Vacations are supposed to be about rest and fun, but they have a funny way of teaching you life lessons, too. On my recent getaway, God reminded me of a few things, some lighthearted and some challenging, that I think are worth sharing.
1. There’s always someone less fit than you, so stop hiding from the sun. It’s easy to get self-conscious at the pool or the beach. But here’s the truth: there’s always going to be someone in worse shape than you and someone in better shape than you. The key? Don’t let insecurity steal your joy. Be grateful for the body God’s given you, flaws and all. Try to just enjoy the moment. Psalm 139:14 reminds us, “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” That truth doesn’t take a vacation.
2. Be content, but never complacent. I noticed something while on vacation: there are always people who can do more than you…and people who can do less. That’s life. Instead of comparing yourself, focus on growing. Be content with where God has you, but also push yourself to be stronger, wiser, and more faithful than you were yesterday. Philippians 4:11 says, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content,” but contentment doesn’t mean laziness. It means gratitude in motion.
3. Memories last longer than money. This one is hard for me. I tend to want to be wise and careful with money (and we should be by the way), but God reminded me that while money comes and goes, memories are what we carry to the grave. The laughter over a shared meal, the sunset you watched with someone you love, the silly inside jokes – those are treasures no bank account can hold. Jesus even said in Matthew 6:20, “Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.” Sometimes those treasures are the moments we make with the people we love.
Vacations end, the tan fades, the suitcase gets unpacked…but the lessons stick with you. And maybe, just maybe, the best souvenirs aren’t things you buy. They’re truths you carry home in your heart.
Most Christians don’t struggle with saying Jesus is Lord.
We just struggle with living like He is.
Sure, we trust Him with our eternity. We trust Him with our sins. But when it comes to the everyday stuff like the calendar, the bank account, the retirement plan suddenly the throne of our lives gets very crowded.
Let’s be honest: biblical generosity isn’t usually where discipleship begins. It’s where it culminates.
Giving is often the last stronghold we surrender in our walk with Jesus. Why? Because generosity isn’t just about money. It’s about control. It’s about security. It’s about faith.
That’s why Jesus talked about it so much. Not because He needed our stuff, but because our stuff has a way of replacing Him as our Savior.
Entrusting Jesus with Your T.E.R.M.
True discipleship means giving Jesus full authority over our T.E.R.M. That stands for our Time, Energy, Relationships, and Material resources. Until we do, we’re still holding back. We’re still hedging our bets. We’re still following Him… with conditions.
Let’s break it down:
Time
You can tell a lot about someone’s priorities by looking at their calendar. Does Jesus get the leftovers, or the firstfruits?
Do we have margin in our schedule for worship, prayer, service, or is our time budget already maxed out with soccer practices, Netflix, and overtime hours?
Paul says:
“Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.” (Ephesians 5:15–16, ESV)
If Jesus is Lord of our life, He must also be Lord of our time.
Energy
We all wake up with a certain amount of gas in the tank. And if we’re honest, most of us use it all on ourselves.
But discipleship means pouring out your energy not just on making a living, but on making disciples with your kids, your friends, your neighbors, your church.
“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9, ESV)
Where you invest your energy shows who you believe is worthy of it.
Relationships
Who gets your best? To whom do you open your heart? Who do you serve without expecting anything in return?
Biblical generosity includes the giving of yourself to people who can’t pay you back. That’s grace. That’s the whole point of the Gospel.
And that’s exactly what Jesus did.
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13, ESV)
Our relationships reflect our theology. Do we live like people are eternal, or are we too busy managing our circle for convenience?
Material Resources
Here’s where the rubber meets the road. Giving our stuff. This is where we talk about giving sacrificially, regularly, cheerfully. And it’s often the most tangible evidence of spiritual maturity.
Yet, it’s the part most Christians dodge, delay, or delegate.
“No one can serve two masters… You cannot serve God and money.” (Matthew 6:24, ESV)
Ouch. That one hits hard. Because most of us have tried. We keep both masters in the room and try to play the spiritual field.
But the truth is, you can’t follow Jesus with one hand on your wallet and one foot in the world.
Why Generosity Is the Final Stage
When we finally entrust Jesus with our T.E.R.M., we stop compartmentalizing our faith. It’s no longer “Jesus on Sunday and me the rest of the week.” It’s not “Jesus gets my heart, but I’ll keep my bank account, my calendar, and my comfort zones.”
