Available or Out of Office?

For many people in the corporate world, one of the little joys of taking time off work is setting an out of office notification.

And honestly, it is a great thing. We need rest. We need boundaries. We need to step away from work and make room for life.

And if you do not work in a corporate environment, I am sure you know the equivalent: DND. Do Not Disturb. There is something satisfying about intentionally making yourself unavailable for a while.

But there is one place where I don’t think God wants us to be out of office or on DND.

The Kingdom.

There is an assignment God has already given us, and while we are away, it just sits there, undelivered.

I wonder how often we say, “God, use me,” while our spiritual out of office is quietly turned on.

Available when it is convenient.

Available when we have enough time.

Available when the assignment aligns with our plans.

Available when we understand what God is doing.

But what does it actually mean to be available to God?

Here am I. Send me.

Isaiah 6:8 says:

“Here am I! Send me.”

Isaiah heard God ask, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?”

And his response was simple:

“Here am I. Send me.”

He did not ask where he was going.

He did not ask what the job description was.

He did not ask how difficult the assignment would be.

He made himself available.

But what does it mean to say, “Here am I”?

Romans 12:1 gives us a clue:

“Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”

Isaiah said, “Send me.”

Romans tells us what that kind of response requires: surrender.

Before we can genuinely say, “Send me,” we have to be willing to say, “I belong to You.”

And that is where this gets uncomfortable.

Being available to God is not about finding space in our calendars. It is about allowing Him to direct our lives.

We want the assignment, but not the inconvenience.

We want the impact, but not always the obedience.

We want to be sent, but preferably somewhere we already planned to go.

And somewhere in the middle of writing this, I felt convicted.

Yes, I am also still a work in progress.

I have discovered that I can come up with some very intelligent responses for why I am not available.

I am busy.

This is not the right season.

I need to get a few things in order first.

Surely, there is someone more qualified.

The funny thing is that these responses can sound completely reasonable. Sometimes they even sound responsible.

But reasonable is not always obedient.

So I am making a decision: I want to become more available to God.

Not perfectly.

Not without questions.

Not without fear.

But available.

Ready for the assignment

There is another part of this that we sometimes overlook.

It is possible to be willing but not ready.

2 Timothy 2:21 says:

“…he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work.”

That word ready stands out to me.

God is not only interested in our willingness. He is also interested in our preparation.

Am I asking God to use me while refusing to develop the character, discipline, wisdom or skills I may need?

Am I praying for opportunities while doing nothing to prepare for them?

Sometimes preparation is part of the assignment too.

But what exactly are we being sent to do?

This is where the Great Commission comes in.

Jesus did not leave His followers wondering whether there was an assignment. He gave one.

Matthew 28:19 says:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…”

If we are followers of Christ, we have already been given a mission.

We can spend years asking God, “What is my purpose?” while overlooking the assignment He has already given every believer.

And being sent does not necessarily mean quitting your job and moving to another country.

It could mean being sent into your workplace.

Your neighbourhood.

Your friendship circle.

Your family.

Your church.

Your business.

Your online community.

Wherever God has placed you, there are people who may encounter Him through you.

Look for the opportunity

Galatians 6:10 makes this practical:

“So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone…”

As we have opportunity.

Maybe we do not need to wait for a dramatic assignment.

Maybe we need to start noticing the opportunities already in front of us.

The colleague going through something.

The friend who needs to hear about Jesus.

The person who needs encouragement.

The chance to forgive.

The opportunity to serve.

The person God keeps bringing to your mind.

Maybe the assignment is not always dramatic.

Maybe sometimes, the assignment is simply the opportunity.

So, are you available?

Isaiah heard the question, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” and said:

“Here am I. Send me.”

Maybe our response does not need to be complicated.

“Lord, here I am. What do You want to do through me today?”

Not tomorrow.

Not when everything is in order.

Not when we have figured it all out.

Today.

Because the assignment has already been given.

The opportunities are already around us.

The question is simply whether we will notice them.

Are you available, or are you out of office?

Thank you for reading! I hope this blesses you as much as it blessed me.

