Be little

Hello and welcome to Scattered Moments. These are brief reflections on faith, adversity, and the quiet places where grace appears. The world has a strange way of measuring success. More followers, more influence, more money, more recognition, more applause. We build bigger houses, we have longer resumes, larger platforms, and heavier calendars. We celebrate accumulation. But Jesus began his greatest sermon with a blessing that sounds almost upside down. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Poor in spirit, not impressive, not self-sufficient, not full of themselves, empty. That is in a word our culture admires. We fear emptiness, an empty schedule that makes us anxious, an empty bank account frightens us. An empty room feels lonely. An empty nest aches. Yet God does his greatest work in empty places. An empty stable in Bethlehem, an empty fishing net before the miracle, empty jars in the widow's house, an empty tomb outside Jerusalem. God has always seemed strangely fond of emptiness, because emptiness leaves room for him. Perhaps that's why the saints speak so often of humility, not self-hatred, not weakness, not pretending we have no gifts, but the quiet realization that every gift, every breath, every opportunity, every victory has come from hands greater than our own. The older I get, the more I discover that spiritual life is not about becoming bigger. It's about becoming smaller, not less loved, not less valuable, just less occupied with myself. John the Baptist captured it perfectly. He must increase, but I must decrease. What freedom there is in that sentence. Freedom from constantly proving ourselves, freedom from defending ourselves, freedom from being the hero of every story, because we were never meant to be the hero. We are invited instead to walk beside the hero, to follow, to listen, to trust. Years ago I came across the words of Catherine Doherty and her little mandate, and this is what she wrote. Be always little. Those words have stayed with me. Be little, be simple, be childlike. Do little things exceedingly well. Love without counting the cost. Be hidden. What if greatness is not found in standing above others? What if greatness is found kneeling beside them? What if the kingdom advances most powerfully through quiet acts that nobody applauds? A prayer whispered in the dark, a meal shared with a hurting friend, a note of encouragement, a hidden sacrifice, a faithful life. The psalmist understood this mystery. Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God. A doorkeeper, not a king, not a celebrity, not the center of attention. Just near enough to God to hear his voice. And perhaps that's enough. Actually, perhaps that's everything. The truth is that our hearts spend much of life hunting, hunting for approval, hunting for significance, hunting for purpose, hunting for belonging, but every lesser pursuit eventually leaves us thirsty. Only Christ satisfies the deepest hunger of our soul. Only Christ quiets the restless heart. Only Christ fills the emptiness we spend so much time trying to avoid. And maybe that's the secret. The goal was never to fill ourselves, the goal was to be filled with Him. And so release your need to impress, release your need to control, release your need to be noticed. Lay down the burden of being your own Savior. Become small enough to sit at his feet, empty enough to receive his grace, poor enough in spirit to inherit the kingdom. And there, in that holy emptiness, you may discover that what felt like loss was actually room for God. That's today's scattered moments. Until next time, take care. Notice the scattered moments and share the grace.