Abilities that Are Spiritual

I need to start today by telling you about my garbage disposal.

It started making a noise that sounded… less like a kitchen appliance and more like a small aircraft preparing for takeoff.

Being the highly trained non-professional I am, I did what any confident homeowner does: I stuck my hand down there to see what was wrong.

It was off — this story doesn’t end in tragedy.

But what I found was both terrifying and hilarious: a metal spoon had somehow lodged itself in the disposal, causing all kinds of chaos.

Now, before you judge — let me explain the spoon.

It wasn’t your average soup spoon. This was one of those tiny gelato spoons — the ones that are barely big enough to stir coffee, but apparently ideal for taking 47 micro-bites of ice cream.

My kids love them. Which means they use them. Which means they “accidentally” toss them into the sink where they go undetected… until the garbage disposal sounds like it’s trying to swallow a lawnmower blade.

Now, what’s interesting is this — the disposal wasn’t broken. It was just trying to do something it was not designed to do.

It was made to shred food, not silverware.

The problem wasn’t with the machine. The problem was a mismatch between its purpose and what was crammed into it.

And that’s how a lot of people live their lives.

We find ourselves grinding, rattling, and overheating — not because we’re defective, but because we’re trying to do something we were never designed to do.

Or maybe… we’ve never discovered what we were designed to do in the first place.

In the ancient world — unlike today’s multi-tools or “does-everything” smart devices — things were made for one purpose.

A clay jar wasn’t also a candleholder and Bluetooth speaker.
A shepherd’s staff wasn’t also a selfie stick.

Tools were simple, specific, and purposeful.

And when we read in Scripture about abilities, the cultural expectation was clear: Design implies function.

You don’t hand a carpenter a harp, or a priest a chisel. You were given what you were given for a reason.

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

You’re not an accident.
You’re not an extra.
You’re not a spare part in the kingdom of God.

You are an intentional act of divine artistry, equipped with natural abilities that were wired into your DNA before you ever took your first breath.

Back to my garbage disposal for a minute.

One time it broke, but there wasn’t anything in it.

So I googled it.

Fifteen minutes later I was under the sink, flashlight in my mouth, shoulder wedged awkwardly between pipes, trying to figure out how to reset the thing — or remove a different spoon somewhere — or honestly just make it stop making that terrible noise.

And in the middle of all that, I had this thought: “You know what would really help right now? Someone who knows how to do this.”

Not someone with a seminary degree.
Not someone with a theological insight about disposals.

Just someone who can fix stuff.

Now, that’s a small example — but it’s a window into something bigger.

Because we tend to over-spiritualize what God can use… and we under-value what we already know how to do.

Most of us don’t realize how useful our abilities already are.

If I asked you to list your spiritual gifts, you might hesitate.

But if I asked what you’re good at — you would probably have something to say.

Maybe you’re good at solving problems…
Or teaching kids…
Or building things…
Or organizing events…
Or baking bread…
Or managing teams…
Or crunching numbers…

Here’s the problem: most of us don’t think those skills count in the kingdom of God.

We think they’re just “normal.”
Or too “practical.”
Or not “spiritual enough” to matter.

We’ve created this sacred-secular divide — where only certain kinds of gifts are used by God, and the rest are just extra.

But according to the writers of Scripture — Your abilities are part of how God designed you on purpose for a purpose.

I want to introduces you to Bezalel from the Old Testament book of Exodus — a man most Christians have never heard of — but who, in a very real way, becomes the prototype for divine ability.

Bezalel was the first person in the Bible to be described as “filled with the Spirit” — and he was a construction worker.

Let’s look at Exodus 31:

Then the Lord said to Moses, “See, I have chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God — with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills — to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of crafts.” (Exodus 31:1–5)

No sermon.
No prophecy.
No healing.

Just craftsmanship.

God’s Spirit empowered this man to build something beautiful — the Tabernacle — the sacred space where the presence of God would dwell.

This is huge. Because it means that our natural abilities, when submitted to God, can become sacred tools in his hands.

By the way, abilities are not lesser than spiritual gifts. They’re often the arena in which your spiritual gifts take shape.

In fact, when Paul writes to the Colossians, he gives this instruction:

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters… (Colossians 3:23)

“Whatever you do” — includes teaching, building, designing, cleaning, leading, budgeting, crafting, engineering, consulting…

It all matters — if it’s offered to God.

