What Can I Do?

Have you ever asked yourself this question after looking at the state of the world and what's around you? What can I do to make this better? What can I do to help? What can I do?

From Spring of 2019 to the Summer of 2024 I was the Youth Minister for the Mesquite Church of Christ in Mesquite, TX. To fulfill the responsibility of a Youth Minister properly, a person has to navigate being a teacher and planning lessons in a variety of ways due to the diversity of learning styles and starting points of faith that people have. You must also counsel individuals dealing with depression, anxiety, loneliness, and the host of other things that life throws at them. Alongside this, you plan events that teens and their families can bond over, take on janitorial work to ensure that the “Sacred Space” remains unviolated and mutually enjoyed, manage finances and budget planning, offer life coaching, occasionally preach, and do community outreach—all while maintaining the duties of being a proper husband to an amazingly beautiful wife and father to two adventurous young boys.

And then, there’s the self-care you must do to avoid losing track of your own mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health. This last point is something most ministers struggle with a majority of the time.

Before I took on this responsibility, my wife and I lived in the beautiful cities of Rome and Florence, Italy. We traveled to various cities across Europe, using the Bible and our life experiences with God to teach English to those who felt that learning English or developing knowledge and faith in God were worthwhile pursuits. We taught, preached, counseled, and lived alongside some of the most wonderful people we have ever met. Our faith was challenged, our sanity was tested, our eyes were opened, and our love grew. We met teenagers, young adults, adults, and elderly individuals of all different ethnicities, beliefs, backgrounds, and languages—people who were starving to know the purpose of life. We met coffee shop and restaurant owners, waiters, bartenders, gym owners, public transportation workers, supermarket employees, students from every field, dancers, singers, actors, comedians, magicians, painters, photographers, nurses, doctors, government workers, teachers, priests, and so many more.

Before all of this, we lived just outside of Atlanta, Georgia. I worked as a paraprofessional for an alternative school, took side jobs in landscaping and construction, worked on my novel, sold t-shirts, and taught and preached for a few congregations in North Georgia. My wife worked as a receptionist for a chiropractic office, a veterinary technician, a temporary legal guardian for two teenagers whose mother was serving in the military overseas, a professional chef for an elderly woman with Alzheimer's, and a substitute teacher. She also worked to establish her side business in professional calligraphy, photography, and crafts. Together, we served as chaperones for the youth group at our church while also helping out at the daycare of a separate congregation.

Before that, we lived and served in Hengyang, China, as English professors at the University of South China. It was only for a short time, but the variety of people we met was abundant, as everyone was curious about why Americans had come all the way to their country. We encountered both older and younger people, each with unique talents and gifts. However, their kindness and generosity were universally consistent, and we felt loved and welcomed by the students, staff, and heads of departments at the university from the moment we arrived.

A Common Thread

I share all of this to highlight a common theme that has run through our journeys thus far. We are all more alike than we are different, and the vast majority of us want the very same things. It doesn’t matter whether we met someone from Dallas, Atlanta, New York, California, London, Paris, Amsterdam, Madrid, Switzerland, Austria, Albania, Romania, Ukraine, Russia, Ghana, Nigeria, Italy, Sicily, Iran, Egypt, Syria, Australia, Hong Kong, China, or anywhere else—we all want the same thing.

We all want to know: Is there a purpose to being here? If there is, then what is it?

Is there a reason to be “good”? Is there a reason to keep moving forward instead of giving up? Is there a reason to put aside selfishness and try to make the world a better and more beautiful place simply because it deserves to be better and more beautiful? Is there a reason to look out for each other and stand up for one another against harm, persecution, or malevolence?

I mean, my energy levels and emotional capacities are already spent caring for those in my own home. Why should I sacrifice for other people when there’s no guarantee that they will notice, appreciate, or return the gesture?

