Often, when there is a disaster– especially one that seems preventable and senseless, like a mass shooting or a horrible crash–thousands of people reach out with “thoughts and prayers” for the victims and their families. And, predictably, others will angrily comment that thoughts and prayers are “not enough.” What good are thoughts and prayers in the face of senseless violence or preventable dangers? Shouldn’t we be driven to action? Shouldn’t we focus our efforts on justice or working to guarantee that such disasters can never happen again?
Such anger is natural, and such sentiments may seem more virtuous than offering nebulous emotional support. What, after all, can thoughts and prayers really DO in the face of evil, injustice, pain, and grief?
Well, I can’t speak for “thoughts”, but I have studied prayer for most of my life. I would offer the following words about the effects of prayer:
First, prayer reminds me that I am NOT in control of my circumstances– only my reaction to them. I cannot control what happens, what HAS happened, or what WILL happen. And my anger will not change what has already happened, nor will it prevent future disasters from happening. And while I may not be able to prove to others that prayer CAN prevent future disasters or heal present grief, I have known it to do both in my life and in the lives of others.
Second, prayer reminds me that there is Someone Bigger than me– Someone Bigger than my circumstances– who has the wisdom and the power to do what even thousands of well-meaning people cannot. Thousands of people coming together can make a difference over time, but God can do miraculously more than we can imagine!
Third, praying for others is something I CAN DO— anywhere, anytime– across distances, cultures, time zones, and circumstances. Prayer doesn’t cost anything. It doesn’t require that I have specialized skills or access to physical resources. It may not seem very active, like ranting or screaming, marching or protesting, but it isn’t the same as inaction or apathy.
Lastly, praying for others is a first step in helping others. My prayer alone may not seem like “enough”, but prayers have a way of multiplying, and inspiring, and intensifying in positive and impactful ways.
But more than just talking about the effectiveness of prayer, I’d like to pose a couple of questions for those who dismiss prayer as “not enough.”
What are you offering (instead of prayers)? Will your thoughts, plans, and actions have immediate or eternal results? Do you have the solution to all the world’s problems? Will you be able to control what happens in the future, or make sense of what has happened in the past? Will your solutions be perfect– no unintended consequences or necessary casualties?
If you are so angry about others praying, why waste your energy complaining about it? Go ahead with your own solution/reaction/plan.
Is your solution “enough?” Is your anger “enough?” Are your good intentions “enough?” Ultimately, you must wrestle with the existence of evil and injustice in this world. Senseless things happen. Good people suffer, and guilty people enjoy “success.” And nothing we offer is ever “enough” to change the world around us.
Our efforts and actions will never be “enough.” But prayer taps into the reality that God IS ENOUGH. His Grace is sufficient; His Love endures forever; His wisdom is higher than ours, and His power is boundless. He doesn’t always remove us from the chaos and suffering of this world, but He redeems us, and He enters into the circumstances of our own suffering and grief. He gives us courage, strength, hope, and a sense of purpose that goes beyond what we can find in ourselves.
I am just finishing the book of Job in my daily Bible studies. Job is an interesting book. It begins with a discussion between God and Satan, in which God seems to “set up” Job. God points out Job and his righteous life. Satan (The Accuser) fires back that Job is only enjoying God’s favor; that, given hardship and pain, Job will turn his back on God and embrace evil. God allows Satan to ruin Job’s life– taking away his property, his status, and even all his children. (Ironically, Satan doesn’t cause any harm to Job’s wife, who acts as “devil’s advocate” later, telling her husband to “Curse God and die!”)
Job passes the first test. Satan asks for a “second chance,” saying that Job is still enjoying God’s physical protection. So God allows Satan to cause a painful, wasting disease to attack Job.
But the narrative shifts dramatically at this point. The next several chapters focus on Job’s confusion; his suffering; his bitter quest for answers to the age-old question– Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? Job’s friends, who start out sharing his sorrow, end up being of very little help and no comfort at all. They insist that God wouldn’t– couldn’t– allow bad things to happen to an innocent man. Therefore, they conclude that Job “deserves” his pain and misfortune. Job insists that God is Righteous, but he wants God to answer his questions– WHY? WHY ME? WHY THIS? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?
