Devotional

The word carry appears 83 times in the Old Testament and 10 times in the New Testament. In Greek, it means to bear, bring forth, endure, continue, lead, move, or be driven. From three New Testament uses of this word, I would like to share three simple lessons that can help us carry Christ more effectively to everyone, everywhere, and in every generation.

1. Paying the Price to Carry Christ

We are sometimes carried to places we would not choose (John 21:18).

“Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish.” (John 21:18)

Our Lord Jesus told the Apostle Peter that a time would come when he would be carried to a place he would not choose—ultimately, his death on the cross. In the same way, those of us who serve in ministry often find ourselves carried into places we would never choose by preference. These may be places of danger, persecution, suffering, or even imprisonment.

Carrying Christ makes us deeply aware that one third of the world will be reached through sweat, another third through tears, and the final third only through blood. To be carried where we would not naturally go requires that we set aside personal comfort and embrace the cost of obedience. It is the willingness to pay any price to ensure that the Gospel reaches those who have never heard.

2. Trusting the Lord as Our Only Source While Carrying Christ

We are called to carry neither money nor bag along the road (Luke 10:3–4).

“Go your way; behold, I send you out as lambs among wolves. Carry neither money bag, knapsack, nor sandals; and greet no one along the road.” (Luke 10:3–4)

This instruction to “carry nothing” is a profound call to dependency. It speaks of carrying Christ without relying on earthly security. We are deeply thankful for the Lord’s provision through generous donors and faithful stewards, which allows us to focus fully on taking Christ to the nations.

Yet to be truly effective in carrying Christ to everyone, everywhere, and every generation, we must also be willing to carry Him with or without provision. Carrying Christ with provision is a blessing. Carrying Christ without provision is faith.

The willingness to go with nothing reveals determination and total commitment to the mission. It declares that our confidence is not in resources but in Christ alone. With so little, God has allowed us to accomplish much. With nothing, may we now attempt the impossible with Him.

3. Praying That People Will Be Carried to Christ

We carry Christ so well that others begin carrying people to Him (Mark 6:54–56).

“And when they had come out of the boat, immediately the people recognized Him, ran through that whole surrounding region, and began to carry about on beds those who were sick to wherever they heard He was… And as many as touched Him were made whole.” (Mark 6:54–56)

We have carried Christ to places even governmental leaders will not go. We have brought Him to the remotest corners of the earth and, at times, into the most dangerous regions.

Yet our greatest prayer is that what happened in the New Testament will happen again in our day—that people will begin bringing others to Christ because they recognize Him. We long for the moment when the world will seek Christ not only because we bring Him, but because His presence is so evident in us that people run to Him on their own.

May the Lord work with us and through us, revealing Himself as the Savior, the Healer, the Provider, the Deliverer, and the Answer to humanity’s deepest needs. May people bring the broken, the sick, and the lost to the Christ who is living in us. And may the day come when our labor of carrying Christ to the people results in them immediately recognizing Him and carrying others to the Christ who dwells within us.

May God help us remain faithful in carrying Christ to everyone, everywhere, and in every generation—by paying the price, trusting Him as our only source, and praying relentlessly for the day when people will be carried to the Christ within us.

As I reflect on this theme, there is no better Scripture to stand on as the foundation of this reflection than Matthew 16:24:
“Then Jesus said to His disciples, ‘If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.’”

Jesus spoke these sacred words in the context of Peter’s refusal to accept His suffering and eventual death at the hands of the chief priests and teachers of the law. It is striking that this same Peter—who, only moments earlier, had declared under divine revelation that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God—was now being strongly rebuked by Jesus. Jesus had just affirmed Peter for his spiritual insight, yet within minutes Peter “switched off,” revealing how fragile the human condition can be.

We cannot entirely blame Peter for his reaction. What he said came from good intentions. He wanted to protect Jesus from harm. Any loyal friend would likely do the same. But Peter’s refusal to accept Jesus’ suffering was not aligned with the will of the Father. Had he fully understood the revelation he had just received—that Jesus was indeed the Messiah—he would have also understood that suffering was an essential part of that mission.

