Joy in Service

In CT magazine, author and podcaster Jen Wilkins writes:

It was a typical Friday night at the Wilkin house. A spontaneous dinner had collected a growing number of neighbors and friends. As the kitchen swelled with people and chatter, I leaned over to each of my kids and whispered the code they were probably expecting: “FHB.”

Family hold back. Maybe you know this strategy, too. Surveying the food relative to the guests, it became apparent that we needed a non-miraculous solution for our five loaves and two fishes. My husband prayed over the meal and then, quietly, the Wilkins slipped to the back of the line, serving themselves minimal portions to stretch the food. They knew they wouldn’t go without; it was not a matter of if they would eat but when. Worst case, we’d order a pizza once the guests had gone home.

Nobody wants to be at the end of the line. Given the choice, we want to go first, to get the full portion, to sit in the most comfortable chair. But Christ-followers understand that life is about more than doing what we want. It’s about doing what we wish. Let me explain.

We can all imagine times when we wanted to be treated better, when we longed for more care, recognition, and grace than we received from others. We are not wrong to hold these wishes. They illustrate the basic human need to be known, loved, and accepted. And what we do with how we feel about our wishes, met and unmet, will shape the course of our lives. To that end, Jesus invites us to live lives directed by wishful thinking, though not in the way we might anticipate: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matt. 7:12, ESV).

Put simply, Jesus tells us to do what we wish. Thinking about our own wish list, we then act accordingly toward others. We give the encouragement we wish we had received…and serve as we wish to be served. We step to the end of the line. We move to the least comfortable chair. We defer what we wish for ourselves and instead secure it for others.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Every day we look for ways to do what we wish others would do for us. It’s easier to take the smaller portion when you know the lack is only temporary. This world is flat-out starving for kindness and decency. It is ravenous for meaning and purpose, and we are just the family to invite them to the table. Do it as Christ did for you.

Michael Wingard arrived at Houston Methodist Hospital with a cheerful "Howdy!" He's a young man with a healthy left kidney. In a couple of hours, a surgeon will remove the kidney and sew it into someone else's body. This also happens to be the day before his 20th birthday.

Michael's parents, Adrien and Ed, are with him, and they tear up as Michael is checked in. His mother said, “I'm very, very nervous and scared and all those emotions, but I'm so proud of him. He knew that his friend needed a kidney and he had to do whatever it took to make it happen.”

Michael Wingard's kidney isn't going to his friend, though, because he wasn't a match for her. But he was a match for someone else. And that's how Wingard became the first link in a 10-person chain that took place at Houston Methodist earlier this month.

In addition to Wingard, the swap involved:

Heather O'Neil Smarrella, who will get his kidney. Then her twin

Staci O'Neil gave her kidney to

Javier Ramirez Ochoa, whose son-in-law

Tomas Martinez, donated a kidney to

Chris McLellan, whose father

David McLellan, gave his kidney to

Barbara Moton, whose daughter

Lisa Jolivet, gave her kidney to

Kaelyn Connelly, Wingard's friend.

This 10-person procedure takes place over four days, and it's uncommon. Usually, the hospital has chains that involve up to six people. With all its complexities--from matching antibodies to patient health--a kidney swap of this size is hard to pull off. This one was postponed three times. But it's worth the effort. There are about 90,000 people on the transplant list, waiting for a kidney. Many will remain on the list for years. Some die waiting.

Two days after Michael Wingard's kidney surgery, a group of strangers gathered in a conference room at the hospital. Michael Wingard, Kaelyn Connelly, Heather O'Neil Smarrella, Staci O'Neil, Lisa Jolivet, Javier Ochoa, Tomas Martinez, and Chris McLellan sat around a conference table. And then they weren't strangers anymore. Chris McLellan leans over to Tomas Martinez: "Thank you for giving me my life back." And, he adds, "You have an awesome kidney."

Possible Preaching Angle:

You never know how your service to others, even to strangers, will radiate out into your community.

