Point 1: The Peril of Playing God in Someone Else’s Story
Scripture: “Peter…said to Jesus, ‘But Lord, what about this man?’ Jesus said to him, ‘…what is that to you? You follow Me.'” (John 21:21-22)
Here’s Peter, fresh off his own restoration breakfast with Jesus on the beach, and what does he do? He starts worrying about John’s business. It’s almost comical if it weren’t so tragic—and so typical of us. Jesus had just told Peter how he would die, glorifying God through martyrdom, and Peter’s immediate response was essentially, “That’s great, Lord, but what about him?”
This is the question that has derailed more Christians than we can count. Jesus’ answer cuts through the fog like a lighthouse beam: “What is that to you?” In other words, “Peter, I’ve got John’s life figured out. You worry about following Me.” You see, when we start comparing our assignments, our sufferings, our callings with those of others, we step out of our lane and into dangerous territory. God has a custom-designed plan for each of His children, and when we appoint ourselves as amateur consultants on someone else’s blueprint, we’re not just being nosy—we’re being rebellious.
Point 2: The Amateur Providence Problem
Scripture: “For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?” (Romans 11:34, NIV)
There’s a term for people who think they can improve on God’s plans: amateur providence. These are well-meaning folks who see someone going through difficulty and immediately assume God has made a mistake that needs correcting. They rush in with their solutions, their interventions, their “rescues,” never stopping to consider that God might be doing something profound in that person’s pain.
Listen, God doesn’t need assistant managers. He’s not up in heaven wringing His hands saying, “Oh my, I sure hope someone down there notices this problem and fixes it for Me!” When you stick your hand in front of God’s permissive will—and yes, God permits certain sufferings for redemptive purposes—you’re not helping. You’re hindering. You’re like someone who pulls a butterfly out of its cocoon to “help” it, not realizing you’ve just crippled it for life. The struggle wasthe strengthening.
Point 3: The Diagnostic Question
Scripture: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139:23-24, NIV)
Here’s a question that’ll stop you in your tracks: Is there stagnation in your spiritual life? Don’t just shrug it off. Don’t blame it on the devil, your schedule, or the season you’re in. Get alone with God and do some serious spiritual diagnostics. More often than we’d like to admit, spiritual stagnation comes from one source: we’ve been meddling where we had no business meddling.
Maybe you proposed something you had no right to propose. Maybe you gave advice when nobody asked for it—and worse, when God didn’t send you to give it. Every time you interfere in someone else’s journey with God, you create static in your own spiritual reception. It’s like trying to tune into a radio station while someone’s running a chainsaw next to you. God can’t get through because you’re making too much noise in someone else’s life.
Point 4: The Right Kind of Counsel
Scripture: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” (James 1:5, NIV)
Now, let’s be clear: there are times when you need to give advice. The Bible is full of commands to encourage, exhort, and admonish one another. But here’s the difference—when God wants you to speak into someone’s life, He’ll speak through you. There will be a direct understanding of His Spirit, a divine authorization that comes not from your wisdom but from His.
Your job isn’t to stockpile advice for every situation you encounter. Your job is to maintain such a right relationship with God that when He needs to minister to someone through you, the channel is clear. You become a conduit, not a source. And here’s the beautiful part: when God’s discernment flows through you, it brings blessing, not burden. It brings light, not confusion. The person receiving it knows they’ve heard from God, not just gotten your opinion with a Bible verse tacked on.
Point 5: The Consciousness Problem
Scripture: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20, NIV)
Most Christians live their entire lives on what we might call the conscious level. They consciously try to serve God. They consciously work at being devoted. They’re constantly aware of their efforts, their sacrifices, their spiritual activities. And you know what? That’s exhausting. More than that, it’s immature.
Don’t misunderstand—consciousness isn’t bad when you’re starting out. A child learning to walk is very conscious of every step. But imagine if that child never grew beyond that stage, if at thirty years old they were still concentrating intensely on putting one foot in front of the other. We’d call that a developmental problem. Yet that’s exactly where many believers stay their entire Christian lives—so focused on trying to be spiritual that they never actually become spiritual.
Point 6: The Unconscious Christian Life
Scripture: “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31, NIV)
Maturity in Christ happens on the unconscious level. It’s when you become so surrendered to God, so united with Christ, that serving Him becomes as natural as breathing. You’re not constantly monitoring yourself, asking “Am I being spiritual enough right now?” You’re not keeping score of your good deeds or maintaining a mental ledger of your sacrifices.
This is what Paul meant when he said “Christ lives in me.” At that level of maturity, it’s not you laboriously trying to act like Christ—it’s Christ actually living His life through you. The difference is astronomical. One is performance; the other is partnership. One leaves you exhausted; the other leaves you energized. One is about effort; the other is about surrender. When you reach this place, you stop being a spiritual performer and become a spiritual conduit.
