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February 25, 2026 · 8 min read

The Easiest Gift to Forget

By Raiden DeLuca

I’ve been chewing on a single verse for days now.

Paul is in the middle of one of the most theologically dense passages in all of his letters — Ephesians 3 — and he drops this:

“I was made a servant of this gospel by the gift of God’s grace that was given to me by the working of his power.” — Ephesians 3:7 (CSB)

And I just sat there.

Some translations say minister. But CSB says servant. And that word — servant — is the word that hit me differently. Because Paul isn’t griping about it. He isn’t begrudgingly accepting it. He’s calling it a gift.

He’s saying: I got to be a servant. What a gift.

And I’ll be honest — I’ve seen it that way occasionally. But my default? Not even close.


Where Else Do We Call Servanthood a Gift?

Let me be real with you for a second.

When was the last time you worked a long week — really grinded it out — and thought to yourself, man, what a gift that I get to do this? Or when you came home tired and still had to clean the house, or pour into your relationship with your partner, and your first thought was this is such a privilege?

If you’re like me, probably never.

Honestly. I complain. Not out loud always, but internally — that low hum of ugh when there’s more to do than I feel like doing. The mild resentment when serving costs me something. The mental drag when I’m tired and something still needs my attention.

That’s the human default. And I don’t think we talk about it enough in Christian circles, because we’re all kind of embarrassed by it.

But here’s Paul — a man who was shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned, and eventually killed for what he believed — calling his role as a servant of the gospel a gift given to him by grace.

Not a duty. Not a burden. A gift.

That reframe hit me like a wall.


The Deeper Thing Paul Is Saying

Paul is pointing at something most of us miss: the fact that God would even use him was staggering to Paul.

Just one verse later he calls himself “the least of all the saints” (Ephesians 3:8, CSB). This is the same guy who before his conversion was hunting Christians down and having them killed. He knew exactly who he was before grace. He knew what he deserved. And then God didn’t just forgive him — God called him. God equipped him. God gave him the honor of carrying the gospel to the Gentiles.

That’s why it’s a gift. Not because serving is comfortable. But because being chosen to serve when you know you deserved nothing — that’s a grace you don’t take for granted.

And when I sit with that, I look at my own life and it’s honestly kind of insane. I have a fiancée I love more than anything, purposeful work I get to pour myself into, a home, real friendships, a body that is healthy and strong. All of it is from the Lord. All of it is something I’ve been entrusted to steward. And all of it calls me to serve.

That’s not a burden. That’s an extraordinary amount of gift.


The Part That Convicts Me

But here’s where I have to get honest, because I don’t think this principle stops at gospel ministry.

Paul isn’t just talking about his missionary work. He’s talking about the posture of his entire life. And I think that posture — serving as gift, not burden — is supposed to shape everything.

Here’s where it lands for me personally.

Maddy. I love her so much it’s hard to even put into words. She is my best friend and I genuinely cannot wait to marry her this May. But I’m going to be straight with you — there are nights I am tired. Like genuinely spent. And she still needs me to show up, to be present, to serve her. And in those moments, my flesh wants comfort. It wants to check out. But this verse has been convicting me that even that — especially that — is a gift. I get to love this woman. I get to be her person. That is not an inconvenience. That is the greatest privilege of my life — and the greatest gift from God I have ever received, or ever will.

My work. I’m 22 and I work at Black Box VR — it’s my sole earthly work focus and I am all in on it. I genuinely love it. I find so much purpose in what we’re building because it actually helps people — it changes lives through fitness and community inside of VR. I believe in it deeply and I believe it serves the Lord by serving others. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a lot. The hours are long, the problems are hard, and some days the weight of it is real. I still complain about it sometimes. But that verse tapped me on the shoulder — I get to build something that matters. That is a gift.

Our home. Look, our house is not the nicest. The finishes are whatever, it’s not fancy. But there is a roof over our heads. We have a warm place to live, a space that is ours, and that is something millions of people do not have. Keeping it clean, taking care of it — that’s not a chore I should be dragging myself through. That’s faithfulness with something God provided. That’s gift stewardship.

My friendships. This might be the most personal one. I have been blessed in this season with some of the most incredible friendships of my life — especially with other believers. People who are running the same race, who actually talk about God and mean it, who sharpen me and call me higher. These friendships take time, they take more money than I’d probably spend otherwise, they require showing up when I’d rather be home. But they are without question one of the most fulfilling things in my life. I just genuinely love people. And pouring into those friendships is an honor, not an obligation.


I still complain about all of these. Actively. This verse clocked me on that.

So here’s the honest reframe, laid out plain:

Maddy Old view: I’m too tired to have anything left to give right now. New view: I get to love someone who loves me back. What a gift.

Work Old view: This is so much, I’m spent. New view: I get to build something that matters and help real people. That’s grace.

Home Old view: I have to clean this again. New view: I have a home. I have somewhere safe and warm. Stewarding it well is the least I can do.

Friendships Old view: This takes more than I have sometimes. New view: I have people in my life who love God and love me. That is rare. That is worth every bit of it.


The Reframe That’s Already Changing Things

Here’s what I’ve been sitting with: if the biggest gift you can receive is giving your life fully to Jesus, then every act of service — offered to Him — is participation in that gift, not subtraction from it.

Jesus says it plainly in Matthew 10:39 (CSB):

“Anyone who finds his life will lose it, and anyone who loses his life because of me will find it.”

Losing your life sounds like loss. But Jesus calls it finding your life. That’s the same logic Paul is operating in. Servanthood sounds like diminishment. Paul calls it a gift.

And Colossians 3:23-24 (CSB) pulls the thread all the way through:

“Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as something done for the Lord and not for people, knowing that you will receive the reward of an inheritance from the Lord. You serve the Lord Christ.”

Whatever you do. Not just the sacred stuff. Whatever you do — your work, your relationship, your home, your friendships — offered to Him, from the heart. That’s the whole thing right there.


Honesty About the Flesh

My default, if I don’t override it, is comfort. I’m a fleshly human being and comfort is what the flesh reaches for first. I think that’s just true for most of us.

But I’ve been making a real effort to make service my default instead. And I can tell you from actual experience — not theory — that it has made my life better in every measurable way. Every single time I override that pull toward comfort and choose to serve instead, something is better on the other side of it. The relationship deepens. The work gets more meaningful. The friendships go somewhere real.

Paul says in Romans 7:15 (CSB):

“For I do not understand what I am doing, because I do not practice what I want to do, but I do what I hate.”

I live in that tension constantly. But I’ve seen enough now to know which side of it leads somewhere good.

This verse cracked something open for me and I’m still sitting in it. If it hit you anywhere, I’d love to hear from you.

More soon.

— Raiden

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