And God is silent. Through several rounds of discussion and argument, God is nowhere to be found or heard. Job’s complaints and questions anger his friends, but God remains silent and seemingly unmoved. The central question is not so much about God’s righteousness, but about His Goodness. Is God Good? Can a loving God allow people to suffer– especially if it is unjust– and still be called “Good”?
Reading through the book of Job, we are aroused to the same kind of anger that Job expresses. There are times when I have questions; times when I am suffering; times when I just don’t understand– “What have I done to deserve this?”
And yet.
The Bible is full of “and yet” moments. God finally speaks, but He never answers Job’s questions directly. Job did nothing to “deserve” his suffering. And yet, God allows him to be tested, tormented, and stretched to his breaking point. Not because Job has done something wrong, but because he has been faithful! God never answers Job’s complaints– and yet, God does not leave Job without any answer. In fact, God restores Job’s fortunes and gives him more children, so that his final condition is even better than before! God justifies Job in front of his friends, restoring his status, as well. Job complains about not having a mediator to defend him before the Almighty. And yet, Job trusts that such a mediator– such a redeemer– exists. He cannot see Jesus– and yet He puts his faith in the promise of His coming!
The book of Job ends with Job praising God–BEFORE his restoration– acknowledging that God is not just Good, but that He is Great! He is Great beyond our understanding. He is Holy, and His ways are higher and greater than our ways. Job’s suffering, while painful and undeserved, allowed him to understand God in a new and deeply personal way. God allowed Job to be crushed but not destroyed; tested, but not terminated. God was silent, but never absent.
In fact, the one character who is conspicuously absent at the end of the story is Satan! He has “lost” his challenge to make Job repudiate his right living and his love of God. He has been given two chances to strike at the authority and character of God– and he has left the battlefield in contempt and defeat. He has caused Job pain and suffering, but he has not caused Job to quit.
Job’s questions throughout the book which bears his name are really prayers. He is talking about God, and talking TO God, even as he addresses his friends. He is bitter and angry and confused– AND YET– he prays!
May that be said of me today, as I face questions, trials, and suffering. I can “Take it to the Lord in Prayer.” Not just when things are going well, and I am praising God, but when life seems bitter and I am questioning God’s justice. He IS Sovereign. He IS Good. He IS listening. He DOES Love me.
I Know That God Lives
13-20 “God alienated my family from me;     everyone who knows me avoids me. My relatives and friends have all left;     houseguests forget I ever existed. The servant girls treat me like a deadbeat off the street,     look at me like they’ve never seen me before. I call my attendant and he ignores me,     ignores me even though I plead with him. My wife can’t stand to be around me anymore.     I’m repulsive to my family. Even street urchins despise me;     when I come out, they taunt and jeer. Everyone I’ve ever been close to abhors me;     my dearest loved ones reject me. I’m nothing but a bag of bones;     my life hangs by a thread. 21-22 “Oh, friends, dear friends, take pity on me.     God has come down hard on me! Do you have to be hard on me, too?     Don’t you ever tire of abusing me? 23-27 “If only my words were written in a book—     better yet, chiseled in stone! Still, I know that God lives—the One who gives me back my life—     and eventually he’ll take his stand on earth. And I’ll see him—even though I get skinned alive!—     see God myself, with my very own eyes.     Oh, how I long for that day! (Job 19:13-27 The Message)
I grew up in a rambling, pre-1860s farmhouse in rural southwestern Michigan. We had a “Michigan basement”,” “– unfinished dirt floors, walls made of fieldstone and rocks, crudely cemented together, exposed floorboards and joists from the ground floor providing a ceiling. A rickety wooden stairway ended in a small cemented landing. It was a haven for dust and cobwebs, and everything in the basement had a grimy film of dust mixed with the residue of an old oil-burning furnace. It was littered with “dead” things– a rusted-out bicycle frame from the 1940s; a long-forgotten set of rattan patio furniture with mildewed pads and broken wicker bits sticking out underneath; a broken rake; and, in one corner, what looked like the skeleton of a small rodent. There was an old cabinet, formerly with two doors, now standing with one door hanging askew, and the other one missing all but half a hinge piece. Inside were old Mason jars, rimmed with lime deposits, holding nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and other odds and ends, and more Mason jars holding home-canned tomatoes from a garden of unknown vintage. There was a single 40-watt incandescent light bulb screwed into an ancient ceramic socket and mounted on one of the overhead floorboards, which did little to diminish the general sense of gloom and decay. There were four small windows–but they had long ago succumbed to grime and dirt from inside and out. It was the stuff of childhood nightmares.
