Deacon Tam Tran

UPDATED TRADITIONS

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill” (Matthew 5:17).
“You have heard that it was said… but I say to you…” (Matthew 5:21ff).

You’re in the middle of something important—replying to emails, finishing a report, watching a very educational video—and suddenly your computer interrupts your life with that dreaded message: “A software update is available.”

Your first thought is not, “Wonderful! Thank you for protecting my data.”
Your first thought is, “Not now.”

So, you click “Remind me later.” Or worse, “Cancel.” You promise yourself you’ll do it tonight. Or tomorrow. Or sometime between now and the Second Coming. But let’s be honest—you probably never do.

And for a while, nothing bad happens. Your computer still works. Your apps still open. Life goes on. So, you feel justified. Until one day, everything freezes, your screen turns black, your bank account starts acting funny, and someone in another country is suddenly buying luxury items with your credit card.

That’s when you realize: skipping updates always feels harmless—until it’s not.

Software updates matter because they fix security holes, patch weaknesses, remove outdated junk, and make the whole system run better. They don’t exist to annoy us (even though it feels personal). They exist to protect us and improve how things work.

Now here’s the uncomfortable part: Jesus talks about God’s law in almost the exact same way.

In the Gospel of Matthew, right in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says:
“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill” (Matthew 5:17).

In other words, Jesus didn’t show up to delete God’s commandments or uninstall the Old Testament. He came to update how we understand and live them.

Same core system. Better functionality.

The Law—especially the Ten Commandments—was never meant to be a burden. At its heart, it’s shockingly simple: love God and love your neighbor. The first three commandments focus on our relationship with God. The other seven focus on how we treat each other. That’s it. No advanced degree required.

But humans have a remarkable talent for taking something simple and turning it into something exhausting.

Enter the Pharisees.

Now, to be fair, the Pharisees weren’t villains twirling mustaches and plotting evil. They were serious, devout people who genuinely wanted to honor God. The problem was that they took God’s law and wrapped it in 613 extra rules, regulations, interpretations, footnotes, and sub-footnotes.

Love God? Sure—but only if you follow these exact steps.
Love your neighbor? Absolutely—but let’s define neighbor very narrowly.

They turned a relationship into a checklist. They turned faith into compliance. They focused on external behavior while often ignoring what was happening in the heart.

So, Jesus steps in and says, essentially, “You’re running ancient software on a modern heart.”

Jesus doesn’t lower the bar; He actually raises it. But He raises it in a different direction. The old law focused mainly on actions: Don’t murder. Don’t steal. Don’t commit adultery. Jesus goes deeper and says, Let’s talk about anger. Let’s talk about lust. Let’s talk about what’s going on inside you.

That’s why later in the Sermon on the Mount He says:

“You have heard that it was said… but I say to you…” (Matthew 5:21ff).

That’s not Jesus contradicting the law. That’s Jesus installing the update.

The new law doesn’t just manage behavior; it transforms the heart. It’s less about avoiding punishment and more about becoming a person who naturally chooses love.

And yes—this update is uncomfortable.

Just like real software updates, it takes time. It interrupts our routine. It forces us to stop and wait. And sometimes it changes things we were used to. But without it, the system becomes vulnerable. Outdated faith becomes rigid faith. Rigid faith becomes brittle faith. And brittle faith eventually breaks.

This isn’t just a first-century Pharisee problem. This is very much a church-in-2026 problem.

We can cling so tightly to “the way we’ve always done it” that we miss what God is doing right now. Tradition is valuable—it’s like the operating system that got us this far. But tradition without openness becomes nostalgia. And nostalgia has never saved anyone.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to abandon the past. He asks us to fulfill it—to let it grow, deepen, and speak to the present moment.

Jesus didn’t come to make faith heavier; He came to make it truer. Not easier—but freer. Not simpler—but deeper.

God’s invitations often interrupt us, ask for time, humility, and change. But what feels annoying in the moment may be protecting you from much bigger damage later.

So, the next time your computer asks for an update, maybe don’t hit “cancel” so quickly. And the next time Jesus invites you to see faith in a new light, don’t ignore that either.

Because skipped updates—whether digital or spiritual—always come back to haunt us.