Intro

Hey everyone, welcome back to Sunday Ripple. I’m Rob, and today we’re diving into a topic that’s… well, a little uncomfortable. Radical self-sacrifice.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking: “Rob, I already give up coffee on Fridays and that counts as self-sacrifice, right?” Yeah, sure… maybe if you’re into caffeine withdrawal-induced hallucinations. But today, we’re talking about something much bigger than skipping your pumpkin spice latte. Radical self-sacrifice is the kind that shakes you, costs you, and—most importantly—points us to Jesus.

When I say “radical self-sacrifice,” I don’t just mean giving a few dollars to someone in need, or letting your kid pick the movie even though you’ve had your heart set on the action flick. I mean the kind of giving and surrender that’s counter-cultural, sometimes painful, often misunderstood—and yet, astonishingly beautiful when it’s lived out.

And let’s be honest: living in a self-first world, where the mantra is “put yourself first, take care of number one,” this idea sounds almost… medieval. I mean, who voluntarily chooses inconvenience these days? But that’s exactly what Jesus calls us to. And the amazing thing is, the world looks different when we step into it—not because our circumstances change immediately, but because we start changing.

By the end of this episode, my hope is that you’ll walk away thinking differently about what it means to give yourself away, and maybe—just maybe—laugh a little at yourself along the way. So, let’s jump in.

Section 1: The Call to Radical Self Sacrifice

Let’s start with the heart of it: the call itself. Matthew 16:24 says, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Three short phrases, but each one carries more weight than a fully loaded grocery cart on a steep hill.

First, deny yourself. That word deny isn’t suggesting a polite “I’ll pass on dessert tonight” kind of denial. No, this is radical, whole-life denial. It’s surrendering your agenda, your comfort, your ego, and yes—sometimes even your dreams—to the purpose of following Christ. It’s saying, “My wants, my rights, my plan… they’re not the priority. God’s way is.”

And let’s be honest, that sounds a little medieval to our modern ears. In a culture obsessed with self-fulfillment, radical self-denial is almost heretical. We live in a world that says, “Put yourself first. Protect your peace. Claim what you deserve.” And while there’s a healthy dose of truth in taking care of ourselves, the radical call of Christ flies directly in the face of that.

I referenced this story in a previous episode. Here it is with a little different perspective. A lot of years ago, we had some friends staying with us for a long weekend—fun, relaxing, the kind of visit where you can just kick back, eat too much, and laugh at old stories. And yet, in the middle of that weekend, I had the opportunity to mentor a married couple in our church. Now, mentoring a couple isn’t exactly convenient. It meant rearranging my time, sitting through tough conversations, and being fully present when I’d much rather have been lounging in the living room with friends, grabbing snacks, and watching a silly movie. I even remember thinking, “Seriously, Rob? You could be enjoying this weekend, and here you are, diving into marital nitty-gritty instead.” But over time, I started to see real fruit from those sessions. I saw the couple begin to communicate better, confront issues they’d been avoiding, and take steps toward building a healthier relationship. The small, inconvenient sacrifices I made didn’t just impact them—they reshaped me, too. I learned patience, humility, and the quiet satisfaction that comes from serving in ways that aren’t glamorous or easy. That weekend reminded me that radical self-sacrifice changes both the giver and the receiver, often in ways you don’t immediately see.

Next, Matthew talks about taking up your cross. Now, imagine that phrase hitting you in 2025. Crosses aren’t part of our daily commute—thankfully—but in Jesus’ day, carrying a cross was literal, brutal, and often fatal. Spiritually, though, the cross represents the cost of following Him. It’s the things we’d rather not do, the burdens we’d rather avoid, the personal comfort we’d rather cling to—but that God calls us to embrace for the sake of others.

Think about it like this: every act of radical self-sacrifice is, in a sense, a miniature cross. Maybe it’s not a Roman execution device, but it still demands something of us. It could be confronting a difficult conversation at work instead of taking the easy route. It could be forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it—or forgiving someone who will never even admit they hurt you. It could be giving up your precious Saturday morning to help someone in need, even when you’d rather sleep in. None of these are glamorous. None of these come with immediate applause. But all of them are part of the rhythm of picking up our cross daily.

And finally, following Jesus. This is the simplest part in theory but often the hardest in practice. It’s easy to say, “I’ll follow Jesus,” but the act of following—of walking the path He sets before us—is radical, costly, and countercultural. Following isn’t just about attending church or reading the Bible (though those are important); it’s about aligning your daily choices, your desires, your priorities with His.

