God in an Apron

"It will be good for those servants whose master finds them watching when he comes. Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them."  Luke 12:37

I've long been fascinated by "period" literature. The brilliant writings of Jane Austen transport me into another world–a world of inherited wealth, leisure, grand balls, titles of gentility, and domestic servants. And the popularity of shows like Downton Abbey, The Crown, Bridgerton, and others, not to mention the many remakes of movies based on Austen’s novels, make it clear I'm not alone.

I'm actually glad I don't live in that world, though. (For one thing, there's no guarantee I'd have been born on the receiving end of the silver spoon.) Be that as it may, I can't say that I haven't envisioned what it would be like to live in a big house with a staff of servants to manage the day to day monotony of laundry, cooking, cleaning and other household chores.  "Tea for three," I can hear myself calling out when a couple of friends stop by.

But, while it's not necessarily a bad thing to momentarily dream of such things, if I'm to truly embrace and follow the teachings and example of Jesus, I can't let getting others to serve me be my life’s goal. As Jesus made clear in Matthew 20:27-28: "...whoever would be great among you must be your servant..." And, not placing himself above his admonition to others, he added, "...even the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve..."

In one stunning and notable example, Jesus demonstrated his commitment to this way of life by putting on an apron to wash the feet of His disciples. In taking this posture, the one the disciples called Master took on a task that only the lowest of servants would be expected to do, before instructing his disciples–and by extension, you and me–to "go and do likewise." 

But this wasn't just an object lesson. His act of service, and the humility with which Jesus did it, came from deep within the heart and character of God. How do we know this? Speaking of God’s posture toward those who serve and expectantly wait for the day they will finally see him in person, Jesus says:

 "...Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them.” Luke 12:37

!!!

I don't know what comes to your mind when you think of Heaven, but based on much of what I've read and heard, I've often envisioned Heaven to be more like walking into a worship service, than coffee at a friend’s house. In my version of entering Heaven, we'd be immediately overwhelmed by God's holiness and fall prostrate before His throne, eternally expressing our gratitude in a posture of complete humility and obeisance. How delighted I was to discover in these words of Jesus that there’s a whole lot more to Heaven than the singing and religious ceremony so commonly imagined.

That’s not to say that God isn’t fully deserving of such complete and unending adoration. And there are actually passages in the Bible that do describe scenes much like what I’d imagined. But while God could quite fairly and rightly reason he's done enough for me, and could make an irrefutable case that it's his turn to rest forevermore, eternally basking in my humble adulation, while I dutifully slave away attending to his every whim, he doesn't. 

And the verbal picture painted by Jesus doesn't say he’ll get the angels to wait on us, either. Nope. Just as the Master once donned an apron to wash the feet of his disciples, the God of the universe personally dons an apron, inviting us to recline at his table, while HE attends to OUR needs. Wow. The idea of God planning to greet us with such a humble act of service is a lot warmer and more welcoming than anything I’d have the audacity to expect or even imagine. But, true to his eternally selfless nature, as revealed in the words and example of Jesus–even in Heaven–his focus will still be more on his beloved (us) than on himself.

Although it’s been decades since this passage first leapt off the page and into my heart, I’m still stunned by the imagery in it. I don't know about you, but that’s the kind of welcome into my eternal home I can look forward to with genuine anticipation. And that’s the kind of God I can and will gladly spend the rest of my life serving, and praising, both now, and in eternity.