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.

Ponderings on Pain and Purpose

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.   ~2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I am not a fan of pain - stress, sickness, injury, discomfort, relational disharmony, disappointment, grief - I’d love to be able to avoid all of it! I’d much prefer an abundant, comfortable, worry-free life, of peace, serenity and deep, meaningful significance. But who wouldn’t? Unfortunately, although it may be tempting to wish otherwise, the truth is that there really is no magic pill, no therapy session, no self-help book, no seminar--absolutely no systematic way of approaching life that can completely erase every trace of pain from the past, nor provide immunity from painful experiences in the future.

Much of the pain in my life, to be sure, has been self-inflicted - the natural consequences of my own unwise actions (or lack of action). Some pain has been inflicted upon me due to the pride, selfishness and insensitivity of others. I’ve also suffered pain from tragedy, like losing my mom to cancer when I was a teen, and later, watching my dad succumb to the darkness of Alzheimer's, and finally to death, resulting from a head injury sustained in a bad fall. And yet more bereavement, in the more recent loss of my wonderful, loving, supportive husband. Other pain has been yet more personal, in the form of a disabling, chronic illness that I still wrestle with daily.

Gratefully, though, in every painful circumstance (including pain caused by my own stupidity), God has been present to provide His comfort. And time and time again, I've seen Him use the pain in my life to keep my heart tender and to give me insight and sensitivity that have enabled me to come alongside of others in painful circumstances. The truth is, in spite of my intense aversion to pain, the pain in my life has equipped me to partner with God in helping others in ways I'd never have been able to help them had I not experienced similar pain, myself.  

Does that mean I welcome pain?  Not exactly. When pain strikes, I still find myself asking the proverbial "why!?" Nor does it mean I haven’t wrestled long and hard with many pain prompted questions that have sorely tested my faith to its very foundation. And yet this pain averse girl has to admit, it's precisely because of the pain I've walked through that some of the richest and most deeply meaningful experiences - and relationships - in my life have been possible.  

And in taking time with God to reflect on my pain, I find that I've learned a few things about pain and the purpose that is borne from it. Thanks to what God has taught me, in spite of the inevitable tears and questions that I know are still likely to come when a new painful circumstance presents itself, I've learned to find hope in the midst of the writhing.

The Purpose of Pain

Trials come to test our faith; 
They come to make us strong. 
They come to produce endurance 
That will last a whole life long. 

Sometimes the pain we’re going through 
Has come to purge the soul; 
To make us more like Jesus; 
To make us clean and whole. 

Sometimes the pain is consequence 
We’ve brought it on by choice 
By choosing to do it “my way” 
And ignoring wisdom’s voice. 

But what about the pain or trial 
That it seems we don’t deserve? 
That comes not in response 
To what we do or how we serve? 

Does God really want me to suffer? 
Does He care when I feel pain? 
Where is His justice and mercy 
When the innocent walk through the rain? 

I’ve heard it often wondered, 
“Why does pain come to the good? 
This does not seem fair or just 
Why doesn’t life go as it should?” 

But let me ask a question; 
Let me pose to you this quest: 
What keeps a “good man” good? 
What shapes his character best? 

How can a man have empathy 
Without feeling his own pain first? 
And surely a man without compassion 
Would take a turn for the worst. 

And which man is the wisest – 
One whose life is “easy street”? 
Or the man who knows the struggles 
Before rising above defeat? 

Which one would you go to 
For a sympathetic ear? 
Which one would understand your pain 
Your cares, your woes, your fears? 

And who of us can really say 
They know a “blameless” man? 
Who never does ANY wrong – 
And does ALL the good he can? 

Still, what if I’m walking with God 
Staying closely by His side 
And He leads me through struggle or pain 
Though I’m choosing in Him to abide? 

I believe every pain has a purpose 
Each trial has a place in His plan. 
And if we truly care for our God 
We’ll take both joy and pain from His hand. 

There must be more to the purpose of pain 
Than just what is good for me 
There is a bigger picture 
One I can’t always see. 

Some of the pain we suffer 
May not be for us at all 
God may take us through some trials 
To equip us to answer His call. 

Sometimes I believe God leads us 
Behind the enemy lines 
To spy out the enemy’s strategy 
To have sight where others are blind. 

Perhaps you will walk through some fire 
And find in the midst of that place 
There are those you’ve been sent there to rescue 
To set captives free by His grace. 

So when you’re in sorrow or pain 
And you don’t know what to do 
Ask Him to show you His purpose 
For the pain you’re going through. 

No matter where God takes you 
Believe this and never fear 
He won’t waste your time or your pain 
And He’s counting every tear. 

Whether following His purpose brings joy 
Or pain you don’t understand 
Trust Him to see what you can’t 
And never let go of His hand.

--written by Judy Lovejoy, circa 1997