Let me offer another real-life example. A friend of mine runs a small business. He could have been ruthlessly profit-driven, prioritizing himself and his family above all else. Instead, he made repeated, costly choices to prioritize employees, even when it meant less money for himself. Did it pay off immediately? Not financially. But it cultivated loyalty, built community, and created an environment where people flourished. That’s following Christ in action—sacrificing what’s comfortable to serve what’s eternal.

Radical self-sacrifice also involves the little things. Don’t underestimate the power of small, daily choices. Something as simple as letting someone else have the last piece of dessert might seem trivial, but it’s training the muscle of self-denial. Maybe it’s giving your attention fully to someone who needs to be heard—even when you’re tired or distracted. Maybe it’s saying yes to something inconvenient because it blesses someone else. These small acts compound. They shape our character and prepare us for the bigger sacrifices God calls us to make.

Now, here’s where humor helps keep us honest. Have you ever tried to give up your seat on a crowded bus, only to have that awkward moment where both you and the other person are pretending it’s no big deal? That’s a tiny, relatable taste of radical self-sacrifice. It’s uncomfortable. It’s inconvenient. And it’s also practice for the real thing. God doesn’t just want us to sacrifice the big, dramatic things; He wants us to cultivate a posture of giving in every little corner of our lives.

And the beauty of all this? Radical self-sacrifice isn’t about draining ourselves. It’s about realigning with God. The more we live this way, the more we discover that true freedom, joy, and purpose aren’t found in protecting ourselves at all costs—but in losing ourselves for the sake of others. It’s paradoxical: we find life by laying it down, we gain by giving, and we grow by serving.

So here’s the takeaway for Section 1: Radical self-sacrifice is a call that’s non-negotiable, countercultural, and often uncomfortable. It starts small, builds muscle, and grows into a lifestyle that mirrors Christ. It’s messy, it’s inconvenient, but it’s transformative. And yes, it’s sometimes hilarious in the process—especially when we first realize how selfish we actually are.

Next, we’ll talk about why this feels so unnatural in a culture obsessed with self-first thinking, and how we can start living differently despite the tension. But before we move on, take a moment to think about this: where is God asking you to lay something down today? Not next week, not in theory—but right now.

Section 2: The Tension Between Self and Others

So now that we’ve laid out the call to radical self-sacrifice, let’s talk about the tension—the part that makes it feel almost unnatural. Because here’s the reality: living in a self-first world, the idea of putting others first doesn’t just feel inconvenient; it feels wrong.

Think about the messages we get daily: “You deserve this,” “Put yourself first,” “Look out for number one.” Social media is basically a masterclass in self-promotion, selfies, highlight reels, and curated perfection. Even our culture’s heroes—celebrities, athletes, influencers—are praised for their individual achievements, not for how much they’ve given up for someone else. The dominant narrative says, protect yourself, prioritize your happiness, make sure your life looks perfect.

And that’s where the tension comes in. Because when Jesus says, “Deny yourself, take up your cross, follow me,” it’s directly at odds with everything we’re being told. Choosing others over ourselves, loving sacrificially, prioritizing someone else’s needs—these are not natural impulses for most of us. They are, in fact, radical.

Let’s talk about a time I took time out from a family vacation to invest in a friend. We were supposed to be relaxing, enjoying downtime with the kids, and just unwinding—but this friend was struggling in his role as a husband and father. I treated that relationship like ministry, setting aside moments to listen, encourage, and offer guidance on tough topics he wasn’t facing well on his own. It wasn’t convenient. My instinct screamed, “You’re on vacation! Go have fun, relax, watch the kids, enjoy a quiet moment!” But I chose to lean in anyway. I prayed, shared, and sometimes pushed gently in ways that weren’t easy or comfortable.

But the Spirit gently reminded me: this is where radical self-sacrifice lives. And so, I said yes—over and over again. And guess what? It cost me. I missed a few social events. I lost sleep. I had moments of frustration, impatience, even doubt. Sacrifice isn’t glamorous. It’s messy. It’s tense. And it’s worth it.

This tension is also why self-sacrifice often makes us feel exposed. Putting others first inherently requires vulnerability. You can’t truly sacrifice without risking rejection, misunderstanding, or even criticism. Remember, the world doesn’t reward self-denial—it often scoffs at it. But that’s exactly why Jesus’ call is so radical: it demands that we act on a principle larger than our own comfort, larger than public approval, larger than convenience.