In June of 1992, Gloria Davey and a few friends were walking in the English countryside. When they stopped for a rest, they discovered a ruined church (from the bombings of World War I). The church had been desecrated by satanic symbols. When she told her husband Bob, a church leader at another nearby church, he was horrified at what he saw. That moment, the recently retired Bob made a decision that would dominate his life for the next 22 years. He would restore St Mary’s Church.

He said, “You couldn’t see the tower, and there was no roof, windows or floor — nothing, really. But I felt it was my duty to save it. This annoyed me intensely. I've been a Christian all my life and wasn't putting up with this on my watch.” He walked inside—the door was long gone—and that afternoon started clearing out 60 years’ worth of rubbish. For 22 years he was at the site early every day “except on days of family christenings and weddings,” says Bob, who has four children, six grandchildren, and a great-grandchild.

He added, “I haven’t had a holiday in 22 years, but I haven’t wanted one. Who wants to retire? My advice to others: don’t play golf or buy a Spanish villa when you retire. Find yourself a ruined church to save!” Bob hasn’t just saved the church. He also uncovered a unique set of wall paintings, the earliest in Britain and some of the finest in Europe.

Bob faced stiff resistance. The satanists sent him a message: “If you continue to come here, I’ll kill you.” Bob said he wasn’t frightened. “I’ll come in an electric trolley if I have to.” And until his death in 2021 at the age of 91, that’s exactly what Bob Davey did.

Herb Turetzky attended the New Jersey Americans’ first-ever ABA game in October 1967 expecting to be just a spectator. Turetzky, a student at LIU Brooklyn, arrived early at the Teaneck Armory. Max Zaslofsky, the Americans’ coach and GM who had attended the same high school as Turetzky, greeted him as he walked in, “Herb, can you help us out and keep score of the game tonight?”

Turetzky responded, “Max, I’d love to. I’m here, so why not?” Turetzky sat down at a wooden folding chair at half court and jotted down the lineups. That was more than 2,000 games and 53 years ago. Since then the team has moved to three different cities, played in eight arenas, and been absorbed into the NBA. And Turetzky is still setting in that wooden chair. “I’ve never left that seat since,” he says. “I’m still here and I’m still going.”

NBA official Bob Delaney calls him, “the Michael Jordan of scorekeepers.” And an article in Sports Illustrated referred to him as the "courtside constant." One simple “yes” led to a meaningful lifelong service.

For his first Thanksgiving alone in 1985, Scott Macaulay was thinking that he would have to heat up a frozen turkey dinner and turn on a football game to stifle the silence in his apartment. With his parents recently divorced and “nobody talking to anybody,” he said, “I was looking at a pretty rotten Thanksgiving. And I absolutely hate to eat alone.”

Then Macaulay had an idea: What if he took out an ad in the paper and invited 12 strangers to join him for Thanksgiving dinner? It seemed like a manageable number to host at the First Baptist Church he attended—and, yeah, it was a little crazy, but it had to be better than being lonely.

Since those 12 strangers gathered around his table for turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie 33 years ago, Macaulay has made his free feast an annual event. Through the years, he has fed plenty of widows, widowers, homeless people, and college kids who can’t make it home.

One year an elderly woman paid $200 for an ambulance to drive her to the church from her nursing home. She arrived decked out in fancy clothes and said she hadn’t been out in seven years. She cried when dinner was over. Infants have spent their first Thanksgiving with Macaulay, and more than a few elderly people have sat down for their last.

Because Thanksgiving wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without giving thanks, Macaulay always asks people to write what they’re thankful for on a slip of paper and leave their thoughts in a basket. He saves the submissions and reads them throughout the year, long after the table has been cleared and the dishes washed.

“Sometimes, they’re grateful they no longer have cancer or that they finally found a job or have a place to live,” he said. “One year, a guy wrote that he was thankful his son was speaking to him again. That one was a tear-jerker.”

