Are You Willing to Come Out of Where You Are?

This morning, during my quiet time, I found myself reading Matthew 25:31–46—a passage titled The Final Judgment.

Not exactly the kind of title that feels light or comforting at first glance. But instead of rushing through it, I stayed. I read it slowly. I sat with it. I waited to hear what the Lord was saying.

And this question settled deep in my spirit:

Are you willing to come out of where you are right now and help the least of these?

As I reflected, something stood out in a way it never had before.

Jesus, during His earthly journey, asked people for very specific things. And who He asked mattered just as much as what He asked for.

He didn’t go looking for the most polished people.

He didn’t seek out those who had everything together.

He often approached the ones society overlooked—the flawed, the weary, the ones quietly searching for something more.

And here’s what stopped me in my tracks:

Jesus never asked them for extravagant things.

He didn’t ask for what they didn’t have.

He didn’t ask for perfection.

He didn’t ask for anything that would make them feel inadequate or less than.

He asked for what they already had in their hands.

Think about the woman at the well.

Jesus didn’t open the conversation with her past or her mistakes. He simply asked her for a drink of water.

Something she had come to the well to do anyway.

That request was intentional.

Jesus asked for what would sustain Him in that moment—and in doing so, He opened the door to transformation for her.

Over and over again, we see this pattern.

Jesus meets people right in the middle of their ordinary day.

Their routine.

Their assignment.

And He asks, “Will you give Me what you already have?”

Somewhere along the way, we complicated that.

We stay busy doing things we were never asked to do.

We weigh ourselves down trying to be everything for everyone.

We stretch past grace and wonder why we feel exhausted, discouraged, and ready to quit.

We start believing obedience means becoming someone else.

Looking a certain way.

Saying the right words.

Earning approval.

And when we can’t keep up with that pressure, we feel less than—and we stop altogether.

But Scripture reminds us that God will never give us more than we can bear.

So why do we insist on overcomplicating what He’s asked of us?

Why do we feel the need to dress obedience up so it earns compliments?

Why do we chase validation instead of sitting with the Lord and listening for instruction?

Matthew 25 makes it plain.

There will come a time of judgment.

A separation.

And it won’t be based on titles, platforms, or how impressive our lives looked from the outside.

It will come down to this:

When I was hungry, did you feed Me?

When I was thirsty, did you give Me a drink?

When I was a stranger, did you invite Me in?

When I was naked, did you clothe Me?

When I was sick, did you care for Me?

When I was in prison, did you visit Me?

And when they asked, “Lord, when did we see You?”

He answered with words that should stay with us forever:

“When you did it to one of the least of these, My brothers and sisters, you were doing it to Me.”

This is the life lesson.

Not flashy.

Not complicated.

But deeply personal.

This isn’t about doing everything.

It’s about doing what you’re asked, when you’re asked, with what you already have.

It’s about noticing the person in front of you.

Offering kindness when it’s inconvenient.

Showing compassion without needing recognition.

Jesus didn’t say, “Fix every problem.”

He said, “Feed. Give. Invite. Clothe. Care. Visit.”

Simple obedience.

Extraordinary impact.

And this is a decision we make now.

Not later.

Not when life slows down.

Not when we feel more qualified.

Now.

Because the question isn’t whether we’ll be asked.

The question is what will we do when we are?

Will we stay where we are—comfortable and guarded?

Or will we step out, right where we are, and offer what’s already in our hands?

Sometimes obedience looks like a conversation.

Sometimes it looks like showing up.

Sometimes it looks like a meal, a prayer, a visit, or an open door.

It doesn’t require perfection.

It only requires willingness.

Tonyelle’s Take

We spend so much time trying to do more when God is often asking us to do what’s already in front of us.

Not bigger.

Not louder.

Not harder.

Just faithful.

Obedience doesn’t need an audience.

It doesn’t need applause.

It doesn’t need to be impressive.

It just needs a yes.

And sometimes that yes looks small—but heaven sees it clearly.

So maybe the prayer today isn’t, “Lord, give me more to do.”

Maybe it’s simply:

“Lord, remind me what You asked of me—and help me be obedient to do just that.”

Because when we serve the least of these, we aren’t just doing good.

We’re serving Him.

Let’s Pray About It

Lord, slow us down enough to hear You clearly. Remove the pressure to impress and return us to simple obedience. Open our eyes to the moments You place in front of us and give us the courage to respond with what we already have. Help us see the least of these the way You do, and love them without hesitation. Amen.

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