The Gift of Being Irrelevant
What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?
-Mark 8:36
Saturday mornings in our home are waffle mornings, which is a tradition my husband and I take very seriously. When the waffle mix supply run low, a general sense of uneasiness pervades our home and our marriage—a dearth that can only be remedied by MORE WAFFLE MIX, and as soon as possible.
Here is how a waffle morning typically goes:
While I am sleeping, Drew sets the table with our matching Mickey and Minnie plates and mugs reserved *only* for Waffle Saturday. The effect is nauseatingly adorable.
When I wake at a very reasonable hour, Drew plugs in the waffle machine to heat it up.
As he prepares the batter, I hover nearby with last minute additions, suggestions, and tweaks that I just know will make the waffles better.
Drew says, “I just need to know who is making these waffles—you or me?”
I say, “You are, you are,” and resign myself to the fact that Drew is a purist and it is alright for us to compromise on who adds what to the batter each week.
The waffles cook, and the comforting smell fills our kitchen.
The waffles are ready. I wait at the table, fork and knife in hand, watching as Drew leisurely makes himself a cup of tea and gets his multivitamin from the cabinet, which he lovingly places next to his water glass before wandering away again.
I say, “This is hard for me. The waffles are getting cold.”
With a furrowed brow Drew says, “Ok, then just start eating,” and begins to hurry his pace.
I feel guilty, eat two bites of one waffle, and wait for him to Sit. Down.
We pray, and I ask anyone who’s listening to forgive my impatience.
Pleasant conversation ensues, in which we discuss the merits and deficiencies of that week’s waffle batch along with the greater mysteries of the universe.
One recent Saturday, Drew said to me and my blueberry lemon waffles, “I’m having a hard time trusting God with the numbers of our church attendance. People often tell me how blessed they are by our church, but then Sunday morning comes and I wonder, ‘Where are all the people?’”
I swallowed the large piece of waffle that was lodged in my throat, simultaneously feeling the need to “fix” Drew’s discouragement while also validating it. Mercifully, my better angel won out and I was able to say something that I believe but doesn’t always feel true.
“I know it can feel hard when you look at the numbers, and losing members of our congregation during the pandemic truly is something to grieve. But I wonder if there is more going on than we can see. We do not know the impact and reach our services are having, but the people who do attend are committed and genuinely love each other.”
The next day, I walked into church and looked around in amazement. Our church was the fullest it has been in months, and there were even new people in attendance who wanted to join our church. I had a small “thank you” moment with God and kind of rolled my eyes at his goodness and my lamentable amnesia regarding God’s ability to do, well, anything.
*
Several weeks ago, I read an article in Christianity Today that I’ve been pondering ever since. In the article, the author argued that the Church has spent so much time, money, and effort trying to be “relevant” to our surrounding culture that it has lost itself and, consequently, many of its members. Instead, the author reasoned, the Church should focus on simply being true to the way of Jesus, without worrying about its outward appeal or how many congregants they can attract. Paradoxically, the uniqueness of a Body that is not trying so hard to attract new members through mimicking secular society in a sanitized, "Christian” way would likely be more appealing to the watching world.
In other words, when the Church stops trying so hard to be relevant, it might actually become relevant.
This is convicting. It is easy for me to get caught up in numbers as a sure sign of success. (High numbers = relevance, right?) But the way of Jesus points to an entirely different way of quantifying success: This is the way of losing one’s self, of giving everything to go after just one person, of trusting Jesus to multiply the small offering we do have and to fill all our lack with himself.
Like most of Jesus’ teachings, re-aligning our vision of success to His first requires a good deal of un-learning the lies we’ve been fed by our society. From report cards and sport scores to social media followers and paychecks, we’ve been conditioned to believe that numbers define our worth.
But what does Jesus say about this? In Luke 15, Jesus tells us that it’s not about the numbers. Indeed, heaven cares very much about the individual soul that seeks repentance.
Then Jesus told them this parable:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?
And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.
Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’
I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.”
(Luke 15:3-7)
It’s not about the numbers. It’s about people. It’s about the one.
I wonder if maybe, just maybe, when we finally give up our desire to measure success by metrics that do not take into account the value of a human soul, we will find ourselves “the proud owners of everything that cannot be bought” (Matthew 5:5, MSG).
Is there an area of your life in which looking at the numbers instead of Jesus is robbing you of your peace and joy?
It could be anything from the numbers in your bank account to medical test results. For me, it’s the number of people on my email list and the number of likes I get on a given post. It sounds ridiculous to write it out loud, but it’s easy for me to feel like I’m not relevant if my numbers aren’t constantly trending up and to the right. However, I cannot tell you the number of times that an encouraging interaction with one person over my writing has completely made my day and re-aligned my vision to that of God’s. When that happens, I think, “Wow. Even if that post was for one person alone, it was worth it. Thank you, God.”
When we try to amass numbers by our own efforts, we often find ourselves up all night like Peter—struggling, striving, and exhausted—hoping for a large number of fish but coming up with zero. But when we surrender our small numbers into the abundant hands of Jesus, he changes the way we see them. Jesus is the only one who can turn all of our nothings into something—something beautiful, something more.
Do we want to gain the whole world but lose our own souls?
Or will we trust Jesus enough to be irrelevant?
As with Peter, Jesus invites us to simply throw our net on the other side of the boat. When we do so, He shows us just how much he can do with our small acts of faith. Jesus is the bestower of significance and the filler of empty nets.
*
Today, may we remember what Jesus can do with our empty nets.
May we remember how all of heaven rejoices over just one person’s life.
May we look at Jesus instead of the numbers, and may our willingness to be irrelevant be the most significant thing about us.
Amen.
To Go Deeper: Listen to “Little Is Much” by Downhere.
(here are the lyrics!)
What is the measure of a life well-lived
If all I can offer seems too small to give?
This is a song for the weaker, the poorer, and so-called failures
Little is much when God's in it
And no one can fathom the plans he holds
Little is much when God's in it
He changes the world with the seeds we sow
Little is much, little is much
Who feels tired and under-qualified?
Who feels deserted and hung-out to dry?
This is a song for the broken, the beat-up, and so-called losers
Little is much when God's in it
And no one can fathom the plans he holds
Little is much when God's in it
He changes the world with the seeds we sow
Little is much, little is much
Little is much, little is much
Consider a kingdom in the smallest scene
Consider that giants fall to stones and slings
Consider the child in a manger
Consider the story isn't over
What can be done with what you still have?
Little is much when God's in it
And no one can fathom the plans he holds
Little is much when God's in it
He changes the world with the seeds we sow
Little is much when God's in it
And no one can fathom the plans he holds
Little is much when God's in it
He changes the world with the seeds we sow
Little is much when God's in it
(Little is much)
Consider the story isn't over
Little is much