Last week, we had a tornado warning, and one of my friends from church spoke of taking her children to the basement to wait out the weather. It reminded me of my own mother, gathering my sister and I– sometimes pulling us from our beds– and taking us to shelter in the basement until a storm had passed. My father often worked the night shift, and so the job was left to Mom to herd us into the southwest corner of the basement, being sure to bring a blanket and a flashlight, and make sure we were wearing slippers or shoes. She also had an old portable AM/FM radio, so we could listen to the weather bulletins amidst the gloom and dust and damp of the basement.
And yet–
My memories of going to the basement during a storm are not memories that inspire terror or disgust. I never wanted to visit the basement any other time, but during a storm, it was our “safe” place. The winds and rain and hail might rage outside, but we were warm and snug (sometimes too warm!) in our little corner. And no matter how frightened my mom may have been, she always reassured us that we would be safe together in that place. And then, she would lead us in prayer. We prayed that Dad would be safe at work. We prayed for anyone who was in the path of the storm. We prayed that God would protect our house. We prayed for those who were on the road, and for those who would have to go out after the storm to fix electric lines or rescue others. And we thanked God for our basement!
Sometimes, God uses grubby basements to be our “safe” place. What otherwise may seem like a scary situation can become a cause for praise and celebration when we remember that God is with us!
I think of the prophet Jeremiah, who was arrested and thrown into a cistern–a place far worse than our basement– but God caused him to be rescued (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah%2038&version=NIV). He went from the mud-filled cistern to the palace of the King! And even though Jeremiah faced many other trials and griefs, Jeremiah was able to write: “
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. 20 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. 21 Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,     for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning;     great is your faithfulness. 24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;     therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:19-24 NIV)
And I think of Paul and Silas in prison in Philippi (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2016:16-34&version=ESV ). They sang and prayed after having been beaten and unfairly arrested. And they were trapped in the prison when an earthquake hit! But the end result was not only their vindication and freedom, but salvation for the Philippian jailor and his family!
There are seasons when we are forced to go to the basement–literally and figuratively. There are times when we must sit and wait in the dark and damp, uncertain of where the storm will hit or how long it will last. But often, in those basement moments, we find ourselves closer to God than when we climb mountains! God sits with us in the gloom. God has the power to turn our fear and uncertainty into praise and worship. And God will bring those memories of His comfort and strength back to us in other times of trouble.
We had a storm blow through the area the other night. We were under a tornado warning, and a couple of tornadoes did touch down several miles northeast of here. Long before the tornado warning was issued, the weather forecast predicted strong storms with the possibility of hail and/or tornadoes. But even without them, it was easy to sense that “something was in the air.” There was a quality of heaviness in the very air outside. And the sky was an unnatural greenish-gray color, even where it wasn’t dark with storm clouds.
In life, we often get warning signs of impending “storms”–physical symptoms that tell us there may be a problem like infection or disease that needs to be diagnosed; a tense atmosphere at work that suggests big changes may be coming; withdrawal of a family member that alerts us they may be struggling with emotional or mental issues. These “atmospheric disturbances” may be subtle at first. We may choose to ignore them, or dismiss their importance, until we find ourselves in the middle of the storm!
God calls on us to trust Him in any weather or circumstance. We can pray about even the slightest change in our “atmosphere,” whether at home, work, or even internally. And part of God’s wisdom is to send us warnings so that we can not only pray, but take proactive measures. We can reach out to family members, make an appointment with our doctor, be cautious about spending in the weeks and months ahead, seek out help and counseling, etc.
