Day 62

Numbers 7-8 | John 4:31-54

Numbers 7 is one of those chapters that seems repetitive.

Leader after leader, tribe after tribe, day after day—the same offering, the same process, the same devotion.

Twelve days. Twelve identical gifts.

Silver plates, silver basins, gold dishes, grain, bulls, rams, lambs.

At a glance, it looks like redundancy.

But what if it’s actually a picture of faithfulness?

What if it’s a reminder that devotion isn’t about the grand gestures, but about showing up, again and again, with a willing heart?

And then I read John 4.

Jesus’ disciples urge Him to eat, but He tells them:

“My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to finish His work.” (John 4:34)

He was sustained—not by physical nourishment, but by pouring Himself out in obedience to the Father.

And I feel that tonight.

Because right now, the pouring feels exhausting.

The Weight of the Everyday

I’m writing this from my hotel room.

It’s past midnight. My alarm is set for 4 a.m. And after another day that started before the sun—struggling to tie my dress shoes and buckle my belt—and stretched nonstop into the night, I’m running on empty.

I’m onsite for a two-million-dollar event our team is executing. Every moment is high pressure, every detail is fluid. The schedule is relentless—client breakfasts, lunches, dinners, rehearsals, meetings, changes, rewrites, more rehearsals.

And this year, there’s a new layer of complexity. For the first time, we’re running this event under the brand of the company that acquired us—a brand we don’t fully know yet, with expectations we’re still figuring out.

By the time I walked into my room tonight, I could barely keep my eyes open.

And I thought: Maybe I’ll skip writing tonight. Just this once.

Would it really matter? Would anyone notice? Would it really make a difference?

And that’s when I thought of the offerings in Numbers 7.

Day after day, the same sacrifice. The same weight carried. The same hands lifted in worship.

Not because they felt like it every time. But because God was worthy every time.

The Strength to Keep Going

Jesus knew what it was like to be weary.

He knew exhaustion, hunger, and the burden of constant need. But when His disciples told Him to eat, His response was simple:

“I have food to eat that you do not know about.” (John 4:32)

His strength didn’t come from the temporary.

His strength came from obedience.

He was sustained by doing the will of the Father.

And if that was enough for Him, then it’s enough for me.

Enough for the long nights. The early mornings. The unseen sacrifices. The moments when faithfulness feels like routine instead of revival.

Because obedience is never wasted.

Faithfulness is never unnoticed.

Every offering—whether it’s silver basins or time spent in the Word, bulls on the altar or a blog post written in exhaustion—is seen by God.

And He is the One who sustains.

A Life Poured Out

Numbers 8 describes the consecration of the Levites.

They weren’t given flashy roles.

Their task was service—carrying the tabernacle, setting up camp, preparing the sacred space for worship.

It was the work that went unseen but made worship possible.

And isn’t that what we’re all called to?

Not to fame, but to faithfulness.

Not to status, but to service.

Not to recognition, but to obedience.

Because that’s what Jesus did.

He poured Himself out for us.

And now, He calls us to do the same.

The Harvest Is Coming

In John 4, after telling His disciples that His food is to do the Father’s will, Jesus says:

“Lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest.” (John 4:35)

The work isn’t in vain.

The seeds sown in weariness will reap a harvest in joy (Psalm 126:5).

The strength we spend in obedience is never wasted.

Because in the kingdom of God, nothing given in faithfulness is ever in vain.

Not the offerings in Numbers.

Not the sacrifices of the Levites.

Not a blog post written at midnight on a couple of hours of sleep.

Not a single moment spent in obedience to the One who poured Himself out for us.

Lord, strengthen my weary hands. Sustain me when I feel like my offering is small. Remind me that every act of obedience matters—because You are worthy, every single time. Amen.