There are moments when being chosen feels like a blessing.

Then there are moments when being chosen feels heavy.

Sometimes we ask, “Why me?” because God has opened a door we never thought possible. We are amazed that He would trust us with an opportunity, a calling, a ministry, or a responsibility greater than anything we imagined.

But there are other times when “Why me?” sounds very different.

It comes through tears.

“Why did I have to go through this?”

“Why am I the one carrying this?”

“Why did this responsibility fall on me?”

“Why did my life have to change?”

I have asked both kinds of “Why me?” questions.

And I am learning that being chosen by God does not always come wrapped in comfort. Sometimes it comes wrapped in responsibility. Sometimes it feels like an interruption. Sometimes it takes us into places we never expected to go and puts us in front of people whose pain we cannot fix.

Sometimes being chosen means being trusted to carry something heavy.

Few people in Scripture illustrate this better than Simon of Cyrene.

Matthew 27:32 says, “As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross.”

Simon was not one of the Twelve. He had not spent three years walking beside Jesus. He had not volunteered for this assignment. As far as we know, he was simply coming into Jerusalem when everything suddenly changed.

One moment Simon was walking through the city.

The next moment, he was carrying the cross of Jesus.

He did not prepare for it.

He did not choose it.

He did not know when he woke up that morning that history would remember his name.

He was simply interrupted.

When Your Interruption Becomes Your Assignment

Imagine Simon’s perspective.

Roman soldiers pull him from the crowd and place a bloodstained wooden cross upon his shoulders. Jesus has already been beaten and weakened. Simon suddenly finds himself walking through streets filled with pain, hostility, grief, and confusion.

This was not on his schedule.

It probably did not feel holy.

It probably did not feel like an honor.

It felt heavy.

It felt inconvenient.

It may have even felt unfair.

Yet what looked like an interruption from Simon’s perspective became an extraordinary moment in the story of redemption.

That challenges me because some of the assignments God uses most powerfully in our lives begin as things we never expected.

A loved one becomes sick or disabled.

A family responsibility suddenly becomes yours.

A career changes.

A door closes.

A storm destroys a community.

Someone else’s crisis suddenly becomes the place where God asks you to show up.

We often pray, “God, use me.”

But if we are honest, we usually imagine Him using us in ways that fit comfortably into our plans.

Then the cross appears.

Then the phone rings.

Then someone is hurting.

Then disaster strikes.

Then God says, “Go.”

And that is when we discover whether we only want God’s blessings or whether we are willing to carry His heart into broken places.

Sometimes Calling Takes You Into the Devastation

I have been reminded of that in a very personal way through my work as a disaster response chaplain and crisis stabilization specialist.

Following Hurricane Isaias, I’ve had the opportunity to serve people in the Milton and Pensacola areas.

Seeing the devastation firsthand was heartbreaking.

It is one thing to hear about destruction from a distance.

It is something entirely different to stand in the middle of it.

There were rural, lower-income areas where the storm exposed just how fragile daily life can become when resources are already limited. Some families were still without power. Roofs had been ripped apart or left with holes large enough for rain to enter. Raw sewage was backed up in people’s yards. People were trying to figure out where basic provisions would come from. Not everyone had the money, insurance, transportation, or immediate access to materials needed to begin repairs.

For some families, losing power meant much more than sitting in the dark. It meant losing refrigerated food they could not easily afford to replace. It meant losing access to well pumps, air conditioning, phone charging, communication, and other things most of us rarely think about until they are gone. A damaged roof was not simply an inconvenience when there was no money available for an immediate repair. A missed day of work could mean there was less money for groceries, gas, or medication.

What struck me was that many of these families were not beginning the recovery process from a place of abundance.

They were already stretching every dollar before the storm ever arrived.

Then suddenly they were facing damaged homes, spoiled food, interrupted work, limited transportation, and uncertainty about where the next meal, tank of gas, or repair would come from.

In some of the more rural areas, help was not always right around the corner. Resources could be farther away. Transportation could be limited. Someone without a reliable vehicle could not simply drive across town for supplies. For people already living close to the edge financially, one storm could turn a difficult situation into a crisis almost overnight.

Homes, neighborhoods, routines, and lives had been disrupted.

You could see the exhaustion and despair on people’s faces.

Some were overwhelmed.

Some were frightened.

Some were simply trying to figure out what they were supposed to do next.

Some were trying to remain strong for their children while carrying their own fear quietly.

Others were trying to calculate how far the little they had left could stretch.