The word Messiah simply means Savior. If Jesus is our Savior, what exactly is He saving us from? The penalty of sin. And for that to happen, a perfect sacrifice was required—one that only Christ could offer. He alone could be the sacrificial Lamb on the altar. This was the ultimate price He paid to fulfill the will of God.

Jesus carried that cross to Golgotha because He had already counted the cost. He knew what had to be done, and He did it for our sake. Without His death on the cross, He could not have fulfilled His mission as our Savior. He paid dearly with His life so that we could be saved—and so that we might now carry Him to the world through our words and deeds.

What does this mean for us?

To carry our cross means, we are willing to go to any length and do whatever it takes to fulfill God’s will for our lives—even if it means suffering or loss. The cause of Christ becomes more important than our own comfort, reputation, or even our lives. This kind of surrender flows out of passionate love for Christ and deep compassion for the lost.

To carry the cross is to be willing to go anywhere, do anything, and become whatever is necessary for the sake of the Gospel. The Apostle Paul captured this commitment when he wrote:
“I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some” (1 Corinthians 9:22).
Paul was willing to lay aside personal rights and preferences in order to remove any obstacle that might keep others from responding to Christ.

Denying self means dying to self. It is a sacrifice we willingly make so that Christ may be glorified through us. It is when our desires become fully aligned with the will of God. We may not always understand what God says or where He leads, but understanding can wait—obedience cannot.

I have learned that when God speaks and we do not yet understand, we simply obey. Obedience eventually brings understanding. Some things about God can only be understood after obedience.

Years ago, I was a high school teacher when God called me through a dream. At first, I did not fully understand what it meant. But when I had the exact same dream again one week later, it unsettled me deeply. I knew God was calling me into full-time ministry—and I hated the idea. I told no one, not even my wife. The reason was simple: I had already made plans to pursue law, and I was fully prepared for that future. For God to interrupt those plans so directly felt like a shock.

One morning over breakfast, my wife looked at me and said she wanted to share something. I told her to go ahead. What she said shook me to the core.

“You are disobeying God,” she said bluntly.

I immediately responded, “Disobeying God in what?”

She said, “God is calling you into full-time ministry, and you are resisting it.”

I was stunned. “How do you know?” I asked.

She replied simply, “God showed it to me in a dream.”

Then I asked her, “If I resign, are you ready for that?”

Without hesitation, she said, “If you say yes, it’s already a yes for me.”

I wrestled with God for two years over this calling before I finally surrendered. And I learned a powerful truth: you cannot wrestle with God and win. When I gave up teaching, I had no idea what lay ahead. I had stepped into completely uncharted waters. But I was convinced that God had called me—and if He had called me, He would also carry me.

It was a giant step of faith into the unknown. That season stripped me of pride and deeply humbled me. I learned to trust God daily for provision—for food, transportation, my children’s education, and even our mortgage. It was a real struggle at times, but there was no turning back. I had surrendered everything and was ready to go wherever God would lead.

Now, looking back more than 25 years later, I have never once regretted that decision. It has been 25 years of carrying Christ to the nations. And there is nothing more fulfilling than knowing that a perfect God can still use an imperfect person like me.

God can use anyone, anywhere, at any time. What He looks for is not our ability—but our availability. Are we willing to place our lives in the palm of His hands and say, “Here am I, Lord—send me” (Isaiah 6:8)?

To carry the cross daily is costly. But it is also infinitely worth it—because in losing our lives for His sake, we discover the true life only Christ can give.

Every year, we ask the Lord for a word—a single truth that can shape us, anchor us, and carry us into deeper obedience. This year, the word the Lord has given us is simple but weighty: Carry. It’s a word that reminds us not only of what we do, but who we bear within us. We carry Christ. We carry His heart, His posture, His mission, and His hope into every place we go.