Here’s a lighthearted way to think about it: imagine you’re at a buffet. There’s one piece of chocolate cake left. You know you really want it. Radical self-sacrifice says: offer it to someone else. In that moment, your stomach growls, your inner child protests, and your brain says, “This is unfair.” That little inner struggle mirrors the bigger battles we face in life: choosing patience over anger, generosity over selfishness, love over resentment. It’s small, yes—but it’s training ground for the monumental sacrifices God calls us to make.

Another key point: the tension between self and others isn’t just external; it’s internal. It’s wrestling with pride, entitlement, and the instinct to justify taking the easier path. Most of us have experienced that little voice saying, “They can wait, I need this, it’s my turn.” Radical self-sacrifice requires us to notice that voice—and choose differently. We deny ourselves not because we’re masochists, but because following Jesus requires a different logic than the world’s.

And here’s the paradox: the more we step into this tension, the more freedom we actually find. I know it sounds counterintuitive. “Wait, I give up my time, my comfort, my agenda—and I feel free?” Yes. Because the tension exists only when we cling to control. When we start putting others first in obedience to God, we release the need to control outcomes, to demand recognition, or to ensure life goes exactly as we planned. There’s liberation in trusting God, in letting Him take the lead while we step back and serve.

Let’s also consider community. Radical self-sacrifice is not meant to be done in isolation. It thrives in relationships where people are committed to each other’s flourishing. But that can be uncomfortable too—because community requires vulnerability, patience, and giving without immediate return. You may be misunderstood. You may be taken advantage of. But the ripples of your sacrifice often extend far beyond what you see. That’s why Scripture repeatedly reminds us that our labor in the Lord is never wasted (1 Corinthians 15:58). Even when tension feels unbearable, God is at work.

So what do we do with this tension? First, recognize it. Naming it helps us avoid frustration or guilt when self-sacrifice feels unnatural. Second, start small. Look for everyday opportunities to put others first—a kind word, a listening ear, giving up your preferred seat, or sacrificing your convenience for someone else. These small acts train us to embrace the larger, more costly calls God places on our lives. Third, keep your eyes on Jesus. He is the ultimate model of surrender, and His Spirit empowers us to act contrary to our self-focused instincts.

Finally, remember this: tension isn’t a sign you’re failing. It’s a sign you’re alive in the call. If radical self-sacrifice were easy, everyone would do it. The tension exists precisely because this path is countercultural, costly, and transformative. Lean into it. Let it refine you. Let it stretch your heart. And trust that even when it feels awkward or uncomfortable, God is at work in ways you may not yet see.

Before we move on to the next section, take a moment and ask yourself: where in your life are you resisting this tension? Where are you holding on to comfort, convenience, or control instead of embracing God’s call to put others first? Radical self-sacrifice often begins with awareness, even before action.

Section 3: The Cost of Radical Self-Sacrifice

Alright, now we get to the part that nobody likes to talk about—the cost. Radical self-sacrifice isn’t free. It doesn’t come with a side of applause or instant gratification. In fact, it often hurts. And that’s exactly the point.

Let’s be honest: sacrifice, by definition, costs something. It costs time, energy, comfort, sometimes reputation, and occasionally relationships. Jesus Himself modeled this perfectly. Think about His life. He left the comfort of heaven, walked among imperfect people, faced rejection, endured betrayal, carried the weight of sin that wasn’t His own, and ultimately died on a cross. That’s the ultimate example of radical self-sacrifice—and it cost Him everything.

Now, before we all start hyperventilating thinking we have to walk around with a permanent grimace and a pile of guilt on our shoulders, let’s be practical. The cost of self-sacrifice in our lives won’t usually be quite so dramatic, but it will be real. You might have to give up your Friday night plans to help a struggling friend. You might have to speak truth in love to someone who doesn’t want to hear it, even though it’s uncomfortable. You might have to let go of control in a project, a relationship, or a plan you’ve been obsessively managing.

Here’s a personal example. A few years back, I had an opportunity to help a family in our church going through a messy season. Their struggles were… complicated. I’ll be honest: my first reaction was “Nope. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.” I had plans, work, family, and honestly, my own peace of mind to protect. But God kept nudging me. And eventually, I said yes.

