A gift is appreciated because of what a person can afford, not because of what that person can't afford. 2 Corinthians 8:12 (CEB) In this passage, Paul is writing to the Corinthian church about a collection he's organizing for believers in Jerusalem who are facing famine. He wants the Corinthians to participate, but he knows some of them are worried. They're not wealthy. What if their gift is too small to matter? So Paul reassures them: God doesn't judge your generosity by the size of your gift. God looks at what you can afford. He looks at your heart. He looks at whether you're giving out of your resources or out of your excess. This echoes what Jesus said about the widow's offering. Her two coins were worth more than all the large donations because she gave from what she had, not from what was left over. The question isn't "How much did you give?" The question is "Did you give generously from what you have?" We tell ourselves a lot of stories about generosity. One of the most common is this: "When I have more, I'll give more." When I get that raise, I'll start giving. When I'm more financially secure, I'll be generous. When I have extra, I'll help others. But here's the problem: "When I have more" never comes. Because when we get more, we always find new reasons why we need to keep it. We convince ourselves we need a bigger emergency fund. Or we deserve to upgrade our lifestyle. Or we should save more for retirement. There's always a reason to wait. And meanwhile, opportunities to be generous pass us by. People who need help right now don't get it. We miss the joy of giving because we're waiting for a future that never arrives. But true generosity gives from what we have now, not from what we hope to have someday.  Remember the contrast in Jesus' story. The wealthy gave large amounts, but they gave from their excess. After they gave, their lives didn't change at all. They still had everything they needed and more. But the widow gave from what she had to live on. Her giving required faith. It demanded sacrifice. It changed her situation. And Jesus said she gave more. So the question we have to ask ourselves is: Are we giving like the wealthy or like the widow? Are we giving from what's left over or from what we actually have? Are we dropping spare change in the collection box while holding tightly to everything else? Or are we loosening our grip on our resources and trusting God with the outcome? Because God doesn't need our spare change. God invites us to sacrificial generosity. Not because God needs our money, but because we need to learn to trust God more than we trust our resources. The good news is that generosity isn't measured by the amount. It's measured by the heart. You don't have to be wealthy to be generous. You don't have to wait until you have more. You can start right where you are with what you have. Whatever you can afford, that's what God is asking for. Not what you can't afford. Not what someone else can afford. Just what you can afford, given with a generous heart. Because when we give generously from what we have, God takes our small offerings and does something beautiful with them. Prayer God, I've been waiting to be more generous "when I have more." But the truth is, I can be generous right now with what I already have. Help me to stop making excuses. Stop me from comparing my giving to others. Teach me to give generously from what I have, trusting you to multiply it. Show me opportunities this week to be generous—not with my spare change, but with real sacrifice. Give me the courage to loosen my grip and the faith to trust you with the outcome. Amen.

So now there isn't any condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus... I'm convinced that nothing can separate us from God's love in Christ Jesus our Lord: not death or life, not angels or rulers, not present things or future things, not powers or height or depth, or any other thing that is created. Romans 8:1, 38-39 (CEB) When you think about the word "thankful," what comes to mind? Probably good things. Blessings. Answered prayers. Times when everything went right. But what about when everything goes wrong? What about when we fail spectacularly? What about when we're the reason things fell apart? Can we be thankful even then? Here's what this week has taught us: We don't have to be thankful for our failures, but we can be thankful in our failures.  We don't thank God for the times we mess up. We don't celebrate our sin. We don't pretend that our failures are actually blessings in disguise. But we can be thankful that God's grace is greater than our sin. We can be thankful that God doesn't define us by our worst moments. We can be thankful that nothing can separate us from God's love. David's story teaches us how to navigate failure. He shows us that we need to be honest about what we've done. We need to confess our sin without making excuses or minimizing the damage. But David also shows us that we can't get stuck there. We can't spend our lives replaying our failures, convinced we're beyond redemption. We have to trust that God's grace is greater than our sin. And then David shows us that we can ask God to do what we can't do for ourselves – create clean hearts, restore joy, make us new. That's the path through failure. Honesty, yes. Remorse, absolutely. But then grace. Forgiveness. Restoration. And ultimately, gratitude. When we're stuck dwelling on our failures, gratitude is impossible. All we can see is what we've done wrong. All we can feel is guilt and shame. All we can think about is how badly we've messed up. But when we remember that God's grace is bigger than our worst