I heard a pastor say something this week that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind:
“Some of us are running around staying busy in the church, doing work in the church, when we are not making time to spend with Jesus.”
That convicted me.
Because it is possible to be busy doing things for Jesus while neglecting time with Jesus.
Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t serve in our churches. We absolutely should. God has given each of us gifts to use for His Kingdom. But our service should flow out of our relationship with Jesus, not become a substitute for time with Him.
It made me think about Martha and Mary in Luke 10. Martha wasn’t doing something bad. She was serving Jesus! But she had become so distracted by everything that needed to be done that she was missing the opportunity to simply sit at His feet.
Jesus told her:
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is necessary.” — Luke 10:41–42 (CSB)
It is possible to serve, teach, volunteer, attend, study, listen, and say all the right things—and somewhere along the way, lose our passion for the One we are doing it all for.
Jesus even warned the church at Ephesus about this. He acknowledged their works, their labor, and their perseverance, but then He said:
“But I have this against you: You have abandoned the love you had at first.” — Revelation 2:4 (CSB)
They were working. They were persevering. They were doing things for the Kingdom.
But something was missing.
And if I’m being truthful, I have seen that in myself.
Sometimes I look around on Sunday morning and wonder if we have become too comfortable with simply going through the motions. We show up. We sit in the same places. We sing the songs. We listen to the sermon. We nod in agreement. We shake hands, speak to our friends, and go home.
Then Monday comes, and we return to our everyday lives.
But before this starts sounding like I’m pointing a finger at anyone else, I have to ask myself: Am I doing the same thing?
I study God’s Word. I listen to sermons. I teach. I pray. I believe what the Bible says. I love the Lord.
But sometimes, if I am not careful, even my relationship with Jesus can begin to feel routine.
And lately, one question has been stirring in my heart:
Where is my passion?
Not my knowledge.
Not my church attendance.
Not my service.
Not how many Christian things I can fit into my schedule.
Where is my passion for Jesus Christ?
And then another question follows:
Where is our passion as the Church?
Sometimes I wonder if we have become so concerned with doing church well that we forget why we are here.
We want everything polished. We want good programs. We want engaging events. We want people to see the good things happening in our churches.
And none of those things are necessarily wrong.
But they can never replace a genuine hunger for Christ.
We can have beautiful buildings, full calendars, talented musicians, exciting ministries, successful events, and impressive programs—and still desperately need more of Jesus.
What if instead of asking only, “How do we get people to come?” we also asked:
“How do we point people to Christ?”
What if our children and teenagers saw adults who weren't just attending church but were genuinely in love with Jesus?
Are we teaching the next generation that following Christ is more than showing up on Sunday?
Are we teaching them to pray when life falls apart?
Are we showing them how to open their Bibles when they don’t know what to do?
Are we teaching them how to share the Gospel?
Are we reminding them not to take for granted the privilege of gathering freely with other believers, opening the Word of God, worshiping together, and hearing Scripture preached?
Deuteronomy 6 tells us that God's Word should be on our hearts and that we are to teach it diligently to our children—not only in formal settings like at church, but as we sit at home, walk along the way, lie down, and rise up. In other words, our children shouldn't just hear us talk about Jesus at church. They should see us walking with Him in everyday life.
Because there may come a day when following Jesus costs future generations far more than it costs many of us today.
Jesus is coming.
Do we live like we believe that?
Jesus said:
“Therefore be alert, since you don’t know what day your Lord is coming.” — Matthew 24:42 (CSB)
Please listen and hear my heart on this as well. I am incredibly thankful for foreign missions.
I am thankful for every person who gets on an airplane, travels across the world, and tells someone about Jesus. We should support them, pray for them, celebrate what God is doing through them, and seek the Lord about going ourselves.
But lately I have been thinking:
What about the people in our own communities?
Let's take it a step closer.
What about the person sitting in the sanctuary every Sunday morning whom we assume knows Christ simply because they are in church?
What about your best friend?
Do you know if they know Jesus?
And if they do, what does your friendship look like?
Do you pray together when life gets hard?
Do you talk about the struggles with your children, your marriage, your health, your finances, and your faith—and then jump in the trenches with that person and start praying? Or do we just say, “I’ll be praying for you,” and move on?
Scripture tells us:
“Carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2 (CSB)
What about your spouse?
Do they know Christ? Do they have a relationship with Him? Are you doing battle in prayer together when life gets hard?
Can you tell your friend or your spouse, “I’m struggling to trust God right now. Will you pray with me?”
James tells us to “pray for one another.” — James 5:16 (CSB)
And do we share with one another what God has done?
Not just the enormous, miraculous things.
The little things, too.
Because sometimes the little things are where we see His faithfulness most clearly.
Psalm 105:1 says:
“Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; proclaim his deeds among the peoples.” — Psalm 105:1 (CSB)
Proclaim His deeds.
Tell people what God has done.
Recently, I was more than two hours from home when I discovered I had a flat tire.
I pulled into a gas station hoping I could put enough air in it to get somewhere for help. I paid for the air machine.
It didn't work.
There I was, far from home, with a flat tire, and the only thing I could manage to say was:
“Please, God.”
And almost immediately, a gentleman walked up to me and asked,
“Do you need some help?”
And get this—he just happened to have an air compressor on his truck.
He filled my tire with air to get me up the road to Walmart.
And as frustrating as the situation was, I realized something.
God had allowed me to discover that tire problem right there at that gas station.
Not on that lonely stretch of highway somewhere between Starkville, Mississippi and my house. IYKYK!