Geoff Shanklin, 65, lives alone and has attended every dinner since the tradition began. He said, “He really enjoys passing it on to lonely people in Melrose. For people like me with nowhere to go, Scott is family.”

In an article in Forbes, business consultant Liz Ryan argues that companies shouldn't be obsessed with having "happy employees." Instead, she argues that employers should focus on helping employees connect to a greater mission. She goes on to give the following example of a mission-driven person:

Let's imagine a person completely immersed in his or her work. We'll use the greatest violin maker in the world as our example. I don't know who makes the greatest violins in the world, but we'll imagine that it's an Italian violin maker named Franco and that Franco has a studio where 15 or 20 apprentice and journeyman violin makers work alongside Franco making the most exquisite violins in the world.

Is Franco happy? He is alternately ecstatic, frustrated, transported, confused, exhausted and lost in the zone. He and his work are inextricable from one another. No one would say about Franco or his employees "They're happy." Instead, people in Franco's town would say "Those guys live and breathe violins, and people around the world rejoice."

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Disciples; Discipleship; Mission; Missions—When Jesus called us to follow him he did not promise us happiness. Instead, he promised us a deep and rich and satisfying sense of mission. (2) Work—we all long for the kind of passion in our work that these violinists had (although in our fallen world at times that is not possible).

The Chinese-American Christian leader Russell Jeung explains how his father taught him a profound lesson on the true nature of humility. Due to the maltreatment of many Chinese immigrants in America, Russell's dad taught him to work hard. But he also taught him he should not consider himself better than anyone else, even if successful.

"As the youngest child in my family," Russell explains, "my job at Chinese banquets was to make sure everyone's teacup was kept full. My dad, without fail, reminded me at these meals to be alert to the needs of others. I think he took as much pride in seeing me serve food to dinner guests as he did in seeing me get good grades."

Russell reinforces this concept of humility by pointing to the Chinese characters making up the words for humility—Qiang xun.

"Qiang means to have a yielding spirit, not seeking one's own pride or recognition. It pictures someone speaking while holding shafts of grain together, suggesting that words of humility prioritize the unity and harmony of the group first. Xun is the pictograph of the way a grandchild walks. We are to see ourselves like children, moving and acting in deference to our wiser elders."

Leadership coach Karen Miller tells the following story about how she and her husband needed to identify and develop new leaders for a new church plant:

One Sunday morning Irene, a church plant leader in her seventies, set up the Communion table. I noticed that she then went around to make sure everything else was in order—and people did whatever she asked them to do. Afterward I asked her, "Irene, have you ever considered that you have leadership gifts?"

"Absolutely not!" she said. "I am just an ordinary woman, housewife, and mother. I'm not leading; I'm just serving."

Some months later, our young church received a visit from a Rwandan church leader. He told the church how he dreamed of starting an orphanage and school for children whose parents had been slaughtered in the genocide. We decided we had to help. Could we hold a banquet to raise funds? Irene agreed to help put on the banquet.

When she visited a possible caterer, she somehow convinced the caterer to donate most of the food. Irene talked with a banquet hall, and they gave her a deep discount. So did the tech people. No one could tell Irene no. On the banquet night, over 200 people came, and enough money was raised to build the school and its first dormitory.

I teased her afterward: "Irene, that was amazing! Maybe you are a leader?" She laughed, for she finally had to acknowledge the truth. Each May, Irene led the banquet again. Now we could see photos of kids who had lived on the streets and never brushed their teeth flashing broad, white smiles. Boys who had been malnourished, their arms and legs painfully thin, now ran and jumped across the courtyard on strong legs. Girls who'd come dressed in rags showed off their neat school uniforms and barrettes.

After Irene went to be with the Lord, Sonrise Orphanage named a dorm after her did I find out that the banquet she'd led had singlehandedly covered one third of the school's operating costs.

Possible Preaching Angles: Leaders; Leadership; Leadership development—Why does leader training matter so much—especially when we're busy with a thousand other things? Because for any change to happen, there needs to be a leader. And for any God-honoring change to happen, there needs to be a God-honoring leader like Irene.

