, my friend, helped his neighbors tap into the water mains at night. Clean water helps kids stay healthy. When the city water department diverted water from the poor parts of town so the limited water could be diverted to the rich people's lawns and gardens, he was down there, fighting to get it back. Sometimes there is a difference between law and justice. But who could life like that, giving up so much?

       I know someone else who stayed at home, held down a job, and figured out something called, "mission in reverse." His church had been volunteering with a literacy project in some pretty tough Chicago neighborhoods, and one thing led to another. One week you're helping a young man struggle to read what our third-graders can read easily, and the next thing you know, you are sharing a meal with him before class, and in your conversations, you begin to see him as a human being, and he's got insights you don't have. Soon, the two of you are wrestling with the "how come" questions of faith. If God is so powerful, how come that little girl get hurt at Cabrini Green? If all humans are in God's image and likeness, how come we're so bad to each other? You learn where to find dignity in the unemployment line. You see how your "stuff" can be a cruel master and that more money almost always means more work. You begin to wonder who is "helping" whom because it's relationship.

       How foolish our God is, to trust us to each other. How foolish our God is to turn over the kingdom to people who think it's about power and getting it right. Instead of giving us clear rules about what's expected of us, our foolish God simply invites us into relationship. As if being in the kind of relationship that includes God, as well as each other, teaches us how to practice fairness with each other. As if loving each other helps us to love God. As if refocusing our lives according to simple rules can make a difference. As if, in following those simple and foolish rules, we could find out who we really are. As if . . .