Michael Kelley's Blog, page 2

Your Days Are Numbered… And What To Do About It

Death is part of life. It’s the lingering shadow always in the background. It’s the constant reminder, both positive and negative, that this, too, shall pass (no matter what “this” is). For the rest of the world, the reality of death brings perspective – it forces you to come to grips with your relative smalllness in the scope of the cosmos and history.

Your days are numbered. All of ours are. And none of us knows the number.

True enough, some of us find ourselves (or will find ourselves) having a better idea of what that actual number might be, but there is no progressive revelation with God. He knows the number of our days because He alone has set the number.

But the cross and the empty tomb of Jesus has made death to be the fool. It happens again and again. For what was once upon a time for all of us the moment of hopelessness has been transformed into the pathway to glory.

Paul knew this. And because he did, he had no qualms discussing the reality of death. In fact, given the frequency with which he discussed the subject, you can draw the conclusion that a regular reflection on the reality of death is actually good and healthy for the Christian.

Take, for example, Ephesians 5:15:

“Pay careful attention, then, to how you walk—not as unwise people but as wise— making the most of the time, because the days are evil.”

Digging into the language of this verse is helpful for us, because this verse is about life, but it’s couched in the reality of death.

The exhortation here is to make the most of the time you have. Literally, Paul wrote to “redeem” the time. That is, he wants us to “buy it back.” That’s what redemption is – it means to buy back that thing that has been lost to our possession, to pay the price and bring it back where it should be.

The redemption in this case is about time. And that’s where we find the death part of this verse. Paul might have used a couple of different words in this passage, both of which translate into English as “time.” He might have used the word chronos, which is the word you would use if you were asking someone what time it was during the day. This is the word for hours and minutes and seconds. Though he might have used that term for time, he did not.

Instead, the apostle used the word kairos. This word is more about opportune time. It means time that is appointed – chosen – for special purposes. And because God is constantly moving and active in the world, and in our lives, we have kairos moments of time every day.

Paul knew that as the chronos ticks by, second by second, so do we have the chance to make the most of kairos. The wise among us know these moments are there – and they take advantage of them:

They spend that extra time with their children to make them feel valued and secure.

They do not despise the interruption to their daily schedule when they have a chance to listen or pray with another.

They do not turn away when an opportunity to share the gospel in word and deed is clearly there.

The wise have developed a spiritual sense that recognizes that within each 24 hour period of chronos there are opportunities of kairos, and they’d better make the most of them because their days are numbered.

As are mine. As are yours. During your chronos today, don’t miss the chance to recognize and act on the kairos.

3 Things We Do When We Take Communion

It wasn’t just another dinner, and the disciples knew it. This was Passover week, the yearly celebration in which the Jewish people remembered how God delivered their ancestors from bondage to the Egyptians. And this meal, with its meticulous structure in which the story of the Exodus is retold and reflected on, was the climax. It’s no wonder, then, that Jesus’ followers asked Him:

“Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?” (Matt. 26:17).

They knew it would be special because it was always special. They didn’t know, however, that Jesus would change the way they – and we – understand this meal from that point forward. Since then, followers of Jesus have been regularly eating this meal. As Paul would later write in 1 Corinthians:

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: On the night when he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, broke it, and said, “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes (1 Cor. 11:23-26).

Every time we take communion, then, we are doing at least these three things:

1. Obeying.

Why do we eat this meal? Well, the most basic reason is because Jesus told us to do it. If people outside the faith think it’s strange, they wouldn’t be the first ones; for 2000 years people have looked in on this practice and wondered what it was all about. In the early centuries, Christians were even accused of cannibalism since they were eating flesh and drinking blood.

Despite any confusion doing so might bring, the simplest answer as to why we do it is because Jesus told us to.

2. Remembering.

Not only are we obeying Jesus; we are also remembering. In this, the taking of communion is much like the original Passover meal. The Jewish people had a date on the calendar specifically so they wouldn’t forget what the Lord had done for them, and having that regularity was necessary. It’s also necessary for us because with all the dynamics of life we face day in and day out, we are also prone to forget.

So even if we do, we at least have this series of moments specifically set aside so that we will remember. We will remember the sacrifice of Jesus. The broken body and the spilled blood. The death that brought us life and now sits at the apex of everything we are and do.

