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Can We Serve Too Much?

Every few weeks, my husband and I get together with a group of friends. Since we all met at church—and since we were the brainchild of our teaching pastor and his wife—we might look like a "small group," but that's not quite right. We get together and eat and drink and talk. And talk and talk. Whoever hosts gets to choose the topic of discussion—or to throw out some questions. We offer each other openness and confidentiality and support. And I love it.

Anyway, yesterday one of these friends emailed to see if we'd be interested in doing a little "service project" for our next get-together. Even though he suggested something simple that could be done while eating and talking, I actually groaned when I read his request. Though I waited a good half-hour before putting in my two cents, my email reply groaned right along with me.

I wrote that were it solely up to me, I'd rather not do the project (nice, I know) because, "I often feel like my life is one big, exhausting service project and one thing I love about this group is the chance to chill and be among people who I can admit things like I just did."

I realized right away that I sounded horrible and whiney, half-bragger, half-martyr, but I sent it anyway. Because I actually feel strongly about this.

Don't get me wrong: I have nothing against service projects. I believe we are called to serve. And I do (hence, the line about my life being one-big project). Most of the time I do it gladly—with a cheerful heart. I do it out of love—for God and for others.

But sometimes, I just can't. Sometimes I just need a break from serving or leading or writing or playing or making dinner and just have a chance to be. To laugh, to talk, to share, to answer silly questions or discuss big topics. And to have something nice to sip and yummy to munch on while I'm doing it among friends just makes it all the better.

This is what this group represents to me. And it's been a life-giving and renewing and restful group to be with. Which is why I found myself groaning. I suppose I feel protective of what it's given me—of what it means to me. Maybe it's selfish. Maybe it's not.

I'm not sure. But I keep thinking.

Because we just had Easter, my brain keeps going back to Jesus—reclining at the table with his friends—at the Last Supper. Of course, the "you're being selfish" part of me argues that Jesus did a "service project" at this supper: This was where he washed feet—our ultimate image of the servant leader!

But the "not selfish" part argues that this was their "last" supper—not the only supper. How many of these did they have when Jesus didn't wash feet? What about all the ones where they just laughed and talked and ate? What about the one where Jesus got his feet anointed and his feet lavished with perfume.

Maybe I'm just trying to fit Jesus into a mold I need right now—and clearly, that's not right. But I also think he did give us an example of a servant, a leader, a perfect man, who spent his days in ministry, who gave his life out of love, but who also needed some time to be. Among friends. To relax, to eat, to talk about their day—and sometimes to wash some feet. And sometimes to get his anointed.

So maybe the "trick" of it is to find a place where we can unload and unwind, where we can be renewed and refilled, but be ready to serve one another when needed. Does that sound right?

I still feel bad about the way I responded. I'll probably end up emailing back—or sending out the link to this post (to see if anybody in my group reads what I write) and apologizing for my snippiness.

But I think my intention was right. That those of us who work in ministry—who spend what often feels like every moment—pouring out our very souls to others do need to protect these nourishing friendships and places we find.

What do you think? Do you get protective or greedy with people, places, and things that nourish you? Is this okay?

April07, 2010 at 8:40 AM

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