mistakes, gratitude becomes possible again. Not gratitude for the failure itself, but gratitude for God's response to our failure. We're grateful that God doesn't give up on us. We're grateful that God's love isn't conditional on our performance. We're grateful that God specializes in making broken people whole. And that gratitude changes us. It lifts the weight we've been carrying. It gives us hope when we feel hopeless. It reminds us that our story isn't over just because we failed. So as we end this week, you have a choice to make. You can stay stuck in your failure, endlessly replaying your mistakes, convinced you're beyond God's grace. Or you can choose to do what David did. Be honest about what you've done. Accept God's forgiveness. Ask God to create a clean heart in you. And then respond with gratitude, not for the failure, but for the grace that meets you in the middle of it. Because your failure doesn't define you. Your worst moment isn't your last moment. And God's love for you isn't dependent on your perfection…it's dependent on God's character. And that's something to be thankful for, even after failure. Prayer God, thank you for this week's reminder that your grace is greater than our sin. Thank you for showing us through David's story that we don't have to stay stuck in our failures. Thank you for the promise that nothing can separate us from your love. This week, help me to be honest about my failures without being consumed by them. Help me to confess my sin without getting stuck in guilt and shame. Help me to accept your forgiveness and trust that you really can create a clean heart in me. And help me to be grateful, not for the times I fail, but for your faithful love that never fails. Not for my sin, but for your grace that's greater than my sin. Not for my mistakes, but for your ability to make me new despite my mistakes. Thank you that I can be thankful even in my failures, because your love never fails. Amen.

In everything I have shown you that, by working hard, we must help the weak. In this way we remember the Lord Jesus' words: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' Acts 20:35 (CEB) In Acts 20:35, Paul is saying goodbye to the elders from Ephesus. He knows he'll probably never see them again. So he's giving them final instructions, reminding them of what he taught and how he lived. And one of the things Paul emphasizes is that he worked hard to support himself so he could help those in need. He didn't take advantage of people. He didn't ask for handouts. Instead, he gave generously of his time, his resources, his life. Why? Because he remembered Jesus' words: "It is more blessed to give than to receive." This statement from Jesus isn't recorded in any of the Gospels, but the early church clearly knew it and passed it down. And it's a statement that runs completely counter to our natural instincts. Because let's be honest, receiving feels pretty good. Getting what we want is satisfying. Opening gifts is fun. But Jesus says it’s more blessed to give than to receive. But that doesn’t seem to make much sense. In the world's math, more stuff equals more happiness. Get more, have more, be happier. It makes sense, right? But in God's math, it's backwards. Give more, have less, be happier. And if we're honest, that doesn't compute. How can giving away what we have make us happier than keeping it? But here's what I've discovered: Jesus was right. Giving really does bring more joy than receiving.  Not because receiving isn't enjoyable. But because giving connects us to something bigger than ourselves. When we give, we participate in God's work. We get to be part of blessing someone else. We experience the joy of making a difference. And that joy runs deeper and lasts longer than the temporary satisfaction of getting something for ourselves. When we give sacrificially, we loosen money's grip on our hearts. We discover that we don't need as much as we thought we did. We learn to trust God in deeper ways. We become less selfish and more compassionate. Generosity makes us more like Jesus. And becoming more like Jesus makes us more fully human, more fully alive, more fully the people God created us to be. That's why it's more blessed to give. Not because giving is an obligation we have to fulfill. But because giving is an opportunity to experience the joy God designed us for. So here's the question: What would it look like for you to give in a way that's actually more blessed than receiving? Maybe it's giving financially to someone in need. Maybe it's giving your time to serve somewhere. Maybe it's giving your attention to someone who needs to be heard. Maybe it's giving up something you want so someone else can have what they need. Whatever it is, the key is to give in a way that costs you something. Because that's when you discover what Jesus was talking about. That's when you experience the joy that comes from generosity. Not the temporary pleasure of getting something new. But the deep, lasting joy of giving something away. Because what matters in life isn't what you get. It's what you give. What matters in life isn't what you get. It's what you give. Prayer Jesus, you said it's more blessed to give than to receive, but I'll be honest—sometimes I don't believe that. Sometimes getting feels really good, and giving feels like loss. Change my perspective. Help me to experience the joy that comes from generosity. Show me opportunities to give sacrificially this week. And help me to discover that you were right all along—giving really is more blessed than receiving. Teach me to find my joy in blessing others rather than in accumulating more for myself. Amen.

