NorthStar Church Blog

These past few weeks at our college ministry, WAVE, I have been checking in with students on how their semester is ending. Here is the phrase I heard most from all of them: “I don’t have a final; I have a group project, and it’s not going well because everyone else in my group just started.”

Now, being in college ministry for a while, I have learned that the statement may not be fully true, and the student I am talking to is probably also just starting their part of the group project. It all starts the day the project is assigned. Either everyone knows what they’re doing and roles are clear, or nobody really understands the assignment, and somebody is tasked with taking the lead. Typically, the second option is 99% of group projects, and before long, the project isn’t just messy; it’s heading nowhere fast. The frustrating part is that everyone is doing something, but no one is actually equipped to do their part well.

That image helps make sense of what Jesus is getting at in Luke 6:39–40. At first, it sounds almost too obvious. Of course, a blind person cannot successfully guide another blind person. The outcome is predictable. But Jesus isn’t trying to give a clever observation about physical ability; He’s exposing something deeper about spiritual influence and formation.

It’s possible to be active, confident, and even well-intentioned while still lacking the clarity needed to actually lead others well. That’s what makes this teaching so important because Jesus is not just talking about leadership in a formal sense. He’s talking about influence, discipleship, and the reality that every person is shaping someone else’s life in some way.

That means the question is not whether you are influencing others; you are! The question is whether your influence is actually grounded in truth, clarity, and maturity in Christ.

It helps to think about this in everyday life. A new believer trying to disciple someone else without ever having been discipled themselves. A person giving advice about prayer while rarely praying themselves. Someone encouraging others toward generosity while living with a closed-handed posture toward their own resources. None of these situations require malicious intent to become dangerous. They simply require a lack of clarity. And over time, unclear leadership tends to lead people into confusion rather than growth.

That’s why Jesus asks, “Will they not both fall into a pit?” The danger is not just personal; it’s multiplied! When someone who cannot see clearly leads another who also cannot see clearly, the result is shared misdirection. Influence always moves in a direction, and when that direction is off, the consequences don’t stay isolated.

But Jesus doesn’t stop with warning. He also reframes what growth actually looks like. “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone, when he is fully trained, will be like his teacher.” In other words, formation always leads to resemblance. You become like what you consistently learn from, listen to, and follow. That’s true in everyday life. Athletes begin to mirror their coaches. Students begin to think like the professors they learn from most. Even friendships slowly shape tone, habits, and perspective. Over time, imitation happens almost without noticing it. Jesus is saying the same is true spiritually: what you are close to is what you will begin to look like. Discipleship is not just about knowing more; it’s about becoming like the One you are following. And because that is true, who you follow matters deeply.

At the same time, Jesus is not telling people to step back from influence until they feel “fully ready.” That would leave everyone disqualified forever. Instead, He is calling for humility in how we see ourselves. We are always both learners and influencers at the same time. We are being shaped, and we are shaping others. The key is not perfection; it’s direction.

We can’t excuse ourselves from obedience just because we feel immature in certain areas. If you feel like you are not exactly where you want to be in your prayer life, that doesn’t mean you stop praying or stop praying with others. If you haven’t memorized Scripture before, that doesn’t mean you avoid sitting down with a friend and memorizing a passage together. Growth doesn’t require arrival; it requires willingness. Waiting until you feel “ready enough” often becomes a way of delaying obedience rather than pursuing maturity.

That means we should take seriously who we are allowing to shape us. Not every voice deserves equal weight. Not every example is worth imitating. If what you are following is unclear, unstable, or disconnected from Christ, it will eventually show up in the way you live and lead others.

But it also means we don’t have to withdraw in fear. Even as we are still growing, God can use us. We can encourage someone, point them toward truth, and walk with others in faith while still learning ourselves. The difference is humility. It takes knowing we are not the source, but we are being formed by the true Teacher.