So here’s where we’re going today:

God intentionally wires people with practical skills for sacred purposes.
Your abilities are not random — they’re crafted with divine intention.
Your abilities are meant to be stewarded, not squandered.
When you use your abilities for God’s glory, people flourish.

And here’s my hope: that you’ll begin to see your skills not just as things you can do — but as things you were meant to do.

Because you were made for more — and your abilities are a key part of that.

So lets start today by looking at how:

God intentionally wires people with practical skills for sacred purposes.

We just read those verses from Exodus 31 — God handpicking Bezalel and filling him with the Spirit for this work.

Now think about how this is the first person in the Bible described as “filled with the Spirit.”

Not Abraham…
Not Moses…
Not Joshua…

The first time the writers of Scripture use this to describe someone…

It wasn’t a prophet.
It wasn’t a a king.
It wasn’t a preacher.

The first Spirit-filled person in the Bible was a craftsman. A guy who knows how to work with his hands — shaping gold, setting stones, building beautiful things.

That alone says something powerful about how God views manual skill, creative work, and practical ability.

God doesn’t just work through preachers or prophets.

He works through woodworkers and designers and fabricators.

In the ancient world, the ability to craft with wood, or metal, or stone was considered a specialized skill — not something the average person could do.

These trades were learned over years of apprenticeship and were passed from generation to generation.

But in this biblical story, what sets Bezalel apart is not just his training — it’s that God filled him with his Spirit to do this work.

Moses may have received the instructions… but Bezalel got the job done.

Sometimes we think the only “spiritual” contributions are the ones that happen on stage.

But the entire tabernacle — the tent, the ark, the altar, the lampstands, the robes, the embroidery — was built by people who were good at their craft.

They didn’t just have good intentions, they had good hands.
They didn’t just pray, they planned, measured, cut, and stitched.
They didn’t just talk about beauty, they created it.

In a culture like ancient Egypt — where skilled labor was often exploited and used for building pyramids to glorify Pharaoh — God redeems those same skills to build a space that glorifies him.

So the message is loud and clear:

What you’re good at can become an offering to God.

It’s interesting that in Hebrew, “skill” and “wisdom” are deeply connected.

The word used in Exodus 31 for “skill” is hokma — which is usually translated wisdom.

It’s the same word used in Proverbs:

By wisdom the Lord laid the earth’s foundations… (Proverbs 3:19)

So in Scripture, to be wise is not just to think well — it’s to work well. To build. To craft. To shape reality according to God’s design.

Biblically speaking, a skilled carpenter or artist or designer isn’t just talented — they’re wise.

This breaks apart the myth that wisdom is just for the academics. It’s also for the hands-on, the solution-finders, the detail people.

This was revolutionary in the ancient world.

In most ancient societies, sacred roles were limited to priests and kings.

Only they had access to the divine.
Only they were “used by the gods.”

But in Exodus, we see God’s Spirit fill a craftsman — and not just to “help out,” but to lead the work.

Bezalel isn’t an assistant. He’s the foreman of God’s house.

In doing this, God upends the entire hierarchy of religious value.

He doesn’t just call the religious elite. He calls people who know how to use a chisel.

That would have been unthinkable in Canaan or Babylon or Egypt.

But this is the God who chooses shepherds and fishermen and tax collectors. The God who says, “What you can do matters — and I can use it for good.”

We need to recover the theology of craftsmanship.

In today’s world, especially in the Bay Area, we value innovation, and intelligence, and visionary thinking — and rightly so.

But sometimes we forget the quiet power of craftsmanship.

The person who designs a product that works elegantly.
The teacher who crafts a lesson that unlocks a concept for a student.
The cook who nourishes a room full of people with care.
The volunteer who organizes a system so things run smoothly.
The parent who patches the drywall… or fixes the garbage disposal.

These are sacred acts — if surrendered to God.

And part of growing as a follower of Jesus is learning to say: “Lord, here’s what I know how to do. Use it however you want.”

So your ability is not random. It’s part of your SHAPE.

You didn’t just accidentally become good at problem solving…

Or design…
Or fixing engines…
Or working with spreadsheets…
Or leading people…
Or listening compassionately…
Or solving problems…

God shaped you that way.

This is important because we live in a culture that loves the phrase: “I worked hard for this.”