Some battles are not won by fighting harder. Some are won by surrendering deeper.

Last month, I wrote about a testimony that humbled me deeply.

I shared how people had begun to see the fruit of the Spirit in my life — the patience, kindness, gentleness, and love that can only come from God working within us.

It was a beautiful reminder that God is constantly transforming us. But transformation is not only revealed in peaceful moments. It is also revealed when we are tested.

And this month, I found myself being tested.

In different areas of my life, I felt drained. There were moments where I had to advocate for myself, ask difficult questions, and stand firm in situations where I felt misunderstood or frustrated.

I found myself carrying the weight of disappointment, exhaustion, and the desire to make things right.

And somewhere in the middle of all these battles, I realized something uncomfortable.

I had stepped into a ring I was never meant to stay in.

I was tired.

Not just physically tired.

Spiritually tired.

I began to ask myself:

What happened to the fruit of the Spirit I wrote about last month?

How quickly pressure can reveal the areas where God is still working in us.

But as I reflected, I realized I was asking the wrong question.

The fruit of the Spirit does not mean we will never feel frustrated. It does not mean we will never feel anger. It does not mean difficult situations will never shake us.

The fruit of the Spirit described in Galatians 5:22-23 is not the absence of challenges; it is the evidence of God’s presence working within us through those challenges.

The question is not whether we experience these emotions.

The question is whether these emotions are leading us.

Even Jesus experienced moments of deep emotion. He wept (John 11:35). He was moved with compassion (Matthew 9:36). He confronted wrong when He saw the temple being misused (Matthew 21:12-13). But He was never controlled by the circumstances around Him.

And that is where wisdom is needed: knowing the difference between a battle we are called to fight and a ring we need to leave.

Because some rings are exhausting us.

The ring of constantly proving ourselves.

The ring of needing everyone to understand us.

The ring of replaying conversations in our minds.

The ring of trying to control outcomes only God can handle.

Sometimes, we think strength means staying in the fight longer.

But sometimes strength looks like knowing when to step away.

Stepping out of the ring does not mean we stop caring. It does not mean we ignore injustice or abandon wisdom. There are moments when we must speak, act, and stand firm.

Scripture does not call us to be passive. Proverbs 31:8-9 reminds us to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves and defend what is right.

But Scripture also teaches us that we were never created to carry everything alone.

Jesus said:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28

There are moments when God invites us to release what we cannot carry.

To trust Him with outcomes.

To surrender the need to be validated by everyone.

To choose peace over exhaustion.

Jesus understood this. Even with the demands of people around Him, He often withdrew to spend time with the Father (Luke 5:16). He knew that purpose requires alignment, and alignment requires returning to the source.

Maybe today you are tired because you have been fighting battles that were never meant to define you.

Maybe you have spent too much time in a ring that was draining your joy, your peace, and your focus.

Ask yourself:

Is this a battle God has called me to fight?

Or is this a ring He is asking me to step out of?

For me, the answer showed up in my body before it showed up in my mind.

I was tired — but not the tired that comes from hard labor. It was a different kind of exhaustion. Unnatural. Like I was carrying something that was never mine to carry in the first place.

So I stepped away.

I stopped trying to fix it, explain it, win it.

I worshipped instead.

And I gave it to Him.

And He carried what I could not.

Because sometimes victory is not found in proving that we were right.

Sometimes victory is found in walking away with our hearts still anchored in God.

As Psalm 46:10 reminds us:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Stepping out of the ring is not surrendering to defeat.

It is surrendering to God.

Step out of the ring. Return to the One who restores you.

When a transformed life becomes evidence of the God who transforms

Last month, I reflected on what it means to live a Life of Proof, a life that points to Christ through the way we live. Since then, I have continued thinking about a question:

If our lives are evidence of God’s work in us, what happens when others begin to notice that evidence?

“Where’s your evidence?”

It is a question we hear often.

Someone makes a claim, tells a story, or says something happened, and the immediate response is usually a request for proof. Where is the evidence? Without evidence, it becomes difficult to believe the claim.