So this passage leaves us with both a warning and an invitation. Be careful who you are following closely. Be honest about what is actually shaping you. And be aware that your life is already influencing someone else, whether you realize it or not.

Have you ever felt like you’ve given too much? Maybe it’s been toward someone walking through grief, and you’ve tried to show up consistently (texting, checking in, being present) but over time you start wondering, “Is this too much? Am I overextending myself?” That feeling is familiar to anyone who has tried to love people well. There’s a point where generosity starts to feel like depletion, where you begin to question whether what you’re giving will ever come back to you.

There’s a moment I’ve seen play out more than once in ministry. A volunteer pours themselves into serving others. They show up early, stay late, and quietly carry emotional weight that most people never notice. After a stretch of especially hard weeks, they finally say something like, “I just feel like I’m giving and giving, and I don’t know if there’s anything left.” It’s not bitterness… it’s exhaustion. But underneath it is a deeper question we all wrestle with: does what I give actually matter, or am I just running on empty?

That’s where Luke 6:38 speaks so directly. Jesus is not describing a transactional formula where we give to get in a mechanical way. He is describing the character of God’s kingdom. In God’s economy, generosity is never wasted. It is never unnoticed. It is never the final word. What feels like loss in the moment is not loss in the hands of God.

To understand what Jesus is saying, it helps to picture the imagery He uses. In the ancient world, when someone bought grain, the seller would scoop it into a container. A dishonest seller might fill it loosely, leaving gaps and air pockets so the buyer received less than expected. But a generous seller would press the grain down, shake it together, and pour more in until it overflowed. Jesus uses that picture to say something about how God responds to those who live open-handedly. God does not respond with minimal return or reluctant measure. His generosity is overflowing, abundant, and beyond what we expect.

That doesn’t mean we always see the return immediately, or even in the way we expect. Sometimes the “return” is strength in the moment you thought you had nothing left. Sometimes it is fruit in someone else’s life years later that you never connected back to your small act of faithfulness. And sometimes it is only fully revealed in eternity, when we finally see what God did with what we thought was insignificant.

This is where Jesus is reshaping how we think about giving altogether. We tend to believe there’s a limit to our capacity. If we give too much, we will eventually run dry. But Jesus is inviting us to see that generosity in His kingdom is not about depletion, it’s about trust. We are not the source; we are recipients who pass along what we’ve received. The question is not whether we have enough in ourselves, but whether we trust the One who promises to provide what we need.

That connects deeply with the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-30. Jesus tells a story about a master who entrusts different amounts to his servants before leaving. One receives five, another two, another one. The focus is not on comparison, but on stewardship. When the master returns, he rewards faithfulness, not equal outcomes. The point is simple but challenging: God is not asking you to give what you do not have. He is asking you to be faithful with what He has already placed in your hands.

So your time is not accidental. Your relationships are not random. Your opportunities are not insignificant. The people around you are not there by coincidence. God has entrusted you with your life on purpose, and Luke 6:38 reframes how we see every act of giving within it. Nothing offered in obedience is ever wasted in the kingdom of God.

So the real question is not, “Am I giving too much?” The deeper question is, “Who am I trusting as I give?” Because Luke 6:38 doesn’t just promise return… it reveals the heart of God. A God who sees, who measures differently than we do, and who gives in ways that are pressed down, shaken together, and running over. So where have you been holding back due to a lack of trust in God and His ability to be a generous Father.

Two Sundays ago, we ended with what we often call the Golden Rule: “Treat others the way you want to be treated.” That sounds simple (and is absolutely biblical), but it is also one of the hardest commands to actually live out. It’s easy to say when relationships are smooth and people are easy to love. But when someone is difficult, when someone has hurt you, embarrassed you, disappointed you, or when you genuinely feel like they deserve judgment, that’s when this teaching becomes real. That’s also when our hearts are exposed. Because in those moments, we aren’t just dealing with another person; we’re dealing with whether we truly trust God and His sovereignty. If God is sovereign, that means He is over all things. Nothing escapes His attention, nothing slips through His hands, and no injustice goes unnoticed by Him. And if that’s true, then we don’t have to live like we’re responsible for being everyone’s judge.