But sensing “atmospheric disturbances” is not all about seeking a remedy or avoiding struggles. Even with advanced warnings, some people last night were unable to avoid damage to their properties or loss of electricity from the storms. Several people were trapped in a shipping warehouse that was hit by one of the tornadoes. Thankfully, no one lost their life; still, it took hours to rescue them all, and some of them went home to no power. But what if– just what if– someone looking up at the sky, or feeling the heaviness in the air, prayed in that moment? What if they prayed for safety– not just for themselves, but for others who would be in the path of the storm? What if someone in that shipping warehouse made plans weeks ago for tornado drills and emergency plans to protect the workers, and made the call for everyone to shelter together?
There are hundreds of stories of dramatic rescues and miraculously saved lives after almost any weather emergency. But how many untold stories are lost in the simple prayers and small corrections that take place when God’s people respond to “atmospheric disturbances” with prayer and wisdom?
And when God chooses to allow storms to come into our lives, how many stories could be told of the presence of God to calm, not the storm, but our own fear of it? God knows, as we cannot, how big the storm will be, how long it will last, and what “damages” we will face. And His Grace is sufficient to give us everything we need to face them all. That doesn’t mean we won’t suffer– damage, loss, grief, frustration– these are part of our life in a fallen world. God won’t always remove these things from our life. But he will NEVER abandon us to face them alone.
Jesus Christ faced storms in His life. One of them came on the Sea of Gallilee, as Jesus was sleeping in the boat. (See Mark 4: 35-41) A storm came up, and the disciples were terrified. They woke Jesus up, and Jesus calmly rebuked the wind and the waves, and the storm stopped. We often focus on the fact of Jesus being able to control the wind and the waves. But one of the amazing things about this story is that Jesus was IN THE BOAT! His own life was in danger from the storm. The disciples were not alone. Jesus did not let them put out to sea and face the waves, while He was safe on shore.
And so, too, Jesus is WITH US in our storms. We don’t have to wake Him up, and He may not choose to give us a miracle, but He’s right there! He can be trusted, no matter what our circumstances, no matter what dangers or damages we have to face. He knows how the storm ends; He knows how our story ends; He knows when the sun will come out again, just like it did earlier this week, announcing that all will be well.
Words have weight– I’m not talking about thousand-page novels or multi-syllable legalese terms– some words simply weigh heavier on the mind and heart than others. Some everyday words spill out like dust motes carried on a light breeze. They hang suspended in midair, without any set purpose or destination, and finally settle, forgotten, until someone sweeps them away. Other words explode, sending shards and pellets at unwary targets. Some words thunder like falling rocks in an avalanche of guilt or anger or hatred. And some rare and precious words have the weight of a quilt or a hug, or an arm lifting you up when you are falling.
One of the amazing things about prayer is that as we pour out our words before the Savior, the weight of our words is lifted off our hearts and minds and given to him to carry– the weight of the guilt, the weight of worry, the weight of grief, the weight of anger, the weight of hurt. Not only does God take on the weight of our words (and our pain and guilt), but he makes sense of it all– maybe not instantly, or in the way we imagine– but he brings order and goodness out of our chaos and burden.
And those everyday words swirling around like dust fall into the light, where they shine like gold dust in His presence. When we bring everything to God, he transforms it; he transforms us.
Our words have weight in prayer. And our words to others have weight, as well. Today, I want to weigh my words carefully. Are my words burdening others, or helping them lift a load of care? If I had to carry the weight of my words– my criticisms and clever put-downs, my accusations and angry tantrums, my bragging and comparisons– would I be dragging them behind me with joy and pride? What if, instead, my words were filled with the weight of shared laughter, encouragement, hope, and compassion? What if my words held the weight of truth and kindness and peace?
It is the shortest verse in the entire Bible– St. John 11:35: “Jesus wept.” Only two words. They are easily memorized; they are also easily overlooked or misrepresented. Jesus wept over the death of his good friend Lazarus.
Jesus wept–Emmanuel felt deep emotion and showed it. God shed tears over the pain and sadness of a death; Messiah cried for the loss of his good friend. Jesus was no stranger to sadness and loss– God understands the sharp sting of death. God is compassionate, not heartless or cruel. If we are in emotional turmoil, it is not because God doesn’t know our pain or doesn’t care. He hurts WITH us in our times of deepest need.