3. Proclaiming.

Communion takes different forms in different churches. It might range from an entire meal to a little cracker and some grape juice. But whatever the form, the elements are meant to tell a story. It’s the same story Christians have been telling and retelling since the beginning of the church. It’s the story of the sacrificial death of Jesus in visual form. And, in its proclamation, it is also an invitation for those who have not yet believed to do so.

If you’re a Christian, this is one of the things you do. And you do it with regularity. Don’t let the opportunity pass you by. Instead, think about what you’re doing, beyond just eating and drinking. Obey the commands of Jesus; remember the sacrifice of Jesus; proclaim the gospel of Jesus.

The Theological Principle You Need to Count Trials as Joy

The Book of James was written to Christians who were suffering. Having believed in Jesus, most likely as a result of Pentecost in Jerusalem, these young believers were scattered after a wave of persecution fell on the church. That persecution followed them, and now James was telling them how to respond. One of the first things he tells them is to change their perspective about the trials they were undergoing:

Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing (James 1:2-4). 

Now this is an entirely different way to view trials. Most of the time, and for most of the world, our first and main reaction when we experience some kind of trial is to find a way out of it as quickly as possible. But instead of manufacturing our way out of them, James says we, like the early Christians, should consider these trials as joy. 

To consider trials as joy DOESN’T mean you have to be happy about them; in fact, it’s a good and right thing to grieve any kind of suffering that we encounter. We can be joyful and sad at the same time. Considering trials as joy DOES mean, however, that we look beyond the trial and see what God is doing in us. And what God is doing in us, through these trials, is testing our faith to produce endurance, and we must have that endurance to reach maturity in Christ. Now we could look all over creation and find all kinds of examples of how pressure, difficulty, and even pain produce something stronger. Consider a few examples:

When you break a bone, what eventually reforms and grows back is stronger than it was to begin with.The process of building muscle involves breaking down of tissue so new stronger tissue can grow in its place.Forest fires, though destructive, create open spaces for new growth and ultimately lead to a more resilient ecosystem.Gold is made more durable through the process of refining to remove impurities.

The list could go on, but you get the idea. Perseverance? Endurance? Strength? These qualities are not built with comfort and ease; they are forged through adversity and difficulty.

In that truth, there is an underlying theological reality that the Christian must embrace. It’s one that is counterintuitive and will require us to look beyond our circumstances. It will require us to walk by faith and not by sight; to choose to believe something beyond the painful circumstances and trials that we are enduring. That underlying reality is this:

When it comes to trials like these, God is not trying to harm you; He’s working to strengthen you.

We see a shade of this later in verses 13-18:

No one undergoing a trial should say, “I am being tempted by God,” since God is not tempted by evil, and he himself doesn’t tempt anyone. But each person is tempted when he is drawn away and enticed by his own evil desire. Then after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin, and when sin is fully grown, it gives birth to death. Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. By his own choice, he gave us birth by the word of truth so that we would be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. 

In these verses, James acknowledges that it is very possible to respond wrongly to trials, and the beginning of that wrong response is to attribute evil to God. It’s to do the opposite of what that theological principle states – to think that God IS trying to harm us somehow. That mindset doesn’t lead to perseverance, endurance, and maturity; it leads to sin. In fact, it always has.

If you remember the very first sin, we might think of it as a simple choice to just eat a piece of fruit that was forbidden. But the temptation wasn’t just about the fruit; it was about the character of God. The serpent planted the idea that God was holding out His best from His children. That He was, in terms of this passage, trying to harm them. So the very first sin was not just a choice to eat; it was a choice to believe wrong things about the character of God.

And since we are going down that road, you can trace all acts of sin back to a failure to trust and believe. We fail to trust that God is actually loving. That He is actually generous. And therefore His instructions for how we live are not based in doing us some kind of harm but for our good. We fail to believe those things and we act accordingly. 

But if, by God’s grace, we consider things differently; if we are able to get outside our circumstances and remember that God is not trying to harm us, well then we can start to consider trials not as a means of our destruction but to build us into something different than we are.