It cost me. I lost sleep. I had awkward conversations I’d rather avoid. I had to step into moments of conflict and discomfort. And in one particularly memorable evening, I left completely drained, questioning whether I had made a huge mistake. But over time, I watched lives begin to shift, trust rebuilt, relationships restored—and I realized that the cost I bore was small compared to the transformation I witnessed. That’s the paradox: real, radical sacrifice often feels like a loss, but it produces lasting gain in ways we may never fully see.

Another cost is relational tension. Radical self-sacrifice often puts us at odds with cultural norms and sometimes even the people closest to us. You might be the one at work who insists on honesty when everyone else is just keeping their heads down. You might be the parent or spouse who chooses mercy over judgment, grace over resentment, even when others expect you to “fight back” or protect your comfort. These decisions can feel isolating. You might hear, “Why are you making this so hard?” or “Why can’t you just take care of yourself?” That’s part of the price. When we choose obedience over convenience, misunderstanding is almost inevitable.

And yes, sometimes sacrifice comes with emotional cost too. It’s emotionally draining to put others first, to carry burdens that aren’t yours, to extend grace when you’re exhausted. You might experience disappointment when your sacrifice isn’t appreciated, or grief when change doesn’t happen as quickly—or as beautifully—as you hoped. These are real costs, and God doesn’t promise to remove them. But He does promise presence, strength, and perspective.

Let’s also talk about financial or practical costs. Radical self-sacrifice might require us to give financially beyond what’s comfortable. It might mean offering resources, time, or skills to people or ministries without expecting a return. And yes, it might even mean saying no to things for ourselves that we legitimately enjoy or need. The cost isn’t always tangible, but it’s real.

Here’s the hopeful part, though: while the cost is real, the rewards are eternal. Scripture tells us repeatedly that our labor in the Lord is never wasted (1 Corinthians 15:58). Every act of genuine sacrifice, every moment we deny ourselves for the sake of others, is noticed by God. Even when the world seems indifferent—or even hostile—the ripples of our sacrifice extend far beyond what we can measure. The effects might be small at first, invisible even, but over time, they compound. Lives are shaped. Hearts are healed. The Kingdom of God advances in ways that our human eyes can’t always see.

And here’s a little humor to balance the weight: the cost can also be absurdly mundane. Like, ever stayed up late helping your teenager with a project they “totally don’t need your help for,” only to realize you just became the main character in a 12-year-old’s comedy of frustration? Or spent your weekend helping a friend move, only to discover your back has filed a formal complaint? These are small costs—but they’re still costs, and they still teach us something about obedience, patience, and perspective.

So, as you reflect on the cost of radical self-sacrifice, remember three things:

1. The cost is real, but God’s grace is greater. You won’t be left alone to bear it.
2. The cost is often temporary, but the fruit is eternal. What feels heavy now can produce transformation for years to come.
3. The cost is part of the beauty. Sacrifice is meaningful precisely because it costs something. Cheap sacrifices don’t shape us—they just reinforce comfort zones.

Before we move on to Section 4, I want you to ask yourself: What is God asking you to sacrifice today that feels costly, inconvenient, or even uncomfortable? It might be something small, something relational, or something deeply personal. Whatever it is, lean into it. The cost may sting—but the fruit is far beyond what we can imagine.

Section 4: The Rewards of Radical Self-Sacrifice

Alright, so we’ve talked about the call, the tension, and the cost of radical self-sacrifice. Now let’s hit the part that makes it all worthwhile—the rewards. And before you roll your eyes thinking, “Sure, rewards—like a participation trophy?” stay with me. I’m talking about real, transformative rewards that reach deeper than anything this world can hand you.

First, there’s inner peace. Now, that might sound counterintuitive—after all, we just spent a section talking about sacrifice being draining. But here’s the paradox: the more we surrender ourselves to God and others, the more we experience a sense of freedom from anxiety, control, and the constant self-centered tug-of-war. There’s a profound peace that comes from knowing you are living aligned with God’s purposes, even when it costs something.

I want to share a personal story that really brings this to life. I had a friend I’d spent a lot of time talking to while playing video games. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice at first—mostly just hanging out online—but he was pretty negative, rough around the edges, difficult to talk to sometimes. He held strong opinions, and honestly, there were plenty of nights I just wanted to play in silence, do my own thing, and not think about anyone else. We’d never met in person, though we’d exchanged phone numbers. One day he sent me a text asking if we could talk on the phone. We’d never done that before, but I said yes. And the first thing he said was, “Thanks for taking my call. If I couldn’t talk to someone, I’m pretty sure I was going to kill myself.” All the time I’d spent chatting with him, listening, joking, even tuning out at times—it all led to this moment. That’s the kind of impact small, inconvenient acts of presence can have.