Point 7: Beyond Self-Awareness
Scripture: “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:3-4, NIV)
Now, here’s where it gets really deep. Even when you reach the place where you’re being used as broken bread and poured-out wine for others—even when you’re consciously aware that God is working through you—there’s still another level to reach. It’s the level where you’re so lost in Christ that you’re not even aware of being used.
Think about it: when Jesus healed the woman with the issue of blood, He felt power go out from Him, but He had to ask who touched Him. He was so naturally supernatural that miracles happened through Him without Him orchestrating them. That’s the level we’re aiming for—where ministry isn’t something we do, it’s something that happens because Christ is flowing through us like water through a pipe. The pipe doesn’t take credit for the water; it just stays connected to the source and stays clean on the inside.
Point 8: The Paradox of Sanctification
Scripture: “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Philippians 3:12, NIV)
Here’s the paradox that confuses so many Christians: a saint is never consciously a saint. The moment you become aware of your own saintliness, you’ve lost it. It’s like humility—the moment you think you’ve achieved it, you haven’t. True sainthood isn’t about being aware of how holy you’ve become; it’s about being aware of how dependent on God you are.
Look at the real saints in Scripture and church history. Moses didn’t know his face was glowing. Paul called himself the chief of sinners. The closer they got to God, the more aware they became of their own insufficiency and His complete sufficiency. That’s the mark of genuine spiritual maturity: an ever-increasing awareness not of your own godliness, but of His grace. Not of your strength, but of His power working through your weakness.
Point 9: Conscious Dependence vs. Self-Consciousness
Scripture: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NIV)
There’s a world of difference between being self-conscious and being consciously dependent on God. Self-consciousness says, “Look at me, look at what I’m doing for God.” Conscious dependence says, “I can’t do anything without Him—not even breathe.” Self-consciousness is constantly measuring and monitoring your spiritual performance. Conscious dependence is constantly looking to God as your only source.
Paul understood this. When he catalogued his sufferings, his beatings, his imprisonments, he wasn’t bragging about his endurance—he was celebrating God’s sustaining power. When he spoke of his thorn in the flesh, he didn’t focus on his perseverance—he focused on God’s grace being sufficient. That’s the hallmark of a mature believer: they’ve stopped being impressed with themselves and started being overwhelmed by Him.
Point 10: Following Jesus Without Looking Around
Scripture: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” (Hebrews 12:1-2, NIV)
Let’s come full circle to where we started. Jesus’ command to Peter was simple but profound: “You follow Me.” Not “You follow Me while keeping an eye on John.” Not “You follow Me while making sure everyone else is following too.” Just “You follow Me.” That’s it. That’s everything.
Your race is marked out for you. Not for you and your neighbor. Not for you and your church. Just for you. God has a specific path, a specific calling, a specific purpose for your life, and it probably looks nothing like anyone else’s. When you spend your time looking around, comparing, measuring, judging, advising, and interfering, you’re not running your race—you’re stumbling through everyone else’s.
The Christian life isn’t complicated. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Stay in constant dependence on Him. Let Him live His life through you. And when you’re tempted to worry about what God is doing in someone else’s life, hear His voice asking you the same question He asked Peter: “What is that to you? You follow Me.” Your job isn’t to understand everyone else’s journey. Your job is to walk your own—one surrendered, God-dependent step at a time.
What Is That to You?
Peter turns from his own cross to measure John’s,
as if God’s mathematics needed an auditor,
as if mercy were a pie that could run out.
Jesus doesn’t explain the difference between their deaths.
He just says follow, which is the only verb that matters
when you’re standing on a beach with the risen Christ.
We appoint ourselves providence with a lowercase p,
seeing someone’s pain and deciding God got it wrong,
sticking our hand between heaven’s will and earth’s need.
The spiritual life stalls out when we meddle.
Not because God is petty about jurisdiction
but because we can’t hear Him while we’re talking for Him.
Most Christians live consciously spiritual their whole lives,
aware of every prayer like a child aware of every step,
which is fine for beginners but fatal for the long haul.
Maturity happens when you stop performing surrender
and just surrender, when Christ lives so naturally through you
that you forget to keep score of your own holiness.
There’s a level beyond being used by God—
it’s being so lost in God you don’t notice being used,
like a pipe that never thinks about the water.
A saint is never consciously a saint.
The moment you admire your own spiritual reflection
you’ve stepped out of the river and onto the bank.
Paul knew his weakness better the closer he got to God.
Moses didn’t know his face was glowing.
The light-bearers never see their own light.
You follow Me, Jesus says, not them, not their calling,
not their suffering or their glory or their timeline.
Just Me, which turns out to be the only direction that exists.