It’s full surrender.
Because the goal of discipleship isn’t learning more about Jesus. It’s becoming more like Him.
And He didn’t give sporadically, spontaneously, or sparingly.
He gave everything.
“Though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” (2 Corinthians 8:9, ESV)
That’s not just good theology. That’s the blueprint.
Time to Take Inventory
So here’s the challenge: take a T.E.R.M. inventory.
Are you giving God your time or just squeezing Him in when it’s convenient?
Are you spending your energy on eternal things or are you running on fumes chasing temporary ones?
Are your relationships a reflection of Jesus or are they curated for your comfort?
Are your finances surrendered or are they still “off-limits” in your spiritual life?
Until we surrender all four, our discipleship is still unfinished.
But the moment we entrust Jesus with our T.E.R.M. that’s the moment we stop calling the shots, and start living like He’s truly Lord.
Sometimes it feels like kale. We know it’s good for us, but we’re not exactly craving it.
And yet, generosity is central to what it means to follow Jesus.
The problem? Most American Christians give like they eat kale, occasionally, reluctantly, and only when someone guilts them into it. That’s what I’ve heard called 3S giving: sporadic, spontaneous, and sparing.
The 3S Giving Problem
The numbers don’t lie. According to a 2022 State of the Plate report:
Only 5% of American churchgoers give 10% or more of their income.
50% of people who attend church give $0 in a year.
The average American Christian gives about 2.5% of their income.
And giving as a percentage of income was actually higher during the Great Depression than it is today.
We’re not talking about people in dire poverty here. We’re talking about suburban believers with gym memberships, Amazon Prime, Netflix, the latest iPhone and a side hustle to pay for their dog’s grain-free diet.
Giving isn’t broken because we’re broke. Giving is broken because our hearts are.
Jesus was clear:
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21, ESV)
He’s saying the way we give reflects what we treasure.
Enter the Rich Young Ruler
Remember that guy in Mark 10? This rich young ruler comes to Jesus, eager to inherit eternal life. Jesus lists off a few commandments. The man checks all the boxes. He’s nailed it. But then Jesus drops the mic:
“You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21, ESV)
And what does the man do?
“Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.” (Mark 10:22, ESV)
He walked away!. Not because he didn’t love God, but because his stuff had a stronger grip on him than Jesus did.
Let’s not judge him too quickly. He’s us. He’s the modern Christian who tips God with a leftover $20 once in a while but wouldn’t dare rearrange their lifestyle to become truly generous.
There’s a Better Way: The 3P Giving Framework
If 3S giving is sporadic, spontaneous, and sparing, we need a shift. Let’s talk about 3P giving instead. This giving is:
Priority-Based Give first. Before the bills, before the extras. It’s not about what’s left at the end of the month. It’s about putting God first.“Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the firstfruits of all your produce.” (Proverbs 3:9, ESV)
Percentage-Based Choose a percentage of your income and commit to it. Start somewhere, anywhere! Maybe 5%, 10%, maybe even more. Percentage giving grows us in faith and reminds us that all we have is God’s anyway.
Progressive As God blesses you, grow in generosity. The goal isn’t to check a box and stay there forever. It’s to stretch, to trust, and to keep growing. Could you imagine doing a reverse tithe? That’s living on 10% while giving away 90%! It can be done if we try hard enough.
Imagine if every Christian embraced 3P giving. Churches would have all the resources needed to expand ministry. Missionaries could be sent. Families in crisis could be helped. Needs in the community could be met with abundance instead of scarcity.
Let’s Laugh (and Then Get Serious)
Sure, giving hurts sometimes. You might hear your bank account groan a little. You might have to delay that 17th streaming service or put off the latest gadget. But you’re trading temporary comforts for eternal impact.
Generosity isn’t just a money thing. It’s a heart thing. It’s about becoming people who trust God more than stuff, who treasure heaven more than Amazon, and who know that we’ve been given everything in Christ, so we live open-handedly in response.
“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” (2 Corinthians 9:7, ESV)
So here’s the challenge: Audit your giving. Be honest. Are you living in the 3S world and giving sporadically, spontaneously, and sparingly? Or are you stepping toward 3P generosity that gives with priority, by percentage, and in a progressive way?
Let’s not be the rich young ruler who walks away. Let’s be the ones who follow and give with joy.
