Is hard work these days. Maybe it’s always been hard work, but I can’t help but believe that our hyper-connected, image-obsessed culture has raised the game mode from normal to brutal.

There is always someone—or a crowd of someones—eager to make you in their image. To force you into a mold of their design. They have strong opinions about who you are, about who you could be. They’re here to help you become the next big thing. And it may actually sound quite enticing. But if it sounds too good to be true, it’s because it is. If it feels like they’re playing on your insecurities, it’s because they are. If the means seem sketchy and the end seems fake, it’s because they are. If it feels like a trap, it’s because it is.

Sometimes it’s all just loaves and fishes. The most we have to bring is less than the bare minimum needed. But it’s what we’ve got. 

The good news is that God is a God of miracles and multiplication. In giving away the little we have, more is received. 

That you bring to the table. Your meager resources. Your scraped-together offerings. Your thin margins of time. Your few ounces of compassion. Your seemingly-insignificant good deeds. Your whispered kind words.

He takes them and gives thanks. Just like the little boy’s lunch.

That you pack for your kid, that hardly counts as enough to nourish a growing body, that looks super lame next to the Super Mom lunches the other kids bring, that you had no intention of being shared with anyone else, just might be the beginning of a miracle.

The real ignored hero of Jesus feeding 5,000 people at one sitting is the boy’s mom (or dad, or grandparent, or whoever) who packed that meager lunch, having no inkling of imagination that it might fill any more than that single belly.

The behind-the-scenes, no-name, no-fame people who simply do the faithful day-in, day-out work of packing kids’ lunches (and all the budgeting, and planning, and shopping, and clean-up that goes into it) are the unsung heroes of the Kingdom of God.

Turns out Jesus doesn’t really need our big dreams or fantastic plans of spreading his ministry. All he needs is our simple faithfulness. Every small, insignificant, humdrum thing we do is potentially a seed of something truly beautiful and life-giving when placed in the hands of Jesus.

In the end, it’s all just loaves and fishes.

Are holy gifts. Jesus has already done the math on whatever it is he has asked you to do, and the bottom line is clear: you’re in the red. Which sounds like really bad news. But Jesus is somehow not as shaken as you might be.

Limitations are gifts because they create occasions for obedience and miracles.

Is discipleship 101. Sitting down with whoever it is you are following, whoever it is you want to learn from, whoever it is you are seeking to emulate. When they sit, you sit.

Sitting centers you in this exact location. You are nowhere else in the world, with no one else in the world.

Isn’t the same thing as following a person.

Following a rule means knowing the right thing to do, or the wrong thing to avoid doing, and then acting accordingly. It’s understanding when a particular rule applies to a particular context. It means seeing where the boundary lines are laid and staying within them. The motivation is to reap the rewards of obedience and to avoid the consequences of disobedience.

It’s good to have experts. Those tried and true stalwarts of a field. Those who established methods and products and even entire industries that have become the standards we trust and rely on. We need those kinds of “mothers and fathers” to look up to, to look back on, to emulate and draw inspiration from.

But we also need the innovators. Those people in a field who are looking not only to the past, but also to the horizon. Those who take what we have already collectively learned and practice and re-imagine them. We need those people who ask questions that are relevant to our times which the former generations of experts could not have imagined, those who keep things fresh and on par with new challenges in the world.

I don’t mean to say that experts and innovators are in competition. Rather, there is an expert-innovator loop that keeps things moving forward. At one time those who eventually became experts were innovators themselves. And any innovator worth their salt humbly and gratefully acknowledges the experts whose foundation they build upon.

“How can you believe since you accept glory from one another but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?”

-Jesus (John 5:44)

The implied answer is: You can’t. Your belief—in the testimony of Jesus at least—is suspect. But you do believe in something, or in someone. Who you believe in is shown by who you seek and accept glory from. Of course, “glory” is a rather religious word. It’s all too easy to over-spiritualize our way out of this one. It’s harder to evade when we try on some under-spiritualized words:

How can you believe since you accept importance from one another but do not seek the honor that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept celebrity from one another but do not seek the standing that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept celebration from one another but do not seek the credit that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept fame from one another but do not seek the dignity that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept attention from one another but do not seek the esteem that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept prestige from one another but do not seek the reputation that comes from the only God?

How can you believe since you accept prominence from one another but do not seek the greatness that comes from the only God?

You could be spiritual but not religious. And that could very well be a joyful and meaningful way of being in the world.

You could also be religious but not spiritual. And that could very well give your life a sense of belonging and purpose.

There is also, of course, a third option: You could be spiritual and religious, eschewing that false dichotomy forced upon us by postmodernism. And that could be the most fulfilling option.