by James Morgan
We both knew the drill. During the opening night’s worship, we’d be asked to indicate our preferences for the type of work we’d do during the mission trip. Mark and I discussed this at length on the journey to Nashville. We each came to the same elegant conclusion: we would do anything except work with children. We’d both had more than our fair share of Vacation Bible Schools, Back Yard Bible Clubs, and neighborhood Kids’ Clubs. We’d built a virtual fleet of arks from popsicle sticks, sung countless renditions of Father Abraham, and played too many variations of Duck, Duck, Goose to remember. We’d paid our dues, so we determined this week would be different. Better. We envisioned ourselves climbing ladders, tape-measuring various things, utility-knifing shingles, and installing a nice, new roof. At the end of each day, we’d return sweaty, filthy, exhausted, and soak in the admiration of the others.
When the time came for us to submit our choices, however, I simply wrote, “Wherever I am needed” on my index card. Later, I told Mark what I’d done. He laughed and said, “I did the same thing.” Evidently the Spirit had convicted both of us about placing limits on what we would do for Him. How commendable, right? Confident that God must be proud of us, we both secretly expected God to reward our “do anything” attitude by giving us a two-story house to shingle.
Imagine our absolute delight when organizers told us we’d be co-leading a Back Yard Bible Club in an apartment complex. If you’re now leaning forward on the edge of your seat anticipating how God richly blessed us for our near-martyr-like obedience, prepare to be disappointed. Neither of us had a life-changing, burning-bush revelation; instead, we simply rehashed the same stories, songs, and games as years past. Sleepy children wandered to the picnic tables in the common area. They ate lunch. They became rowdy children. They learned about Jesus. They returned home with some papers, a craft, and a late-afternoon snack. Mark and I fulfilled our obligation and wearily pointed the church vans northwest back to Missouri on Saturday morning.
We needed the drive home to realize the obvious: this week wasn’t about us. It never was. We didn’t go to Nashville to be blessed, but to bless others. The irony? When we allow that truth to change us, God blesses us by using us to serve others. He demonstrates that perfectly through Jesus, who said, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45) In this season of giving, may we be challenged by Christ’s others-first example of love, service, and sacrifice.
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James Morgan lives in Raymore, Missouri where he is a hospice chaplain and grief support
coordinator in the greater Kansas City area.
