America is a hero culture. Prominence rules. Inconspicuous means insignificant. We search for people who stick out, who are worthy of adulation. We seek idols—American idols. We believe in being stick-out beautiful, stick-out rich, stick-out famous, and stick-out talented. Stick-out proves significance. If we don’t stick out, if we are average or small in comparison to our heroes, we are losers. We certainly couldn’t be small and be significant. Being big is what matters.

But does prominence really rule? One could argue that there are many significant things that are inconspicuous. Our eyes are obviously more prominent than our lungs, but are they more significant? We can live without eyes. My hands are more prominent than my liver, but I can’t live without a liver. What if the small, hidden things are as significant as the big, prominent things? What if, at times, they are more significant?

In writing about the gifts and abilities of individuals in the church, Paul says, “Those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Cor. 12:22). “God,” he writes, “. . . has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it” (v. 24). Think of that. God gives “greater honor” to those who are less prominent. God must see average Joes and Janes as the lungs and livers of the human race—maybe not prominent, but absolutely essential.

The biblical claim is that we were all calibrated by God to make us fit in this world where He wanted us to fit. Your personality (what makes you laugh, what makes you feel loved, how you make decisions, etc.) was on purpose. Your talents and abilities (or lack of them) all play into God’s fitting you into specific places on earth for specific times to reach specific people. (See Acts 17:26.)

This is a cool idea if you happen to be as good-looking as Ben Affleck or Julia Roberts; or if you are as talented as Sting or Bono. But what if you aren’t? What if you are kind of ugly, by media standards? What if you can’t sing? What if you can’t speak well in front of people or you aren’t very smart? What if you have what some call a birth defect? What if your uniqueness is a small uniqueness—it only sticks out after people get to know you? Is it possible that God made you small on purpose?

The psalmist claimed that God created “small and great alike” (Ps. 115:13). What if God made you small? We are afraid of small in our culture. We think it means insignificant. But what if God doesn’t agree? If you are an American who has been influenced by American culture, this thinking seems weird. After all, don’t we all want to be in the spotlight? The popular reality-TV shows draw on making ordinary people famous. Isn’t that what we should all want—to be BIG and famous?

But Jesus said, “What is highly valued among men is detestable in God’s sight” (Luke 16:15). What if, in God’s economy of thought, BIG isn’t always best? What if small is often best? That would sure explain some things.

How do you feel when you run into someone who is bigger-than-life or stunningly talented? When I meet great people, most often I feel less. It’s a bit like visiting the Grand Canyon. When you see amazing things, you tend to feel unamazing. God has chosen to make amazing people. But amazing people don’t fit everywhere. They are too fat. That’s why God makes all kinds of people. And one could argue that making people less talented and less gifted and less brilliant takes a lot of work.

My boys were young when Hasbro first came out with their Micro Machines. They were so cool. I couldn’t get over the striking detail of those tiny cars and trucks. It is very difficult to create small things with moving, functional parts. If you have been around the past thirty years, you have been stupefied at the progress made in the personal computing world. Engineers have tackled the seemingly impossible task of jamming more and more data and processing speed into tiny microchips. They have found a way to get the power of computers that used to fill whole rooms into chips that fit in your hand. But guess what? Those same engineers claim that creating the big stuff was much easier.

What if creating small people with small talent and ability is a greater miracle than making big, talented, brainy people? Could it have taken God more power to create something less? If you ask a professional singer to sing out of tune, it’s tough. She alleges that it is harder for her to sing poorly than to sing perfectly. What if that is true with God?

Imagine standing on a beach and being hit by a seventy-foot tidal wave. The instant before the wave hits, you close your eyes, expecting to be swept away. Instead, as the monstrous wave passes, you are left standing on the shore with only one drop of moisture on your forehead. How could so much water leave so little of itself? What would you say? You would exclaim, “It’s a miracle!” How does the only omnipotent Being in the universe, who is perfect and powerful and brilliant, creatively splash a person into existence who can’t sing or dance or tackle math with ease? That had to be tough. Is small the greatest miracle of all?