Spiritual Gifts (Further Thought)

This lesson doesn't leave us with many places to hide. Not because we speak in tongues. But because we are tempted to congratulate ourselves for not speaking in tongues.
We read 1 Corinthians 14 and quietly think,
"At least Paul wasn't talking about us."
Really?
We don’t struggle with tongues. We struggle with pride.

The Corinthians made one gift the badge of spirituality.
Have we never done the same?

Maybe not tongues.

• But what about explaining Daniel and Revelation?
• Winning Bible quizzes?
• Quoting Ellen White from memory?
• Correcting everyone else’s theology?
• Knowing all 28 Fundamental Beliefs?

None of those are wrong.
But the moment they become reasons to feel spiritually superior, we’ve become exactly what Paul was dealing with in Corinth.

If I’m honest, I see Corinth in me too.

• It’s easier to admire truth than to be transformed by it.
• Easier to defend doctrine than to display Christ.
• Easier to debate prophecy than to sit with a hurting believer.

Knowledge can quietly replace love — and because our knowledge is biblical, we don’t even notice.

Here’s the harder question:
Paul said gifts were given to build up the church.
So why do people spend decades in the church and never discover what God gifted them to do?

Many attend faithfully.
Return tithe.
Keep the Sabbath.
But they stay spectators while a handful carry every ministry.
That’s not a body. That’s an audience.

I wonder if we’ve added a new "spiritual gift" to Paul’s list:
We call it faithful attendance.
As if coming, listening, and avoiding trouble is the whole calling.

But Paul never listed attendance as a gift.
He described people who strengthen, serve, encourage, teach, comfort, and build.

Neither is criticism a gift.
Neither is analyzing the sermon on the drive home.
Neither is waiting for "someone else" to take the role in nominating committee.

Sometimes we’ve mistaken being present for being involved.
We’re good at evaluating.
We’re good at telling others what they should do.
But when the Spirit asks, "What have you done with the gift I gave you?" — the room gets quiet.

Paul imagined every believer asking, "Lord, how can You use me?"
Too often we ask, "How little can I do and still be considered faithful?"
That might be the most dangerous question among us.

One last thought:
We proudly call ourselves the remnant.
But the remnant was never chosen to admire itself.
It was chosen to serve.

Our identity is a responsibility before it is a privilege.

If being remnant makes us humbler, kinder, more patient, quicker to forgive, more willing to bear burdens — then we understand our calling.
If it only makes us feel "more correct than everyone else," we’ve turned truth into a trophy.

Paul wouldn’t ask about the size of our Bible knowledge first.
He’d ask: "Who is stronger because you are in this church?"
Not because you attend it. Because you are in it.

Who loves Jesus more because God placed you there?
Who stayed faithful because you encouraged them?
Who found hope because you used your gift instead of burying it?

If no one can answer that, then maybe what we call faithfulness is just unused potential.
Light received but never shared.
Truth admired but never lived.
Gifts acknowledged but never activated.

I doubt the Lord will first ask us how well we identified every spiritual gift.
He may simply ask: "Did the gift I placed in your hands ever become someone else’s blessing?"

What is one gift God has given you that someone in your church needs this week?
Pray about it. Then use it.