While at the gathering we’ve been treated to original poems by Tanner Olson. Here’s my crack at a written to speak style poem summarizing last night’s event. Remember it’s written to speak which means you kind of need to read it aloud to get the rhythm to it.
I didn’t earn this place. Didn’t climb enough ladders or check the right boxes. Didn’t bring a spotless résumé or a perfect past, just a mess of mistakes and a hunger that wouldn’t quit.
But the table was set. Candles flickered with welcome. Chairs pulled out like open arms. And there, at the head was Jesus. Not a scowling judge, but a smiling Host, nails in His hands, grace in His eyes.
He didn’t ask what I brought. Didn’t weigh my worth on scales of effort or achievement. He just said, “Come. Sit. Eat. You belong here, not because of you, but because of Me.”
See, this table isn’t for the perfect. It’s for the hungry. The weary. The wanderers and wrecked. It’s not about merit, it’s about mercy. Not performance, but promise.
The Host broke the bread, His body. Poured the wine, His blood. And every bite, every sip, tastes like grace so rich it ruins every lie that said I wasn’t enough.
So here I sit, shoulder to shoulder with saints and sinners, all the same in His eyes not because we climbed our way in, but because He came down and opened the door.
We get a seat at the table not because we’re worthy, but because He is. And He says, “This chair has your name on it.” That’s grace. And it’s dinner time.
We spend years in the trenches of parenting between car seats and curfews, timeouts and tantrums, grades and guidance. For two decades (give or take), we pour everything we have into shaping, steering, and correcting. We raise them to grow up, to think for themselves, to stand on their own two feet. But here’s the reality: when they start doing exactly that, it can break your heart a little.
Because no one tells you what to do after the parenting stage shifts.
There’s a line no one draws for you, no neon sign that says: “Congratulations! You’ve officially moved from being the parent to a parent.” It’s subtle, but seismic. And if we’re not careful, we can sabotage the very adulthood we spent years cultivating.
Here’s the real challenge – distinguishing between parenting and being a parent.
Parenting is directional. Being a parent is relational.
When they’re young, your job is to correct, direct, and protect. You say no a thousand times just to keep them safe. You enforce rules because you love them more than their temporary happiness. You carry the weight of their future in your daily decisions.
But that job changes. And if we don’t let it change, we risk doing damage in the name of love.
When your child is 25 and you’re still trying to parent them like they’re 15, you’re not helping anymore. You’re controlling. You’re inserting yourself where you were never meant to stay.
That doesn’t mean you stop being a parent. It just means your role changes.
We move from “command” to “counsel.” From “authority” to “ally.”
And if we’re being real, this transition is terrifying. Because your adult child is going to make choices you wouldn’t. They’ll vote differently. Discipline differently. Date or marry someone you’re unsure about. They might even walk away from the faith you modeled.
And in that moment, you’ll feel the urge to step back into the parenting driver’s seat again. To say, “Not under my roof!” But it’s not your roof anymore. They have their own roof and if you want to be invited in, you’d better learn how to knock.
This is the fine line so many parents struggle with: how do you go from rule-enforcer to relationship-builder? How do you become a trusted voice without being a controlling presence?
Your relationship with your adult kids will never be stronger than your ability to respect their autonomy.
They don’t need your approval anymore. They need your availability. They need to know they can come to you, not that you’ll chase them down with unsolicited advice. They need space to fail, to fall, to figure it out, and to know you’ll be there, arms open, not arms crossed.
This doesn’t mean you never speak truth. But it means you speak it less like a judge and more like a friend. You earned the right to parent them. Now you must earn the right to influence them as adults.
Jesus modeled this kind of relationship. He told His disciples the truth, but He also called them friends (John 15:15). He empowered them. Released them. Trusted them. And He walked with them even when they didn’t get it all right.
Let’s raise our kids to be adults. Then let’s actually let them be adults.
You’ll grieve the old days, and that’s okay. But don’t miss the beauty of what’s ahead. You’re no longer raising them but you can still walk beside them. Encourage them. Celebrate them. Learn from them.
Because while parenting ends, being a parent never does. It just grows up with them.
Drive through almost any county in America and you’ll spot them: gorgeous brick steeples hovering over empty parking lots, sanctuaries built for 300 now echoing with twenty voices and a stubborn furnace that costs more than the weekly offering. We’ve become better caretakers of drywall than of disciples. And the numbers back it up. Lifeway Research found 4,500 Protestant churches closed in 2019 while barely 3,000 opened, and the bleeding hasn’t stopped—Southern Baptists alone lost another 1,253 congregations in 2022.