Looking up, Jesus saw rich people throwing their gifts into the collection box for the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow throw in two small copper coins worth a penny. He said, "I assure you that this poor widow has put in more than them all. All of them are giving out of their spare change. But she from her hopeless poverty has given everything she had to live on." Luke 21:1-4 (CEB) The temple treasury was located in the Court of Women, where worshipers could bring their offerings. There were thirteen trumpet-shaped collection boxes for different purposes. People would come and publicly drop in their donations. The rich people Jesus mentions would have been making a big show of their giving. Large amounts of money, announced loudly, drawing attention to their generosity. It was impressive. It looked sacrificial. But Jesus saw right through it. Then this widow comes. She drops in two small copper coins…the smallest denomination in circulation. Together they were worth about a penny. It was nothing compared to what the wealthy gave. Barely enough to be noticed. But Jesus notices. And he says something shocking: She gave more than all of them. But, at first glance, Jesus' statement doesn't make sense. Two pennies is more than thousands of dollars? That math just doesn’t add up.  But Jesus isn't doing financial math. He's doing sacrifice math. And in sacrifice math, the question isn't "How much did you give?" The question is "How much did it cost you?" The wealthy gave large amounts, but they gave out of their excess. After they gave, they still had plenty left over. Their giving didn't require any trust. It didn't demand any sacrifice. It didn't change their lives in any way. But this widow? She gave everything. The two coins she put in were literally all the money she had. She had no backup plan. No savings account. No safety net. She gave everything she had to live on and trusted God with the outcome. That's radical. That's risky. That's real generosity. And it reveals what the widow really believed about God. She could have kept one coin and given the other. She could have held something back, just in case. But she didn't. Her giving said, "I trust God more than I trust money. I trust God's provision more than my own resources. I trust that God will take care of me even when I give away everything." True generosity requires some sacrifice. When you sacrifice, that's when you know it's real. Because when giving costs us nothing, it requires no faith. When we only give what's left over, what's convenient, what we won't miss...that's not really generosity. That's just clearing out the spare change. But when giving requires us to trust God...when it demands that we loosen our grip on security...when it pushes us to depend on God instead of ourselves...that's when generosity becomes transformative. Not just for the person receiving, but for us. So the widow's story isn't just about money. It's about trust. It's about what we believe about God and what we believe about ourselves. Do we really believe God will provide? Or do we just say that while holding tightly to our own resources? Do we really trust God's care? Or do we trust our bank accounts more? Do we really believe life isn't about what we accumulate? Or are we still finding our security in our stuff? The widow answered those questions with her two coins. And Jesus invites us to answer them too. Not necessarily by giving away everything we own. But by being willing to give sacrificially. By loosening our grip on our resources. By trusting God enough to be generous even when it costs us something. Prayer God, the widow's trust is challenging to me. She gave everything, trusting you to provide. And I'll be honest—that scares me. I like having a backup plan. I like knowing I have enough. I like the security my resources give me. But you're inviting me to trust you more than I trust my bank account. Help me to loosen my grip. Give me the courage to be generous even when it requires sacrifice. Teach me that real giving always costs something, and that's exactly what makes it real. Amen.

