A Sunday School Question I Didn’t Know I Needed

I had one of those quiet Sunday moments a couple weeks ago. You know the kind...Sitting in Sunday School...half listening, half thinking about the week ahead, when a question lands and won’t let go.

The teacher was talking about Moses and the brass serpent. A story I’ve known forever. One I thought I understood. And then he asked, almost casually, Why was it a serpent? And why did they use brass?

I remember feeling a little surprised by my own reaction. I’d never really considered that before. Not seriously, anyway. I pulled out my notebook, and started writing. Something in me wanted to stay with the question instead of brushing past it.

Why that symbol? Why that material?

At first it felt like a small detail. Almost academic. But I’ve learned that the questions that linger are usually the ones worth paying attention to. So I sat with it. I read. I listened. I let myself be curious instead of trying to sound smart or faithful or certain.

What kept rising to the surface was this simple truth. God used what the people already had.

He didn’t introduce something extravagant or unfamiliar. He didn’t wait for ideal conditions. He used a material they knew. Something common. Something already present. Something within reach.

And that reframed the whole story for me.

I realized how often I assume God will work through something new. More faith. More clarity. More certainty. More healing. Something I don’t yet possess. Something I’m still waiting to grow into.

But this story whispered something quieter...God works with what’s already in your hands.

What’s already in your life.

Even the things you’ve walked past a hundred times without noticing.

That understanding softened me.

It made me look at my own life differently. The experiences I already carry. The faith that sometimes feels ordinary, or a little worn. The tools I discount because they don’t look impressive enough.

Maybe those aren’t obstacles at all.

Maybe they’re the very materials God is using.

Since that Sunday, I’ve been reading scripture with more patience. And more curiosity. I linger longer. I ask questions that don’t have immediate answers. I let details matter.

Because that one question about brass reminded me of something I don’t want to forget. God often does sacred work with familiar things. And revelation doesn’t always come from reaching for something outside myself. Sometimes it comes from paying attention to what He has already placed right in front of me.

That makes me want to keep learning. Keep studying. Keep trusting.

There is more being revealed. Often quietly. Often patiently. And usually closer than we think