Here’s the insane part: many of those congregations can’t even afford a full-time pastor. They hire pulpit supply by the Sunday, stash dwindling savings in a cemetery fund, and pray for a miracle while the boiler gulps their missions budget. Meanwhile church planters are meeting in school cafeterias, storefronts, and living rooms begging God for a permanent space and a little seed money. Kingdom opportunity is literally pad-locked behind stained-glass windows.
Jesus never called us to protect square footage. He said, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21, ESV). When the asset owns the disciples, the heart has migrated from the kingdom to the ledger.
The Denominational Elephant in the Room
Let’s talk about headquarters. Denominational offices boast endowments that could plant a hundred churches tomorrow, but too many operate like spiritual insurance companies—hoarding premiums, paying out pennies. When has it been acceptable for a church group to sit on millions of dollars while churches close and no new ones are open? The state wide church tradition to which I belong is sitting on over 4 MILLION DOLLARS and we haven’t planted a church in over 10 years and have closed at least 4 that I know of.
We’re willing to fund committees to study decline while the children next door never hear the gospel. If the metrics in heaven track baptisms, why do the budgets on earth track square footage?
Imagine divesting 10 % of those frozen assets each year for a decade. Local plants could purchase used sanctuaries for pennies on the dollar, immigrant congregations could inherit facilities designed for worship instead of taking third-hand warehouse leases, and digital-first discipleship platforms could reach teenagers who will never set foot in a 1960s fellowship hall. That’s not charity; that’s stewardship.
A Different Kind of Legacy
If your church owns more pews than people, your greatest ministry might be letting somebody else inherit the pews. Hold a celebration service, sign the deed over to a gospel-centered planter, and watch resurrection outrun resuscitation. Legacy isn’t granite nameplates; it’s new believers who will never know your name but will praise your God because you handed them the keys.
Denominational leaders: close the loopholes that let dying congregations hoard property until the last member’s funeral. Create a fast-track for transferring assets to mission-driven plants. Sell what can’t be handed off and funnel every nickel into training disciple-makers, funding campus launches, and building online platforms that meet Gen Z where they already live—on their phones. And for goodness sake, establish and implement a church planting strategy that brings the gospel to more people!
Local churches: start the conversation now, before the roof caves in. Ask, “If we dissolved tomorrow, how could this building bless the kingdom?” Put that answer in your bylaws and—better yet—in a signed agreement with a planter you trust.
Because when Jesus returns, He isn’t coming back for heritage committees or capital campaigns. He’s coming for people. Let’s make sure our treasure sits in lives transformed, not in limestone slowly eroding behind a For Sale sign.
Stop propping up the corpse. Transfer the assets. Plant something that can actually grow. The kingdom is advancing—with or without that building. Decide which side of the locked door you want to stand on.
I think it’s safe to say. The modern American church is addicted to safety.
We’ve built sanctuaries that feel more like coffee shops than spiritual battlegrounds. We’ve traded sermons that pierce the soul for talks that soothe the ego. We’ve made small groups “low commitment,” worship “non-offensive,” and mission trips “Instagrammable.” Somewhere along the way, we stopped following Jesus—and started selling a sanitized version of Him that fits nicely into a 70-minute service with great parking.
But here’s the problem: Jesus was never safe.
He touched lepers. He flipped tables. He confronted religious leaders to their faces. He loved the wrong people, said the wrong things, and died the most scandalous death imaginable. And then He had the nerve to look us in the eyes and say:
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23, ESV)
The cross is not a metaphor for a mild inconvenience. It’s a symbol of execution. So why are we so desperate to make Christianity comfortable?
Safety Has Become Our Idol
We don’t say it out loud, but it’s everywhere: safety first. Don’t offend. Don’t challenge. Don’t talk about sin, sacrifice, repentance, or surrender. Keep it light. Keep it nice. Keep it moving.
But here’s the truth: a gospel that never confronts won’t ever transform.
We’re raising generations of Christians who think following Jesus means showing up to church when it’s convenient, tossing $20 in the plate, and maybe posting a Bible verse on Instagram. Meanwhile, people are starving for something real, something dangerous, something that calls them out of mediocrity and into mission.