Second, there’s deeper, more authentic relationships. Think about it: when you choose to put someone else’s needs above your own, you’re signaling that their well-being matters to you more than convenience, more than self-interest, more than your comfort. And people notice. They may not always say it out loud, but hearts perceive sacrifice. Your marriages, friendships, parent-child relationships, even workplace relationships—these can all be strengthened when you take the risky step of selfless love.

A little humor moment here: radical self-sacrifice isn’t always glamorous. Sometimes it’s as simple as letting your spouse pick the Netflix show for the night, even though you’ve been dying to watch the new action series, or taking the last donut for a coworker because “hey, it’s just one donut” (even though it’s totally not just one donut). But these little acts, small as they seem, actually build trust, intimacy, and connection. Sacrifice is like compound interest for relationships—the more you invest, the greater the return over time.

Third, there’s spiritual growth and maturity. Sacrifice shapes character. It stretches patience, hones empathy, and builds endurance. Every time we deny ourselves for the sake of others, we practice a little more of what it means to be like Christ. Our hearts become less hardened by selfishness, less impatient with inconvenience, and more open to God’s work in our lives.

And here’s the kicker: the rewards often come unexpectedly. You may not see the immediate effect of your sacrifice. People may misunderstand you. You may feel unappreciated. But God is at work behind the scenes, shaping hearts and circumstances you can’t always see. Think of it like planting seeds in a garden you don’t visit every day—you water, you fertilize, you remove weeds, but growth happens quietly and steadily. And one day, you walk into that garden and—bam—the fruits are there, more abundant than you imagined.

Radical self-sacrifice also comes with a certain joy that can’t be manufactured. There’s a unique satisfaction, a deep sense of fulfillment, that rises from knowing you’ve lived beyond your own agenda and selfish desire. It’s not about the applause or recognition. It’s about being a conduit of God’s love, mercy, and care into someone else’s life. And when you experience that joy, even in the midst of fatigue or difficulty, it’s addictive in the best way. Not the kind of addictive that ruins your life, mind you—but the kind that expands it.

Finally, let’s not forget the eternal reward. Scripture tells us over and over that God sees every act of sacrificial love. Matthew 6:4 says, “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” Radical self-sacrifice isn’t always celebrated in the world’s eyes. It often looks foolish or inconvenient to others. But God notices. And He promises that what we do in obedience—what we do to honor Him and love others—will have lasting impact, both in this life and the life to come.

Now, this doesn’t mean we pursue sacrifice for reward—it’s not transactional. But knowing that God honors faithfulness and that our acts have ripple effects beyond what we can see adds weight and encouragement. It reminds us that even the smallest acts matter. Even the “ugh, I don’t want to do this” moments are part of something bigger than ourselves.

So as you think about radical self-sacrifice, consider these rewards: inner peace, deeper relationships, spiritual growth, unexpected joy, and eternal significance. And yes, sometimes that reward shows up in the little moments—a smile, a thank-you, a text that says, “I needed that”—moments that remind you your choice to give mattered.

Before we wrap this section, I want you to ask yourself: Where have you seen God’s rewards in your life after choosing to give instead of take? Where has radical self-sacrifice shaped you, surprised you, or even delighted you? Take a mental note—because often, remembering the reward is what gives us courage to step into the next moment of sacrifice.

Section 5: How to Practically Live a Life of Radical Self-Sacrifice

Alright, we’ve walked through the call, the tension, the cost, and the rewards of radical self-sacrifice. Now here’s the part where we roll up our sleeves and get practical—how do we actually live this out day-to-day without completely burning out or losing our minds?

First, understand that radical self-sacrifice doesn’t mean everything, all the time. It’s not about being a martyr who gives to the point of exhaustion and then collapses on the living room floor with a sigh of spiritual superiority. No—God isn’t asking you to be a human doormat. It’s about making intentional, daily choices to put God and others before yourself, in ways that He calls you to. Think of it like building spiritual muscles. You don’t lift 500 pounds on day one—you start with manageable weights, and you grow stronger over time.

Step one: Prioritize your relationship with God. Radical self-sacrifice only works when it’s rooted in Him. You can’t pour out what you don’t have. Daily time in prayer, Scripture, and reflection replenishes your spiritual reserves and keeps your motives aligned. Remember what we said in Section 1: without God at the center, sacrifice can easily turn into self-righteous exhaustion. Think of it like charging your phone before a long road trip—you can’t expect it to last if it’s running on 10%.