Jesus wept–People often ask the rhetorical question, “What would Jesus do?” when faced with a situation. Here is an example of what Jesus did– he wept. Sometimes, the “thing to do” is to acknowledge the reality of our situation–death hurts. It brings out feelings of anger and even fear. Death is scary. It’s ugly, and it fills us with a sense of injustice, and a desire to wake up and find that death is just a very bad dream. Aching loss, wracking sobs, feeling punched in the gut by circumstances– these are valid feelings and reactions. To pretend otherwise or to deny ourselves or others the right to express those feelings does great harm, just as wallowing in sadness and remaining isolated in our grief can drag us into hopeless depression.
Jesus wept– period. He didn’t punch a wall or point fingers at Mary and Martha for “letting” their brother die. He didn’t try to justify his extra-long stay that kept him from arriving before his friend died. Neither did he justify returning to a region where he was not “safe” from the authorities in order to comfort the sisters (and ultimately raise Lazarus back to life). People often criticize Christians for “not doing enough” to erase hunger, cure diseases, or end poverty in the world. Some even point out that Jesus, being God incarnate, had the power to do all of this during his earthly ministry. But he didn’t. As he was dying, he said, “It is finished.” He wasn’t referring to some social revolution or economic program, or political movement that would abolish the oppression of the Roman Empire, or the corruption of the Pharisees, or end the slave trade. That doesn’t mean that God approves of evil, corruption, and injustice.
But it means that Jesus’s mission was accomplished through what he did in life and through his sacrificial death. He loved freely, healed those who were willing, and taught about the true character of his Heavenly Father. He ate, and laughed, and slept; he burped and sweat, and cried. He prayed and worshiped and worked and gave. Jesus didn’t weep because he had no power to keep Lazarus from dying. He proved that just minutes later.
Jesus wept because he was showing us the very heart of God. God’s heart is not to flex his sovereign muscles and demand our instant and abject obedience– though he has the perfect authority and right to do so. His heart is to walk intimately with us, even when that walk goes through the very valley of the shadow of death! God’s love isn’t flinty and cold. It isn’t pushy and arrogant and selfish. It is extravagant and gracious beyond all imagination. It is raw agony and pure joy. It doesn’t immediately “fix” our hurts or answer all our questions, but it wraps around us even IN our pain, and it give us hope to endure and carry on.
What in your life causes you to weep? What burdens and aches and frustrations and questions drive you to tears? Jesus may not take away what hurts us, but he will never turn us away because we are scarred or scared or broken. He will share our burdens, wipe our eyes, and hold us as we pour out our tears.
Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
I learned this prayer as a child. It seemed very grim, and pessimistic. As a child, I spent very little time (as little as possible) thinking of my own mortality, or the state of my soul after a day of playing with dolls or running around outside. I was blessed with a safe and easy childhood. Of course, I had days of sickness, a bout of chicken pox, the loss of a pet, news of neighbors who had died in war, fallen to cancer, or been killed in accidents–moments that caused me to reflect a bit more. But I didn’t want to think about serious things. I wanted peace and happiness.
As a younger adult, I came to the conclusion that prayers like this were old-fashioned, and designed to scare vulnerable children into a false faith based on fear and gloom. Shouldn’t children learn about the Love of Jesus and the Mercy of the Father, instead of worrying about death and eternal doom of their soul? Prayers like this would be “bad” for young children; traumatic and disturbing. Better to teach them prayers that were sweet and light, and full of only the goodness of God.
Lately, however, I remember things a bit differently. Yes, there is gloom and doom in this old children’s prayer, but there is also comfort, Love, and Mercy. As a child, I could “lay me down” to sleep in peace, knowing that God would, indeed, keep my soul from harm. I didn’t expect to die, but when I woke up dreaming of monsters, or suddenly became aware of mortality, I didn’t have to stay fearful. God is bigger than any monster; bigger then Death. I could not trust anyone better, mightier, or more capable than the Lord to keep my soul, or to “take” it safely to its final destination. I learned about the Goodness of God, but I also learned about stark realities– the persecuted Church, war, famine, injustice–things that God wants me to confront, and endure, and lift to Him in prayer. And for every “gloomy” reality, there are stories of victory and joy, faith and resilience, love and grace– because God is standing by, ready to rescue and reassure and redeem.