3 Reasons to Look for the “Drip” Instead of the “Splash” When It Comes to Discipleship

Imagine a leaky faucet. Regardless of how you hard you twist the knob, it still drips. One drop at a time. Incessantly – drip, drip, drip. The consistency becomes an annoyance pretty quickly. But put in the right environment and given enough time, that same dripping with that same consistency, can have an immense amount of power.

That’s how canyons are made. Not all at once, but through the power of consistency.

Dripping isn’t that exciting; cannonballs are. Dripping barely makes a ripple but a cannonball makes a splash. But what dripping lacks in flash it makes up for in effectiveness. The Bible recognizes this reality. Think about a few different New Testament exhortations:

But have nothing to do with pointless and silly myths. Rather, train yourself in godliness. For the training of the body has limited benefit, but godliness is beneficial in every way, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come (1 Tim. 4:7-8).Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified (1 Cor. 9:27).So then, just as you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to walk in him, being rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, and overflowing with gratitude (Col. 2:6-7).

Training. Discipling. Growing. These aren’t fast, splashy things. They take time and intentionality. That, in and of itself, is one of the difficult parts of discipleship. There will be many days when you won’t feel like reading the Bible. Or praying. Or memorizing Scripture or serving or doing any of the other practices of spiritual development. Consequently, we might be tempted to reframe or describe spiritual growth as some grand adventure completely free of drudgery. While it’s true that at times growing in Christ will feel like that, it’s also true that many times it won’t.

In the end, what we’ll find is the drip of consistency wins over the splash of excitement time and time again. And here are a few reasons why:

1. Consistency emphasizes faith over experience.

What makes someone get up and do the same thing day after day after day regardless of whether they feel like it or not? You could argue that it’s simply being a creature of habit, but you could also say that such action is driven forward by faith.

You do the same spiritual practices because you genuinely believe that the Bible is the Word of God. You truly believe God hears you when you pray. The alternative to this kind of consistency is a life driven by experience. If that’s the case, your spiritual development is like a yo-yo moving up and down with the flippancy of emotion.

2. Consistency causes roots to grow deep.

When you opt for consistency over excitement, you are developing the kind of practices that will carry you through the seasons of spiritual dryness all of us will encounter. In other words, your roots are growing deep.

When we integrate the same, repeated practices into our lives, day after day, we will find that when eventually we don’t feel anything; when we are suffering; when we simply can’t pray any more, that our roots will have extended well past the shallows.

3. Consistency works into other areas of life.

One of the side benefits of this kind of spiritual discipline is that it will work into other areas of life as well. You’ll find, I believe, that not only are you disciplined “spiritually;” but physically, emotionally and mentally. But then again, that’s why “spiritually” is in quotes because I seem to remember Jesus saying that we should love God not only spiritually but with every part of ourselves.

Time is a powerful ally. Drip, drip, drip. One drop at a time. And slowly, the landscape changes.

Let The First Verse of James Fuel Your Hope

James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ: To the twelve tribes dispersed abroad. Greetings.

When it comes to the question of authorship for the book of James, there are really only two options. It was either written by James the son of Zebedee and the brother of John or James the half-brother of Jesus. Acts 12:2 tells us that very early in the history of the church James the brother of John was executed by King Herod, which means that the James who is the author of James is James, the half-brother of Jesus.

Now consider that for a moment. We know that in the household of Mary and Joseph that Jesus was the first child that was born because Mary was a virgin and only betrothed to Joseph when Jesus was conceived. So James is the little brother of Jesus, along with several other siblings. Both Matthew and Mark list James first among Jesus’ siblings, implying he was the eldest of Jesus’ half brothers. Now it’s a pretty natural thing for siblings to have ups and downs in their relationships, but there comes a point when you get close to growing up when you stop start seeing your siblings as actual functional human beings. Even still, that human being who pays their taxes, has their children, works and earns money, and might even have a position of leadership over other people… is still your brother. Everyone else might see the mature, responsible, put-together and contributing member of society – but you know the kid who at his buggars.

That makes the word James uses to describe his brother all the more remarkable. He says in verse one: “James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ.” That is no small thing. To call Jesus “Lord” is to call Him master. It’s a title that emphasizes his sovereignty, power, and role as the head of the church. It also reflects Jesus’s equality with God the Father, highlighting his divinity. And it’s a term that would inevitably lead, in the New Testament, to a certain amount of criticism if not persecution.