Then Jesus said to the crowd, "Watch out! Guard yourself against all kinds of greed. After all, one's life isn't determined by one's possessions, even when someone is very wealthy." Luke 12:15 (CEB) Black Friday is interesting, isn't it? People camp out overnight for deals. They strategize about which store to hit first. They sprint through aisles to grab discounted TVs. And sometimes...they literally fight each other over a sale item. And we watch all this and think, "How ridiculous. How selfish. I would never act that way." But then we find ourselves getting irritated when someone takes the parking spot we wanted. Or feeling resentful when we don't get the gift we hoped for. Or making Christmas all about what we want instead of what we can give. Turns out, we've all got a little Ebenezer Scrooge in us. In Luke 12, Jesus is teaching a crowd when someone interrupts him with a request: "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me." This person wants Jesus to help them get what they think they deserve. But Jesus refuses to get involved in the dispute. Instead, he warns everyone listening about the danger of greed. And his warning is clear: Life isn't about accumulating stuff. Your possessions don't determine your value or your happiness. This was radical in Jesus' day, and it's still radical now. Because we live in a culture that constantly tells us the opposite. We're told that having more will make us happier. That getting what we want is the path to fulfillment. That we deserve to prioritize ourselves. And somewhere along the way, especially during the holiday season, we start believing it. The holidays have a way of bringing out our inner Scrooge. We start out with good intentions, but somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it happens. We make lists of what we want. We hint about gifts we hope to receive. We think about the food we want to eat and the way we want to celebrate. And before we know it, the season becomes more about what we want to get than what we want to give. We don't mean to be selfish. We don't wake up and think, "Today I'm going to be like Ebenezer Scrooge." But selfishness is sneaky. It creeps in slowly. It disguises itself as reasonable expectations or well-deserved rewards. And pretty soon, we've made the holidays all about us. Jesus' warning about greed isn't mean-spirited. It's not about making us feel guilty. It's about protecting us from something that will ultimately make us miserable. Because here's the thing about greed: It never satisfies. You get what you wanted, and it feels good for about five minutes. Then you start thinking about the next thing you want. It's a cycle that never ends. Scrooge had more money than he could ever spend, but he was miserable. Why? Because when life is all about what you can get, you're never satisfied. When life is all about what you can get, you're never satisfied. Jesus is inviting us to a different way of living. A way where life isn't measured by possessions. A way where happiness isn't found in getting but in giving. A way where we find fulfillment not in accumulating more but in sharing what we have. Prayer God, I'll be honest, I don't always like admitting how selfish I can be. It's easier to point out everyone else's greed than to recognize my own. But you're right. I do have some Scrooge in me. I make things about what I want. I focus on getting instead of giving. Forgive me for the times I've been more concerned with my own desires than with your purposes. Help me to guard against greed. Remind me that life isn't about what I accumulate but about how I love. Change my heart this season. Amen.

We judge Ebenezer Scrooge for his selfishness, yet during the holidays, we often act like him, focusing more on what we want to get than what we can give. It's natural for this season to become all about us without us even realizing it.   But we're never supposed to be selfish. Instead, we're called to be generous. And true generosity isn't measured by the size of our gift but by the size of our sacrifice.

So that there won't be division in the body and so the parts might have mutual concern for each other. If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part gets the honor, all the parts celebrate with it. You are the body of Christ and parts of each other. 1 Corinthians 12:25-27 (CEB) Paul concludes his teaching about the body of Christ with a powerful vision of what community should look like. He says the parts should have "mutual concern for each other." When one part suffers, all parts suffer. When one part is honored, all parts celebrate. This isn't just about coexisting in the same space. This is about being deeply connected to each other. This is about caring for each other, celebrating with each other, and suffering with each other. And Paul makes it clear that this kind of community requires intentionality. It doesn't happen by accident. We have to work to make sure "there won't be division in the body." We have to actively create space for everyone to belong. Here's what I've learned: Creating inclusive community is inconvenient. It takes more time. It requires more effort. It's messier than just sticking with what we know. It's easier to shop for Angel Tree gifts with the same group of volunteers who've been doing it for years. It's more efficient to stick with the system we've perfected. But what if efficiency isn't the goal? What if the goal is actually to create a community where everyone belongs, where everyone contributes, where everyone matters? When we make room for people we might have overlooked, something beautiful happens. Yes, it might be less efficient. Yes, it might complicate our process. But we gain something far more valuable: We become more like the body of Christ. So what does it look like to have "mutual concern for each other"? It means we pay attention. We notice when someone's struggling. We celebrate when someone has a win. We make space for people who are different from us. It means we ask questions like: Who's being left out? Who's sitting alone? Who do we keep overlooking? Who have we been treating like they don't matter? And then we do something about it. We invite the new person to sit with us. We include the person who doesn't fit our typical profile. We make room for the person who makes things a little more complicated. Because that's what it means to be the body of Christ. We're not a collection of individuals who happen to be in the same space. We're parts of each other. Connected. Interdependent. Responsible for each other. When one part suffers, we all suffer. When one part is honored, we all celebrate. That's not just a nice idea...that's supposed to be our reality. So here's what we have to decide: Are we going to prioritize efficiency or community? Are we going to stick with what's comfortable or make room for everyone? Are we going to create systems that work smoothly or relationships that matter deeply? Because we can't have both. Building inclusive community requires us to sacrifice some convenience. It requires us to slow down, make space, and embrace the messiness of really seeing and valuing every person. But when we make that choice, when we choose community over convenience, we discover that every person really does play an important part. Every person IS an important part. And together, we become the body of Christ the way God always intended. Prayer God, forgive us for the times we've chosen convenience over community. Forgive us for prioritizing efficiency over inclusion. Help us to see every person the way you see them—as an essential part of your body. Give us the courage to slow down, make space, and truly value everyone. Teach us to have mutual concern for each other, to suffer with those who suffer, and to celebrate with those who celebrate. Help us to be the body of Christ—not just in name, but in reality. Show us this week who we've been overlooking, and give us the courage to make room for them. Amen.