That’s exactly what Jesus confronts in Luke 6:37. This verse is famous, but it’s also often misused. Many people quote it as if Jesus is saying Christians should never have opinions, never call out sin, never challenge anyone, and never have hard conversations. But that can’t be what Jesus means because Jesus Himself confronted sin and hypocrisy constantly. He overturned tables in the temple, rebuked religious leaders, corrected His disciples, and spoke truth directly to people who were living in rebellion against God. Jesus is not calling us to silence or passivity. He is calling us to examine our posture. The issue is not whether we can recognize what is right and wrong. The issue is whether we are trying to take God’s seat.

There is a difference between discernment and judgment, and an even bigger difference between correction and condemnation. Discernment is seeing clearly what aligns with God’s Word. Correction is loving someone enough to speak truth with humility. Condemnation, however, is when we go beyond someone’s actions and begin to assign them a final verdict. Condemnation says, “This is who you are,” not just, “This is what you did.” Condemnation doesn’t aim for restoration; it aims for destruction. Condemnation doesn’t come from love. It comes from pride. It assumes the worst, believes the worst, and expects the worst. And if we’re honest, condemnation often feels justified. It feels like protection. It feels like we’re standing for truth. But in reality, condemnation is often just a way of feeding bitterness while pretending we’re being righteous.

A lot of us do this without even realizing it. We build a courtroom in our minds. Someone says something that rubs us the wrong way, someone doesn’t respond the way we expected, someone makes a decision we disagree with, and immediately we start collecting evidence. We replay conversations. We interpret tone. We assume motives. We add up all the little moments, and we form a conclusion. We might never say it out loud, but in our hearts we’ve already handed down a sentence. And what makes it even more dangerous is that we usually judge others by their actions while judging ourselves by our intentions. We want people to consider our stress, our story, our reasons, and our growth. But we interpret others through the harshest lens possible. That’s why Jesus’ words are so direct: “Judge not.” Not because wrong doesn’t exist, but because we are not qualified to sit on the throne of final authority.

Then Jesus adds another phrase: “Condemn not.” This is where the verse becomes even more personal. Because it’s one thing to notice someone’s sin. It’s another thing to secretly want them to fail, to be exposed, or to get what they deserve. Condemnation is not just an opinion; it’s a posture of the heart that says, “I’m glad I’m not like you.” Condemnation assumes that grace is for me but not for them. It forgets that the same God who sees their flaws also sees mine. It forgets that we are not saved because we were better, but because God was merciful.

And then Jesus finishes with a command that is both beautiful and challenging: “Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” Forgiveness is not pretending someone didn’t hurt you. Forgiveness is not saying what they did was okay. Forgiveness is choosing to release the right to repay. It is refusing to let someone else’s sin turn your heart into a prison. Forgiveness is hard because it feels like losing. It feels like letting them off the hook. But the truth is, forgiveness doesn’t let them off the hook; it places them in God’s hands. And if God is truly sovereign, then that is the safest place they could be. Forgiveness is not weakness. It is faith. It is trusting that God can judge rightly, that God can handle what you can’t, and that God’s justice will never fail.

Here’s the hard question for you to consider today. Who is someone you’ve been judging lately? Maybe not out loud, but in your heart. Who is someone you’ve already labeled, already written off, already decided you’re done with? And if God treated you the way you’ve been treating them, what would that mean for you? Jesus isn’t asking you to ignore sin, but He is asking you to remove pride. He isn’t asking you to pretend people are perfect, but He is asking you to remember that you aren’t either. Because the gospel doesn’t just change where we spend eternity; it changes how we treat the people around us today. The question is simple, but it cuts deep: Where do you need to stop condemning and start forgiving?