This simple phrase made me think about our walk with Christ.

As followers of Jesus, we carry a message that is greater than any ordinary claim. We proclaim that Jesus Christ transforms lives, renews hearts, and makes people new.

But beyond the words we speak, what evidence do people see? And when they notice that evidence, are we ready to use our words to point them to the source?

Before people see change, God has already begun the work

“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:6)

Transformation does not begin with effort. It begins with light.

The same God who spoke light into creation is the One who shines into human hearts. And the light He gives is not abstract improvement; it is the revelation of Jesus Christ Himself.

Before anything becomes visible in our lives, something invisible has already happened: God has opened our eyes to see Christ.

That is where transformation begins.

A Question That Made Me Reflect

Recently, someone asked me a question that made me pause.

“Do you ever get angry? Why are you always so chill?”

I smiled because it was such an unexpected question.

But what made it meaningful was not the compliment itself. It was the reminder of who I used to be.

I remember being quicker to frustration. I remember reacting from emotion and allowing situations to affect my peace.

So hearing someone notice calmness in me was not a moment for pride. It was a moment of gratitude.

It reminded me that change is often quiet and gradual. But more importantly, it reminded me that what people are seeing is not simply personality or self-discipline; it is the ongoing work of Christ shaping a life that belongs to Him.

The Fruit Is Evidence of Life in Christ

In Galatians 5:22–23, Paul writes:

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”

Fruit is not produced by effort alone. It is the result of life flowing from a source.

Jesus explains this in John 15:5:

“I am the vine; you are the branches… apart from me you can do nothing.”

The branch does not produce life independently. It only expresses the life of the vine.

In the same way, the fruit of the Spirit is not something we manufacture. It is the visible result of remaining in Christ and allowing His life to shape ours from within.

Over time, what the Spirit produces becomes visible:

Love where there was once selfishness.
Peace where there was once unrest.
Patience where there was once frustration.
Gentleness where there was once anger.

But beneath all of this is one reality: Christ is forming His life in us.

The Fruit Was Never Meant to End With Us

A tree does not produce fruit for itself.

Fruit is not the goal of the tree; it is the expression of its life.

It nourishes. It gives. It carries the possibility of new life.

And in the same way, the fruit God produces in us is not meant to terminate on us. It is meant to reveal the life of Christ at work within us and to bless those around us.

As Jesus says:

“By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit…” (John 15:8)

So the fruit is not only for others. It is ultimately for the glory of God and the evidence that we are connected to Christ.

Our Lives Speak Before Our Words Do

When Jesus gave the Great Commission, He commanded His followers:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” (Matthew 28:19)

Our words matter. The message of Christ must be spoken clearly.

But Jesus also said:

“By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35)

Love is not the gospel, but it is one of its clearest evidences.

People often encounter the evidence of Christ’s work in us before they hear our explanation of it.

They notice how we respond when things do not go our way.
They notice whether grace shapes our reactions.
They notice whether peace is present when it should not be.

And sometimes, that becomes the moment of curiosity.

When People Ask, Be Ready

Peter writes:

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have…” (1 Peter 3:15)

People often ask when they see something they cannot easily explain.

Not perfection.
But something different. Something steady. Something shaped by Christ.

That curiosity creates an opportunity not for self-explanation, but for witness.

Our lives may open the door, but our words must point clearly to Jesus.

The Great Commission Before Us

The Great Commission is not only a call to speak about Jesus. It is a call to represent Him faithfully in the world.

But representation is never the source of transformation. Christ is.

Before anything becomes visible in our character, something deeper has already taken place: Christ has been revealed to us, and Christ is now at work within us.

And over time, what He is doing internally becomes visible externally.

So when someone notices patience, peace, or gentleness, they are not ultimately seeing personal improvement.

They are seeing the evidence of Christ’s life at work in a human heart.

When People Ask, May We Point Them to Christ

Someone noticed something in me before I said a word about my faith.

But the most important thing is not that they noticed change.

The most important thing is that the change has a source.

And that source is Jesus Christ.

