NLC Connect - Oct. 7, 2026

I spend a lot of time asking people to serve.
I ask people to teach kids, hang out with teenagers, help with events, decorate rooms, prepare activities, pass out candy, clean things up, and occasionally do things that were definitely not mentioned when they originally agreed to volunteer.
It's part of ministry.
With Family Fun Night and Fall Volunteer Training coming up, I've found myself reflecting on something:
Before I ever served someone else, someone served me.
I came to know Jesus when I was five years old. When I think about that little girl, I realize there were adults who made room for me long before I knew what ministry was.
Someone taught me about Jesus. Someone prepared a lesson and opened a Bible. Someone answered my questions. Someone showed up when they probably had plenty of other things they could have been doing.
Someone helped create a place where a five-year-old little girl could begin a relationship with Jesus that would shape the rest of her life.
I wonder if they knew.
Did they know that little girl would grow up and spend her life serving children and teenagers?
Probably not.
That's one of the beautiful—and sometimes frustrating—things about serving.
We rarely get to see the whole story.
I've been serving in children's and youth ministry for a while now, and I've learned that most ministry doesn't look particularly impressive.
It's showing up.
It's remembering a name.
It's preparing a craft.
It's listening to a child or teenager tell you a very long story.
It's sitting beside the kid who needs a little extra attention.
It's cleaning up after everyone leaves.
It's noticing who hasn't been noticed.
It's saying, “I'll do it.”
Sometimes I wonder how many seemingly ordinary moments from my childhood were actually extraordinary because someone chose to show up.
They may have thought they were just teaching another Sunday school lesson.
But they were helping shape me.
Years later, I find myself on the other side.
Now I'm the one preparing lessons, wondering if every child has someone who knows their name, worrying about whether we have enough volunteers, and praying that a teenager understands how deeply loved they are by God.
And I've had the privilege of watching something beautiful happen.
Kids grow into teenagers. Teenagers become leaders. People who were once being served begin to serve. People who once needed someone to notice them begin noticing someone else.
This is how the Church keeps going.
Not because one person does everything.
Because one generation serves the next.
I think sometimes we underestimate our service because we don't see immediate results.
We teach the lesson and wonder if anyone listened. We volunteer at the event and wonder if it mattered. We show up week after week and wonder if anyone notices.
But the people who served five-year-old me couldn't see this part of the story yet.
They couldn't see the children I would someday teach, the teenagers I would pray with, the volunteers I would train, or the families I would love.
They just saw the child in front of them. And they served her.
That's incredibly humbling to me.
Because when I look at the children and teenagers in front of me now, I don't know their whole stories either.
I don't know who they will become, where God will take them, or whose lives they will someday impact.
But I get to be one small part of their story now.
Jesus told His disciples:
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
—Matthew 18:5
Maybe that's why the small things aren't actually small.
Every time we notice someone, teach someone, encourage someone, or simply show up, we're participating in something much bigger than the moment we can see.
I am following Jesus today because people helped point me toward Him.
Someone served me first.
And now I get to serve someone else.
Someday, I hope the children and teenagers we're serving now will look back and realize the same thing.
Someone showed up.
Someone knew their name.
Someone believed in them.
Someone told them about Jesus.
Someone served them first.
And maybe they'll decide it's their turn.
That's how service becomes legacy.
One person says yes. Then another. One generation serves the next.
But ultimately, none of us started this.
Long before any of us ever thought about serving Jesus, Jesus served us.
“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve…”
—Mark 10:45
Maybe that's where every story of service really begins.
Not with what we do for Jesus.
But with what Jesus has already done for us.
We serve because Someone served us first.