Standing there reminded me that disasters do more than damage buildings.

They shake people’s sense of security.

They disrupt what felt normal only days before.

Suddenly, things we normally take for granted, electricity, food, water, shelter, transportation, and communication, become serious concerns.

And the impact is not always equal.

A family with savings, insurance, reliable transportation, and somewhere else to stay may experience the same storm very differently from a family that was already struggling to make ends meet.

For someone living paycheck to paycheck, recovery is not simply a matter of waiting for repairs. The storm can expose every vulnerability at once.

Standing in those communities made the devastation much more personal.

These were not statistics on a television screen.

They were not numbers in a damage report.

They were people.

Parents.

Grandparents.

Children.

Families trying to hold their lives together with whatever resources they still had.

And in moments like that, people do not necessarily need a polished answer.

They need presence.

They need someone willing to listen.

They need reassurance.

They need prayer.

They need practical help.

They need someone who can stand with them in the chaos and remind them that they have not been forgotten.

As heartbreaking as it was to see the devastation, getting to minister to people there was also incredible.

There is something sacred about stepping into someone else’s difficult moment and being allowed to carry a little hope with you.

I could not restore their electricity.

I could not undo the damage.

I could not replace everything that had been lost.

I could not answer every question.

But I could be there.

I could listen.

I could pray.

I could provide crisis stabilization to someone who felt overwhelmed.

I could remind people that this moment was not the end of their story.

I could show them love.

I could carry hope.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that devastation, God reminded me again of something He has placed deeply within me.

This is part of my calling.

To help hurting people.

To walk toward pain instead of away from it.

To bring hope into places where people are struggling to see any.

To spread love to people who desperately need to know they have not been forgotten.

To remind people that God is still present when life feels like it has fallen apart.

Sometimes calling becomes clearest when you find yourself standing in the middle of somebody else’s storm.

Chosen Does Not Mean Convenient

We love the idea of being chosen when it sounds like promotion, opportunity, influence, favor, or success.

But Scripture repeatedly shows us that calling and comfort are not the same thing.

David was chosen to become king, but his road to the throne went through fields, caves, betrayal, and years of waiting.

Mary was chosen to carry the Son of God, but her calling included misunderstanding, uncertainty, and eventually watching her Son suffer.

Esther was chosen to become queen, but her position required her to risk her life for her people.

Moses was chosen to lead Israel, but that calling meant confronting Pharaoh, enduring criticism, and walking through a wilderness.

Simon was chosen from a crowd, and his assignment was a cross.

Being chosen does not mean everything becomes easier.

It means there is purpose even in difficult places.

Sometimes God trusts us with weight.

Not because He wants to crush us, but because He knows what He can accomplish through surrendered hands.

God Sees You in the Crowd

There were countless people in Jerusalem that day.

Yet Simon’s name was recorded.

Mark 15:21 even identifies him as the father of Alexander and Rufus. We are not told everything that happened after Simon carried the cross, but we know that an ordinary man stepped out of a crowd and became part of the story of Jesus.

That encourages me.

God sees people in crowds.

He sees the person quietly caring for a family.

He sees the first responder walking into devastation.

He sees the caregiver who is exhausted.

He sees the chaplain sitting with someone who has lost everything.

He sees the volunteer handing out food and supplies.

He sees the person clearing debris when no cameras are around.

He sees the neighbor checking on the elderly person down the street.

He sees the parent praying for a struggling child.

He sees the person carrying grief while still finding the strength to encourage someone else.

God sees you.

Your name may never appear in a headline.

Thousands of people may never know what you did.

But heaven notices faithfulness.

You May Not Be Able to Fix It, But You Can Carry Hope

Disaster response has reminded me of something else.

We often feel pressure to fix things.

But some things cannot be fixed in a single conversation.

You cannot erase someone’s trauma with a Bible verse.

You cannot instantly remove someone’s grief.

You cannot undo the storm.

You cannot immediately restore everything someone has lost.

Sometimes ministry is simply refusing to let someone stand alone in their pain.

Romans 12:15 tells us to “mourn with those who mourn.”

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give is our presence.

To sit.

To listen.

To pray.

To help.

To remind someone, “You are not alone.”

That is what Jesus consistently did.

He moved toward hurting people.

He touched people others avoided.

He stopped for people others ignored.

He saw individuals inside crowds.

He brought dignity to people who felt forgotten.

And if we are going to follow Him, we have to be willing to go where people hurt.

