Servanthood
As each one has received a special gift,
employ it in serving one another. (1 Peter 4:10)
The view from
Colorado's Mount Chrysolite steals what little breath the climb doesn't. Snow
rests on the peaks to the east, marking the Continental Divide. You'd swear
that's Montana you see to the north, and circles of ice-cold, trout-packed,
pristine ponds stretch through the valley beneath you like a string of pearls.
Each Thursday during the summer, some four hundred kids make the 14,000 foot climb.
They've traveled from all over the nation to spend a week at Frontier Ranch, a Young Life camp. Some come to escape
parents, others to hang out with a boyfriend or girlfriend. But before the week
culminates, they’ll all hear about Jesus. And all will witness his work from
the top of Mount Chrysolite.
For that reason,
several Young Life directors caboose
the end of the pack to encourage the stragglers. They prod and applaud, making
sure every camper crests the top. One young student, who showed great actuarial
potential, actually counted the steps to the top – eight thousand. But somewhere
around number four thousand, Matt from Minnesota decided to call it quits; said
he was too tired to take another step. I can appreciate Matt. Most anyone probably
would. Jovial, pleasant and, in this case, donkey-determined to not climb that mountain, he let everyone
but a few pass him by, then announced, "I'm headed down." That’s when
a Young Life staffer spelled out the
consequences of his choice. "Can't send you down alone, Matt. If you turn
back, we all turn back." So the group had two options: everyone miss the
mountaintop experience, or help Matt get there.
Choosing the
later, the group coaxed him, begged him and then negotiated a plan with Matt.
Thirty steps of walking, then sixty seconds of resting. And the group inched their
way at this pace for over an hour. Finally, they stood within a thousand feet
of the peak, but the last stretch of trail rose up as straight as a fireman's
ladder. The group had to get really serious, now. So, two guys grabbed an arm
each, another took the rear, placed both hands on Matt's … well, you know, and
shoved. They all but dragged him past the timberline. And that's when he heard
the applause. Four hundred kids on the crest of Mount Chrysolite gave Matt from
Minnesota a standing ovation. They whooped and hollered and slapped him on the
back. They literally pushed him to the top. Sounds like something God might do.
After all, that’s
what his Son did. Jesus' self-assigned purpose reads: "For even the Son of
Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for
many." (Mark 10:45) That’s a strong dose of servanthood, and a timely
reminder for each of us: don’t get so focused on what you want to do that you
neglect what needs to be done. For instance, a 3:00 a.m. diaper change fits into
very few plans. Most lives don’t feature the strength of garage sweeping.
Visiting a sick neighbor might not come naturally to you. Still, the sick need
to be encouraged, garages swept, and diapers changed. The world needs servants –
people like Jesus who "did not come to be served, but to serve."
He chose remote
Nazareth over center-stage Jerusalem, his dad's carpentry shop over a
marble-columned palace, and three decades of anonymity over a life of
popularity. Jesus came to serve. He selected prayer over sleep, the wilderness
over the Jordan, and irascible apostles over obedient angels. I'd have gone
with the angels, frankly.
Given the
choice, I would have built my apostle team out of cherubim and seraphim, or
Gabriel and Michael, eyewitnesses of Red Sea rescues and Mount Carmel falling
fires. I'd choose the angels. But not Jesus. He picked the people. Peter,
Andrew, John and Matthew. And when they feared the storm, he stilled it. When
they had no coin for taxes, he supplied it. And when they had no wine for the
wedding or food for the multitude, he made both. He came to serve.
He let a woman
in Samaria interrupt his rest, a woman in adultery interrupt his sermon, a
woman with a disease interrupt his plans, and one with remorse interrupt his
meal. Though none of the apostles washed his feet, he washed theirs. Though
none of the soldiers at the cross begged for mercy, he extended it. And though
his followers scattered like rabbits on Thursday, he came searching for them on
Easter Sunday. The resurrected King ascended to heaven only after he'd spent forty
days with his friends teaching them, encouraging them and serving them. It's
what he came to do. He came to serve.
Joseph Shulam, a
Jerusalem pastor, tells a remarkable story of a man who simulated the actions
of Jesus. The son of a rabbi battled severe emotional problems. One day the boy
went into his backyard, removed all his clothing, assumed a crouched position,
and began to gobble like a turkey. He did this, not just for hours or days, but
for weeks. No pleading would dissuade him. No psychotherapist could help him. A
friend of the rabbi, having watched the boy and sharing the father's grief,
offered to help. He went into the backyard and removed his clothes, too. He
crouched beside the boy and began gobbling, turkey-like. For days, nothing
changed. Finally the friend spoke to the son. "Do you think it would be
all right for turkeys to wear shirts?" After some thought and a few gobbles,
the son agreed. So they put on their shirts. Days later the friend asked the
boy if it would be acceptable for turkeys to wear pants. The boy nodded. In
time, the friend redressed the boy. And, in time, the boy returned to normal.
