Most of us won’t be the famous ones who speak on the stage or write the epistle, but we should strive to have our name on the list. We should show up, be involved, and be among the many co-laborers that work to build God’s church. We are not owners of our time, abilities, education, experiences, capacity, or gifting. We are stewards. It all belongs to God, and he wants us to use it to serve others in the church. We all have our part to play. God has decided that all of us are important for what he is doing in the church. Your ministry is needed. You are needed.

Most people don’t know who you are. In fact, most church members are unknown. They aren’t speaking at conferences, writing books, on a website, or being paid. I’ve been at conferences with thousands and thousands of people and less than a dozen on stage. Most Christians are the people in the pew, not the pulpit. But it’s easy to miss this. Even when we read the Bible, it is easy to think of it as a succession of tales of the important: Abraham, Moses, David, Ruth, Esther, Jesus, the disciples. But where does that leave us? What does God say to the average person in the chair? What does God say to the unknown church member or the unknown pastor for that matter?
One way to consider this is to look at all the names listed in Paul’s letters. Why are they there? Why did these otherwise unnamed people get a mention in the Bible? Why did the Holy Spirit in his infinite wisdom believe that these lists of names were useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness? What might God be trying to show us?
1. It takes many people to do God’s work.
Name some famous Christians who are known for their great work. Let’s make it easy; just narrow it down to those named John: John the Baptist, John Chrysostom, John Wycliffe, John Huss, John Calvin, John Knox, John Bunyan, John Owen, John Wesley, Jonathan Edwards, John MacArthur, John Piper.  That’s a lot of famous Johns!
But how many millions of people helped these ministries? There had to be untold amounts of editors, organizers, administrative assistants, people setting up chairs, watching kids, serving meals, cleaning up, managing the money, and so much more. The same is true in our churches. It takes many people to do God’s work.
When we look at Paul’s letters, we see him name around 100 different people. There are deacons, coworkers, ministry partners, friends, and church hosts. God’s work is too big for Paul, too big even for a Bible-writing apostle. There is no way to experience all that God intends for us as his church with only celebrity leaders, senior pastors, and paid staff. It takes many people to do God’s work.
Most of us won’t be the famous ones who speak on the stage or write the epistle, but we should strive to have our name on the list. We should show up, be involved, and be among the many co-laborers that work to build God’s church. We are not owners of our time, abilities, education, experiences, capacity, or gifting. We are stewards. It all belongs to God, and he wants us to use it to serve others in the church. We all have our part to play. God has decided that all of us are important for what he is doing in the church. Your ministry is needed. You are needed.
2. God values your work.
True, it takes many people; but are you just a cog in the machine? If we don’t have the prominent place or position, does what we do really matter? Is our role in the church valuable?
Often we recognize the value of the work being done by the titles given: Majesty, Excellency, Your Honor, Esteemed, Chief, Reverend, Doctor, even Pastor or Director. But what about those who don’t have a title? How does God view their work?
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Atheism reduces human beings to cosmic junk, moist robots with no ultimate purpose or meaning. This is where my struggle came in. On atheism, nothing quenched my thirst for significance or my desire for justice. Nothing ultimately matters on atheism. This wasn’t the testimony of my soul, though. I knew life had meaning.

I’m often asked what led to my converting from atheism to Christianity. The answer sometimes surprises: reality. Reality is the way the world really is. It doesn’t change according to our likes and dislikes. Because of this, when you don’t live according to reality, you bump into it. As an atheist, when looking for answers to important questions, I bumped hard into reality.
The first bump came as I tried to explain what caused the beginning of the universe. It’s not as complicated as you might think. There are only two options: something or nothing. This put me in a tough spot as an atheist. I didn’t want to say something caused the universe because that something would have to be immensely powerful, incredibly creative, and outside its own creation (i.e., outside time and space). That something was starting to look like God, and I did not want to say God caused the universe. Instead, I wanted to say nothing caused the universe. This is unreasonable, though.
As an atheist, I believed everything that exists is the product of blind, physical processes. I couldn’t explain where the universe came from because all I had to start with was nothing. But nothing comes from nothing. To say the universe came from nothing goes against our basic intuitions about reality. However, on Christian theism, there was more than nothing to start with. There was an uncaused cause. The Christian explanation lines up perfectly with the way the world really is.
That was the first bump. The next bump was the most difficult for me.
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I eventually wrote a short book to help ordinary Christians understand the exciting and frustrating tension of being simultaneously restless and patient for the future new creation because of our assurance that it is superbly good and securely ours. In my teaching of seminary students, inaugurated eschatology has been a repeated theme. Throughout fourteen years of pastoral ministry, I’ve aimed to help the people of my church understand the story line of the Bible, the cosmic significance of Christ’s work, and the utterly practical implications of a future new creation that’s ours because of what Christ has already accomplished for us.

The Kingdom has come, but society is not uprooted. This is the mystery of the Kingdom.
I was converted at a young age and grew up in church. I heard expositional preaching and cut my teeth on Sunday School flannelgraphs, Vacation Bible School, and “Sword Drills” at Christian summer camp. At the encouragement of my grandmother, I read the Bible cover to cover as a teen. Later, I attended a Christian college, where I minored in Bible. So, by the time I hit my twenties, I knew lots of verses, could give you summaries of Bible books, and was very familiar with the message of salvation.
But never had I heard anything quite like what I encountered in a particular paragraph I read while preparing for ministry.
When Jesus Became Scandalous
I don’t remember how I came to be reading George Ladd’s A Theology of the New Testament, and I never read the entire volume, but these sentences (and the chapter of which they’re a part, “The Mystery of the Kingdom”) fired my imagination and permanently altered my understanding of God, the Bible, history, and my own life:
The coming of the Kingdom, as predicted in the Old Testament and in Jewish apocalyptic literature, would bring about the end of the age and inaugurate the Age to Come, disrupting human society by the destruction of the unrighteous. Jesus affirms that in the midst of the present age, while society continues with its intermixture of the good and the bad, before the coming of the Son of Man and the glorious manifestation of the Kingdom of God, the powers of that future age have entered into the world to create “sons of the kingdom,” those who enjoy its power and blessings. The Kingdom has come, but society is not uprooted. This is the mystery of the Kingdom. (94)
Until that moment in my life, I had read the Bible as a more or less static record of God’s revealed truth. I knew many important biblical facts, but had little sense of a larger story line, of a dynamically unfolding plan, of a developing work of salvation through time. Ladd began to put those pieces together, to excite me with a sense of the dynamism and progress of God’s redemptive work.
Before reading that paragraph, I hadn’t ever considered the ways in which Jesus’s ministry might be surprising or scandalous. Sure, it was extraordinary that he performed miracles and challenged the religious leaders. But having grown up hearing about those miracles and confrontations, they were familiar to me. Ladd opened my eyes to the mystery of the kingdom.
Through Ladd’s eyes, I now saw Jesus’s declaration that the kingdom of God had already come (but was not fully consummated) as the scandalous surprise it would have been to Jesus’s contemporaries. To liken the mighty end-time kingdom of God to a tiny, hidden mustard seed? Unthinkable! I had never truly understood the Matthew 13 parables of the dragnet, the mustard seed, or the leaven. Ladd’s teaching of the already–not yet kingdom unlocked them for me. Now 23 years later, I can still remember the excitement and satisfaction of awakened understanding.
Far Bigger Than Me
More than that, the teaching of the inaugurated-but-not-consummated kingdom helped me appreciate more fully the truly epoch-making significance of Jesus’s first coming. His life, death, and resurrection had inaugurated nothing less than a new age.
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