Miracles, signs and wonders?
Have you ever dropped the baton? Were you going too fast, staggered, slipped, dropped? Usain Bolt never dropped the baton. Not once in a major competition. When Jamaica shattered the world record in the 4x100m relay at the 2012 London Olympics, Bolt snatched the baton at the finish line like a man grabbing history. He wasn’t supposed to keep it, but eventually they let him, not because the baton held the power – it didn’t – but because it marked the moment. The baton wasn’t the win. The race was. The girl on the track after the race couldn’t take it from him. Have you seen how tall and imposing Bolt is…?
In Church life, we sometimes hear talk of “passing the baton.” The heart behind it is right – we want to equip the next generation, but the metaphor can quietly and wrongly reshape how we see the call of God. It suggests we hold something central and then hand it off. Intact – that ministry is a possession we can simply pass on, but in Scripture, calling isn’t passed down – it’s heard. It’s responded to. It’s lived.
Paul doesn’t write to Timothy saying, “Here’s my ministry, take it.” He says, “What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men” (2 Timothy 2:2). It’s a pattern of life, shaped by the gospel, that is to be seen, trusted and multiplied. Not a baton to be handed over, but a life to be followed. It’s lifestyle: gift, call and character modelled in full view.
Paul goes further still, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1). That’s not about copying Paul’s methods. It’s about sharing his aim. He didn’t offer his style. He offered his pursuit. Jesus, always Jesus. Obedience. Intimacy. Trust. That’s what he called others into.
And for those struggling to find their “calling” today, this is helpful and vital. The ‘calling’ isn’t a job title or a ministry role. It’s following Jesus. With every breath, every step. It’s trusting the Spirit’s quiet promptings, year by year. Some search anxiously for the right label, the right lane. But ‘calling’ emerges not in a lightning bolt, but in faithful footsteps.
Your ‘calling’ – what you are doing or meant to be doing – can be discovered by looking around. What fills your shelves and stirs your heart? A cook owns dozens of cookbooks because their heart leans toward the kitchen. A mechanic’s world is surrounded by tools. Passion leaves a trail. Often, the things God stirs in you are already visible. The books you collect, the conversations you return to, the tasks you lose track of time doing – these are not distractions. They may well be signposts.
Don’t expect the Spirit to draw you into things with neon lights. He calls with a whisper, not a marketing plan and a set of options. New wine is poured into new wineskins (Mark 2:22). That means He’s always doing something fresh, and often it won’t look like the version you grew up, or started with. That’s why we can’t afford to hand down yesterday’s baton as if it’s the gold standard. The Corinthian church – chaotic as it was – flowed in remarkable overflow of spiritual gifts. Lacking nothing. Today, many believers long for the same, yet settle for much less, because the baton handed to them was safe, post-modern, seeker-friendly not Spirit-led. What are we wanting to pass on that we are not actually experiencing ourselves? That’s why some things need to be contended for and why the baton must stay firmly in God’s hand. He’s not building an institution; He’s building a people. The Church doesn’t rise or fall on human succession plans. Christ is the Head. The Spirit trains and empowers. He still speaks, still leads, still calls.
Hebrews urges us to run with endurance, “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:1–2). Not looking to the past. Not waiting for someone to hand us something. We run because He calls.
So if you’re waiting for a baton – stop. Instead, watch where the Spirit is stirring. Let your heart respond. Follow the whisper, not the hype. Point others to Christ, not to your role, your function or your label. The race is open to all who will run. Eyes fixed. Heart surrendered.
The baton? That stays in His hand. Where it belongs.