servant and slave of all...

Isn't there a fundamental difference between a slave and a servant? A slave, as opposed to a servant, is indentured, has no rights, has no choice. At the core of my understanding I thought I knew the difference. Recently it became apparent that I may muttle the definition of both.

A servant for God? Oh, sure, sounds great! A slave for God? Eerrrrtt! Hold up, I didn't sign up for this.

As a self-professed control freak, the sound of slave makes me twitch. But Paul in Ephesians 6:5 speaks about a doulos, a slave of Christ. Doulos was a servant by choice, which we are called to be.

Meet Maria. She is a woman I met in Mexico who is truly a servant. From the moment I met her, she smiled a wordless greeting and motioned with her head that we were welcomed, then continued to complete her business. She's free to come and go but she chooses to serve. She chooses to remain. She chooses to complete the task set before her. Yes, this is her job. But her humble servanthood and volitionary choice to serve is a testament to her loyalty.

Maria never once complained about her job; in fact, she valued and appreciated what she did. Which illustrated Mark 10:43-45 in real-time, ...whoever wants to be great among you must be a servant, and who ever wants to be first must be a slave to all. For even the Son of Man didn't come to be served, but to serve, and give his life a ransom for many.

How can you serve today? Are you serving with your whole heart? Can we be a doulos to all we encounter? Be like Jesus: serve.

Friday Video Post: youth ministry and the ONE...

I was new to youth ministry when the youth pastor asked me to oversee the junior high and senior girls. In my grandiose ideas of living like Christ, I decided to emulate the actions of Jesus. In my mind, it was going to be spiritual and holy and absolutely fantastically amazing!

But if you've ever done youth ministry, you know that there's always ONE kid who will mess up a plan, an event, or a moment. Yes, that ONE kid who believes they know everything, they're always right, and they could've done everything way better than you ever could have. And yes, that ONE kid came to my event.

The event was off to a great start. Tons of sugary snacks, greasy pizza, and cacophonous laughter from teen girls excited to sing karaoke and stay up all night. I gathered the girls up and explained to them that I would be leading them for the next couple years of youth ministry and wanted to serve them like Jesus. As an act of service to girls, our leadership team decided to wash their feet in basins of warm, sweet smelling water.

As worship played in the background, each leader washed and cleaned each of the girls feet while I shared the passage in John 13 where Jesus humbled himself and washed the feet of the disciples. It was emotional. By the time I finished reading and grabbed a basin there was only ONE girl left to be attended to. And yes, it was the ONE girl I didn't want to even get near to.

I looked at her feet and had to smoother the gag reflexes forming in my chest. It looked like she walked 10 miles in tar and her toe nails hadn't been cut in 40 years. Of all the girls here, I said to myself, I had to get this ONE.

As I touched her feet and slipped them into the bubbly basin, she began to weep uncontrollably. She buried her face in her hands and through painful sobs she apologized to me. She apologized for being negative and allowing her bitterness to over take her. She explained that she felt as if no one loved her... not even her mom. Yet as she heard the words of Christ read aloud and had her feet washed, she knew she was loved. Loved by God and loved by me.

Boy, did I feel like a schmuck!!! I started crying and confessed to her that I needed to apologize too. We were sobbing wrecks. But sobbing wrecks who felt the presence of Jesus in that room.

pleasing aroma...

In Leviticus we read about the importance of offerings. Some offered pristine herd animals, some offered flock animals or birds, and others offered grain offerings. But everyone gave the best of what they could.

...an aroma pleasing to the Lord.

This phrase permeates the first three chapters of the law laden book of Leviticus. Everything offered up to the Lord was a pleasing aroma. Everything.

Sometimes we can feel like what we offer is piddles compared to what she gave or he donated. But what is that to God? All we are required to offer is what we have. Don't believe me? A poor widow in Mark 12 gave two pennies as an offering and Jesus said her offering was out of abundance.

So what are you bringing? Are you tithing to your church? Do you volunteer? When what the last time you mentored a child?

Today we have the ability to be an aroma pleasing to the Lord. Let's do it!

artichoke hearts...

I’d seen her around, meandering through offices, lightly dusting and cleaning windows to pass the hours. She was a pretty girl who texted her boyfriend incessantly, but was willing to do virtually anything our secretary asked of her. As the time passed away, so did her community service hours as she remained to her self and kept a prickly guard of protection around her. See, occasionally we’ll have youth from the surrounding area ask if they can work off their penalty hours for crimes they have done. The case officer will call and verify that we agree to signoff on hours for minor offenses committed and we in turn work alongside these youth, hopefully encouraging them to get their lives on track.

Well, like I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been swamped with work and been drinking the Koolaid of thinking my work is more important than my calling. For the last year or so, my mantra has been, help others, love others, serve others. With this perspective, I can do what I do without regard to selfish ambition, promotion, or recognition. But sometimes I get in the way of myself. Which is what happened last week when the secretary told me that the mother of the prickly, pretty girl who texted incessantly needed help with her daughter. Desperation oozed through the phone as I heard the voice of a tired mother needing intervention for her wayward child.

I know what the protocol for advising is at work. But I never follow protocol. Like, never. But since I was busy, I decided to pull the protocol card and pass the advising off to the person who is in line to do an advising (knowing he was just as busy as I). I hung up the phone and felt like a like a big, fat schmuck! You say you want to do ministry work, I said to myself, but you passed this girl off like you pass the buck. I knew it was wrong and I was poisoned by my Koolaid.

As sovereignty would have it, I saw the pretty girl who texted incessantly sitting on the stairwell—texting her boyfriend. I knew this was my chance to make amends, so I busted out like Nike and said to myself, Just do it! I called her into my office with wine colored walls and crème colored couch and we began to talk about her life. Before I could even reach across my desk to grab a tissue box, the pretty girl who texted incessantly, stopped texting her boyfriend and cried in my arms. In my arms she felt like a steamed artichoke whose prickly layers were being pulled back to reveal a soft, delicate, and tender heart. As God commanded me to be salt of the earth, I seasoned this young lady with the love of Christ and prayed for the private matters of her heart, the reasons for dependency upon her boyfriend, and the lonely ache of feeling unloved by her parents. Each leaf that was pulled revealed some fleshy pulp of pain, but also revealed the artichoke’s heart… still soft, still tender, still willing to be enjoyed by God.

Help others, love others, serve others. PS Don't drink the Koolaid J