What Will You Do With What You’ve Been Given?

 

Sometimes the first step toward loving our neighbors better is recognizing what we have that others may not.

For much of my life, I believed that if you worked hard, treated people well, and made good choices, you had the same opportunities as everyone else. I did not spend much time thinking about how my own circumstances shaped my experience. I am a white, cis gendered, heterosexual, married, middle class American man. I did not choose those parts of my story, but they have influenced how I experience the world and how others experience me. Growing up, I heard racist comments and absorbed assumptions about people without always questioning where those ideas came from or whom they harmed. Over time, I began to understand that my experience was not everyone's experience. Some doors opened for me without my even realizing they were closed to others.

That realization helped me understand a phrase I return to often: I didn't choose what I was given, but I can choose what I do with it. Dr. David Anderson uses the term Gracism to describe extending favor to others because of their color, class, or culture. For me, this means more than recognizing differences or feeling bad about the advantages I may have received. It means asking how I can use what I have been given to help others flourish. The question is not whether I deserve what I have, but what I will do with it.

What Does It Mean to Share?

Sharing is easy to understand when we think about money or material possessions. But we also have influence, relationships, access, knowledge, opportunities, and a voice. We can use these things to protect our own comfort, or we can help open doors for people who have not had the same opportunities. Sometimes sharing means giving something away. Other times, it means inviting someone into a room, making sure their voice is heard, or speaking up when they are dismissed.

In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul describes the church as a body made up of many parts. Each part has a purpose, and no part can tell another, “I don't need you.” Paul even says that the parts we consider weaker are indispensable and that those we consider less honorable should receive greater honor. The church is not healthy because everyone looks alike, thinks alike, or shares the same background. It is healthy when every person is recognized as someone who belongs and has something to contribute.

That has real implications for how we treat people across differences in race, culture, class, ability, immigration status, sexual orientation, and gender identity. Do we make room for people whose experiences differ from ours? Are we willing to share our influence and opportunities so others can participate fully? We may not understand every part of another person's story, but we can choose to treat that person as someone whose presence matters.

When the Church Plays Favorites

Paul reminds us that every member of the body matters. But knowing that truth and living it out are two different things. We can say everyone belongs while still treating some people as though they matter less. We can talk about loving our neighbors while making assumptions about whose voices carry weight and who is welcome at the table. This is not a new struggle for the church. James confronted it directly in his letter.

In James 2, a wealthy person arrives at a gathering dressed in fine clothes and wearing a gold ring, while a poor person arrives in shabby clothing. The wealthy person receives a place of honor, while the poor person is told to stand or sit on the floor. James exposes the favoritism at work. The problem is not that the wealthy person is welcomed, but that the poor person is treated as though they matter less.

James challenges his readers to consider what it means to love their neighbors as themselves. Favoritism contradicts the very love we claim to believe. Before pointing fingers at the people in James's example, we should ask ourselves: Whose presence makes us comfortable? Who gets the benefit of the doubt, and who must work harder to be accepted? Whose needs do we notice, and whose do we overlook?

James offers a powerful reminder in verse 13: “Mercy triumphs over judgment.” Mercy does not require us to pretend our differences or disagreements do not exist. It calls us to treat people with compassion rather than reducing them to our assumptions. This is where I believe we must keep doing the work of the Messy Middle, the space where our theology meets the lived experience of our neighbors. We can hold convictions while remaining humble enough to listen, learn, and grow.

Galatians 6:2 calls us to “carry each other's burdens.” We cannot love people well while remaining indifferent to what they carry. Sometimes the burden is practical. Sometimes it is the loneliness of being misunderstood, the exhaustion of having to defend your dignity, or the fear of not truly belonging. Sharing what we have means coming alongside people, hearing their stories, and considering how our choices might help lighten those burdens.

What I Am Still Learning

One area where I have had to keep learning is my understanding of transgender people. For much of my life, I never had to think about the distinction between biological sex and gender identity. I simply thought of myself as a man. As I have listened to my transgender friends, I learned the word cisgender, which describes someone whose gender identity aligns with the sex they were assigned at birth. I began to recognize that something I had rarely needed to think about could be a deeply personal part of someone else's experience.

I am still learning, and I do not want to pretend that every theological question is settled for me. I currently hold a traditional Christian sexual ethic for myself while continuing to study, listen, and discern as Scripture and the Spirit lead. But I have become convinced that another person's dignity should never be held in suspense while I work through my theology. Every person is made in the image of God. That truth must shape how I listen and treat others, including those whose experiences or conclusions differ from my own.

I believe the church needs a posture that takes seriously both the truth we seek, and the people God calls us to love. We can listen without assuming we already understand. We can make room for someone to share their story without demanding that they first defend their existence. Listening does not mean agreeing with every conclusion. It means recognizing that another person's story is worth hearing.

This is not only about transgender people, LGBTQ+ people, or any one group. It is about how we approach every neighbor whose life differs from our own. If we believe every person bears God's image, we must be willing to see more than a label, an argument, or a category. We must be willing to see a person.

What Will We Do With What We've Been Given?

I cannot change the circumstances into which I was born or undo every assumption I carried for years. But I can decide what I do with the opportunities, relationships, resources, and influence I have today. I can listen when someone's experience challenges my assumptions, speak up when people are treated unfairly, and use my influence to help others be heard. Sometimes that begins with a conversation, an admission that we were wrong, or a decision to stay present when it would be easier to walk away.

Jesus calls us to love God and love our neighbors. That love must become more than words or good intentions. It should shape how we treat people, how we use our influence, and how we respond when someone is overlooked. If we are part of the body of Christ, then the flourishing of our neighbors matters to us. If mercy triumphs over judgment, compassion must shape our posture. And if we have been given resources, access, or opportunities, we should ask how those gifts can help others flourish, too.

So here is the question I want to leave with you: What have you been given, and who could be helped if you chose to share it? Perhaps you have a seat at a table where others are missing. Maybe you have influence that could make room for a voice that has been ignored. You do not have to solve every injustice or understand every experience to take a meaningful next step. What would change if you simply choose to be willing to see where love is needed and respond.

I didn't choose what I was given, but I can choose what I do with it. I want that truth to shape not only my beliefs, but my daily choices. I want to keep asking God to show me where I can make room, share what I have, and help others experience the dignity and belonging they deserve. I invite you to ask the same of yourself. Because following Jesus is not about winning an argument or protecting our place at the table. It is about loving our neighbors well enough to make room for them, too.