We have all the right branding. We have polished worship sets and clever sermon series. But Jesus didn’t die to make us marketable. He died to make us holy.
Discipleship Is Dangerous
The early church was anything but safe. Read Acts. Those Christians were bold, reckless, filled with the Holy Spirit, and completely unconcerned with cultural approval. They faced prison, persecution, and death—and they rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer for Jesus.
Now we can’t even handle a negative comment on social media. Now we get all bent when someone challenges us. Now if someone disagrees with us they get canceled and forgotten.
We’re not called to blend in. We’re called to stand out. We’re not called to be liked. We’re called to be faithful. And sometimes, being faithful means taking real risks—sacrificing time, money, comfort, and popularity to love radically, serve sacrificially, and speak boldly.
Jesus didn’t play it safe. So why do we?
It’s Time to Be Dangerous Again
We need churches that stop measuring success by attendance and start measuring it by obedience. We need pastors who preach truth even when it stings. We need communities where it’s okay to get uncomfortable—where confession, accountability, and repentance are normal. We need Christians who are more concerned with holiness than hashtags.
“So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:16, ESV)
Jesus didn’t come to build lukewarm institutions. He came to light a fire. And maybe it’s time we let Him burn down our addiction to comfort so He can rebuild us into something powerful.
Let’s be honest: most of our prayers are weak. They’re soft. Safe. Domestic.
“Help me have a good day.” “Please heal Aunt Carol’s bunion.” “Let the traffic be light.”
We toss these up like God is our cosmic butler, here to make life smooth, not holy. And when Paul drops to his knees in Ephesians 3:14-21, he blows that kind of praying to pieces.
“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father… that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being…” (Ephesians 3:14,16 ESV)
Did you catch that? Paul isn’t praying for a good day filled with sunshine. He’s begging God to dig into the deepest parts of your soul and rebuild you from the inside out. That’s not a Hallmark holiday wish. That’s spiritual surgery.
From Pathetic to Powerful
When Paul prays, he’s not tossing up spiritual fluff. He’s down on his knees, pleading for real transformation. Not circumstantial tweaks, but a soul overhaul. He’s praying for a strength that doesn’t come from inside, but from the riches of God’s glory.
That’s not pathetic. That’s powerful.
And it raises a question: Why are we so content to pray small when God offers so much more?
Paul’s prayer gets right to the core:
That you would be strengthened with power.
That Christ may dwell in your hearts.
That you’d be rooted and grounded in love.
That you’d comprehend the height, depth, length, and breadth of God’s love.
That you’d be filled with all the fullness of God.
Let’s not miss it. Paul is praying for interior transformation that leads to explosive faith and love. He’s asking that believers wouldn’t just know about Jesus, but that Jesus would dwell, that means make his home, in their hearts. Not as a weekend guest, but as the owner of the house.
More Than Surface Fixes
Most of us pray like we’re asking for God to wash the windows. Paul prays like God is tearing out walls and rebuilding the foundation.
We say: “Help me not be stressed.” Paul prays: “Lord, fill them with Your Spirit so they stand strong no matter what hits them.”
We pray: “Fix this annoying person in my life.” Paul prays: “Root them in love so deep that even enemies feel like neighbors.”
This is not about better behavior. This is about spiritual transformation.
What Are You Settling For?
Paul closes the prayer with one of the most powerful doxologies in the Bible:
“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…” (Ephesians 3:20 ESV)
You know what that means? Even your wildest prayer is still undershooting what God is capable of. We pray weak because we think weak. We ask small because we dream small. And God says, “I can do more. Infinitely more.”
It’s not about getting everything you want. It’s about becoming everything He created you to be.
So Here’s the Challenge
Stop praying like God’s only job is to keep you comfortable. Stop praying like the deepest work God can do is make sure your Amazon package arrives on time.
Start praying like Paul:
On your knees.
Asking for power.
Expecting inner transformation.
Begging to know a love that surpasses knowledge.
Craving the fullness of God, not the convenience of life.
Because the Spirit of God didn’t come to make you nice. He came to make you new.
So next time you pray, skip the traffic updates. Get real. Get honest. Get deep. And pray with power. Then the traffic updates, grandma’s broken toe and your disobedient kiddo will take up different head space.
Not the highlight reel kind of Monday. Not the coffee-cup quote, “new week, new goals” kind. No, the real kind.
