“We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.” — Romans 12:6
If you’ve ever taken an improv class — or watched someone completely bomb at one — you know the first rule: Yes, and.
Your scene partner says, “We’re on the moon.” You don’t say, “No, we’re not.” You say, “Yes, and I forgot the sunscreen.” You accept what you’re given and you build on it. The scene only works when everyone keeps saying yes.
Of course, “yes, and” has a dark side. You say yes to helping at your kid’s school and suddenly — yes, and now I’m in charge of the entire book fair. Really, God?!
But God only gives us what we can handle. He gives us the gift — and then lets us find the “yes, and.”
The Gifts
In Romans 12, Paul lays out seven gifts. Not the dramatic, headline-grabbing ones from Corinthians — no tongues, no miracles. These are the everyday gifts. The ones that don’t come with a spotlight but quietly hold everything together.
Prophecy — not predicting the future. Seeing the truth in a situation and having the courage to say it out loud. The friend who tells you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.
Serving — the person who shows up. Doesn’t ask what’s needed, just sees it and does it. They’re the ones at the church potluck already washing dishes before you’ve finished your plate.
Teaching — taking something complicated and making it make sense. They don’t just know the scripture — they help you understand why it matters to your Tuesday afternoon.
Encouraging — the one who sees you falling apart and says, “You’ve got this, and here’s why.” Not fake positivity. Real, gritty, I-see-you encouragement that makes you believe you can take one more step.
Giving — and I don’t just mean money. Time, attention, resources. The person who gives without keeping score and somehow never runs dry.
Leadership — not the loudest voice in the room. The one who sees where things need to go and quietly moves people in that direction. They carry weight without making it look heavy.
Mercy — the person who sits with you in the mess and doesn’t try to fix it. They’re not uncomfortable with your pain. They just stay.
The Waste
Here’s what Kris preached this summer at our lake church, and it stuck with me: don’t waste your gifts.
Not “discover your gifts.” Not “pray about your gifts.” Don’t waste them.
Because most of us already have a good idea of what our gift is. We just haven’t said yes to it.
Maybe you know you’re a server but you’ve been too tired. Maybe you know you’re an encourager but you’ve been too hurt. Maybe you know you’re a teacher but you’ve been too scared that you don’t know enough.
The gift is already in your hands. The question is whether you’re going to use it.
“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” — 1 Peter 4:10
My dad, JR, said it a different way. Every time he came to visit, at least once a day, he’d look at you and say, “Don’t waste me.” And he meant it. If he was at your house, he was fixing something. If he wasn’t fixing something, he was looking for something to fix. His gift was serving — he spent his life as a plumber and electrician in my hometown, and he didn’t clock out when he left the job site. That was just who he was.
My Yes, And
I’ll tell you how this worked in my life, because it didn’t come with a plan.
I got cancer. That wasn’t the gift — let’s be clear. But in the middle of treatment, I started writing on CaringBridge. Just updates. Just honesty. Just trying to process what was happening to my body and my faith at the same time.
People started writing back. They said things like, “You should keep writing.” And, “This helped me today.”
That was the encouragement — and I don’t just mean they encouraged me. I mean I realized encouragement was my gift. I could take a hard thing and write about it in a way that made someone else feel less alone.
Then Kris invited me to share my testimony. I almost said no. Almost. But I said yes.
Yes, and then I wrote it.
Yes, and then I delivered it.
Yes, and then someone said, “You should do more sermons.”
Yes, and for my job I manage a website — so it made sense to build one to share sermons. Not just mine, but a place to encourage others to share their sermons.
Yes, and then I wrote another sermon. And another.
Every single step was a “yes, and.” And not one of them was in the plan.
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Ephesians 2:10
He prepared the work in advance. He just needed me to stop saying no.
Your Yes
Maybe you already know your gift. That’s great. But I thought I knew mine and still asked my husband for validation. Because sometimes it’s hard to see in yourself what others see so easily.
After Kris talked about our gifts, I thanked one of my neighbors for always serving. He’s the guy who brings homemade ice cream to the party. If he sees someone on the side of the road with a flat tire, he stops. That’s just who he is. When I thanked him for his gift of serving, I could see the blush. He didn’t know what to say.
It’s a funny thing — it can be hard to accept the gift and be recognized for it. We downplay it. We say, “That’s just what you do.” But that’s exactly the point. It is what you do. Because God made you that way.
Here’s what I want you to understand: God gave us the gift. But the how is on us. John’s gift is serving. One of the many ways he serves is homemade ice cream at lake events and pulling over for strangers with flat tires. My gift is encouraging. My “how” is a website — because that’s what I do for a living. Same list in Romans 12. Completely different expression.
Your gift and my gift might be the same. But your “how” will look nothing like mine. And that’s the beauty of it.
So if you’re not sure what your gift is, ask someone who loves you. They already know. And if you do know — stop sitting on it. You might be telling yourself the timing isn’t right, you’re not qualified, someone else can do it better.
But here’s what I’ve learned from improv and from God: the scene doesn’t move forward until you say yes. And it doesn’t become something until you add the “and.”
So what’s your gift? And what’s your “and”?
Say yes. And build on it.
“We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.” — Romans 12:6–8
My Prayer:
God, thank you for the gifts You have already placed in my hands. Forgive me for the times I have sat on them — out of fear, exhaustion, or waiting for the right moment. Give me the courage to say yes. And then give me the faith to trust You with the “and.” Show me my gift if I have been too close to see it. And if I already know it, do not let me waste it. In Jesus’ name, I pray.
Niki McDowell is a Stage 3B triple-negative breast cancer survivor, a wife, a mom, and a woman who does her homework. She writes from somewhere between faith and the fight.
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