18 October 2013

on the frustrations and graces in serving

If we back up to 7 years ago, I remember when I first realized I had to act on the compassion God had given me. That I was anointed to preach good tidings to the least of these.

In the weeks after my church youth group's inner city mission trip in Charlotte, North Carolina, it was clear we were impacted by what God had shown us. We compiled our testimonies into a book, printed and bound, with home grown artwork of Jesus' hands holding the world. We called it "I See Yo' Hand!", after the loud observation we had heard during the puppet show Bible story we performed for the kids.

After that trip, I started volunteering every Sunday afternoon with the 10 - 18 year old girls in an inner city ministry center. 

A couple of memories stand out above the rest. The first is of Desirae, the defiant little girl with the matted hair who smelled like no one had cared to wash her or her clothes for weeks. She had lice crawling in her hair and mud caked on her knees, and she spoke with a raspy, hardened voice. In spite of everything, Desirae was a beautiful child. But her brown eyes were full of too much pain for her four years of life. She was fiercely independent, and, at the same time, just as fiercely loyal to her sister and brother. Something inside me told me evil had taken advantage of that beauty. During rare moments, something inside of her would snap, and she would cling to me or sit in my lap. Her tears became mine as I cried out to God to for healing and justice
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I also remember the time someone I ministered with blew up at a homeless man. I only vaguely remember the reason why--I think he had shown up at the wrong time for the meal or the food pantry. But it didn't seem anything which merited disturbing the whole block with angry shouts.

Afterwards, the person I was ministering with explained that the man should have known when to come, and this kind of behavior couldn't be tolerated anymore.

To me, all I saw were moving lips, saying a lot of things, but never apologizing or expressing regret for the outburst. How could you preach the Gospel to the same people you scream at? I wondered.

It doesn't make any sense to minister full-time to people you don't really love, I reasoned. What a terrible, meaningless, way to live. 

Although I didn't put it into words, I felt that I was the compassionate one. I was the one that really cared about that homeless person's feelings, and about little girls like Desirae.

I couldn’t relate to the leader’s anger or weariness. 

But for me, the superiority I felt to my co-laborer meant that I was ultimately serving myself in the name of serving God and others. I was feeling good about myself, and critiquing others--on the inside, anyway. 

Now I’m a “grown-up.” I’m a missionary, actually, even though the word still sounds strange on my tongue. I’m not a 16-year-old volunteer anymore, or a college kid masquerading as a social critic.
Now, I am daily fighting the battle against spiritual and physical poverty.

But I’m not so different from you. You have jobs that are minefields of spiritual warfare. You have ministries, families, marriages. You have relationships that need restoration. We’re all soldiers at war, battling against the powers of darkness. And we can all get weary, just like the woman who yelled at the homeless man.

At least, I get weary. It's a good thing Jesus has a special invitation for people who are weary: Come to Me! That's exactly what I'm doing... coming to Him with my questions.

Questions I never asked myself so many years ago, now run through my head often--even though I don't work face-to-face with the microloan associates. . Usually, I am in the office supporting those who work face-to-face with those in poverty--like the loan officers who sometimes must work long hours in the scorching sun, going from house to house to collect payments from associates who are behind in their payments--but who still take time to visit and pray for sick group members. 

The point is, I'm asking questions I wasn't before. And God is answering. 

Questions and answers like:

Q: How do you both hold yourself to unattainable standards and love others without any standards at all?

A: This is the crux of the religious spirit, approval addiction, and a host of emotional and spiritual sicknesses—and it brings with it a world of weariness.
You don’t. You don’t measure up to your own standards or to anyone else’s—let alone, God’s. But that’s convenient, because neither do the people you serve!
That’s where Jesus comes in. He’s the Only One that measures up, and the grace He lavishes on us in spite of all our failures extends to the most wretched creature willing to accept it.

Q: How do you have patience with those who refuse to learn what you sacrifice so much to teach? You know, the ones who nonchalantly disregard you and all the work you’ve done?

A: That’s kind of what we do to Jesus every time we gossip, complain, or lust. We disregard all He came to teach us, and yet He keeps having patience on us. We choose to walk in the dead works of the flesh instead of in the abundant life He died for us to have. That’s gotta hurt.

But He doesn’t turn His back on us. If we return to Him, He will return to us. He is always ready to receive truly repentant hearts.

His love is not bound by our feeble incapacity to forgive ourselves or others. He never stops loving us. He always lives to intercede for us. He stood in the firing line for us, and now He’s come back to defend our cause before a righteous Judge.

That’s amazing grace and riches of mercy.

And as we accept it, we pour it out on others.

Q: How do you keep loving someone you exist to tirelessly serve, but who betrays you?

A:  In John 13:2, we read that the devil had already put it in Judas’ heart to betray Jesus.  In the very next sentence, Jesus stands up and begins to wash the feet of His disciples.

“And supper being ended, the devil having already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray Him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper and laid aside His garments, took a towel and girded Himself.  After that, He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded.’” –John 13:2-5

I have to wonder, what was running through His head as he immersed the filthy feet of Judas into the washbasin, and later wiped them with the towel? How did it feel to so humbly serve the one who would soon ensure your own murder?

I’m sure it hurt like hell. Rejection hurts. Rejection by those you love and trust hurts even more. But betrayal hurts most of all.

But in the midst of all that pain, Jesus loved.

For me, this brings new meaning to Jesus’ words at the end of the episode: “For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”

Jesus serves people who don’t measure up, people who disregard Him, and people who betray Him. People like me—and you.

Once we get that kind of crazy love into our heads, we will never be able to complain about those we serve. Instead, we will identify with them on a deep level.

I’m not the one who measures up, expecting others to measure up.
I don’t measure up.  Only Jesus’ blood washes me clean from all sin.

I’m not the one being ignored or rejected.
I have ignored and rejected Christ.  Only the Father’s grace allows me to accept and obey Christ.

I’m not the one who is betrayed.
I was a betrayer. Only in the Holy Spirit am I empowered to be faithful.

Maybe if we all pause and let Jesus wash our feet, it will help us remember that what’s really important is not the distinction between the servants and the served, or who serves the best, or whether the people we serve conform to our expectations—but just that as Christ loved us, so we love others.

That in all things He might have preeminence!

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