Incredible,
right? But not nearly as incredible as the actions of Jesus. He stripped
himself of heaven's robe, layered himself in skin and hair, hunched down in our
world, and spoke our language in the hope that he could lead this bunch of
turkeys back home again. "He set aside the privileges of deity and took on
the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It
was an incredibly humbling process. He didn't claim special privileges.
Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient
death – and the worst kind of death at that: a crucifixion." (Phil. 2:7-8)
Jesus entered
the world to serve, and we can do the same. We can enter our jobs, our homes,
our churches for the purposes of service. Servanthood requires no unique skill
or seminary degree. Regardless of your strengths, training, or church tenure,
you can serve. For instance, you can love the overlooked – the Jesus that sits
in your classroom, wearing the thick glasses, outdated clothing, and a sad
face. You've seen him. That’s Jesus. Or the Jesus who works in your office.
Pregnant again, she shows up to work late and tired. No one knows the father of
the baby. In fact, according to the water-cooler rumors, even she doesn't know who
fathered her child. You've seen her. She's Jesus. When you talk to the lonely
student, or befriend the weary mom, you love Jesus. He dresses in the garb of
the overlooked and ignored. "Whenever you did one of these things to
someone overlooked or ignored, that was me – you did it to me." (Matt.
25:40) And you can do that. Even if your strengths have nothing to do with
encouraging others, you can love the overlooked and the ignored.
You can also wave
the white flag of surrender, too. We fight so much these days. "Where do
you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from?" asks the
brother of Jesus. "Do you think they just happen? Think again. They come
about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves."
(James 4:1) Servants resist stubbornness. Ulrich Zwingli manifested that kind
of spirit. He promoted unity during Europe's great Reformation. But at one
point, he found himself at odds with Martin Luther. Zwingli didn’t know exactly
what to do to smooth the impasse, but found his answer one morning on the side
of a Swiss mountain. He watched two goats traversing a narrow path from
opposite directions, one ascending, and the other descending. At one point the
narrow trail prevented them from passing each other. When they saw each other,
they backed up and lowered their heads, as though ready to lunge. But then a
wonderful thing happened. The ascending goat lay down on the path. The other
stepped over his back. The first animal then arose and continued his climb to
the top. Zwingli later observed that the goat made it higher because he was
willing to bend lower.
Didn't the same thing
happen to Jesus? "So God raised him to the highest place. God made his
name greater than every other name so that every knee will bow to the name of
Jesus." (Phil. 2:9-10) So, serve someone by swallowing your pride.
Regardless of your design, you can wave a white flag and serve. Paul speaks to
that very issue when he wrote: "If you think you are too important to help
someone in need, you are only fooling yourself. You are really a nobody."
(Gal. 6:3) So make it a point, every day, to do something you don't want to do.
Pick up someone else's trash. Surrender your parking place. Call that long-winded
relative. It doesn't have to be a big thing.
In fact, Helen
Keller once told the Tennessee legislature that when she was young, she had
longed to do great things and could not, so she decided to do small things in a
great way. Don't be too big to do something small. "Throw yourselves into
the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of
time or effort." (1 Cor. 15:58)
Baron de Rothschild
was once asked by Eugene Delacroix if he could paint Rothschild’s portrait.
Though a wealthy banker, Rothschild agreed and posed as a beggar, wearing rags
and holding a tin cup. During a day of painting, a pupil of the artist entered
the room. Thinking Rothschild was really a beggar, he dropped a coin in his
cup. Ten years later the pupil received a letter from Baron de Rothschild and a
check for 10,000 francs. The message read, "You one day gave a coin to
Baron de Rothschild in the studio of Eugene Delacroix. He has invested it and
today sends you the capital which you entrusted to him, together with the
compounded interest. A good action always brings good fortune."
A good action
not only brings good fortune, but it brings God's attention. He notices the
actions of servants. He sent his Son to be one. And when you and I crest Mount
Zion and hear the applause of the saints, we'll realize what Matt did: hands
pushed us up the mountain, too – the pierced hands of Jesus Christ, the
greatest servant who ever lived.
Grace,
Randy
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