I once knew a man who quietly took worn-out chairs from our church, brought them home, and restored them in his basement workshop. He replaced the foam, repaired the fabric, tightened the bolts, and made them better than new. He did it at his own expense. And he never told anyone.
I think about him often when we talk about discipleship. We can become so preoccupied with visible expressions of faith that we overlook the quiet, ordinary, profoundly meaningful ways people serve Jesus.
Not every disciple needs a microphone. Sometimes the kingdom advances through a man, a basement, and a few old chairs.
