The power of the Church is not in its super-preachers, or its mega-structures, or its large institutions. The power of the Church is in its individual people whose sacrifices throughout everyday life have an authority no expert can match – Mike Yaconelli
“For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:26-29, ESV)
God really loves ordinary, everyday, people. Real people. Not just perfect people who have it all together. I wonder if we, as Christian men living in a culture of “appearances”, really believe that? Isn’t it interesting that we don’t know much about Jesus’ looks. I know the pictures all make him into the cultural hunk, but I’m guessing that he was pretty much ordinary in appearance.
Not only do we not know what Jesus looked like – except in a few implied situations, we don’t even know what anyone he interacted with looked like. They could have been …
- Scary, or just
But it really doesn’t matter. Why? Because Jesus had time for them all! Ordinary as they may have been.
We tend to place far too much importance on people being important or significant. Sometimes we think God does the same thing and regret that we may not be important enough for him. Or good enough. As men it is so easy for us to think we have to be the best in order to be useful to God, or to the church. Wrong. Jesus had time for all. He was willing to use even the weak and the “inept” – while still encouraging them to grow. But His workers did not have to become extraordinary, just willing to be ordinary … and dependent on Him.
Applying the concept to us as men of Crossroads, we need to remember that we may be most powerful when we embrace our ordinariness.