In the days of James, there was a confession that linked the entire Roman world together. People of all stripes, of all different conquered areas, all came together under the confession that Caesar is Lord. When the Romans conquered a people, they would allow them to retain their regional identity. They could have their own customs, their own dietary habits, even their own religions as a way of keeping the peace in the empire. But they also had to, in the midst of all those things, recognize the supremacy of Rome. But the Christians would not. They served an even higher power. So instead of saying Caesar is Lord, they confessed Jesus is Lord. For the first Christians, this was not just a saying – it was deeply subversive. It was rebellious. And potentially deeply costly because they were declaring a higher loyalty.

James did not always feel this way. John 7:5 lets us know that Jesus’ brothers, during His ministry, did not believe in Him as the Messiah. Clearly, then, James had been on quite a transformational journey to go from not even believing His big brother’s claims about Himself to calling Him “Lord.” And here’s a little bit more of his story.

We’ve already said that James did not believe in Jesus as the Messiah, but the extremity of his doubt is expressed in Mark 3:21:

Jesus entered a house, and the crowd gathered again so that they were not even able to eat. When his family heard this, they set out to restrain him, because they said, “He’s out of his mind.”

But then something remarkable happened. Paul records for us in 1 Corinthians 15:7 that after His resurrection, Jesus appeared to James, and evidently it was a transformational experience. James became a key leader in the early church according to Galatians 2:9-12, and he eventually became the de facto leader of that church and presided over the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15.

His entire understanding of Jesus had been transformed, and that transformation is summed up for us here in his opening verse in that one word: Lord.

Now that ought to encourage us for one simple reason – God changes people. You’ve seen it in your own life, if you are a Christian, and you’ve seen it in the lives of others. You can see it here in James. Through faith, God changes people. Deeply. So if there is someone in your life that seems far from faith, that is antagonistic about Jesus, that you could never envision bowing the knee to anyone or anything – remember James, closest in age and familiar relation to Jesus who eventually came to know Him as Lord.

Where True Contentment Never Comes From

Most of life with a recurring case of the “if only’s.” These “if only’s” relate to any number of issues in our lives, but they all have the same result in our minds. Namely, that if we only had more (or less) of this or that, then the result will finally be our happiness. We would finally, if this or that were different, be content.

The list of “if only’s” change through different points in our lives. When we were kids, we thought that if we only had the right game system or pair of shoes we would be happy. Then, as a teenager, we thought that if we only had a different car or set of friends, then we would be happy. The “if only’s” have now evolved with us as we’ve grown:

If only I had more money…If only I had better behaved children…If only I were healthy…If only I had a different boss…

The list could go on, but if we were to summarize every item on the list, it would be something like this:

If only my circumstances were different, I would be content.

Paul has something to say about that statement in the book of Philippians. By way of background, we should remember that the apostle had a very close relationship with the Christians at Philippi. In fact, this church was one of the only churches from whom Paul accepted financial support for his missionary work. They were his friends, and in his letter to them, he referred to them as his co-workers and fellow laborers in ministry. They were concerned about Paul because he was in prison for preaching the gospel, and so they had expressed their concern to him. Paul was, of course, grateful for their support, but he wanted to make it clear that even though he was grateful to them, the source of his joy, satisfaction, and contentment was not circumstantial. Here’s what he wrote:

I rejoiced in the Lord greatly because once again you renewed your care for me. You were, in fact, concerned about me but lacked the opportunity to show it.I don’t say this out of need, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I find myself. I know how to make do with little, and I know how to make do with a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content—whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need. I am able to do all things through him who strengthens me.

Now Paul had all kinds of opportunities to think in terms of “if only’s”:

If only I were out of prison…If only I was closer to my friends…If only I could be a little more comfortable…

But instead of the “if only’s”, Paul claimed a sense of contentment. Put another way, Paul’s source of contentment wasn’t because of his circumstances but despite them. Indeed, he lists all kinds of circumstances that, if you’re living with the “if only’s”, would seem to make you discontent. But not Paul. He had been hungry and well fed. Well-resourced and poorly equipped. In prison and free.

