Serving is something that is preached from both conservative and liberal pulpits. Christ, as he should be, is the beacon of service. The Book is full of story after story of his acts of service. He brought healing to the sick, subsided the hunger of the hungry and even called lifeless men back from the grave. He is an awesome example that we all must follow when it comes to not only serving our brothers but also in serving the whole of humanity. Have you ever found your self in a Peter situation? Those times when you are absolutely humbled in being served. I love to be able to serve. I love when I have the opportunity to give to those that are in need and even to those who are not. Serving always comes with an incredible blessing. This is a feeling that all people search for, even those that do not claim the Risen Savior. The Peter situation always puts my soul at unrest. I am the one that is suppose to serve. God has given me more than I could deserve in a thousand life times, and I must be willing to give back in anyway that I can. God over my few years of being serious about my faith has taught me about another type of service that goes way beyond just “doing stuff” for others.
When I was in college I was given an incredible opportunity. A brother had started a Study of the Word a few years before my arrival on campus. He was graduating after the first semester, and asked if I would be willing to continue this time of leading a group of about thirty students in the Spring. I was a little worried about this at first. I had preached a few times in my life, but was always given a fair amount of time to prepare. I guess it is kind of embarrassing to look at the amount of time that I had and the sorry excuses for sermons I was preaching. This would require a weekly preparation for hungry college students, and following in the footsteps of a guy that had done an incredible job. I really thought I was not ready for this, but knew also that I could not turn this down. I wanted to lead these students.
This time went incredibly well. I was challenged in preparing, but He was teaching me much about the Truth. I was also learning more about teaching the Word and it is safe to say that I learned more than those I taught. God was using this to prepare me for what He had planned for me. I remember one day, I was asked to report to the RD’s office. He was they man I often answered to. I was a little worried because at the time me saying something heretical was probably not out of the question, and honestly had probably whipped out a few stake burnable offenses already. That was not the topic of this meeting though. The school was coming up on Spiritual Emphasis week and he wanted me to do something outside the usual run of the mill week. He wanted me to think about it and let him know the next week. I knew what He desired as he began to pound on my heart as soon as the RD mentioned doing something different. I had never been part of a foot washing service, but that is what was going to happen. I went back a few days later and told him, now all I had to do was figure out how they actually worked.
A few friends and myself set down and decided to work this out. Simon, who lead the worship, was just going to play and sing for as long as it took, and I would sit in the middle of the room. I let them come at their own leading and washed feet for about an hour. This was probably one of the most incredible nights of my life as I really was able to serve my friends in an incredible way. I must be honest though and admit there were a few that came that I really had no desire to wash their feet. This is where the true blessing was found, but something that happened afterwards was what still sticks out in my mind about this night.
Steve Guinead is a great friend of mine and he was used to speak truth into my life. Steve is of the Non Denominational leanings and God used him in many long conversations to sharpen my mind. We lived across the hall from each other, and many nights Steve, my roommate and I would watch TV and shoot the breeze. This night the conversation turned to the foot washing service pretty quickly. We talked for a few minutes and then Steve said something I will never forget. “As humbling as that was for you to wash all those feet, letting you wash my feet was the most humbling thing I have ever done.”
This country has brought this truth to my mind again. The first trek I went on with my team I was not prepared physically. There were seven people on our team, five guys and two girls. Also going with us were three porters. These three guys are believers, and are friends of a man that my team often works with. They were carrying most of the girls’ things, their own things and what seemed to me like a full library of books that were being delivered to a village about a three days hike away. The first day was a relatively easy day. My forty-pound pack felt pretty light. The next day started out much of the same and I was pretty confident in my ability to keep going. Then as the day was coming to an end we were on the wrong side of a 600-meter climb. I quickly lost all confidence I had gained over the last day and a half. The climb had to be done though. I started out pretty quickly and things were okay, but every step my feet were harder to pick up and my pack felt heavier. I really have no idea how long it took to get up the mountain, but my since of manliness was lost about half way up when the Japanese women started smoking me like the tortoise smoked the hare. Feel free to laugh, the Japanese women sure did.
As we neared the end of this hike my body was spent. I had came to the point that if I tried to carry my pack much further, I honestly did not think I would finish on my own power. The team was pretty far ahead of me, and on the side of the trail was a small house that was selling cokes. I threw my pack down. I set down on the rocks in the now rainy weather and was given my coke. The porters asked more than once to carry my pack for me, but my pride would have none of that. They were carrying more than I was already, and they may have weighed 120 pounds soaking wet. I was wishing now though that I had let these men serve me. I could not pick the pack up again. Then what has to be only second to only The Savior stepping through the clouds, two of the porters stepped around the corner of the small building I was resting at. They laughed a little at me and then one of them put the pack on his back. We walked a few steps and then I noticed that they had left the other stuff they were carrying on some rocks. One of them set my pack down grabbed up the large bag of books, his bag and then grabbed my bag threw it on top of everything else. I felt as weak as I had ever felt in that moment but also felt loved. This man carried my pack, and I, head bowed, walked slowly behind him the remainder of the day’s trek.
I learned much that day about being served. I did not enjoy it, and it was one of the hardest things I ever did in giving up that pack. The believers here love to serve. I have been served and served often. I am completely undeserving of such love, but must be accepting of it. I have learned here that often times the best way to serve is by being served. There is a huge blessing in being on served in of service, but we must be able to accept it humbly if we truly want to always be serving. The Son came to serve and not be serve. Are you serving Him and are you letting Him serve you? You absolutely could be missing His blessing if you are constantly caught up in service. There truly is an act of service and humility gained that goes into being served by your fellow man.
