Read Exodus 18:13–24
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“It’s not important who does the planting, or who does the watering. What’s important is that God makes the seed grow.” (1 Corinthians 3:7 NLT)
What may have begun as admiration has hardened into allegiance. Teachers have become banners. Relationships with respected leaders have become evidence of spiritual superiority. The congregation Paul helped establish is now dividing itself according to whose name carries the most authority.
Eventually, word of the conflict reaches Paul.
He could have enjoyed hearing that some believers had chosen his name. He founded the church in Corinth. He preached among them, worked beside them, and endured hardship for the sake of bringing them the gospel. If anyone could have made a case for his importance, Paul had plenty of evidence.
Instead, he refuses to let them turn him into something he is not.
“Who is Apollos?” he asks. “Who is Paul?”
They are servants through whom the Corinthians came to believe. Paul planted. Apollos watered. God made the seed grow.
Paul does not deny that his work matters. Planting matters. Watering matters. Teaching, leading, organizing, encouraging, correcting, and caring all matter. But none of those things creates life. Paul refuses to confuse his responsibility with God’s power.
He will love the Corinthians. He will serve them. He will not become their Messiah. That distinction is much harder to maintain than it sounds.
We usually do not wake up and consciously decide to become indispensable. It happens slowly. Someone needs help, so we help. A problem appears, so we solve it. Something is forgotten, so we remember it. Other people begin trusting us because we are reliable, compassionate, organized, or simply willing to show up.
Then concern becomes responsibility. Responsibility becomes expectation. Expectation becomes identity.
Before long, we are holding together relationships, families, ministries, workplaces, and communities that seem unable to function without us. We answer every message, anticipate every crisis, absorb every disappointment, and step into every gap.
We call it love. Sometimes it is love. Sometimes it is anxiety wearing love’s clothing.
Anxiety tells us that if we stop moving, something terrible will happen. If we say no, someone will be hurt. If we allow another person to struggle, we have abandoned them. If we are unavailable, we are unfaithful. Anxiety convinces us that vigilance is compassion and exhaustion is proof that we care.
Moses understands this temptation.
After leading the Israelites out of Egypt, Moses becomes the person everyone approaches with every dispute. From morning until evening, people stand around waiting for him. Every conflict, question, and disagreement must pass through Moses.
Perhaps Moses believes this is what faithful leadership requires. God called him. The people need him. The problems are real. Surely devotion means making himself available until everyone has received an answer.
Then Jethro watches the arrangement and says something startling:
“This is not good.”
Moses is helping people, but the system is not good. He is exhausting himself. He is keeping the community dependent upon his judgment. He is carrying work that others are capable of sharing. His good intentions have produced an unhealthy way of living.
Jethro does not tell Moses to stop caring. He tells Moses to stop acting as though care can flow only through him.
Choose capable people. Teach them. Trust them. Let them carry responsibility. Keep doing the work that is truly yours, but release the work that never belonged exclusively to you.
Delegation is not abandonment. Boundaries are not indifference. Allowing other people to contribute is not a failure of leadership. Sometimes it is the first time we have treated them as capable, gifted, and called.
Churches often struggle to believe this. We praise people who are endlessly available. We reward those who say yes to everything. We call them dedicated while quietly building ministries that depend upon their inability to rest. When they finally collapse, resign, or disappear, we mourn their absence without questioning the system that consumed them.
Families and workplaces can do the same thing. One person becomes the keeper of every schedule, emotion, emergency, and unfinished task. Everyone depends upon them, and they depend upon being needed. The arrangement exhausts them, but it can also make them feel secure. If everything depends upon you, then no one can overlook you.
That is where service can become control.The difficult question is not simply, “Am I doing too much?” It is, “What do I fear would happen if I were no longer necessary?”
Paul knew that the Corinthians did not belong to him. Moses had to learn that Israel’s future did not depend upon his constant availability. Both were called to serve faithfully without confusing themselves with the God they served.
You are responsible for your faithfulness. You are not responsible for producing every outcome. You can plant. You can water. You can teach what you know, offer what you have, and carry the portion that is yours. Then you must allow other people to carry theirs and trust God with the growth neither you nor they can create.
The people you love may need your presence.
They do not need you to be omnipresent.
They may need your wisdom.
They do not need you to be omniscient.
They may need your help.
They do not need you to be omipotent or to save them.
Accepting those limits is not an admission that your love is inadequate. It is an act of faith. It means trusting that God remains present when you are absent, that other people possess gifts you do not possess, and that grace continues working after you have done all you can faithfully do.
Paul placed the seed into the soil and released the growth to God. Moses shared the burden and discovered that the community did not collapse when others began to lead.
You are allowed that same freedom.
Do what love asks of you. Carry what is truly yours. Then stop where your humanity requires you to stop. Set down what belongs to someone else. Let other people rise. Let God remain God.
The work may continue without you. That does not mean you were unnecessary. It means you were never alone in doing it.
You are not their Messiah. You were never asked to be. You are loved, called, and human. That is enough.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
My limits do not prevent faithfulness; they make faithful love possible.PRAYER
Faithful God, untangle my love from anxiety and my service from the need to be indispensable. Show me what is mine to carry, give me courage to release what is not, and teach me to trust you with the growth. Amen.
Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).
I just recently watched a movie called “The Dead Matter” and, as you can probably guess by the title, it was a horror film about vampires trying to use some magical relic to raise the dead in order to use them as an army to…I can only guess…take over the world. Okay, so the plot wasn’t anything earth shattering but there was something about the film that struck me as being all too familiar to the human experience.
