I’m writing in a small office — in a tucked-away corner of Iowa — where my walls are decorated with dusty, framed degrees and old awards that nobody remembers anymore.
For all the obvious reasons, I used to think that changing the world happened somewhere on the way to the bachelor’s degree and the six-figure salary and the accolade.
I figured the world-changers breathed their oxygen somewhere by the front microphone, the corner office, the top billing, or maybe on the back nine of the golf course with all of the other world-changers.
The people who would make this cold and cruel world a better place had scalpels in their hands and stars in their eyes. They could feel the rungs of the corporate ladder under their Stilleto-ed feet.
They had platforms, podiums, plaudits … and probably Prada.
The world tricks us into believing its most favored lie: Go big, or go home.
But then, something called actual life happens to most of us. Because suddenly? We look at our lives, and we realize how little we really are.
That realization might just kill you.
Or it might just save you.
Look … there’s only so much room at the microphone, and that one fact might make you might feel microscopic. There’s only a smidgen of space on the platform, and all of the people that you think are the actual “world-changers” are already there.
But what if we remembered how epic it is to be small?
If we happen to forget, we could open our Bibles to John 3:30.
In the Kingdom, the little things are the biggest things.
And you are doing the little-big things.
You are epic. Did you see yourself this week?
Remember when you held back her chestnut hair while she was greening over the porcelain? And her rigid, shuddering body finally went limp like a tired old dishrag? So you carried her to her room and pushed back the hair from her sweaty brow. And maybe you knew it when you sunk straight into her eyes and she threw her little arms around your neck —
You changed the world today.
You folded three loads of laundry, changed five lightbulbs, pulled weeds, cried with a friend, prayed over Syria, mailed that sympathy card, took a sack of groceries to the food pantry, and dropped off your kid’s forgotten clarinet at the school. And when your grateful kid hugged you at the front door of her classroom? You knew it then —
You, brave soul, … you changed the world today.
You forgave the friend who hurt you. You refused to gossip. You gave up your seat on the subway. You decided, in the end, that Jesus was right when he said it: Love your neighbor as yourself.
And if you didn’t know it in then, maybe you realize it now–
You changed the world today.
You said sorry first. You decided to stay one more day. You put your foot down. You listened to the nudge. You prayed harder than you ever prayed before. And you refused to be the woman who, when she shows up in Heaven, finds out that she was known among angels for her wimpy prayers.
Because? You are epic. You believe. You love. You live. You give.
Because you wipe noses and faces … and baby bottoms. Because you clean up messes and try to leave this world in better shape than you found it. You cry with your broken-hearted friend, and laugh at yourself, and every night you thank the good Lord for your daily bread.
You pray for Kingdom come.
Friend, you are changing the world.
And maybe no one notices. Maybe no one gives you a pat on the back or an atta-girl or an award to nail on your wall. But maybe you could know, right now, how epic you are.
But the real world-changers? They don’t give a hoot about what hangs on their walls… because they know Who’s hanging in their hearts.