When I think about what it truly means to carry Christ, my mind goes to moments in the Gospels where Jesus Himself showed us how to do it. These aren’t abstract ideas—they are living pictures of who He is. And as His people, we are invited to embody Him in the same way.

When Matthew writes that Jesus looked at the crowds and “had compassion on them” (Matthew 9:36), he wasn’t describing a passing emotion. He was revealing the inner life of the Savior—the heartbeat of the One we carry. Jesus sees people who are hurting, helpless, confused, wandering—and He is moved to action. Charles Spurgeon captures it so well: “The compassion of Jesus is the wellspring of all our hopes.”

If we’re going to carry Christ into our world, we must begin by carrying His compassion in our hearts. Not strategy. Not an obligation. Compassion. In all we do as a ministry, this remains the motive behind everything—because it was the motive behind everything Jesus did.

But compassion doesn’t remain internal. It moves. It sees.

One of my favorite pictures of Jesus comes from the moment He approaches the town gate of Nain. A widow walks in a funeral procession for her only son. She’s surrounded by a crowd, but she’s utterly alone in her grief. And then Scripture says this: “When the Lord saw her, His heart went out to her.”

This is where carrying Christ truly begins—when we see others. Not glancing. Not passing by. Seeing. Buechner once wrote, “Before doing anything else, we must see our neighbors—with our imagination as well as our eyes.”

Carrying Christ means slowing down. It means allowing interruptions. It means allowing our hearts to be pierced by the people in front of us—not just by their actions but by their burdens. Jesus saw a grieving mother, and that vision moved Him to raise her son from the dead. This is the pattern of Christ: He sees, He feels, He acts.

And that brings me to the next truth: we carry Christ not only when we see others but when we show love in tangible, costly, inconvenient ways.

Think about Jesus and the man with leprosy. This man didn’t just need healing; he needed dignity. He had lived years without touch, without acceptance, without belonging. But Jesus—full of compassion—reached out His hand and touched him. Before He healed him, He loved him. Before He restored his body, He restored his worth.

Jesus let Himself be interrupted.
Jesus touched the untouchable.
Jesus dignified the outcast.

This is what it means to carry Christ. We don’t just feel compassion—we demonstrate it. John Wesley said it beautifully: “Do all the good you can… as long as ever you can.” That is carrying Christ. It is love that moves from sentiment to action, from theory to presence, from words to touch.

But carrying Christ doesn’t end with compassion, sight, or even love. There’s another dimension—perhaps the most needed in our world right now: we carry Christ when we speak hope.

In one of the most powerful moments in the Gospels, a woman caught in sin is dragged before Jesus. The religious leaders demand judgment. They ask Jesus, “Now what do you say?” And the world is still asking us the same question today.

Jesus’ response is astonishing. He does not condemn. He does not shame. He does not crush. Instead, He speaks hope: “Neither do I condemn you.”

In a world overflowing with anger, accusation, and condemnation, carrying Christ means becoming people whose words reflect His mercy. Words that lift instead of destroy. Words that heal instead of wound. Words that open a future instead of closing it.

Hope is not naïve. It’s powerful. It’s the language of Christ’s Kingdom. And in many cases, it may be the only Gospel some will ever hear.

So, when I think about the word Carry, I’m not thinking about what we carry in our hands—but what we carry in our hearts and our lives.

To carry Christ is to be a people whose compassion mirrors His.
To carry Christ is to see people as He sees them—fully, deeply, honestly.
To carry Christ is to show love that costs something.
To carry Christ is to speak hope in a world drowning in fear and condemnation.

This is our calling for the year ahead—and for every year after.

My prayer is that this word doesn’t simply become an idea or a theme, but a way of life for all of us. May we become a people who carry Christ so clearly, so consistently, that those around us cannot help but experience Him through us.

May compassion be our motive.
May seeing be our posture.
May love be our action.
May hope be our message.

This year let’s carry Christ well—into every home, every conversation, every nation, every heart.

Carry, Him. Carry, His heart. Carry, His mission. Carry, His hope.

And may the world see Jesus because we chose to carry Him into it.