And that’s not necessarily untrue. But it’s incomplete.

The writers of Scripture remind us that even our capacity to work hard comes from somewhere — or rather, someone.

Remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth. (Deuteronomy 8:18)

This was Moses talking to the Israelites, warning them not to grow proud or self-sufficient once they entered the Promised Land.

He knew what we still wrestle with today — that we’re prone to spiritual amnesia when life is going well.

And he says, “Don’t forget — the very ability to produce, to build, to create, to lead… that’s from God.”

And when you invite him into your abilities, they become more than skills — they shape your role in the Kingdom of God.

So if you want to start discovering your calling, here’s a great question:

What are you good at?

And how can that be offered to God?

Asking these questions isn’t about pride. It’s about stewarding the abilities God placed in you.

Because you were made for more — and what you’re already good at is part of how God plans to use you.

Alright, let’s move to the second truth about your abilities. And that’s this:

Your abilities are not random — they’re crafted with divine intention.

One of the subtle but powerful truths of Exodus 31 is that God doesn’t just use what we label “spiritual” — he uses everything he’s placed within us, including the very natural things we might overlook.

See, I have chosen Bezalel… and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills… (Exodus 31:2–3)

Wisdom, understanding, knowledge… and skills.

In the Hebrew, these words are loaded.

“Wisdom” here isn’t abstract philosophy. It’s applied skill.

It’s the same word used for weavers and metalworkers.

It means knowing how to do something well — and creatively.

“Understanding” suggests the ability to discern how things work.

This is the craftsman’s insight, the woodworker’s eye, the designer’s intuition.

And “knowledge” refers to technical ability — knowing materials, tools, dimensions, and structure.

In other words, God doesn’t just give Bezalel vague inspiration — he gives him real-world skills.

We could say it this way:

God handcrafted Bezalel, and then he awakened what he placed inside of him.

Most of us don’t think of our everyday skills — working Excel, managing projects, fixing things, designing spaces, writing code — as “spiritual.”

But Exodus 31 says: If God put it in you, it’s his.

The way you think strategically? That’s from him.
The way you instinctively organize chaos? That’s from him.
The way you can turn a lump of clay into something beautiful, or a blank page into something compelling, or a spreadsheet into a story? That’s from him too.

In fact, if you really trace the biblical story, you’ll see that God loves to use people’s “natural” abilities for kingdom purposes:

Moses’ shepherding became leadership.
David’s harp became worship.
Lydia’s business became a base for gospel expansion.
Paul’s rabbinic training became theology.
Luke’s medical precision became a detailed Gospel.

We sometimes think spiritual service is for the pastors, or prophets, or prayer warriors.

But God seems to love calling artisans, engineers, merchants, and administrators.

God works through your wiring. And if that’s true, then discovering your abilities isn’t prideful — it’s obedient.

It’s how you say: “Lord, you put this in me. I want to use it for you.”

In Egypt, workers like Bezalel would have been slaves. Tools in Pharaoh’s empire.

They would have been valued only for what they could produce, not for who they were.

But in God’s kingdom —

Their names are known.
Their abilities are honored.
Their contribution is essential.

That was a major reversal.

And it speaks to people today who feel like they’re just cogs in a corporate machine — or like their gifts are only valuable if they make money or produce outcomes.

God says: “I see you. I made you. And what you do matters — not just in the marketplace, but in my mission.”

So what does this mean for us?

It means we need to take some time to consider what we’re good at.

What do people say you’re naturally gifted at?
What do you enjoy doing — even if it doesn’t feel “spiritual”?
What do you do that seems to help others?

Those might not just be skills. They might be assignments.

Because just like Bezalel, God wants to awaken what he’s already placed inside of you.

So let’s step back for a moment and consider what we’ve seen so far:

Your abilities come from God.
They’re not random.
They’re handpicked, purposeful, and woven into who you are.

But here’s the question we need to ask next:

What are we doing with them?

If these abilities are divinely given, then that makes them sacred responsibilities.

They’re not just personal assets — they’re spiritual assignments.

And that leads us to the third truth in this message…

Your abilities are meant to be stewarded, not squandered.

There’s a subtle but important shift that happens in the Bible when the writers of Scripture talk about gifts and abilities.

They move from identity to accountability.

From what you have… to what you do with what you have.

