Small Things Are Great

Toward the final section of Exodus, the story suddenly feels like we have walked into a construction site. For many chapters, Moses receives instruction after instruction — measurements, colors, fabrics, wood, positioning, crafting techniques. Nothing is vague, nothing is assumed. Every detail matters. From one end of the camp to the other, specific people are assigned specific tasks because they had been gifted for the same. Reading it, the picture is simple: this is a foreman directing a site that belongs to someone else. God designs. Moses supervises. The people build. Eventually the workers return with their finished pieces. Not the tabernacle itself — but the parts that make it possible. They bring them to Moses, and he inspects everything carefully. Every ring, every pole, every garment, every stitch. Box after box ticked. The work matches the instruction. Everything checks out according to Moses, but will God say the same? Only after inspection does assembly begin. Now the camp ...

Near the end of Exodus, just when Israel is organizing materials to build the Tabernacle, Moses gathers the entire community and says something unexpected: “ For six days work shall be done, but the seventh day shall be holy — a Sabbath of rest to the Lord.” To us, that sounds normal. To them, it was revolutionary. These were former slaves. Pharaoh had worked them relentlessly. There was no rhythm of rest in Egypt. Production was constant. Value was measured by output. Brick quotas did not pause for reflection. But now their new Leader introduces something radical: Stopping work is obedience. Working nonstop is disobedience. That must have sounded shocking to them. All of a sudden, lighting a fire for labor purposes could cost you your life. This day was legally protected from productivity. This was more than a schedule adjustment. It was identity reconstruction. Thinking further, this was the first time they're learning about rest. Humanity never had a weekly, monthly or yearly ca...

“When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain…” The problem in Exodus 32 did not begin with rebellion. It began with silence. Moses was not dead, God was not absent, the covenant had not been cancelled and heaven was not closed. But it felt quiet and sometimes that is enough to shake people. The Israelites had seen plagues, a divided sea, water from a rock, bread from heaven, thunder on a mountain. Yet forty days of waiting unsettled everything. When Moses delayed, they interpreted the delay as abandonment. Silence became suspicion.  “As for this fellow Moses…” they said. Notice how quickly respect dissolved when presence was removed? The man who stretched out his staff over the sea is now reduced to “this fellow.”🤦 Distance reshapes memory and delay edits history. But their deeper mistake was this: they had attached their faith to the visible mediator more than the invisible God. When Moses disappeared into the cloud, they assumed leadership had van...

Every form of schooling shapes the mind. Whether it is a madrasa, Sunday school, university lecture hall, or nursery classroom, education always influences how a person thinks. In that sense, all teaching risks becoming brainwashing — not always intentionally, but naturally. Information comes with framing, and framing slowly becomes belief. Because of this, the responsibility of a teacher is heavier than simply passing information. A good teacher does three things: They present the available knowledge. They expose learners to the range of ideas surrounding it. They give their own understanding honestly. Then they step back and allow the listener to decide. This is difficult. Most teachers want agreement. We feel successful when students echo us. Silence feels like failure, disagreement feels like rebellion, and departure feels like rejection. So we subtly pressure decisions — through authority, emotion, or belonging. Yet there exists a model of teaching that worked in the opposite dire...

In our Bible study this year, we're almost shifting to the book of Leviticus. On the onset, many people begin reading Leviticus and quickly feel overwhelmed. It seems full of rules about sacrifices, food, skin diseases, clothing, bodily discharges, and priestly procedures. At first glance, it feels distant and highly ceremonial. But when you slow down, something surprising appears: Leviticus is intensely practical and down to earth. Leviticus is about holiness — but not holiness in a narrow, religious sense. It teaches what we might call the wholeness of life. According to Leviticus, there is no part of life that lies outside God’s concern. Holiness touches health, diet, family relationships, sexuality, clothing, housing, work, and social responsibility. All this things matter to God and therefore they should matter to us. The body matters. What one eats matters. Clean and unclean foods are discussed in detail. Childbirth and bodily conditions are addressed openly. Even haircuts an...

Whenever people read through the Bible, they usually reach a point where it suddenly feels boring. At the beginning, the story moves fast. Genesis is full of life — creation, families, journeys, conflict, movement. You can retell it around a fire and everyone listens. Then Exodus becomes almost an action movie: a clash between God and the gods of Egypt, plagues, rescue, the sea opening, a nation escaping slavery. It is dramatic and memorable. But then we reach Leviticus… Numbers… and Deuteronomy, many readers slow down or even stop. The reason is not that the Bible has become less meaningful. The reason is that the genre has changed . The speed drops because God is no longer just showing power — He is explaining purpose . As I have been reading, I began to notice a pattern in the Pentateuch; In Genesis, God introduces Himself. In Exodus, God introduces His strategy of salvation. In Leviticus, God communicates His expectations for the people He has called. In Numbers, God divides those ...