There are different spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; and there are different ministries and the same Lord; and there are different activities but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. 1 Corinthians 12:4-6 (CEB) In these verses, Paul wants to make something clear to the church in Corinth, and that’s that unity doesn't mean uniformity. Just because we're one body doesn't mean we're all the same. He emphasizes this by using the word "different" three times in three verses. Different gifts. Different ministries. Different activities. But notice what stays the same: the same Spirit, the same Lord, the same God. This is important because the Corinthians were making the mistake of thinking everyone should have the same gifts. If speaking in tongues was the most impressive gift, then everyone should speak in tongues, right? Wrong. But God intentionally made us different. And those differences aren't a problem to be solved. They're a gift to be celebrated. In our culture, we tend to value sameness. We're drawn to people who are like us. We're comfortable with people who think like us, talk like us, and believe like us. And when we encounter someone different, we often see it as a threat rather than a gift. But God designed the body to be diverse. Think about your physical body for a second. What if your whole body was an eye? That would be...weird. And completely non-functional. You couldn't walk. You couldn't pick things up. You couldn't do any of the things a body is supposed to do. A body works because it's diverse. Every part is different, and every difference serves a purpose.  The same is true for the church. We need people with different gifts. We need people with different perspectives. We need people from different generations and different backgrounds and different experiences. Because when we embrace our differences, we become more like what God intended us to be. But sometimes churches fall into the trap of trying to make everyone the same. We act like there's a certain way you're supposed to worship. A certain way you're supposed to serve. A certain way you're supposed to be a Christian. And anyone who doesn't fit that mold? They're treated like they’re a problem. But that's not how God designed the church. God doesn't want cookie-cutter Christians. God wants a diverse body where different gifts work together to accomplish what none of us could do alone. So the person who loves deep theological study needs the person who's all about practical service. The introvert who serves behind the scenes needs the extrovert who connects with everyone. The person with the gift of teaching needs the person with the gift of encouragement. Our differences aren't weaknesses. They're strengths. And when we celebrate those differences instead of trying to eliminate them, the church becomes what God designed it to be. So here's the question: Are you celebrating the differences in your church, or are you frustrated by them? Are you grateful for people who aren't like you, or do you wish everyone was more like you? Because if we're honest, it's easy to be annoyed by people who are different. The person who's really organized can be frustrated by the spontaneous person. The deep thinker can be impatient with the emotional feeler. The traditional person can clash with the innovative person. But what if those differences are exactly what God intended? What if the person who drives you crazy is the person God wants to use to help you grow? What if the gift you don't understand is the gift the church desperately needs? We need to learn to celebrate our differences instead of just tolerating them. Because when we do, we discover that together we're so much more than we ever could be alone. Prayer God, thank you for making us different. Forgive me for the times I've wished everyone was more like me. Help me to celebrate the diversity in your body instead of being frustrated by it. Open my eyes to see how different gifts work together to accomplish your purposes. Teach me to value people who are different from me, to learn from perspectives I don't naturally understand, and to embrace the beautiful variety you've designed. Amen.

