You can't give what you don't have

I am a board game fan, especially Ticket to Ride. In that game, the goal is to get as many points as possible by connecting as many cities as possible using train pieces. However, there is a catch, as the player only has a limited amount of train pieces to work with and train card(s) are needed to claim each route. For example, if I want to connect New York to Washington, it only costs two train cards. This is different from let's say Los Angeles to New York, then I will need many more since I'm going coast to coast.

Now, why am I talking about Ticket to Ride? Because this simple mechanic—collecting what you need before you can give anything away—mirrors something about how we're ought to live our lives.

Just as the game can tempt players to hoard cards “just in case,” our culture operates with a similar mindset. In our day and age, we're constantly threatened by consumerism. It tells us that everything is up for grabs and that life is about taking whatever you can. Sadly, this mindset has seeped into Christianity as well. Relativism and "cafeteria Christianity" offer something people naturally love: the freedom to take. You can believe whatever you want, mix various ideas together, and end up with a personalized blend of truths—a kind of spiritual syncretism.

Some people try to push back against this. But because we’re human and prone to extremes, we often swing like a pendulum in the opposite direction. Instead of taking too much, we try to give too much. We pour ourselves out serving our communities, our churches, and our families, while neglecting our own needs. After all, materialism is harmful, and we're supposed to avoid it—right?

But in my Ticket to Ride analogy, this is like a player who keeps claiming route after route without paying attention to how many train cards or pieces they have left. It seems noble at first, but it quickly becomes unsustainable.

The problem is simple: we can't give what we don't have. We can't help someone put an oxygen mask on if we don't have it on ourselves. We can't claim routes without having train cards.

Still, I can be tempted to live as though I'll be the exception. Then, I'll start jumping from things to things without taking a break and chatting with God.

When we operate from emptiness, we begin to mistake busyness for fruitfulness. We fill our schedules so we don't have to face how depleted we really are. Our intentions may be good, but without an actual rest, our service becomes strained rather than joyful.

It's like trying to keep placing trains on the board without checking whether we have the cards to do it—we might manage for a little while, but eventually we hit a wall.

This is why the Christian life has always emphasized abiding before doing. A branch can only bear fruit if it remains connected to the vine; in the same way, we can only pour out love if we stay connected to the source of love. Otherwise, we end up giving from our own limited reserves, and those run out quickly. Jesus is the vine, and I'm one of the branches. If I try to run on my own, I'll run out of nutrients and eventually die.

After reflecting on this myself, I realized the core issue isn’t simply about having things or accumulating the “right” habits. It's about being rooted in the right Person. His name is Jesus.

I've tried to make this a principle in my life: my relationship with God comes before my blog writing schedule. Otherwise, I know I'll be tempted to keep producing content while neglecting the One who gives it meaning in the first place.

If we're busy with our doing while neglecting our relationship with Jesus, we're basically running on an empty tank and it's going to be only a matter of time before we burn out.

Giving isn't bad, nor is taking. We just need to receive God before anything else.

Is it easier said than done? Yes, but by God's grace we can do this.