Living for Christ in a World You Can't Control

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmmIyp2Xmmo

Most of us start our morning the same way — phones in hand, checking the weather, the calendar, social media. We want to know what's coming, how long it will take, and whether we're "on schedule." We've quietly built our lives on the assumption that if we plan carefully enough, we can control what happens to us.

John Ortberg put it plainly: "Hurry is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart."

Our culture doesn't just want to move fast — it wants to move with certainty. And that's exactly what Jesus addresses in Matthew 24:36–51.

The Setup

By the time we reach these verses, Jesus has said a lot of hard things. He's lamented Jerusalem's rejection of Him, predicted the destruction of the temple, and described the signs of the end of the age — wars, deception, disasters, persecution. It's heavy. And like the disciples, we find ourselves asking: "When will this happen? How do we prepare?"

Jesus doesn't give us a date. Instead, He redirects us to something more important: keep following, keep being faithful, in a world that chases self-certainty and speed.

The question isn't "When will Jesus come?" It's "Am I letting Christ form my heart now for what is to come?"

Our ordinary days are the training ground. Here's what Jesus teaches us.

See Reality Clearly (Matthew 24:36–41)

Jesus opens with a stunning statement: no one knows the day or the hour of His return — not the angels, and not even the Son in His incarnate state. This isn't a contradiction of Christ's divinity. Theologians call it kenosis — Jesus voluntarily limiting certain knowledge while robed in human flesh, fully submitting to the Father (Phil. 2:5–8).

If Jesus embraced that kind of self-limitation, it shouldn't surprise us that some things remain hidden from us too. Moses said it well in Deuteronomy 29:29: "The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever."

God's "hiddenness" isn't a malfunction. It's an invitation to trust.

Jesus illustrates this with Noah. The people of Noah's day were eating, drinking, going about ordinary life — either unaware of what was coming or choosing to see reality on their own terms. The flood came anyway. The second coming will be the same.

Fields and mills, in Jesus' day, were intentionally ordinary settings. Two people could share the same work, the same neighborhood, even the same religious background — and be in entirely different standing before God. Proximity to religious life does not equal readiness before God. The question isn't where you are when Christ returns. It's whether you are His — awake and faithfully attentive to Him in the mundane ebbs and flows of everyday life.

Before GPS, sailors used dead reckoning — committing to move forward, trusting their instruments, without being able to see their exact position. They didn't anchor in place waiting for certainty. They sailed with what they knew. That's the posture Jesus is calling us toward.

Each morning, try praying: "Lord, make me awake to Your presence in this ordinary day."

Stay Awake (Matthew 24:42–44)

"Stay awake" in the original Greek is a present active imperative — it's better translated "keep staying awake." It's not a one-time decision; it's a continued, daily orientation toward the Lord.

Here's what's counterintuitive: not knowing when Christ is coming doesn't produce anxiety — it produces watchfulness. Paul echoes this in Romans 13: "The hour has come to wake from sleep... the night is nearly over." And in Ephesians 5: "Look carefully how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time."

Dallas Willard wrote: "Grace is not opposed to effort, it is opposed to earning. Effort is action, earning is attitude."

Staying awake isn't a performance to earn God's favor. It's a response to grace already given. We stay awake because we are loved — not in order to be loved.

Jesus uses the image of a thief in the night — not to cast Himself as a threat, but to underline the unexpectedness of His return. Certainty produces apathy. Uncertainty calls for attentiveness. Readiness isn't a last-minute scramble; it's a settled posture of everyday faithfulness to the Gospel.

And notice: Jesus calls Himself the "Son of Man" — a title drawn from Daniel 7, pointing to an exalted King who already reigns. This changes everything. We're not watching for someone who might come someday. We're watching for the One who is already here, already on the throne, and will return in full glory.

A practical tool from the early church: "The Examen." At the end of each day, ask yourself — Where did I sense God's presence today? Where did I resist it? Where was I awake to the Lord? Where was I distracted or asleep?

Practice Kingdom Stewardship (Matthew 24:45–51)

Jesus closes with a searching question in the form of a parable. The faithful servant is the one who tends the household while the master is away — not dramatically, not with great fanfare, just daily, faithful care for others. Paul captures the spirit of it in 1 Corinthians 4: "It is required of stewards that they be found faithful."

Faithful (pistos) means reliability over time. Wise (phronimos) means moral skill — the practical wisdom that knows how to live well before the Lord in everyday moments.

The contrast is the wicked servant who says to himself, "My master is delayed." He doesn't dramatically abandon the faith. He just quietly adjusts his behavior because he believes the master isn't watching. He presumes the delay is permission. Peter warns about this exact drift in 2 Peter 3: scoffers who say, "Where is the promise of His coming?" The danger is a slow, quiet forgetfulness — treating God's patience as permission to live for yourself.

The master's return reveals not a single failure, but a formed life. Character is shaped slowly, in ordinary moments — and eventually, it comes fully into the light.

Oswald Chambers said: "The test of the life of a saint is not success, but faithfulness in human life as it actually is."

Jesus isn't asking, "Did you achieve great things?" He's asking, "Were you faithful with what I gave you, in the ordinary moments I gave you, when you thought no one was watching?"

Martin Luther is often credited with saying: "If I knew the world would end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today." That's the posture of a faithful steward — not scrambling at the last moment, but steadily tending the ordinary because the Master is worth serving.

This week: choose one responsibility — your work, your parenting, a relationship — and intentionally reframe it as something entrusted to you by the Lord. Begin each day with: "Lord, this is Yours. Help me be faithful with it."

The Grace in All of This

Titus 2:11–14 reminds us that "the grace of God has appeared... training us to renounce ungodliness and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope."

We don't steward faithfully to earn God's favor. We steward faithfully because His grace has already appeared — in the person of Jesus Christ. It is that grace that teaches us how to live.

And if you've recognized yourself in the wicked servant — not in some dramatic way, but in a quiet one; going through the motions, assuming the Master is far off, living for yourself in the in-between — hear this: the same Lord who gives the warning is the One who runs.

In Luke 15, Jesus describes a father who sees his returning son "while he was still a great way off" and runs to meet him. The Master who will return in judgment is the same One who ran toward a son who had wasted everything. His invitation is still open.

Come back to Him. He hasn't delayed because He's indifferent. He's delayed because He's patient — "not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance" (2 Peter 3:9).

Our ordinary days are not filler between the significant moments. They are the significant moments.

Walk under His Word this week. Trust that as you steward the ordinary faithfully, your life is reflecting the love, the hope, and the kingdom of your Master — who is reigning now, and who is coming again.