So when people ask what is different, may we not only point to behaviour or discipline or growth but to the One who is the true vine, the One who shines light into hearts, the One who transforms us from within.

Because a transformed life is never the destination.

It is evidence.

And the evidence always points to Christ.

Life of Proof

Sometimes three words can expose an entire life.

It started with a photo.

I hadn’t posted online in a while, and when I finally wanted to, the caption just came to me — proof of life. You know, because where had I been?

But then I flipped the phrase. And something unlocked.

You’ve probably heard the phrase proof of life — that moment in a movie or news story where someone has to prove a person is still alive. It’s tense. Urgent. A single moment carrying enormous weight.

But lately, those words have been rearranging themselves in my heart.

Not proof of life.
But life of proof.

And I think there’s something important in that shift.

Proof of life is reactive. It’s demanded under pressure. It’s a snapshot — one frozen moment answering a desperate question: Is there still something there?

A life of proof is something else entirely.

It’s not a moment. It’s a movement.

It’s the ongoing answer to a different question altogether: Who or what is shaping my life?

Because faith doesn’t stay invisible for long. Eventually, it shows up.

It shows up in how we treat people who can do nothing for us. In how we respond when things don’t go our way. In whether we still choose kindness when we’re tired, disappointed, overlooked, or hurt. In what we do when nobody’s watching.

James says it plainly:

“Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” — James 2:17

Not weak.
Not struggling.
Dead.

That’s strong language. But maybe it needs to be. Because faith that never reaches real life isn’t really faith at all — it’s belief kept at a safe distance.

And if we’re honest, a lot of us know what that distance feels like.

We believe the right things. We know the verses. We show up on Sunday.

Then Monday comes.

The commute is frustrating. The coworker is difficult. The temptation is real. The news feels heavy. Life becomes inconvenient, exhausting, and painfully ordinary.

And somewhere in those ordinary moments, our faith either becomes visible… or quietly stays theoretical.

A life of proof doesn’t mean a perfect life. Not even close.

It means a life that keeps turning back toward God, even after stumbling.

Because following Jesus was never meant to be something we only confess with our mouths. It was always meant to transform how we live.

Jesus Himself said:

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” — John 13:35

Faith stops being something you merely carry. It becomes something that carries you.

And people notice. Even when they never say a word.

I want to speak to the skeptics for a moment too, because this blog isn’t only for people who already believe.

Maybe you’ve struggled with Christianity because of Christians. Maybe the distance between what people claim and how they live has felt impossible to ignore.

That’s real.

That inconsistency has wounded people, pushed people away, and damaged trust in ways the Church sometimes refuses to acknowledge honestly.

But I don’t believe the problem is Christ.

I believe the problem is when people claim Him with their mouths while refusing to follow Him with their lives.

Because when someone genuinely follows Jesus, you notice it.

There’s something different about a person who loves without needing recognition. Who serves without keeping score. Who holds onto hope in situations that should have buried it.

Not perfectly. But sincerely.

That’s more than personality. More than good morals.

That’s the evidence of a life being transformed by God.

As Scripture says:

“Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” — James 1:22

So here’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately:

What does my life prove?

Not what do I claim.
Not what do I post on my socials or write in this blog.
Not even what do I believe privately in my own mind.

But what do my habits, reactions, priorities, words, and choices consistently point toward?

Do they point people toward me?
Or toward God?

That’s a confronting question.

It confronts me regularly.

But it’s also an invitation.

Because every day is another opportunity to close the gap — between what we believe and how we live. Between the faith we speak about and the proof we offer the world around us.

You don’t need to be perfect to live a life of proof.

You just need to keep turning toward God — again and again, even when you stumble.

Keep following Jesus.
Keep surrendering.
Keep growing.
Keep going.

“Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” — Matthew 5:16

Are you living a life of proof?

If this resonated with you, here’s a prayer you can make your own:

Dear God,

Please help me to live a life of proof. I no longer want to play the game of religion.

Let it show that I encountered you and that you are transforming me in how I love, how I serve, how I live when no one is watching.

Let my life point men towards you.

In Jesus name,

Amen.