I used to hate the idea of being a servant. I never really saw the appeal to it. I much prefered being called God’s daughter or friend. Servant seemed so obligatory and formal. The God I knew was never formal.
That being said when it came to love languages I often found acts of service among the last in my rank order. I’m not very good at accepting help or being taken care of. I never have been. But God has been shifting my attitude.
I guess it takes becoming totally desperate to refine some things. I don’t mean desperate to be cared for. But desperate to care for others.
I have a high harmony personality. This means I’m a fixer to my core. I always have been. But when the needs you see can’t be fixed, you get desperate.
White skin is associated with money in most cultures I’ve visted. Because I have white skin it means I have the money to fix their problems. Truth is I’m on a minimalist missionary budget. Yes I probably have more than they do but there’s only so much I can give away.
I can’t pay for their college tuitions or new homes. And no money could buy them a loving family.
Yes I’m desperate. And this desperation has caused me to reprioitize how I love. I Am now proud to call myself a servant. To do the things behind the scenes that make life just a little easier for people. Do the extra dishes, listen to someones story, quiz on biology questions, give up a meal or two, tell bedtime stories. These are all things that I get to do daily for the young adults I minister to. The wonderful people I not only call my friends but my family. The sweet souls I deeply desire to do more for.
I don’t have the ability to fix their life story. I don’t have money to give away to them. I only have the love of Jesus. His eyes and heart to see them. With doors wide open to their hearts is when I humble myself. It’s where I lose my need for self service and become the most diligant of servants.
I don’t mind getting a little messy, a little tired, a little hungry. Jesus would do it for them too.
It’s in these moments where I’m alone in a dirty smelly kitchen full of other peoples dishes. After a hard day when my soul gets a little bitter and my talk is a little brisk. This is when I get to role up my sleeves and admire Jesus from afar. I get to be the servant in the corner observing Him at work while I srub away silent but not unnoticed.
This is where I learn the most about Him. Where He comes along side of me and I fill to the brim with His compassion and love for others. The place where bitterness turns to honey and my scowl into a big smile. This is where I become His faithful servent.
He meets me each time I get down on my knees. He teaches me and fuels me with a fire even more passionate for His creation than ever before. I reach my highest in life when I drop myself down in humility.
Being a servant is a beautiful thing. And now I know that no matter where I am I will answer His call to service with a faithful “Here I am for you have called me.”
