So much to do

There is still so much for me to do.

Sometimes I wonder, does any of it even matter?

I am just one person. Not famous. Not impressive. Not a name anyone will write down in history books. My life doesn’t seem loud enough to echo beyond these walls.

And yet…

There is a fire in my heart. Small, flickering at times, but relentless. It refuses to be smothered. It burns for something greater than myself, begging to be set free.

What can I do?

The next right thing.

It sounds almost laughably simple. But it isn’t simple at all. Because the hardest part isn’t doing, it’s discerning. It’s knowing the difference between the next right thing and the almost right thing. The counterfeit. The shortcut. The distraction dressed up in holy disguise.

So I must stay awake.

Eyes wide open.

Spirit attuned.

Heart guarded.

Because every day is a battlefield of choices, ordinary crossroads that shape eternity.

And though it doesn’t feel grand, it is sacred.

It is holy.

The years of Jesus we never read about? The so-called “silent” years? They weren’t wasted. They weren’t meaningless. They were years of learning. Years of shaping. Years of hammering wood in the quiet shop of Joseph, His earthly father. The Son of God, the Savior of the world, hidden in the mundane, faithful in the unseen.

If He could embrace obscurity with purpose, then so must I.

There is still so much for me to do.

So much hidden in the ordinary, waiting to become extraordinary.

So much disguised as small, but pulsing with eternal weight.

I don’t want to miss it.

I don’t want to waste it.

So I will rise.

I will listen.

I will obey.

Even if it’s only the next step.

Even if no one else notices.

Even if it feels like nothing.

Because Heaven notices.

And the Kingdom is built one obedient step at a time.

There is still so much for me to do.

And by His grace, I will do it.