Jesus tells a story about a master who entrusts his wealth to his servants before going on a journey.

One gets five talents, another two, and another one — each according to their ability.

And the point of the story isn’t how much they were given. It’s what they did with it.

The ones who invested and multiplied what they were given were praised: “Well done, good and faithful servants.”

But the one who buried his talent in the ground — who played it safe, did nothing, and returned it unused — was rebuked.

Not for stealing. Not for wasting. But simply for doing nothing.

Jesus was saying: Wasting what you’ve been given is not neutral — it’s unfaithful.

That’s a hard word.

But it’s also freeing.

Because it means your job is not to compare, not to compete, not to obsess over what you weren’t given — but to faithfully steward what you were given.

In the Greco-Roman world, a steward (Greek: oikonomos) wasn’t the owner of the household — but they were entrusted with managing the resources, and directing the servants, and overseeing the affairs of the master’s estate.

They had real authority — but they also had real responsibility. They would one day give an account.

When Paul uses this term in 1 Corinthians 4, he says:

This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful. (1 Corinthians 4:1–2)

That word “steward” tells us everything.

Your abilities are not ornaments — they’re entrusted assets.

Some of us have abilities that are still in the ground.

Not because we’re lazy.
Not because we’re rebellious.

Sometimes it’s because we’ve just never been told that they matter to God.

Your spreadsheet skills
Your budgeting instincts
Your gift with kids
Your attention to detail
Your knack for leadership or hospitality or conflict resolution —

All of that is part of your stewardship.

And stewardship doesn’t mean perfection. It means movement.

Growth. Intention. Effort. Risk.

It means we try, we fail, we learn, we offer it to God, and we keep going.

How many of you have a drawer, or cabinet, or garage bin filled with tools, or gadgets, or appliances you bought because you knew they’d come in handy…

And haven’t touched them since?

The spiralizer that was going to revolutionize your veggie game.
The power sander you used one time in 2020.
That half-assembled treadmill that doubles as a clothes rack.

Some of us treat our God-given abilities like that garage clutter — stuffed away, collecting dust, quietly whispering, “You could use me… but nahhh, maybe next year.”

But here’s the truth:

Unused gifts become forgotten gifts.
And forgotten gifts can start to feel like nonexistent ones.

Paul said to young Timothy — a guy who likely battled fear and comparison:

Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy… (1 Timothy 4:14)

For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God… (2 Timothy 1:6)

There’s something about spiritual gifts and natural abilities that need to be fanned into flame.

You tend it. You develop it. You grow into it.

Gifts are given — yes. But growth is your responsibility.

Now, we live in a culture of immediate validation.

If you’re not amazing the first time you try something, most people quit.

But the kingdom of God doesn’t run on likes or views. It runs on faithfulness.

Which means if you’re in a season where you’re developing your abilities — and it’s awkward, or slow, or clunky — don’t give up.

It’s not about impressing others. It’s about honoring the God who entrusted you with something valuable.

So your abilities aren’t random…
They’re not yours to bury…
They’re not even primarily for your own benefit…

They were designed to bring life to others.

And that brings us to the last point I want to talk about today:

When you use your abilities for God’s glory, people flourish.

The gifts and abilities God has entrusted to you were never meant to sit idle.

They were meant to be put to work — not to elevate you, but to uplift others.

And when you use your abilities with the right heart, for the right purpose, and in the right place — people around you thrive.

Paul writes in Ephesians 4:11–12

So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up… (Ephesians 4:11–12)

Notice that the goal is not individual success.

It’s not accolades or applause.

The goal is that the body of Christ would be built up.

That’s what a healthy use of abilities does — it strengthens the church.

It encourages the discouraged.
It meets real needs in real time.
It brings order to chaos.
It brings healing to hurt.
It brings structure to vision.
It brings momentum to mission.

In the first few centuries, when Roman society expected people to advance their own name and protect their own interests, the church offered a radically different vision.

Believers gathered regularly — and everyone brought something.

Some brought food.
Some brought wisdom.
Some offered hospitality.

Others offered funds, organization, care for the sick, or shelter for the displaced.

It wasn’t clergy doing all the work. It was everyone, offering whatever they had.

That’s part of what made the early church so compelling.

The world had hierarchies — but the church had a body.

We’ve already looked at how the apostle Paul painted a picture of the church as a body — many parts, one whole.