On September 28, 1882 the Worcester Ruby Legs from Massachusetts played the Troy Trojans from New York in a pro baseball game. It was a famous game in pro baseball history because it set a record for the lowest number of fans in the stands. Six people watched the Trojans trounce the Ruby Legs 4-1.

That record stood for almost 125 years. On Aril 29, 2015 the Baltimore Orioles and Chicago White Sox played their game in front of empty seats. Zero fans. This bizarre development was mandated by Major League Baseball in wake of protests and outbursts of violence in the city of Baltimore. Here's how an Associated Press article reported one incident from the fan-less game:

Chris Davis might have hit the quietest home run for the home team in Orioles history. As the slugger pounded the ball deep onto Eutaw Street, just a few feet from where fans normally would have sprinted after a chance to catch a souvenir, there was almost nothing to hear. The only muffled cheers came from a pocket of die-hards locked out of Camden Yards yelling "Let's Go O's!"

On this day, 30,000 Orioles fans had been muted. The wild applause had been silenced. There were no fans to stand for a standing ovation. Just Davis' teammates in the dugout coming over for high-fives. "When you're rounding the bases, and the only cheers you hear were from outside the stadium," he said, "it's a weird feeling."

Editor’s Update: To this could be added the dozens of sporting events that were played before empty stadiums during the COVID-19 Pandemic. You can read a psychological take on this here

Possible Preaching Angles: No live audience, no cheering fans, no applause. As a Christian, how much does the audience affect your performance? How much does the cheering crowd motivate you to do a good job? Or are you content to live before the Lord, the "Audience of One"?

You've probably heard the story, but in a security breach in Washington, D.C. a man jumped the fence that surrounds the White House and sprinted through the main floor of the building. He could have caused much greater commotion but he was stopped by an off-duty Secret Service agent who was leaving for the night. The intruder was tackled outside of the Green Room by the agent. One person said, "There's no telling how long this guy could have run around if the detail guy hadn't happened to be there."

Possible Preaching Angle:

This is a good reminder that we are always "on-duty" in God's service. Even if you feel like you're not on right now—keep your eyes peeled. You never know when you may be needed.

Depending on your age, you may remember Batman the comic book, or Batman and Robin the TV show, or Batman & Robin, the 1997 film starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Michael Gough, or The Dark Knight Rises, the film starring Christian Bale and Michael Cain, or The Batmanm, the 2012 film starring Robert Pattinson and Andy Serkis. But no matter where you encounter this superhero, you'll also find Alfred Pennyworth—Bruce Wayne's loyal and tireless butler, valet, friend, and father figure.

While Batman is fighting dastardly enemies, he knows that back at Wayne Manor resides someone who's taking care of everything else, someone he can trust to keep all his secrets, who cares about him as much as any father, and who—through his quiet service—makes it possible for Batman to do what he does.

Resourceful and calm, Alfred may not be the one having the exciting adventures, but he is a vital part of Wayne's life, with skills as varied as maintaining the bat-mobile, building the bat-computer, and keeping the Caped Crusader's costume in pristine condition. Alfred also provides first aid, including removing bullets, so Batman doesn't have to go to the hospital when he's injured.

Depending on which Batman version you follow, Alfred has also mastered rose breeding (even creating his own, the "Pennyworth Blue"), computer programming, computer engineering, electrical engineering, chemical engineering, mechanical engineering, nanotechnology, and biotechnology, as he singlehandedly builds programs and maintains much of Batman's next-generational technology.

In the fall of 2012, Bismark Mensah, a recent immigrant to the U.S. from Ghana, was working part-time job as a "courtesy associate" at a Wal-Mart near Seattle, Washington. As he collected shopping carts, Bismark often found personal items that customers had left behind—keys, credit cards, wallets. But on an October afternoon he spotted an item that really grabbed his attention. It was a white envelope with a clear window in the middle that was bulging with cash. Lots of cash—like $20,000 in cash!

