"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." — Matthew 6:34 I've been thinking about work lately. Not in the way I used to — not about performance, or output, or what I'm building. I've been thinking about what happens to our sense of self when the work we've been doing starts to disappear underneath us. Many of us here are in creative fields. Writing, translating, designing, making. And many of us have felt it over the last year or two — the quiet shift. Work drying up. Clients who used to send projects now saying "we tried it with AI first." The sense that something we spent years becoming good at is being reframed as a problem to be optimized away. It has made me ask a harder question than the usual "how do I adapt?" The question is this: if my work can be replaced, was my worth ever really in it? Matthew 6 has been meeting me in this. Jesus points to the birds of the air — they don't sow, they don't reap, they don't store up in barns. And He points to the lilies of the field — clothed in more glory than Solomon, without spinning a single thread. Not because their lives are easy, but because their lives are held. They are provided for. They are not defined by their productivity. And then He says the thing that cuts the deepest: "Are you not much more valuable than they?" Not "are you not more productive." Not "are you not more skilled." Valuable. Before anything I produce, before anything I build, before any line on my resume — my value was settled. I don't think this means we stop working. The lilies still grow. The birds still fly out to find food. Work is not the enemy. But work was never supposed to be the foundation. When it becomes the foundation, it collapses the moment it's threatened — and a lot of us are feeling that collapse right now. What if this strange, unsettling season is actually an invitation? An invitation to let our identity get unhooked from our output, so it can be rehooked to the only thing that was ever going to hold it — being loved by the One who made us. Not for what we can do. Just because we are His.

In 1973, something happened in Seoul that the world had never seen before. From May 30 to June 3, over 3.4 million people gathered at Yeouido Plaza — a single field in the heart of Korea — to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It remains the largest evangelistic crusade in Christian history. Billy Graham preached. Thousands wept. Over 72,000 people gave their lives to Christ in just five days. Korea was a nation still rebuilding from war. The people were hungry — not just for bread, but for something eternal. And God showed up. --- Today, that same Gospel is still going out. Not from a plaza. But from living rooms, phone screens, and quiet morning moments like this one. You are part of that story. Every prayer you pray, every person you reach, every time you open the Word — you are carrying the same fire that filled Yeouido in 1973. --- 📖 Today's Reflection — Matthew 28:19 "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations." Jesus didn't say "if you feel called." He said go. The question isn't whether God wants the world reached. The question is — will you be part of it? --- 🙏 Pray with us today: Lord, give me the courage to speak. Give me love for the one person in front of me. And remind me — the Gospel still works. Amen.