Bedtime prayers are a great comfort to me now. And they are also important prayers in my Christian Walk. It is at bedtime that I can reflect on God’s goodness throughout the day. I can be thankful for all the blessings God has given me, and for all the ways He has guided me and protected me– often without my knowledge and in spite of myself! Instead of worrying, tossing and turning, trying to “figure out” tomorrow, I can lift my burdens to God, knowing that I won’t face anything tomorrow alone! I can reflect on all the times I thought I couldn’t make it, but God made a way! And I can confidently rest in the hope that nothing can separate me from God’s loving care. Not yesterday’s guilt, nor today’s failures, nor tomorrow’s unknown (or imagined) trials– not even death!
I am old enough now that mortality plays a bigger role in my thoughts. I have lost my parents, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, classmates, co-workers, neighbors, and friends. I’ve experienced both great joy and great sorrow. But I need not be afraid of disease, dilemmas, or death. I need not worry about the state of my soul. I may have griefs, aches and pains, and worries about tomorrow. But I can “lay me down” in peace and patience, knowing I have a Good, Good Father whose love has surrounded me for over half a century. I can “Hush” all my fears, and sleep like a baby, knowing my God is always standing right by my side.
“Life is so unnerving for a servant who’s not serving– He’s not whole without a soul to wait upon…” (Be Our Guest from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast)
Philippians 2:3-8King James Version (KJV)
3 Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. 4 Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. 5 Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: 6 Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: 7 But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: 8 And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
1 Peter 2:13-19Revised Standard Version (RSV)
13 Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution,[a] whether it be to the emperor as supreme, 14 or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right. 15 For it is God’s will that by doing right you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish men. 16 Live as free men, yet without using your freedom as a pretext for evil; but live as servants of God. 17 Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor.
The English word serve has at least seven different definitions, according to Merriam-Webster dictionary see here, and that’s just the intransitive verb form! The concept of service and serving is often misunderstood and denigrated. Our culture (especially American culture) in general has a low opinion of servants. Value is placed on independence– neither needing service nor being required to give it to others. But service is much broader then “servitude”, and good service requires that we place our value on interdependence, rather than independence.
Thanksgiving will be here in a matter of weeks, and we may think of “service” in terms of richly laid tables, fancy linens, home-cooked specialties, traditional recipes, even time spent clearing up the dishes. We want to think of service as something noble, or even honorable. We want our service to be noticed and appreciated!
I would like to “serve” like Serena Williams–slamming my passion at the speed of a bullet train and earning trophies. (And this is not meant to be disrespectful– I am a great admirer of Serena’s talent and drive, and I think there is much to learn from her perseverance and excellence.) But tennis, while fun to watch and good for exercise, does not teach good “service”. No one “serves” in tennis in order to benefit their opponent.
At other times, I want to “serve” like a CEO or a leader– guiding a company, a city, or a nation to greater success, world power, and huge profits. I might even help hundreds of people by creating more jobs and increasing their wealth, or making neighborhoods safer. It might be difficult, and stressful; it might even be cut-throat and dangerous. And I might work long hours to enjoy the benefits– a large salary, my name on plaques, a great retirement package, prestige, power, fame… And I might enjoy the excitement and competition. I might be a leader and a change-maker who benefits millions of people while helping myself and my company or my neighborhood. But in the end, this is not the kind of service that has everlasting consequences, or “soul” benefits. When I die, my power and influence may stretch for another generation, but my soul may be untouched by the actual plights of those around me, and I might gain the “whole world” only to lose what is most important– a soul in touch with God!
I enjoy serving customers at work– helping them find something they want or need, or answering questions. But that’s my job. I get a certain gratification, and a paycheck, that help motivate such service. And, my customers come to me. I don’t have to go out of my store, or even my “comfort zone” to help those who cannot pay for my products or services, or sacrifice my “days off” to help someone at their convenience, and not at mine.
I honor those who have served in the military; those who work in service industries, or provide emergency services. Many have served selflessly and given their lives, willingly, in combat or rescue missions. For every story of someone who has abused their office, or fled in the face of personal danger, there are many more stories of courage, compassion, and sacrifice. Such service should also “serve” as an example to all of us. But even military service, as noble as it is, can be done out of duty or pride, not out of love and compassion.