The point Paul is making is that contentment—true contentment—doesn’t come from a change in circumstances. Instead, it is that rare jewel which the Puritan Jeremiah Burroughs described as “that sweet, inward, quiet, gracious frame of spirit, which freely submits to and delights in God’s wise and fatherly disposal in every condition.”

Contentment, then, does not come from some change in circumstance outside you; it comes from delighting in Christ who is inside you. When we live with the “if only’s”, we are expecting some change in circumstance to do what only Jesus truly can.

So today if you have that sense that if only something were different in your life, perhaps it’s time to consider you’re looking in the wrong place. Look to Christ within you and find that rare jewel that will never be discovered in your circumstances.

Jesus Doesn’t Make Exceptions

Depending on which translation of the book of Matthew you are reading, you will find the word “anyone” appearing in the teachings of Jesus approximately 40 times. The word “everyone” appears an additional 10 times. The word “whoever” shows up around 20 times.

What are we to make of that? At least this:

Jesus doesn’t make exceptions.

Isn’t that interesting? Perhaps especially because we tend to be people who like to think in terms of exceptions. We see that there is a line, but we think there must be a faster way for us. We look and see that there is a process in place, but we think that we can skip a couple of steps here and there. We find there is a checklist to be followed, but we think that we can start in the middle. In short, we are “yeah, but…” kind of people.

We see the rule, or the process, or the procedure, or the system and automatically look for the loophole. As in, “Yeah, this is generally how things work, but not for me.” But based on His extensive use of these all inclusive words, we see that Jesus doesn’t make exceptions.

On the one hand, that can be very troubling. For example:

“Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:19).

Or…

“But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you” (Matt. 5:37-42).

“ Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:37-39).

There are no loopholes here; no exceptions to be made. This is the word of the Lord for the young and old; the rich and the poor; the powerful and the meek. If we are looking for the “yeah, but” as it applies to us, then we should not look to Jesus, for He does not make exceptions.

That might indeed be troubling news for us if we are looking for some kind of opt out clause in following Jesus. But the inclusiveness of Jesus is far more good news than it is bad. Because inasmuch as His “anyone’s” and “whoever’s” apply in this manner, so also do we find them in statements like these:

“‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. So go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, the bad as well as the good, and the wedding hall was filled with guests” (Matt. 22:8-10).

We are those “anyone’s” as well – the ones who don’t deserve to be at the banquet. The dirty, the downtrodden, the ones at the end of our ropes. Oh yes, this is the glory of being “anyone,” that “anyone” who knows they should not be invited to that banquet is precisely the “anyone” the master desires to be there.

Here again, we see that Jesus doesn’t make exceptions. Thank goodness He doesn’t. And the end of it all is that neither your perceived personal righteousness nor your perverse personal sin is cause for an exception. You may think you are too good to need Jesus, but you are not an exception. And you may think you are too bad to be received by Jesus, and you are not an exception. Jesus plays by the same rules when it comes to each and every one of us. And those rules are these:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28-30).

On the Day When Everything Changes, Remember What Hasn’t

Your whole life can change in the blink of an eye. One phone call, one interaction, one decision (even if that decision is made by someone else) can change everything. You wake up and your world is one way, and then when you go to sleep, everything is different. That day – and specifically, that moment in the day – becomes a marker for you. There was the way things were before… and the way things were after.

That can be a troubling thought, can’t it? Especially since today very well could be the day when everything changes… you just don’t know. So how do you deal with this reality? How do you cope with knowing that every single day you are just one phone call, one interaction, or one decision from your life changing forever? Perhaps one way is by remembering…

On the day when everything changes, you can remember what hasn’t.

Once upon a time, I thought I had an iron stomach until I found myself on a small boat in the middle of a big ocean on a deep-sea fishing excursion. And though the trip out into the bay started out fine, it only took about an hour until I was chumming the fish over the side of the boat with everything in my guts. And then the seasoned fisherman who was with me told me to pick out a fixed point on the horizon – in this case, it happened to be an oil derrick, and fix my eyes there. Slowly, my stomach went right side up even in the middle of instability.