If the foot says, "I'm not part of the body because I'm not a hand," does that mean it's not part of the body? If the ear says, "I'm not part of the body because I'm not an eye," does that mean it's not part of the body? 1 Corinthians 12:15-16 (CEB) In yesterday's devotional, we talked about people who think they don't need others. But today, Paul’s going to talk about the flip side…people who think they're not needed. The Corinthian church had people who looked at others' impressive gifts and thought, "Well, I guess I'm not that important." They saw people speaking in tongues, performing miracles, and prophesying, and they thought, "I can't do any of that. So I must not really matter." So Paul asks a simple question: If the foot says, "I'm not part of the body because I'm not a hand," does that make it true? Of course not. The foot is still part of the body whether it feels like it or not. You see, your feelings about your value don't change your value.  One of the quickest ways to feel unneeded is to compare yourself to someone else. You see what they can do and think, "I could never do that." You see how God uses them and think, "God doesn't use me like that." But here's the problem with comparison: You're comparing your behind-the-scenes with everyone else's highlight reel. You see their strengths and your weaknesses. You see their gifts and your limitations. And you come to the false conclusion that you're not as important. But a foot isn't less important than a hand just because it does something different. An ear isn't less valuable than an eye just because it has a different function. Every part of the body has a purpose. Every part of the body is essential. And that includes you. Some of the most important work in the body of Christ happens quietly. It happens in conversations no one else hears. It happens in prayers no one else knows about. It happens in small acts of kindness that never make the announcements. You might not be the most visible person in your church. You might not have the most impressive gifts. But that doesn't mean you're not essential. Maybe you're the person who always shows up to set up chairs. Maybe you're the one who remembers people's names and makes them feel welcomed. Maybe you're the one who prays faithfully for others. Maybe you're the one who sends encouraging texts or makes meals or listens without judging. That matters. It might not get you on stage. It might not get you recognized. But it matters. Because the body needs feet just as much as it needs hands. The body needs ears just as much as it needs eyes. And the church needs you just as much as it needs anyone else. So if you've been feeling like you don't matter...you're wrong. If you've been thinking the church would be fine without you...it wouldn't. If you've been believing the lie that you're not important...it's time to stop. You are part of the body. You are essential. You are needed. Not because of what you can do. Not because of how impressive your gifts are. But because God made you part of this body. And a body isn't complete when it's missing parts. So stop comparing yourself to others. Stop minimizing your contribution. Stop believing the lie that you don't matter. You do matter. The church needs you. And we're not complete without you. Prayer God, it's hard not to compare myself to others. It's hard not to feel insignificant when I look at what other people can do. But you're reminding me that every part of the body matters—including me. Help me to stop devaluing what you've called me to do. Help me to embrace my role in the body, even if it's not the most visible or impressive. Remind me that you made me exactly who I am for a reason, and that reason matters. Thank you for making me part of your body. Amen.

The eye can't say to the hand, "I don't need you," or in turn, the head can't say to the feet, "I don't need you." 1 Corinthians 12:21 (CEB) Sometimes we convince ourselves we don't need other people. We think we can handle it on our own. We've got it all figured out. And that was happening in the church in Corinth. Some people thought their gifts made them more important than everyone else. And when you think you're more important, it's pretty easy to start thinking you don't need the "less important" people. Paul addresses this head-on with a simple but powerful statement: The eye can't say to the hand, "I don't need you." In other words, no part of the body gets to decide that another part is unnecessary. No matter how important you think you are, you still need everyone else. And here's what makes this so powerful: Paul doesn't pick obscure body parts for his example. He picks the eye, one of the most important parts of your body, and says even the eye can't function independently. Even the most "important" parts need the "less important" parts. We live in a culture that celebrates independence. We admire people who are self-made, self-sufficient, who don't need anyone's help. We're taught that needing others is weakness, that depending on people makes you vulnerable. But the church is supposed to be different. The church is supposed to be a place where we recognize that we need each other. And yet, we still fall into the same trap the Corinthians did.  But when we decide we don't need certain people, we lose something important. We lose perspective we desperately need. We lose gifts that could bless us. We lose relationships that could change us. The eye sees things the hand can't. But the hand does things the eye can't do. And together, they accomplish what neither could do alone. That's how the church is supposed to work. The person with the gift of teaching needs the person with the gift of mercy. The person who's great at organizing needs the person who's great at welcoming. The long-time member needs the new person's fresh perspective. The older generation needs the younger generation's energy. We need each other. Not just in theory. Not just as a nice idea. We actually, truly, desperately need each other. So here's the question: Who have you been treating like you don't need them? Who have you been dismissing, avoiding, or overlooking? Because here's the truth: None of us can say "I don't need you" to anyone else in the body. We're all connected. We're all dependent on each other. And the church only works when we embrace that reality instead of fighting against it. Prayer God, forgive me for the times I've acted like I don't need other people. Forgive me for dismissing people, avoiding people, overlooking people who are just as much a part of your body as I am. Help me to see that I need every part of the body—even the parts I've been ignoring. Open my eyes to the gifts others bring. Help me to value people I've undervalued, to include people I've excluded, and to recognize that you work through every single member of your church. Amen.