What You Carry May Affect Someone Else

Simon carried the cross for what was probably a relatively short distance.

More than two thousand years later, we are still talking about it.

Never underestimate the eternal impact of temporary obedience.

Something you do in a matter of minutes may stay with another person for the rest of their life.

A prayer.

A hug.

A bottle of water.

A meal.

A conversation.

A moment of listening.

A reminder that God still loves them.

You may never know what that moment meant.

Someone may discover courage because you showed up.

Someone may rediscover faith because you reminded them that God had not abandoned them.

Someone may choose to keep going because you gave them hope when they had almost run out.

Someone may encounter Jesus through the way you loved them during one of the hardest moments of their life.

Do not underestimate what God can do through simple acts of faithful presence.

Feeling Unprepared Does Not Mean You Are Uncalled

I imagine Simon did not feel ready.

There was no training session.

No warning.

No opportunity to prepare emotionally.

The cross was simply placed upon him.

Many of God’s servants felt unprepared.

Moses asked, “Who am I?”

Gideon saw himself as insignificant.

Jeremiah said he was too young.

Yet God called them anyway.

Feeling unprepared does not mean you are uncalled.

Sometimes we discover what God has placed inside us only when life requires us to use it.

Isaiah 41:10 says, “Do not fear, for I am with you.”

That is God’s answer.

Not, “You will always feel prepared.”

Not, “You will always know exactly what to say.”

Not, “You will never encounter anything overwhelming.”

His promise is:

“I am with you.”

That is enough.

Carry Hope Into the Hurt

Maybe that is what God is asking from some of us.

Not to solve everything.

Not to have every answer.

Not to eliminate every burden.

But to carry hope.

The world is full of hurting people.

Some of them have been through literal storms.

Others are walking through storms nobody can see.

Their home may still be standing, but their marriage is falling apart.

Their electricity may be working, but emotionally they are exhausted.

Their refrigerator may be full, but grief has emptied something inside of them.

Their neighborhood may look untouched, but anxiety, addiction, loneliness, fear, or loss has devastated their inner world.

They need people willing to walk toward them.

They need the Church to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

They need hope.

Perhaps that is part of why God has allowed you to walk through some of the things you have survived.

Your scars may give you compassion.

Your grief may give you understanding.

Your recovery may give someone else hope.

Your story may become the flashlight someone else needs in a dark place.

Keep Walking

Maybe you are living through your own Simon moment today.

You did not choose this.

You did not expect it.

You certainly would not have written this chapter into your story.

But God is here.

And this chapter can still have purpose.

Do not assume that because something feels heavy it cannot also be holy.

Do not assume that because you did not volunteer for the assignment God cannot use it.

Do not assume that because you cannot fix everything you have nothing meaningful to offer.

Sometimes your greatest ministry is simply showing up.

Listen.

Love.

Pray.

Serve.

Carry hope.

Seeing the devastation following Hurricane Isaias broke my heart, but ministering to people in Milton and Pensacola reminded me again why God has called me.

To help hurting people.

To meet people in painful places.

To bring hope where despair has become loud.

To spread God’s love when people desperately need to know that they are seen.

That calling may take me into places I never expected.

It may interrupt my plans.

It may sometimes feel heavy.

But if Jesus is there, I want to be there too.

And maybe that is the better question for all of us.

Instead of always asking, “God, why did You put me here?”

Maybe we should ask:

“God, who needs hope while I am here?”

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You that You see me, know me, and have called me to be Your hands and feet in a hurting world.

Thank You for the moments when Your calling feels exciting, but also for the moments when it feels heavy. Teach me to recognize that some of the interruptions in my life may actually be assignments from You.

Lord, give me eyes to see hurting people. Help me notice the person who feels forgotten, overwhelmed, afraid, or alone.

When I cannot fix the situation, remind me that I can still be present.

When I do not know what to say, help me listen.

When the need feels bigger than what I can provide, help me offer what I have.

Give me compassion that moves toward hurting people rather than away from them.

Thank You for reminding me that some of the most sacred ministry happens in the middle of devastation, uncertainty, and pain.

Use my hands to serve.

Use my ears to listen.

Use my words to encourage.

Use my story to give someone hope.

Use my life to show people Your love.

And when the weight feels heavy, remind me that I am not carrying it alone. Jesus is walking beside me.

Wherever You send me, help me go willingly.

Whoever You place in front of me, help me love faithfully.

And wherever people are hurting, give me the courage to carry hope into the darkness.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.