I don’t normally recommend Disney as a source of moral instruction, but just in the short two lines of lyrics above there is a great example of a servant’s heart. A good servant isn’t reluctantly or resentfully dragged into service. (Oh, there are days or circumstances that are trying and tiring, but that’s the exception, not the norm.) S/he is eager to serve, and even restless when unable to be of service. A good servant is also personal. Their service is not given by rote, but with attention to the individual “soul” they are serving. It’s hyperbole, of course, but the verve and giddiness found in the singing and dancing dishes of a Disney movie should be reflective of the kind of service we provide at work, at home, and at church– “Be our Guest!”
Good service requires a lot, but I think there are three indispensable ingredients–obedience, humility, and love.
As followers of Jesus, we should look to His example. Paul reminds us that Jesus did not seek fame or attention or demand respect or recognition during His time on Earth. Instead, He gave up all the glory of Heaven to become a man– and not just a man, but a helpless baby born in obscurity and growing up without entitlements and comforts; the child of a working-class family in a small town under foreign occupation. He lived as a homeless itinerant teacher, and died as a common criminal under shameful circumstances– naked and bloody, displayed in public, to be mocked and used as a warning for others. But Jesus wasn’t a doormat–he was humble, he was meek–he CHOSE to submit to the pain and humiliation and even the injustice of a rigged trial and a death sentence by mob rule. He had opportunities to grab the glory, to turn the tide, to escape his unfair fate, and/or to become a great political or military leader. He didn’t take those opportunities– instead, he was obedient to the Father. He showed love and compassion even to those who mocked him, betrayed him, and murdered him.
It’s frightening to serve with that kind of abandon. It’s not humanly possible to let go of one’s life with joy for the sake of those who have taken it from you. My human desire is to grab hold of life and get as much out of it as I can. Even when my intention is not to hurt anyone else, it is not in my nature to put someone else’s needs and comforts ahead of my own. But it needs to become part of my nature.
God wants me to learn to serve from the pure joy of service– pouring myself out with abandon to help others succeed– rejoicing with them when they reach their goals; grieving with them in their loss. And, like Jesus, God wants me to do it, not in my own limited strength and wisdom, but in obedience to His will– not becoming a dupe or a doormat to anyone who wants to step on me, but discerning what is best for others and cheerfully doing what I can to bring it about. Giving faithful, humble, obedient and loving service shows my love for others, and my love for God. It’s a joyful reflection Christ– who He is and all that He has done.
That’s a tall order, and it requires that I take time to ask God and trusted friends– How’s my Serve?
When I was much younger, I was a huge fan of the Monkees. I loved their TV show, and their songs. One of my favorites was called “I’m a Believer!” It’s a catchy tune about instant infatuation– “Then I saw her face; now I’m a believer!”
YouTube video of “I’m a Believer!” (Written by Neil Diamond; performed by The Monkees)
Years after it was a hit song on the radio, it was used in the soundtrack of the movie “Shrek!”, where it found another generation of listeners. The tune is over fifty years old now, but I still think the tune is catchy, and I love to sing along when I get the chance. However, when I hear the phrase “I’m a Believer!” it means something immeasurably more than just a great pop hit..
It can be very easy to fall into the thinking behind this song. We all are looking for something positive to believe in– Love, music, friendship, success, religion. We all want to be believers in “something” beyond the mundane and the present. And we want a belief that will uplift us, sustain us, and make us want to sing along.
But singing about belief and having a real, sustaining Faith are not the same. The singer of the song claims that he wouldn’t leave– couldn’t leave– the object of his affection. Yet most infatuations are temporary. This love hasn’t matured and been tested by hardship and trials. We can feel good about new “love” in the moment, but we can also be disappointed and betrayed by it. Believing in romance and happily-ever-after can make us feel like singing, but the feeling cannot sustain us through grief and pain. Songs and movies may have a sappy, happy ending, but real life is a struggle.