Christ is just like the human body—a body is a unit and has many parts; and all the parts of the body are one body, even though there are many. We were all baptized by one Spirit into one body, whether Jew or Greek, or slave or free, and we all were given one Spirit to drink. 1 Corinthians 12:12-13 (CEB) Ever notice how kids on the playground form groups? There are the soccer players, the swing set kids, the ones who play four square. And if you're not part of one of those groups, recess can feel pretty lonely. You start wondering, "Where do I fit? Do I even belong here?" The truth is, that feeling doesn't go away when we grow up. We still wonder if we belong. We look around at church and wonder if there's a place for us. We see people who seem more spiritual, more talented, more connected...and we wonder if we really fit in. When Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, they were dealing with some serious division. Some people thought their spiritual gifts made them more important than others. If you could speak in tongues or prophesy, you were in the "spiritual elite." Everyone else? Well, they were second-class Christians. So Paul uses the metaphor of the body to help them understand something crucial about the church. He says that the church is like a human body, it is one body with many different parts. And every part belongs. Every part has a purpose. Every part matters. And Paul makes it crystal clear that this isn't based on what you can do or how impressive your gifts are. If you're in Christ, you belong. Period. Here's what we get wrong about belonging: We think we have to earn it. We think we have to prove we're valuable enough, talented enough, spiritual enough to deserve a place in the body of Christ. But that's not how it works. You don't earn your place in the body. Think about your physical body for a second. Did your pinky toe have to audition to be part of your body? Did your elbow have to prove it was worthy? Of course not. They're part of your body simply because they're part of your body. They belong because they belong. The same is true in the church. You don't have to be the most talented person. You don't have to have the most impressive spiritual gifts. You don't have to be the most mature Christian. You belong because you're in Christ. And if you're in Christ, you're part of the body. Paul puts it this way, "We were all baptized by one Spirit into one body." Notice that word "all." Not just the impressive ones. Not just the talented ones. Not just the ones who seem to have it all together. All of us. And that means the single mom who's barely holding it together belongs just as much as the long-time member who knows all the hymns by heart. The teenager who's still figuring out what they believe belongs just as much as the retired pastor. The person struggling with addiction belongs just as much as the person who seems to have conquered every sin. We're all part of the same body. We all belong. So if you've been wondering whether you fit in at church...you do. If you've been questioning whether there's a place for you in the body of Christ...there is. If you've been feeling like maybe you're not spiritual enough or talented enough or whatever enough...you're wrong. You belong. Not because of what you can do. Not because of how impressive you are. But because you're in Christ. And that's all that matters. Prayer God, thank you for reminding me that I belong. Not because I've earned it, but because you've made me part of your body. Help me to stop trying to prove I'm valuable enough to be here. Help me to embrace the truth that I'm already part of your family, already part of your church, already an important piece of who we are together. Give me the courage to step into the place you've made for me, knowing that you created me to be exactly who I am. Amen.

It's easy to think we have all the pieces we need when things are running smoothly. We stick with our systems and avoid complications because efficiency feels safer than inclusion. But what if the people we think we don't need are actually essential? Because every person plays an important part in making the church who we are.