The one where your alarm drags you out of bed. The one where your inbox is overflowing before you even brush your teeth. The one where you feel more like a cog in the machine than a person with purpose.
Yeah. That Monday.
Most of us don’t associate mission with that kind of day. We assume “real ministry” happens somewhere else, somewhere like on Sunday mornings or during church trips or when we finally get out of this 9–5 grind and can do something that really matters.
But what if Monday matters more than we think?
What if God’s not waiting for you to escape your routine so He can use you? What if He’s already using you right where you are?
Jesus didn’t say, “Go into all the world… once you’ve landed your dream job.” He said:
“As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” (John 20:21)
That includes boardrooms, break rooms, school pickup lines, job sites, spreadsheets, classrooms, and yeah even chaotic Zoom meetings where your mic won’t unmute.
If you’re “out there,” you’re already in mission territory.
You’re not just a nurse. You’re a healer who brings compassion where it’s in short supply.
You’re not just a teacher. You’re forming lives with grace and patience in a culture desperate for both.
You’re not just working retail. You’re offering dignity and kindness in a world that often ignores both.
You’re not just a parent holding it together. You’re raising humans who are watching what it looks like to live with purpose.
Ordinary places are holy ground when you show up with Jesus.
That means when you offer to pray for a co-worker, that’s mission.
When you speak peace into gossip and chaos, that’s mission.
When you listen instead of scrolling, help instead of ignoring, show grace instead of snapping, that’s mission.
Even when nobody notices. Especially when nobody notices. That’s mission.
This isn’t about trying harder. It’s about seeing clearer.
God doesn’t need you to change jobs to be useful. He needs you to recognize that where you already are… matters.
Because He’s already at work there. And He’s inviting you to join Him in that work.
So next Monday, don’t just survive. Step into your office, your school, your home like it’s a mission field. Because it is.
And you’ve been sent there for a purpose.
Next Up: Part Four – “You’re Probably Already Doing It.”
We’ll talk about how some of the most powerful acts of faith look nothing like what you expected, and why that’s actually great news.
Let’s be honest, when we hear someone say, “You’re called to make a difference,” we often think of big, flashy things: feeding the hungry, starting nonprofits, flying overseas, preaching in packed stadiums.
But you know where it really starts?
Right outside your front door.
Literally.
The people who live 30 feet from your kitchen. The ones you wave at when you’re hauling the trash cans to the curb. The ones whose names you sort of know, but mostly refer to by vague identifiers like “the guy with the loud truck” or “the lady with the tiny dog.”
We walk past people every day who are lonely, hurting, overwhelmed, and we don’t even know it. Not because we don’t care. But because we’re busy, distracted, or honestly just unsure where to start.
Here’s where Jesus messes with our excuses.
When asked what the most important commandment was, He said:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart… and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27)
Seems straightforward. Until someone asks the same question we’re all still asking: “But who counts as my neighbor?”
Jesus didn’t give a clear street address. Instead, He told a story, one where the “neighbor” was the person right in front of you. The one most people overlook. The one you might normally avoid.
Which means: Your neighbor is whoever’s near.
Not just the people you like. Not just the ones who look like you, think like you, vote like you, or believe like you. Whoever’s close is who God’s called you to love.
And if we’re being really honest… loving strangers feels awkward. Loving neighbors can feel even harder. There’s history. There’s tension. There’s fences, both literal and emotional.
But what if mission isn’t always about crossing oceans? What if it’s about crossing the street?
What if your greatest act of obedience this week is a conversation in your driveway?
That doesn’t sound like much. But it matters. A lot.
Because presence is powerful. Because consistent kindness breaks down walls. Because behind every closed garage door is a human being who wonders if anyone actually sees them.
So here’s your challenge this week:
Learn one name you don’t know.
Linger just one minute longer in the driveway, on the sidewalk, or at the mailbox.
Ask one real question and actually care about the answer.
This is how neighborhoods become communities. This is how strangers become friends. And yes — this is how Jesus works through ordinary people to do extraordinary things.
No Bible degree required. No perfect personality needed. Just availability and a little intentionality.
You don’t have to fix your neighbors. Just love them.
You don’t have to force conversations about faith. Just live it, and when the time is right — share it.
You don’t have to be weird. Just be real.
Next up: Part Three – “Bringing Meaning to Monday.”
Because if mission isn’t just for missionaries… maybe Monday morning matters more than you think.