Not somewhere with nothing around me.
Right there.
Where someone with an air compressor pulled up at exactly the right time who I found out who was also a ways from home.
Then I got to Walmart, and I started praying again.
“Lord, please let this just be a hole they can plug.”
Because God knew my situation and the things that had been piled on my plate.
He knew I had just spent money on my kids for activity fees and expenses.
He knew I had just paid my mortgage.
He knew I needed groceries.
He knew I had a big hospital bill that needed to be paid.
He knew I had already had a bunch of unexpected expenses and did not need another one.
Then the repairman came back.
“Ma’am, you need a new tire.”
My heart sank.
But then he told me something else.
The tire was under warranty.
I only had to pay for the labor.
Now, you may read this and think, "It was just a tire."
And maybe it was.
But I saw the goodness of God.
A man with an air compressor at the right place.
A Walmart close enough for me to reach.
A tire still under warranty.
A safe place instead of the side of a highway.
That is the goodness of God.
He is faithful in the big things.
And He is faithful in the little things.
Sometimes we are looking so hard for the Red Sea that we miss the guy with the air compressor.
Maybe you don't have a “Red Sea” story. Maybe you don't have a testimony that sounds miraculous when you tell it. Tell it anyway.
Tell about the prayer God answered that nobody else knew you were praying.
Tell about the provision that came when you weren't sure how you were going to make it.
Tell about the person who showed up at exactly the right time.
Tell about the door God opened—or the one you can now thank Him for closing.
And yes, tell about the guy who happened to have an air compressor in the back of his truck when you were standing at a gas station in Starkville, Mississippi more than two hours from home whispering, “Please, God.”
Because God's goodness doesn't have to look like the Red Sea parting for it to still be God's goodness.
Maybe if we started paying attention to His faithfulness in the ordinary moments, we would realize we have a lot more stories to tell than we thought.
Tell people those stories.
Tell your kids those stories.
Tell your friends those stories.
Tell the person sitting beside you at church.
Tell somebody how good God has been to you.
Psalm 107:2 says it simply:
“Let the redeemed of the LORD proclaim that he has redeemed them from the power of the foe.” — Psalm 107:2 (CSB)
So say it.
Tell somebody.
You may say, “Well, I’m just not qualified.”
This is where God has been dealing with me personally.
I have always been insecure about telling others about Jesus because somewhere inside me is this voice saying:
Who are you to do this?
You don't know enough.
You're not educated enough.
You're not qualified.
I have what—a high school diploma and a smile?
Some days I joke that I'm not even sure I deserved that diploma. That's a story for another time.
But I am beginning to understand something:
God isn't asking me to impress people. He is asking me to be available to Him.
I think about Moses.
When God called him, Moses basically started giving God a list of reasons why he wasn't the man for the job. One of his objections was that he wasn't a good speaker.
God answered him:
“Who placed a mouth on humans? Who makes a person mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go! I will help you speak and I will teach you what to say.” — Exodus 4:11–12 (CSB)
I need that reminder.
God knows exactly who He called when He called me, and He knows exactly who He called when He called you.
Our limitations aren't news to Him.
If we belong to Christ, God has given us gifts that can be used for His Kingdom.
Maybe you can teach.
Maybe you can write.
Maybe you can sing.
Maybe you can cook.
Maybe you are the person who notices when someone is hurting.
Maybe you have the gift of encouragement.
Maybe you are a prayer warrior.
Maybe you can sit across the table from a struggling friend with a cup of coffee and say, “Let me pray with you.”
Peter wrote:
“Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God.” — 1 Peter 4:10 (CSB)
Whatever God has placed in your hands, give it back to Him.
Ask Him to show you how to use it.
Ask Him to multiply it for His glory.
We don't have to wait until we feel qualified.
We don't have to wait until we know every answer.
We don't have to have a seminary degree to tell somebody: “Let me tell you what Jesus has done for me.”
After Jesus healed the man who had been possessed by demons, He told him:
“Go home to your own people, and report to them how much the Lord has done for you and how he has had mercy on you.” — Mark 5:19 (CSB)
Maybe that's where some of us need to start.
Not with a sermon.
Not with all the answers.
Just:
“Let me tell you what the Lord has done for me.”
I believe the more we tell others about the Lord and His goodness, the more we remind ourselves of just how good He really is. And maybe in telling those stories, we find ourselves drawing closer to Him too.
I don't want to just go to church.
I don't want to just listen to sermons.
I don't want to just study my Bible so I can say I studied it.
I don't want to serve Jesus while becoming too busy to sit at His feet.
I don't want a polished Christian life that looks good from the outside but has lost its hunger for Christ.
I want Jesus.
I want to know Him more.
I want to recognize His goodness.
I want to tell people what He has done.
I want my kids to see a faith that is alive—not perfect, but real.
And I want to stop being so hesitant to ask God to use me.
So this has become my prayer:
Lord, use me.
I don't feel qualified, but use me.
I don't always know what to say, but give me the words.
Give me wisdom.
Give me courage.
Show me the gifts You have placed in my hands and teach me how to use them for Your Kingdom.
Break me out of comfortable Christianity.
Don't let me become satisfied with simply going through the motions.
Give me a hunger for Your Word.
Give me a burden for people who don't know You.
Give me the courage to tell someone what You have done for me.
And when I start getting distracted by all the things I am doing for You, remind me that none of those things can replace just being with You.
Like David prayed:
“God, create a clean heart for me and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10 (CSB)
Give us all our passion back, Lord.
And may it begin with me.
Amen.