Mr. Mensah could have used some of that cash. He came to the U.S. to study business administration so he could return to Ghana and help his mom expand her five small seamstress shops. And by making $9.05 per hour at Wal-Mart it will take him a long time to fulfill that dream.

But Mensah says he never considered keeping the money. "My conscience wouldn't allow it," he said. "I couldn't even drive home if I did that." So, instead, he ran after the husband and wife who had left the cash. As it turns out, they were going to use the money for a down payment on a house. Mensah said, "She was like, 'Wow!' Tears are coming out. She took some money and tried to reward me. I said, 'No, no. I'm all right.'"

Mensah received Wal-Mart's "Integrity in Action Award" and a promotion. Now he works full time for $9.19 an hour—with benefits. But for Mensah the real rewards are more internal. He had this to say about his job: "In the parking lot, people chat, tell you their problems, you see that a person is not happy. I tell them, 'God is in control. Everything is OK.'"

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Honesty and Integrity; (2) Service, Servanthood, Hiddenness—As we serve the Lord and others we may have no idea of the impact that our small deeds of kindness and service will have on others; (3) Sovereignty of God—Although we don't know a lot about Mr. Mensah's faith, it appears that he could give the money away because he was trusting in God to provide. As he tells customers, "God is in control. Everything is OK."

In his book What God Thinks When We Fail, Steven C. Roy tells a fictional story about a young violinist who lived in London many years ago. Although he was a superb musician, he was deathly afraid of large crowds, so he avoided giving concerts. But after enduring criticism for his unwillingness to give concerts, he finally agreed to perform in the largest concert hall in London.

The young violinist came onto the stage and sat alone on a stool. He put his violin under his chin and played for an hour and a half. No music in front of him, no orchestra behind him, no breaks—just an hour and a half of absolutely beautiful violin music. After ten minutes or so, many critics put down their pads and listened, like the rest …. After the performance, the crowd rose to its feet and began applauding wildly—and they wouldn't stop.

But the young violinist didn't acknowledge the applause. He just peered out into the audience as if he were looking for something—or someone. Finally he found what he was looking for. Relief came over his face, and he began to acknowledge the cheers.

After the concert, the critics met the young violinist backstage …. They said, "You were wonderful. But one question: Why did it take you so long to acknowledge the applause of the audience?"

The young violinist took a deep breath and answered, "You know I was really afraid of playing here. Yet this was something I knew I needed to do. Tonight, just before I came on stage, I received word that my master teacher was to be in the audience. Throughout the concert, I tried to look for him, but I could never find him. So after I finished playing, I started to look more intently. I was so eager to find my teacher that I couldn't even hear the applause. I just had to know what he thought of my playing. That was all that mattered. Finally, I found him high in the balcony. He was standing and applauding, with a big smile on his face. After seeing him, I was finally able to relax. I said to myself, 'If the master is pleased with what I have done, then everything else is okay.'"

Pediatrician David Cerqueira shares a story of how a dying girl showed his church the honor of serving God:

One Sunday my wife had prepared a lesson on being useful. She taught the children that everyone can be useful—that usefulness is serving God, and that doing so is worthy of honor. The kids quietly soaked up my wife's words, and as the lesson ended, there was a short moment of silence. [A little girl named] Sarah spoke up. "Teacher, what can I do? I don't know how do to many useful things."

Not anticipating that kind of response, my wife quickly looked around and spotted an empty flower vase on the windowsill. "Sarah, you can bring in a flower and put it in the vase. That would be a useful thing."

Sarah frowned. "But that's not important."

"It is," replied my wife, "if you are helping someone."