Let’s turn for a moment to Romans 12, where he shows us what it looks like when the church functions like a body:

For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. (Romans 12:4–5)

You get the image. The church isn’t a crowd. It’s not a loose affiliation of spiritual consumers.

It’s a body.

And a body only works when each part does its job — no matter how hidden, no matter how humble.

Paul goes on:

We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.

If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith;
if it is serving, then serve;
if it is teaching, then teach;
if it is to encourage, then give encouragement;
if it is giving, then give generously;
if it is to lead, do it diligently;
if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. (Romans 12:6–8)

Do you hear the rhythm in that?

If God gave you the ability… use it.

Not for applause.
Not to impress.
Not to compete.

But so that someone else can be lifted, or helped, or healed, or taught, or inspired, or blessed, or comforted.

When the parts are all working together… the body becomes coordinated, effective, and alive.

Flourishing doesn’t happen when one part tries to do it all. Flourishing happens when every part shows up and serves.

We live in a time when passive consumption is the norm.

You can binge 12 hours of Netflix and never touch the remote.
You can scroll for hours without creating a single thing.
You can attend church, hear the music, nod at the sermon, and leave unchanged.

But the life of a disciple was never meant to be passive.

You were made to participate.

In fact, the word “liturgy” — which we often associate with formal worship — literally means “the work of the people.”

Worship is not a spectator sport.

It’s an all-hands-on-deck movement of love and service.

Let’s be honest — sometimes the church becomes a little too much like a gym membership.

You know the deal:

You sign up with big intentions…
You show up twice in January…
Then for the next 11 months, you’re just “supporting the mission.”

But here’s the difference:

The church isn’t something you pay for. It’s something you participate in.

God didn’t call you to spectate. He called you to engage.

And the church becomes a living, breathing, life-giving community… when people say: “I’ve got something I can offer — and I’m going to use it.”

Let me paint the picture.

When you show up and use your organizational skills — someone overwhelmed finds peace.
When you show up with your musical gifts — someone gets drawn into the presence of God.
When you offer your handyman skills — someone’s burden is lifted.
When you write a note, make a meal, fix a toilet, design a flyer, lead a discussion — you’re bringing life.

And the ripple effect is real.

Because you have no idea what God will do with a small act of service.

You may never see the full impact on this side of heaven — but it matters.

There are no second-tier servants in the Kingdom of God.

Just because your role isn’t visible doesn’t mean it isn’t vital to the mission.

Someone brewed the coffee this morning — and it made someone feel welcomed.
Someone ran tech — and made sure people could hear and see.
Someone rocked a crying baby — and gave their parent 60 minutes of peace to listen and heal.
Someone quietly put together a spreadsheet, a meal list, a financial plan — and held a ministry together.

And in God’s eyes — every single one of those things is worship.

When you use your abilities for God’s glory… when you surrender them and steward them and show up with them…

People flourish.
The church flourishes.
You flourish.

Because you are never more alive than when you are doing what God made you to do.

I want to leave you with this:

You are not here by accident.

Your skills — however ordinary or unspiritual they may feel — are not just quirks of genetics or personality.

They are gifts of grace, entrusted to you by the God who made you.

Your knack for numbers? That came from him.
Your eye for design? That’s his creativity in you.
Your ability to troubleshoot, or coordinate, or build, or teach, or plan, or fix, or organize, or encourage, or write, or cook, or lead, or host — it’s not just useful. It’s given to you by God on purpose, for a purpose.

The world will try to convince you to use those abilities to build your own brand.

To advance your own platform.
To make a name for yourself.

But Jesus invites you into something deeper.

To build his Kingdom.
To strengthen his church.
To serve others with joy.
To say, “Here’s what I can do — God, use it however you want.”

Because in the hands of God, your natural ability becomes a supernatural instrument.

The same God who filled Bezalel to build the Tabernacle…
The same Spirit who empowered the early church…
The same Lord who said, “You are the light of the world…”

…has entrusted you with something worth offering.

Don’t bury it.
Don’t wait for someone else to step up.
Don’t let comparison or insecurity sideline you.

Bring what you have — and let God use it.

Because when you do… people flourish.

Needs are met.

Hope is restored.

And your life becomes a living act of worship.

Alright, let’s pray together as the worship team comes to lead us in a closing song.