No matter how hard we try to ignore it, we know that there’s always more that we can do—and that there’s always more that we must do. Call it an addiction to punishment. Call it blind hope. Call it insanity. Call it whatever you like when my wife or I got spat up on by our baby and still considered it “adorable,” despite how disgusting it is. Call it what you will when we willingly wipe the peanut-butter-like texture from a bottom that’s not our own. Call it what you want when our bloodshot eyes twitch from the lack of sleep as we guide people through their problems or celebrate life’s accomplishments with them at all hours of the day. We call it love.

You do the same. You listen to problems that aren’t your own. You spend money or resources on people while turning down their gestures of repayment. You pour out whatever little bit you have in your cup into someone else’s who may or may not have more than you. You travel across states, countries, and oceans. You learn different languages and cultures. You eat strange food and drink strange drinks. Most of what you do doesn’t go on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, or make the news. You do it because you love, and you’re trying to show it in the best way you know how.

Do What You Can

In ideal circumstances, you still wouldn’t be able to show love in the way that people say you should. You’ll never have enough money to feed and house everyone in need. You’ll never have enough hours in a lifetime to listen to everyone’s problems and show them the empathy they deserve. Your house will never be big enough to shelter everyone who needs a cozy bed. Your dinner table will never be big enough to have everyone you love sit around it at the same time, having meaningful conversations with each of them.

Your emotional capacity will run out before you want it to. Your supply of tears will run dry before you're ready. Your hands will callous and peel before you're done serving. Your voice will be lost before you're done counseling or giving advice. And yet, despite all of this, you’ll always want to do more. But does that stop you from starting? I think you know the answer to that question—of course not.

After you have your meltdown, you’ll get back to it. You’ll cry into your pillow or yell in frustration. You’ll decompress in your car, closet, or shower. You’ll say some things in your head that you’ll later ask for forgiveness for. You’ll say that you’ve had enough more times than you can count. You’ll lose your hope in humanity. You’ll go for a run, walk, or drive. You’ll lift some heavy things in the gym, yard, garage, or attic. You’ll step outside before saying anything you’ll regret. And then what happens? The same thing that happens every time—you get back to it.

You are resilient, perseverant, and full of love.

You get back to providing and protecting your kingdom. You get back to creating beauty. You get back to making the world a better place.

And you wonder: Am I really making a difference? Is there more I can do? The answer is yes, to both of those questions.

What Can You Do?

So, what can you do to make the world a better, more beautiful place? Keep it simple. Do what you can. Use your talents and gifts. If you’re already fulfilling your responsibilities, learn new talents and apply them as well.

If you have a family in your home, get to know them for who they are. Go into their room and listen to their stories. If you have a dinner table, sit around it together and share about your day with love and respect. If it’s messy, clean it off first. If you see trash somewhere, clean it up. Don’t add to it.

If you have a phone, text or call the people you’ve been meaning to reach out to. Ask someone about their passions or creative projects. Watch their eyes light up and their shoulders relax as they talk about it.

If you’re skilled in a trade, offer your help to someone without asking for compensation. It doesn’t need to be a big project. You could clean up a local park, surprise someone with a gift, or give a random stranger a compliment. Treat someone to a meal, bake their favorite treat, or give them a thoughtful handwritten letter. Volunteer at your congregation, organize community service projects, or invite people into your home for meaningful conversation and fun.

Rest and Compassion

What can you do? Treat others with love and respect, including yourself. Look in the mirror and give yourself a compliment—you made it this far, and the world isn't on fire because of you! It might be on fire because of other people, but they’re probably not reading this blog right now.

We all think we need to do so much all the time. We forget that Sabbath and rest time were made for us. A lunch “break” should be a break—not a chance to work more. A “day off” should be a day off, not a day where you do more work than during the week. If you have a time of worship, actually use that time for worship instead of worrying about tasks or other distractions.

In closing, cut yourself and others some slack. Take a well-earned nap, eat a delicious snack, take a deep breath, and rest. Communicate with love when you need moments like this. You will get back to work—you always do. The rest of us will cover for you while you step outside for a moment. What can you do? Do your work, rest when you need, and show compassion to yourself and others. If you don’t know where to start, I hope this post has given you some ideas. I look forward to seeing the world you help make better, and I hope we can enjoy it together.