Small Things Are Great

I am in a forum where a question was raised and I took some time to respond to it. The question was, "what is the essence of belonging to a Church?" This question was asked in the context of a burial event where "the church" could not agree with the family on fees attached to laying the remains of the beloved to rest and friends had to step in and do it however they thought best. Here is my response; Because this question was asked in the context of a burial, I will respond in three parts: 1. Who I am and why I speak as a pastor. 2. What the church is. 3. Why the church becomes involved in burial matters. 1. Who I Am and Why I Speak. My name is Japheth M. Ndonye (Map). I am a born-again Christian and a member of the body of Christ. I came to faith in 1997, grew deeply in my walk from 2004, and was called into pastoral ministry in 2012. I have served in missions and discipleship for many years — in high schools, colleges, and local churches. I have also served as a y...

As we journey through Leviticus, it is easy to get lost in the procedures or ignore them entirely — the inspections, the isolations, the scraping of walls, the shaving of hair, the washing, the sacrifices and many more. At first glance, it feels repetitive and almost unrelatable to us today. But if you slow down and look closely, you'll notice a pattern. In Leviticus 13 and 14, the same word(tzaraath) is used to describe a skin disease, a contaminated garment, and even mold in a house. We see the priest examining a person, then he examines a building. The process is strikingly similar; Inspection - Isolation - Re-inspection - Removal - Restoration. Just as a human body can be declared unclean, a physical house can also be declared unclean and both are treated with seriousness. That should make us pause. God does not treat uncleanness casually — whether it appears on skin or on stone walls. Why? Because He dwells among His people. The camp is not ordinary space. It is shared space w...

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...