Faith– real faith in a real and Loving God–is different. We may still be inspired to sing and worship, but we will also be inspired to serve and persevere in good times and bad. It brings strength and lasting peace. And it doesn’t depend on seeing God’s face– it is knowing that He is present, even in the darkest moments; knowing that our lives are in His hands, in spite of our circumstances or surroundings. True faith doesn’t even depend on the strength of our will to believe. It will survive momentary doubts and struggles, until there is “no doubt in my mind” that can triumph! And we can rest assured that God will keep HIS promise never to leave us. That’s what brings me hope and joy when I say, “I’m a Believer!”
It’s fun to sing along with The Monkees, or dance along with the characters in Shrek, but genuine Faith sounds more like this:
Today marks 25 years since I said “goodbye” to my father. My mother, sister, and I stood by his bedside at the hospital. The doctors had tried numerous times to re-start his heart. In the process, they had broken his sternum, and each new effort was causing additional pain and putting his lungs in danger of being punctured by bone fragments. His time was running out. We were allowed to come in and say our last words to him, before his worn-out heart finally stopped for good. I held his hand one last time, whispered that I loved him and that I would help take care of Mom. I kissed his forehead, and said a prayer. Mom and my sister did the same.
Earlier this year, I had to say goodbye to Mom as well. My sister and I were with her, and had read her mail aloud to her, as she had fallen into a coma. I was preparing to return home. I said, “goodbye;” I held her hand, kissed her cheek and turned to my sister. When I turned back around, Mom was gone–her oxygen machine was still running, but her heart had stopped beating, and she was peaceful and still. In that moment, I became an orphan.
Death is part of the curse of a fallen world. God is the source of all Life. In a fallen world, we are cut off from our life-source. Our mortal bodies must taste death. It is the consequence of Sin– our sin, and the sins of others. Disease, violence, aging, disasters, grieving, work, abuse– all conspire to drain the life out of our bodies. Life is a gift– we can’t “earn” it, and we can’t “hold on” to it indefinitely. Nor can we hold on to the lives of others–even those we love. Some day, I will lose my sister. Or she will lose me. Some day, I will lose, or be lost to my husband, my brother, my step-children, mother-in-law, grandchildren, cousins, friends, and neighbors.
And, just like leaves on the trees later this month, all of us will grow old, be changed, and fall into decay. Some will fall gently; others will be torn away by the winds of war, or crime, or cancer, or accidents. Some will fall early; others will cling to life until the last moment, but all will eventually die. More goodbyes. More grieving. More death.
But. God is the author of Life, not Death.
Death is not the end for those who have trusted their souls to God. Our bodies must still taste death. We must still say, “Goodbye” to those we love on earth. But our goodbyes are tempered with the promise that the One who conquered Death did so for US. Because Jesus was willing to die and able to rise again, we will also live again. And THIS life will be untainted and eternal. No more goodbyes. No more grieving and separation. No more fear of an unknown future that includes death. No more waiting. No more living without a father. Our Heavenly Father will never leave, never die, never suffer the ravages of age or disease, never fall. In fact, Jesus never said “Goodbye” to His disciples– it wasn’t in His vocabulary! He said that He would “Go to prepare a place…(John 14:2-3)”, and He charged His disciples to “Go into all the world…(Mark 16:15)” But He never said, “Goodbye!”
I had to say, “Goodbye,” to my wonderful parents. And I have the joy of knowing that our “goodbyes” are temporary. That I will see them again, even as I will see my Heavenly Father someday. So, while today holds in it the sadness of watching my Dad suffer in his last minutes of earthly life, it also holds the promise of reunion and restoration. My Dad will never again have to suffer; neither will my Mom. My future probably holds a few more “goodbyes.” But it also holds “Hello!” “Welcome Home!” and “I’m so happy to see you again!”
I thank God for the lives of both my parents– for their testimonies of faith, for their good examples, and for the wisdom, laughter, and love they shared. And I thank God that their deaths were not the end of that love and joy. In fact, it will be even better to share someday what we could never have here on earth–eternal peace and freedom from grief and loss.
Twenty-five years seems like a long time, but it is a drop in the bucket of time, and nothing in light of eternity. That truth brings me great comfort as I face today. I hope you will be encouraged and comforted as well. Heaven is a place with no more “goodbyes.” And that radically changes the way I say “Goodbye” here on earth!
Pursuing Prayer 