Step two: Start small, but intentional. You don’t have to jump into extreme acts of sacrifice right away. Look for small, consistent opportunities to serve others. Hold the door, let someone merge in traffic, write a note of encouragement, buy coffee for the person behind you, or genuinely listen to someone without scrolling your phone. These little things might seem insignificant, but they add up. Sacrifice isn’t measured by grand gestures alone—it’s measured by obedience in the moment.

Here’s a funny personal story: I once committed to helping an older lady we didn’t know move out of her house. I went over with all the intentions of doing a “big, heroic” project, only to realize I had severely underestimated the task. She was a hoarder. She already had the biggest storage unit I’d ever seen packed to the ceiling, and her house was still so full you couldn’t walk through it. But here’s the punchline: that small act of sticking with it, even when it wasn’t glamorous, made a huge difference to my neighbor. And I got a newfound appreciation for why people invest in the proper tools. Win-win.

Step three: Learn to listen to God’s nudges. Radical self-sacrifice isn’t about a strict checklist of “things to do.” It’s about sensitivity to the Spirit’s prompting. Sometimes God asks us to sacrifice time, sometimes money, sometimes comfort. And other times, it’s something completely unexpected—like forgiving someone when you’re convinced they don’t deserve it, or stepping into a conversation you’d rather avoid. The key is paying attention and being willing to respond, even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable.

Step four: Balance self-care with selflessness. Here’s the truth: you can’t pour from an empty cup. Radical self-sacrifice doesn’t mean neglecting your physical, emotional, or mental well-being. It’s okay to rest, to eat well, to say no when needed—this isn’t selfishness, it’s stewardship. Think of it as sharpening your spiritual sword before going into battle. Without it, your efforts might end in frustration or burnout, and nobody wins.

Step five: Reflect regularly. At the end of each day or week, take a few moments to reflect: Where did I sacrificially serve today? Where did I choose comfort over obedience? Where did God show up in the process? Reflection helps you see the ripple effects of your sacrifice, even when the impact isn’t immediately visible. It also trains your heart to recognize opportunities for future sacrifice.

Step six: Embrace community. Radical self-sacrifice is not meant to be done in isolation. Surround yourself with people who encourage, challenge, and hold you accountable. Share the journey with fellow believers, friends, or family who understand that sacrifice is a lifestyle, not a one-off act. There’s something about having others alongside you that makes the challenge more doable—and more joyful.

And here’s the final step, the one that ties it all together: Trust God with the outcome. You won’t always see the results. Sometimes your efforts might feel wasted, unappreciated, or even ignored. But God’s promise remains: He sees your obedience, He multiplies the small acts, and He works through them in ways you can’t always perceive. Think of it as tossing seeds into the wind—you don’t know which ones will sprout, but He guarantees the harvest in His perfect timing.

So, to sum it up practically: start with God, act small but intentionally, listen to nudges, care for yourself, reflect, embrace community, and trust God with what you cannot see. Radical self-sacrifice is a lifestyle, not a single moment. It’s about becoming the kind of person who naturally lives for others, not because you have to, but because God’s love has transformed your heart.

Before we wrap the episode, here’s a challenge for you: pick one small, sacrificial act this week. Nothing huge. Maybe it’s encouraging someone who annoys you, spending extra time with your kids even when you’re tired, or simply listening without judgment to a friend in need. Take note of it. Pay attention to how it feels and what God does through it. Small steps build habits, and habits build a life that radiates the love of Christ.

Outro: Radical Self-Sacrifice

And that’s a wrap on today’s episode about radical self-sacrifice. We’ve explored the call to live beyond ourselves, wrestled with the tension, considered the cost, celebrated the rewards, and even dug into practical ways to make it a part of everyday life.

Here’s the takeaway: radical self-sacrifice isn’t about being perfect, keeping score, or impressing anyone. It’s about intentionally living in a way that reflects God’s love—one choice, one moment, one person at a time.

Think of it like tossing stones into a pond. At first, the ripples are small, barely noticeable. But over time, those ripples meet, collide, and expand, touching lives you may never even see. That’s the power of consistent, intentional giving.

So here’s your challenge this week: pick one small act of sacrificial love. Maybe it’s a listening ear, an encouraging word, or helping someone when you’d rather be doing anything else. Watch what God does through it, and trust Him with the outcome.

Remember: Small ripples can make a big impact—go make yours.