Sure enough, the next Sunday Sarah brought in a dandelion and placed it in the vase. In fact, she continued to do so each week. Without reminders or help, she made sure the vase was filled with a bright yellow flower, Sunday after Sunday. When my wife told our pastor about Sarah's faithfulness, he placed the vase upstairs in the main sanctuary next to the pulpit. That Sunday he gave a sermon on the honor of serving others, using Sarah's vase as an example. The congregation was touched by the message, and the week started on a good note. …

During that same week I got a call from Sarah's mother. She worried that Sarah seemed to have less energy than usual and that she didn't have an appetite. Offering her some reassurances, I made room in my schedule to see Sarah the following day. After Sarah had a battery of tests and days of examinations, I sat numbly in my office, Sarah's paperwork on my lap. The results were tragic. [She had leukemia.]

On the way home, I stopped to see Sarah's parents so that I could personally give them the sad news. Sarah's genetics and the leukemia that was attacking her small body were a horrible mix. Sitting at their kitchen table, I did my best to explain to Sarah's parents that nothing could be done to save her life. I don't think I have ever had a more difficult conversation than the one that night. …

Time pressed on. Sarah became confined to bed and to the visits that many people gave her. She lost her smile. She lost most of her weight. And then it came: another telephone call. Sarah's mother asked me to come see her. I dropped everything and ran to the house. There she was, a small bundle that barely moved. After a short examination, I knew that Sarah would soon be leaving this world. I urged her parents to spend as much time as possible with her.

That was a Friday afternoon. On Sunday morning church started as usual. The singing, the sermon—it all seemed meaningless when I thought of Sarah. I felt enveloped in sadness. At the end of the sermon, the pastor suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes wide, he stared at the back of the church with utter amazement. Everyone turned to see what he was looking at. It was Sarah! Her parents had brought her for one last visit. She was bundled in a blanket, a dandelion in one little hand.

She didn't sit in the back row. Instead she slowly walked to the front of the church where her vase still perched by the pulpit. She put her flower in the vase and a piece of paper beside it. Then she returned to her parents. Seeing little Sarah place her flower in the vase for the last time moved everyone. At the end of the service, people gathered around Sarah and her parents, trying to offer as much love and support as possible. I could hardly bear to watch.

Four days later, Sarah died. …

I wasn't expecting it, but our pastor asked to see me after the funeral. We stood at the cemetery near our cars as people walked past us. In a low voice he said, "Dave, I've got something you ought to see." He pulled out of his pocket the piece of paper that Sarah had left by the vase. Holding it out to me, he said, "You'd better keep this; it may help you in your line of work."

I opened the folded paper to read, in pink crayon, what Sarah had written:

Dear God,
This vase has been the biggest honor of my life.
Sarah

Sarah's note and her vase have helped me to understand. I now realize in a new way that life is an opportunity to serve God by serving people. And, as Sarah put it, that is the biggest honor of all.

"Not long ago we became acquainted with a husband and wife who frequently open their home for short- and long-term hospitality. They've housed children of missionaries as well as people released from psychiatric hospitals. One man stayed with them for nearly two years. 'It has caused certain difficulties,' the husband admits, 'but there's also tremendous joy in it.'

What's the effect on their four kids? Do they feel neglected or put out? Their oldest daughter says, 'I think I've really learned a lot from the people who have lived with us. I think I've learned love and acceptance and care.

'I can remember one time when Randy and I were little. It was late at night, and we heard this pounding on the door, and we went to the top of the steps. There was a woman there, and tears were just running down her face. As we were sitting at the top of the stairs, I saw Mom open the door and let this woman in. She put her arms around her. I guess this woman's husband had just left her, and she was hysterical.

'And as a child,' she says, 'I saw Christ's love. I think I've learned through Mom and Dad just to love, accept, and care for people.' "

O Lord, renew our spirits and draw our hearts unto thyself, that our work may not be to us a burden, but a delight; and give us such a mighty love to thee as may sweeten all our obedience.

Elizabeth Dole writes in Christian Reader:

My grandmother practiced what she preached and lived her life for others. When it became necessary for her, in her nineties, to go into a nursing home, she welcomed the opportunity. "There might be some people there who don't know the Lord and I can read the Bible to them."

I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no more hurt, but only more love.

One thing I know: The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.