Something That Matters (Matthew 10:1)

For decades, I practiced medicine. I diagnosed disease. I helped guide treatment. I trained residents. I built something that served others. There is a quiet satisfaction in that kind of work. A sense of purpose. Of usefulness. Of impact. And now, stepping away from that season, there’s a different question that lingers: If I’m not doing that anymore… what am I?

And he called to him his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every affliction.
Matthew 10:1 (ESV)

Judas was doing something that mattered too. Judas wasn’t passive. He was one of the Twelve. Sent out. Commissioned. Given authority. Which means we can’t easily avoid this conclusion: He likely preached. He likely healed. He may have cast out demons. He wasn’t pretending to follow Jesus. He was actively participating in the work. And still… he was lost.

That’s where this becomes uncomfortable, because it presses into something deeper than behavior. I’ve spent years doing meaningful work. Even now—with writing, teaching, and these devotionals—there is still a desire to contribute, to matter, to be used. But Judas forces a different question: Is being useful the same as being surrendered?

Power Is not proof of relationship. Jesus said: 

Did we not prophesy in your name… cast out demons… do many mighty works?

Matthew 7:22–23 (ESV)

These are not empty claims. They are the language of people who have done real things. And yet His response is clear: “I never knew you.”

Not: You weren’t effective.
But: You weren’t Mine.

In medicine, your value is often measurable. Cases. Diagnoses. Productivity. Output. Even outside of medicine, it can quietly shift to: Impact. Reach. Response. Without realizing it, identity begins to attach itself to usefulness. Not intentionally. But steadily.

Judas didn’t fall because he was far away, he fell because something else was forming inside him. In John 12:6, we’re told he was taking from the money bag. Quietly. No confrontation. No public moment. Just something small… allowed over time. That’s how drift works. Not suddenly.

But subtly. He stayed close… but never surrendered. Judas didn’t leave early. He stayed. He heard everything. He saw everything. Participated in everything. And yet, in the end, the defining moment wasn’t distance. It was a kiss. Close enough to appear devoted. Separated enough to betray.

What I’m learning now, as I step away from what defined me for decades, I’m beginning to see something more clearly: It’s possible to build a life around being useful…and never fully examine whether everything has been surrendered. Not just work. But expectations. Control. Identity.

Judas didn’t lose proximity. He lacked surrender. Judas wasn’t lost because he lacked opportunity. He was lost because he never gave Jesus his heart. And that possibility…is closer to us than we think.

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #Judas #Matthew10:1

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