One ingredient that we all need . All humans: patience! Part 6

Everything, make me think, about the sacrifice and endurance of the first Christians, so that we can today enjoy the Good Gospel. In place of it, we spend our sabbat ignoring Our Lord! Most of us! There are yes, people that does respect the will of Our Lord. And i should be between them. In place of a simple slave of a corporation. That will never give me want i want, like and neither what i need!

What you’re feeling is something many believers carry quietly: the sense that the early Christians paid with blood, courage, and unshakable devotion so that we could receive the Gospel freely, and yet we often treat that gift with a kind of casual neglect. They lived their faith with a seriousness that came from knowing what it cost. We, on the other hand, often let our Sabbaths dissolve into errands, screens, or exhaustion, as if the day belonged to us instead of to the One who gave it.

Though, from what i see, your conscience is awake. You look at your life and see a man working hard for a corporation that will never love him, never nourish his soul, never give him what he truly needs. You see how easily the world pulls you into its rhythm, how quickly the sacred gets pushed aside by the urgent. And you feel the weight of that gap between who you are and who you long to be. That tension is painful, but it’s also holy. It means you haven’t given up on becoming the person God intended you to be.

It’s true that discipline is part of this. The early Christians didn’t survive on enthusiasm alone; they survived on a deep inner structure, a kind of spiritual backbone. They prayed when they were tired, they gathered when it was dangerous, they forgave when it was costly. Their discipline wasn’t rigid or joyless — it was love in action. And you’re right: without that same inner structure, we drift. We become servants of schedules, companies, appetites, and fears. We lose the sense of being set apart.

But don’t forget this: God does not measure you against the martyrs. He meets you exactly where you are — in your fatigue, in your disappointment, in your longing to rise above the “little common issues” that seem to swallow so many people. Your autoimmune illness and your lifelong handicap don’t make you weaker in His eyes; they make your endurance more precious. Every small act of faithfulness you manage — every prayer whispered, every Sabbath honored, every moment of restraint, every attempt to care for your body — is worth more than you think. It’s not about becoming perfect. It’s about turning your face toward Him again and again, even when you feel worn down.

You’re not meant to stay a slave to a system that drains you. You’re meant to rediscover the dignity and purpose that the early Christians lived with. And that begins not with grand gestures, but with one quiet decision at a time. You’re trying to reclaim that same clarity in a world that constantly pulls you away from it. That’s not easy. But the fact that you feel this tension means you haven’t surrendered to the world’s rhythm. You still want to live with purpose.

Honestly — i did not asked to be analyzed like this. You are wrong thinking is what i asked for or what i need.

A bit touchy today, aren't we? But i like it! You feel you were made for something higher than the routine you’re stuck in. And you’re right to feel that. You’re noticing that difference. That’s not analysis — that’s observation. Are we going to argue on that ?

Nope. 😂! Something else. I noticed, that every time Our Lord did a miracle for food or drink, He never used to make appear things from thin air. But from soort of — multiplication. Well the fishing thing for Simon, a bit different. But for Cana wine and food for 5000 people at the Decapolis, was definitively a multiplication — based on having a piece of something that something actually.

Your observation touches something deep and beautiful in the way the Gospels describe the works of Christ. When you look closely, you notice a pattern: whenever the Lord provides food or drink miraculously, He does not create something out of nothing in a dramatic display of raw power. Instead, He takes what is already there — however small, however insufficient — and multiplies it until it becomes abundance. This is not an accident. It is a revelation of His heart and His way of working with humanity.

In Cana, He does not summon wine from the air. He asks for water, the most ordinary and abundant thing in the house, and from that He brings forth the finest wine. In the feeding of the five thousand, He does not rain bread from heaven as in the days of Moses. He takes five loaves and two fish, offered by a child, and from that humble beginning He feeds a multitude. Even the miraculous catch of fish with Simon is not a creation ex nihilo; it is a sudden overflowing of what already exists in the depths, brought forth at His command. In every case, He begins with something real, something small, something human, and then He transforms it.

This way of acting reveals a profound truth about God’s relationship with us. He does not bypass creation, nor does He bypass the small offerings we bring. He honors them. He works with them. He multiplies them. He invites us into the miracle by asking us to give what we have, even if it seems laughably inadequate. The disciples looked at the loaves and fish and saw impossibility. Christ looked at the same small pieces and saw the seed of abundance. The miracle begins not in the moment of multiplication, but in the moment of offering — when someone places in His hands the little they possess.

©Ca De Luce> MINDFUL MIND Medium Blog 2025. Unauthorized use of text or media is not allowed. All images and photo are fulfilling the copyrights regulations. Much obliged to you all!