As you no doubt realized in last week’s post, I’m reading through Acts again. This time I’m using the Word on Fire Bible, which has some amazing commentary from both modern scholars and historical ones, along with sacred art by some of the greatest masters of all time, word studies on terms in Greek or Hebrew we might be unfamiliar with, and so much more. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the experience, and quite often the little essays or paragraphs of commentary make me see something in a new light.

Reading about the conversion of Paul this time around, I first had that thought about how it only took a few words to convince Paul he’d been wrong…then I read a note from Bishop Barron that really made me pause and think.

He pointed out that every time in Scripture–every time–God appears to man, it isn’t for the sake of that one person. It’s to equip them to go out and do the work of the Lord.

Moses didn’t see the burning bush just to convince him to have faith. He saw the burning bush so that he’d be the rescuer of hundreds of thousands of people.

Samuel didn’t hear the Voice of God to reassure him of anything. He heard the Voice of God so that the priesthood would be cleansed of sin and they could better serve the people.

Abraham didn’t receive the covenant just for his own salvation. He received the covenant so that all men, all nations, could come to salvation.

Saul didn’t see that blinding light just to turn his feet onto the straight and narrow. He saw that blinding light because God wanted to use him to reach the Gentiles.

I remember once when I was a kid, maybe twelve or thirteen, the Santmyires came home for a visit. They were full-time missionaries and had served in many different countries. I think at that point they were in Bulgaria, but honestly, I don’t recall where they’d come from. I just remember being so excited that their daughter Amber, who was a year older than me, was spending the night with us. I imagine her sister, Torrey, was too–I imagine Torrey and my own sister, Jennifer, were in Jen’s room talking about older-girl things long into the night. Amber and I stationed ourselves on the sectional couch in my living room, right in front of the wide bay windows that provide a stunning view of the valley below and the mountains beyond.

I don’t remember all of what Amber and I talked about that night. I know we laughed, I know we got into all the things that mattered to us. But I distinctly remember talking about the wonders of the Lord, and how we hoped that, someday, we could see one of His angels with our own eyes. We talked about the stories we’d heard of heavenly encounters. We wondered how angels must really look, given that their first words to humans always seemed to be “Don’t be afraid.”

And then we realized that we’d turned so that we were not looking out that big window. Because we were suddenly afraid we would see an angel, and that it would be terrifying. It gave us another laugh.

But it also stuck with me. Because, I think, even as a child, I understood that seeing the power of God with my own eyes would be so much more than an interesting story. And maybe because I recognized that seeing the power of God with my own eyes would mean flipping everything on its head. Because God doesn’t appear to those who just need to keep doing what they’re doing. He doesn’t appear to those who just need a little encouragement.

He appears to people whose lives are about to be shaken to their core, flipped on their heads, and sent on a whole new trajectory. When He’s going to call them from the only home they ever knew. From the path they thought was just. From the livelihood their families depend on. From the security of a life of oblivion. He appears to people who are going to be hated, cursed, reviled, persecuted, martyred, and thrown into battle without any formal training.

God has so many ways of speaking to us, encouraging us, and equipping us. I have experienced the wonder of those ways many times in my life, and I am so grateful for them. And even those smaller ways, those less-terrifying ways…they, too, speak to this key characteristic of God’s movement:

It’s never just for us. Because faith in Him, following Him, is never just for us. It’s for the world. It’s for the lost. It’s for the Church. It’s for our neighbor. It’s for our enemy. It’s for our family.

And most of all, it’s for Him.

He doesn’t appear to show us His glory. He appears to show us how to give that glory back to Him.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see an angel, or a blinding light, or hear a voice from Heaven that sounds like thunder to those around me. But I know this–every whisper, every breeze, every sunrise that calls to my heart in His voice, has a purpose, and that purpose isn’t just for me. It’s for equipping me to do His work.