See, my seasickness wasn’t the result of a queasy stomach; it was the result of my equilibrium which is not a tummy issue, but an ear issue. You might say my true problem was actually between my ears.

Or to put it another way – when everything around me was in motion, I needed to fix my eyes on something that wasn’t.

When you embrace the reality that despite how much we try and protect ourselves we are still just a moment away from everything falling apart, we can start to lose our equilibrium very quickly. It can feel like everything is in motion around us and we find ourselves filled with the anxiety that comes from a lack of stability.

But there is also an equally powerful reality – no matter if that phone call comes today or not, there are some things that will never change:

The gospel is still true.Jesus is still Lord of heaven and earth.As His children, we are eternally safe.God has proven His love for us at the cross.

These things are true, and they are true no matter what else goes topsy-turvy. These are the things that never change even with everything else does. So how do you deal with the reality of uncertainty? With the possibility that today might be the day when everything changes?

You remember what doesn’t, and fix your eyes there:

Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame and has sat down at the right hand of God’s throne (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Christians Suffer From a Lack of Vision, but Not in the Way You Might Think

Adult bed bugs are reddish-brown and oval shaped. They grow to be around 4 millimeters in length and 1.5 millimeters wide. I suppose they might grow bigger if they’ve got plenty to eat. And most do.

They are parasitic insects—bloodsuckers to be specific—attracted by carbon dioxide and warmth. That’s why they like to stay near or in beds or couches. It’s because when some nice, succulent body climbs into bed, snuggles under the blankets, gets cozy, and starts breathing heavily, the bed bugs come out to do their business. They feed for about five minutes and then return to their hiding place. And no one is the wiser, at least until the itching starts.

Interestingly, bed bugs weren’t seen as much of an issue up until 1995. Perhaps it was due to standards of cleanliness or maybe because people before ’95 weren’t quite as warm or didn’t dispel as much carbon dioxide, but since then “bed bug awareness” has been on the rise. Strangely, though, hotels and other businesses were slow to acknowledge the pesky critters and take action.

After all, who wants to admit that they have bed bugs? It’s like saying your kid has lice. You don’t want to be “that hotel” any more than you want to be “that parent.”

Now, there are entire divisions of pest control companies dedicated to the eradication and prevention of bed bugs. Advisory Web sites for travelers let them know if bed bugs have been spotted in the vicinity. A national survey ranks the most bug-ridden cities. But for several years, there was little done about the issue.

Why not?

Because bedbugs are so small, and the small usually gets overlooked. When you walk into a hotel, you notice a few things immediately. For example, if you see a chalk outline on the floor of the lobby from a drug deal gone wrong the night before, or a rat making a mad dash across your feet to the hole in the wall, then chances are you’re moving to the Best Western down the street.

Bed bugs, on the other hand, are so small that we assume they’re not worth concerning ourselves with. It’s like we think that the small will just somehow go away; that’s how inconsequential it is. In our minds, we have more important stuff to focus on than issues of things like tiny little insects.

When it comes to the small, we Christians suffer from a paralyzing lack of vision.

The very word itself—vision—makes our minds gravitate toward grandiose pictures. We associate the word with national politics and Fortune 500 companies. We intrinsically link vision with big—so much so that we begin to relegate the “small” to the realm of insignificant and meaningless.

But just ask the hotel managers who have the unfortunate designation of appearing on bed bug watchdog sites whether “small” always means “insignificant.”

It certainly doesn’t where bed bugs are concerned. Nor does the small mean insignificant in the everyday ordinary areas of our regular lives. Because of our obsession with the big, though, most Christians walk around every day feeling absolutely meaningless.

I’m just a mom.

I’m just an accountant.

I’m just a truck driver.

I’m just a teacher.

I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to believe that the word “just” has no “justifiable” place in our vocabulary. That’s because there is no “just” in the body of Christ.

No one is “just” a Sunday school teacher. No one is “just” an offering taker. No one is “just” a bringer of meals to the sick. No one is “just” a deacon. There is no “just.” This is what Paul is getting at in 1 Corinthians 12 where he describes the essential nature of every church member. After employing his metaphor of the human body to describe the church, claiming that every part of the body is important and that no part of the body could or should look down on any other one, he concludes:

“…those parts of the body that are weaker are indispensable. And those parts of the body that we consider less honorable, we clothe these with greater honor, and our unrespectable parts are treated with greater respect, which our respectable parts do not need. Instead, God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the less honorable, so that there would be no division in the body, but that the members would have the same concern for each other” (1 Cor. 12:22-25).

