called and Claimed

He Called You to Himself: Beyond Mission and Into Communion

God did not just call you to a mission alone, He called you to Himself. This is the sacred starting point, the fountainhead of all true ministry and meaning. Before there was purpose, there was presence. Before there was a “do,” there was a “be.” We so often rush ahead with our gifts, our strategies, our cause, forgetting that God doesn’t just want our talents. He wants our guts, our grief, our scars. He wants us. Not the polished version. Not the productive version. But the real, trembling, flawed, and seeking version.

We confuse being set apart with being apart. We wear isolation like a badge, mistaking loneliness for holiness. But God never called us to lead alone. Even Jesus didn’t build His ministry in solitude. He lived with people. He wept with them, ate with them, shared their dust and fatigue. He called fishermen and tax collectors into the center of His movement. Not because they were perfect, not just because they are relatable, but because God always works through imperfect people. So must we.

If Christ isn’t enough when nothing is happening , He won’t be enough when everything is. If your identity isn’t rooted in the sheer, stubborn love of God, then your success will only deepen your emptiness. You’ll start chasing impact like a drug. You’ll seek connection through admiration, not intimacy. But admiration isn’t love. And influence isn’t friendship.

In our age, influence often outshines art. We rush to admire the one with fame, not the one with depth. We are drawn more to the present than the giver. more to the glow of the sunset than to the God who made the sky, the horizon, and even the eyes through which we behold it. Think of in the Louvre, where da Vinci’s massive, masterful painting The Wedding Feast at Cana hangs almost unnoticed within eyesight of the far smaller Mona Lisa. Despite being created by the same artist and containing layers of spiritual and artistic meaning, few cameras turn toward it. Instead, they crowd around the woman with the faint smile, not because she is greater, but because she is famous. We have learned to treasure recognition more than revelation, spectacle more than substance.

You are not what you produce. You are who God calls “Mine.” That truth is both freeing and frightening, because it means you must bring your whole self. Not just your resume of righteousness. The parts of you that are lazy, petty, tired, or scared. These too must be seen, not hidden behind holy performance. Until someone knows those parts, you will only perform love — never receive it. And performing love is one of the loneliest places a believer can live. The lie sounds holy: “I’m set apart, so I must be alone.” But that’s not sanctification. that’s self-protection dressed up in spiritual language. It’s easier to stay apart than to risk being known. But God didn’t just send prophets out, he himself entered literally into people’s lives. Sharing their stories. Listening. Suffering with them.

Your calling may be real. but it will remain fruitless until it’s interwoven with the Body of Christ. Yes, even the awkward, small, boring parts of the Church. Because the Kingdom is built through communion, not charisma. Through fellowship, not just fire. Sometimes the ache of loneliness isn’t because you’re failing , it’s because you’re not failing enough. You’re still clinging to visions and blueprints that need to die so God can resurrect something better. You’re still trying to control, to perfect, to impress. But the Gospel is not a solo act. It is a broken Body, gathered and given. Impact is intoxicating. It gives us the illusion of safety . “If I’m useful, I won’t be abandoned.” But real intimacy? That’s terrifying. it is fine if someone disagrees with your biblical views and what you know is true, but what of your human tendencies? What if they dislike your sense of humor or quirks? What if they don’t like your fashion choices? What if someone sees your need and walks away? This is where the real risk lies. But it’s also where real relationship begins. Because people don’t bond with vision. They bond with humanity. If you lead only with what you’re doing for God, people may feel like projects. Not companions. The Kingdom of God isn’t a business plan. it’s a family. And family requires mutuality. It demands vulnerability. It requires the kind of love that can’t be strategized only shared. So let go of the performance. Lay down the illusion of control. Stop trying to be the hero of your own story try being the beloved in God’s story. Instead of striving to save, prove, or define yourself, you receive your identity as one who is chosen, rescued, and called by Someone greater. It means trading control for surrender, self-sufficiency for dependence, and spotlight for presence. You stop asking, “How do I make my life matter?” and start asking, “What is God doing — and how can I join Him?”

It’s not passivity, but participation. Not erasing your role, but reframing it. You’re not fthe centerpiece you’re the canvas for this one. You’re not the author, you’re the living page for this one.

remember: God does call us to a mission, but only after He calls us to Himself. The mission is real, but it is secondary and dependent on that first, foundational relationship. When you’re rooted in God’s love, your mission becomes an overflow — not a performance. It’s not about earning favor or proving value. It’s about responding to love with obedience. God doesn’t use people like tools . He transforms them into sons and daughters, and then sends them as messengers, ambassadors, and servants. If you try to reverse that order trying to do for God before being with God the mission will become burdensome or hollow. If we skip the first calling (to Him), the second calling (to mission) becomes dangerous. . But when the order is right, the mission becomes a joy, a gift, and a partnership with the God who called us His own.