It was an early start this morning. A little after 5:30 I rose, attempted to shine, and after a short drive I was ready to serve the Lord for my church’s annual golf tournament. As the morning stretched on I slipped into my role of helping each of the golfers and directing them on the rules of the tournament. By the end of the our each golfer was itching to get started and sped off to their tee box somewhere along the mountain course. Over the years I’ve tended to take the odd jobs serving in my church and this has been one of the oddest since I don’t even play golf, nor watch it. Though the circumstances of servanthood tend to not be completely obvious at first glance.
In a nutshell, last year the tournament was dedicated and renamed for a brother in Christ who went home to be with the Lord. He was an incredible servant, much like my grandfather, and doing a small piece to follow in his example is what I do each and every year. Being a writer I enjoyed hearing the stories each Sunday morning, because it showed me that a transformed life in Christ is truly that transforming.
There is a Journey
Watching the golfers drive away was almost like watching a young believer take their faith seriously and with an extreme amount of enthusiasm. That fire one has for Christ is usually brightest the closer they are standing to God. That may sound cliché though the truth of the matter is that if you are dwelling and looking upon the face of God constantly then you can and are filled with the Spirit of God.
Being a writer I don’t tend to live the stories, but I have the privilege of telling them. A writer is the storyteller. While the role has diminished in importance over the years it’s still a crucial piece of showing the process of life. Ancient storytellers were the most important person in a village and had the historical records committed to memory. Back then either paper didn’t exist or was incredibly expensive, so it was the only way to pass on information to future generations. Apprentices would spend most of their lives for the opportunity to be the one who could tell the stories taught to them by a master storyteller. It was considered an honor. What if we all learned to be servants in the same way? The state of the church would change if we cultivated those types of mentor/mentee relationships between believers.
In watching my grandfather before he passed away I saw a man who was willing to serve. I say that because he served, and it didn’t matter where he served because each chance he got to serve was a chance to serve the Lord. If we looked at each chance to serve as the “honor of serving” our outlook would change so much. We wouldn’t be the tired, broken, and beaten servants that wander through the church, but we would be the fire filled Christians who strive to serve more, in order to shine brighter for God.