In the same way that the human hand should not say, “I’m just a hand” or the human eye should not say, “I’m just an eye,” so there ought not to be any “justs” in the church.

As you serve this week, Christian, do so not from a posture of “just.” In an ironic way, pray for a larger vision. Pray for the kind of vision that embraces the small. Know that you are as essential in the body of Christ as anyone else.

And as you see others who model this same kind of quiet service, pause and consider for a moment that there is a great King who takes notice of His servant’s faithfulness. This King sees. And He will remember.

4 Actions to Guard Against Self-Sufficiency

Self-sufficiency is not necessarily a bad thing. There are loads of verses in Proverbs extolling the virtue of hard work and discipline. First Timothy 5 tells us that if someone doesn’t work hard and provide for his own family then he’s worse than an unbeliever. So self-sufficiency isn’t a bad thing. But it is a poor substitute for faith.

Surely this is one of the reasons Jesus told us that we should pray for our daily bread. Bread was the most basic element of the diet in Jesus’ day. To pray for it on a daily basis is to remind ourselves that we are radically dependent on God for all we have, and that’s an easy thing to forget. So how can we guard against that kind of self-sufficiency? The kind that replaces faith?

Mark 6 helps us know. Beginning in verse 30, we find the only story that is recorded in all four gospels – the feeding of the 5,000. The long and short of the story is this – the disciples return to Jesus after having been sent out on a mission trip of their own. They were, by all counts, successful – they taught, drove out demons, and performed miracles – and now they were returning to report back in.

But what they found was a tremendous crowd of people. Even when Jesus tried to withdraw from them to an isolated place, the crowd followed and stayed until late evening. This is when we see the miraculous multiplication of the five loaves and two fish to feed everyone on the hillside.

So what does this story teach us about battling self-sufficiency? That we should take the following four actions:

1. Tell yourself the truth.
In the text, Jesus brought the disciples to a point of desperation at which they had no other option than to acknowledge they were not sufficient, in and of themselves, to do what needed to be done. Remember, the disciples were returning from a very successful mission trip and were likely excited to share all the stories that came along with it. But despite their intellect, their experience, their past success, and what anyone had said to or about them along the way, insufficient. Admitting this to be true is the first step in not only fighting self-sufficiency but also seeing the sufficiency and provision of the Lord. But it’s remarkable how slow we are to actually tell ourselves that truth, isn’t it?

2. Fix your eyes on Jesus.
In the text, the disciples looked at themselves and their past accomplishments. Then they looked at the size of the crowd before them. Then they looked at the size of the task Jesus gave to them. It seems they looked everywhere… except at Jesus. Their focus was on everyone and everything except that which is worthy of our focus. If they had refocused their attention on Jesus, they would have had a different viewpoint.

If we have our focus on ourselves or our situation or our responsibilities then of course we will find ourselves overwhelmed and anxious. But if we fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, we will find one before us who is more than up to the challenge. We will find an object worthy of our gaze, and worthy of our faith.

3. Bring what you have.
Yes, we are insufficient. Yes, our resources are small. Yes, we are outmatched at every turn. Just as the disciples were. But they had something. They had the barley loaves – the food of the poorest of the poor as barley bread was the cheapest and coarsest of all bread. They had the fish, probably about the size of the sardines. No extravagance there. And yet in the hands of Jesus these meager resources were multiplied. Like them, we must bring our meager resources to Jesus and trust Him with the results.

4. We should remember.
Jesus blessed the offering. The miracle happened. Hordes of people ate their fill. And there were twelve basketfuls left over – perhaps one basket for each disciple as a souvenir. To help them remember for the next time they encountered their own insufficiency.

We, too, should not forget the great provision of God lest we are tempted to put our faith in our own sufficiency rather than Jesus. We remember so that we can do the same thing over and over again in every situation in which we are tempted to trust in ourselves. We do it so we can remember that Jesus was – and is – a better provider than we are.