This is the true joy in life—being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.
—George Bernard Shaw
Do you ever feel like God owes you something? Like you’re doing God a favour by going to church, by studying the Bible, or by tithing? I did. Ah, who am I kidding, I still do. But God is working that out in my heart.
I am privileged. But not the righteous kind of privilege that thinks, “It’s-my-privilege-to-do-this-and-that.” I’m the feel-entitled-middle-class kind of privilege, living in a society that values the individual above community. A society bombarded with advertisements that say “You DESERVE something special….” Nothing could be further from the truth. The only thing we deserve is death for our sins (cf. Romans 6:23a: For the wages of sin is death…”).
But what we know in our heads, we fail to understand in our hearts. Still, I serve God with the attitude that God needs me and—dare I think it—that God is lucky that I’m doing this for him. You know what I’m talking about. You know because you’re just like me. Prove it: If you don’t think it, then why do you act like it? Why don’t you read your Bible every day? Why do you hesitate to pray? Why not help that homeless man in need?
I recently sat in a church worship service for the physically and mentally disabled. There, on a Sunday morning, I sat amongst people who were cognitively not entirely “there.” Some made disruptive noises or movements, some were not paying attention, and one man in particular made it a habit to walk up and down the centre aisle throughout the entire service.* But the scene that struck me the most was the reading of Scripture before the sermon. The worship leader asked for volunteers to bring their Bible up to the stage and read a portion of Scripture.
Pause scene.
What do you think of when you hear the word “volunteer”? Naturally, I would think of these kinds of words: nice, selfless, noble, kind, servant, etc. I think it’s safe to say that when we volunteer for something we probably think of ourselves in the same manner. We give ourselves a pat in the back and think, “Wow, I’m such a great person. The world is a better place because of people like me. Good job, me.” Please don’t misunderstand. I do not write this to the volunteers who pour heart, body and soul into their work. I say this to people like me, who have a superiority complex. I constantly ask God to search my heart and reveal my intentions, so that I can serve him in a way that best honours him and not myself.
Resume scene.
So, the volunteers went up, one by one, each with Bible in hand. Only, they could not read. In a congregation of about one hundred-fifty, about fifteen volunteers that came up. All but one or two could actually make sense of the written word. The rest of the volunteers were verbally “coached” by the worship leader by the school of “repeat-what-I-say.” Needless to say, a one-minute exercise sauntered to about ten or fifteen.
This exercise was far from functional. It was a waste of time, energy and disrupted the reading of Scripture more than anything else. So, why continue with this exercise at all? Why not just have the worship leader read Scripture? Everybody goes home fifteen minutes earlier and is happier for it.
It’s clear that those who benefited most from this exercise were the ones who volunteered. The volunteers had disabilities that rendered them weak in the eyes of society; they were incoherent and out-of-touch with reality. But do you want to know what they did have? They had their Bibles. It was not by their own merit that earned them their place on the stage; this tender moment was initiated by God. It was God’s work—he gave them the means to participate in it. It was God’s word—he gave them the means to commune with him.
So in that morning, I thought of God. I thought me. I thought of God patiently coaching me as I fumble through the meager “offerings” that I bring to him. Meager, and yet significant for me: offerings such as my time, my finances, my skills, my affections. But the offerings that I once thought were “holy” turn out to be defiled—tainted by my sin (cf. Haggai 2:10-14). I have a better understanding now that these offerings are not my own, they are entrusted to me for the purpose of giving back to God. I understand more that by giving, I am the one who benefits; I am the one who is changed. God doesn’t need our “help.” He can do it Himself better and faster. But something happens to us as we volunteer: we are changed. It turns out that we do not lose—we only gain. By serving, we enter into fellowship with the Body of Christ and we are better off for it. The privilege, then, is truly ours.
What is God asking of you? How will you give it up to God daily? Commit it to Him in prayer, abiding in his presence and depending on his power.
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*This same man helped himself to the communion table sacraments a number of times as the preacher was giving the communion spiel. It was priceless.
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