"For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (v. 45)
James and John came to Jesus asking for preferment! It is a situation as old as the institutional church. I know, for I am heart and soul in the institutional church; I love it. I believe in the church. I readily accept the statement, "The Church is of God, and will be preserved to the end of time ..." At the same time, I see - as do you - the imperfections in the church, and these imperfections are there because the church is made up of people - like you and me.
Preferment has been a problem in all branches of Christendom: Roman, Greek Orthodox, Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist. Yes, and the Free Church tradition, with its system of the congregation finding its own pastor: Baptist, Presbyterian, and United Church of Christ have experienced the same situation. Preferment simply means a better appointment, a choice call to a noted parish, a larger salary, a prestigious pulpit. And many there be who seek preferment, "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be ..."
Peter had already received a reprimand from Jesus (8:32-33). Now the brothers - maybe to spite Peter - came forward, emboldened to ask for special appointments in the Kingdom: "one at your right hand and one at your left." It was a modest request (they thought).
Leadership
Before us is a case study in leadership models, especially leadership in the church. As a member of a seminary faculty, I see the issue daily. Jesus made it clear to James and John: Special appointments are not handed out as though by a medieval bishop to those in high favor. Quite the reverse, it is the way of the "wounded healer" and "the suffering servant."
There are individuals who feel that a "call" is all that is necessary. Clovis Chappell tells of the shoe salesman who was soundly converted and wanted to make his witness. His pastor rejoiced with him that as a businessperson he had splendid opportunity to share his faith with all his customers. Oh, no! The shoe salesman wanted to travel about the country giving lectures on "The Prince of Peace." Profound lectures constitute a valuable and necessary form of witness and teaching, but such requires a lifetime of preparation. The theme was majestic, but expertise is requisite to address so complex a situation as world peace, to say nothing of that Prince. In brief, leadership means willingness to prepare.
A man of middle age had a thriving business. He felt called to preach, though his background was woefully lacking in the academic disciplines. He was advised, in a kindly manner, not to make a change. Nonetheless, he insisted on a complete vocational transition. Alas, the result was a frustrated, ineffective ministry. His congregations were never satisfied, hence he was constantly moving. His people called for substance and integrity in preaching and pastoral leadership, which this well-meaning preacher was unable to give. Life patterns had become too firmly established for him again to shift to being a student. How much better if he had remained a dynamic layperson, serving through pew rather than pulpit, witnessing as a lay-leader rather than as pastor. John Wesley admonished his lay preachers to learn to study or "go back to your trade." Francis Asbury taught himself Hebrew and records, "I lodged with Mr. Henry, a Jew. We read Hebrew part of the night, and I should have been pleased to have spent the night thus occupied with so good a scholar." Here we see the circuit rider bishop, who had scant formal education, passing late hours at Waynesboro, Georgia, in 1791. Is it any wonder he attempted to "reform the continent and spread scriptural holiness over these lands"?
It is not enough to be called/enlightened/pulled. There are necessary tests whereby the call is validated. A student averred he wanted to be a missionary to China, yet he failed elementary French three times. Common sense ought to assist us in seeing wherein our strengths and weaknesses lie. One who is tone deaf, unable to carry a note, will hardly aspire to sing at the Metropolitan. That same person can have a seat at the opera and enjoy great music to the full - even if personal singing is restricted to the shower. Why not apply the same logic to the form of witness, to the particular ministry?
What are our talents? What gives us the greatest sense of satisfaction? Wherein do we render the greatest amount of good? How do we relate to people? How can our skills be best employed in God’s service? "No one is useless in the world," said Charles Dickens, "who lightens the burden of it for anyone else."
"Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?" may mean the willingness to burn midnight oil, when comfortable sleep, or a party, or TV is what the college student would rather do. Wrestling with the conjugations of Greek irregular verbs, writing a paper on "The Westminster Confession," or drafting proposals for a church-wide Bible study call for painful dedication on the part of a seminarian. Sitting at a typewriter may appear to have little relation to the Cross. Some would term it an easy way, "cop-out" escape. Quite the contrary. Words, often-times coming agonizingly, on a typed page may be the means of someone’s redemption, reconciliation, social justice, prophetic vision, comfort, hope. In the Preface to his book a Cambridge University scholar thanked his secretary for holding up under seven revisions of the manuscript. Revisions call for time, patience, hard work, to say nothing of intellectual demands. It would be easier to go to the garden and play with the children, to wash the car, attend a football game, or take a nap. Frequently these delightful pursuits must be foregone and the would-be author must go back to that unrelenting, unforgiving word processor and pound out frustration on the keys, until the manuscript is completed. It can be a thankless task; but it may be God’s call to make a contribution toward the advancement of the human family.
A Mandate For All
There is a place in God’s Kingdom for every disciple! Talent, skill, personality, age, sex, social or economic background, native tongue - the variety is as wide as humankind - and all can be used. Is Brother Lawrence not a beautiful example, washing pots and pans for the glory of God? "Be not simply good," suggested Henry Thoreau, "be good for something."
I shall always remember that lady in my congregation who went to her sewing machine at the factory, five days a week, to earn her daily bread. Yet each Sunday she was at Sunday school, church, and then came at 4:00 p.m. to prepare the youth supper. And she did it gratis, with joyful abandon, as her contribution to the church she loved.
"Saved to serve" was the old theme of nineteenth-century evangelism. When one was converted at the protracted meeting, the immediate response after baptism and joining the church was go discover a place wherein a witness might be made and service rendered to people. "The expression deepens the impression." The more one shared the encounter with Christ, the greater the meaning for the one converted. An experience of grace was not to be hidden, never to go unused. It is sound psychology; it is good religion. Part of that expression is finding the best possible outlet, then improving, growing, learning.
Earl Marlatt’s "Are Ye Able" became the motif for youth of the 1930s and 1940s. In fact, they sang it to death. Perhaps it exemplified the optimism of the time. Maybe it did place emphasis on human achievement (something many contemporary theologians frown upon), but it did convey youthful willingness to go out and live for noble purposes, and to do battle against slums, war, Jim Crow-ism, poverty, ignorance, and sin. It called for a new age and high-minded young disciples:
"Are ye able," said the Master,
"To be crucified with me?"
"Yea," the sturdy dreamers answered,
"To the death we follow thee."
Lord, we are able, Our spirits are thine.
Remold them, make us, Like thee, divine.
Thy guiding radiance Above us shall be
A beacon to God, To love, and loyalty.2
Far better to have youthful enthusiasm and over-optimism than never to start at all. John R. Mott wanted to save the world "in his generation." We smile, call it naive. But John R. Mott, a dynamic layperson, was responsible for one of the greatest missionary endeavors of the twentieth century. The present World Council of Churches owes him a lasting debt.
Perhaps the glorious buoyancy of pre-World War II was excessive and unrealistic, but it sent out a challenge, and young people sang "Follow the Gleam" with stars in their eyes. Pessimism and cynicism rarely motivate people for ministry. Better to be naive and go out in guileless service than to be skeptical and bitter, sitting around a bar exchanging morbid introspections about the impossible human situation.
Where To Serve
A college student was discouraged, feeling he ought to "go to the mission field;" yet, through no fault of his own, circumstances prevented it. A kindly, deeply spiritual college chaplain - himself a returned missionary - reminded the student of the old gospel song:
I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
O’er mountain, or plain, or sea;
I’ll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,
I’ll be what you want me to be.3
Suggested the chaplain; sing it this way:
I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
O’er mountain, or plain, or sea;
I’ll stay if you want me to stay, dear Lord,
You can always depend on me.
There can be intense feelings of thwarted goals, of unfulfilled longings in the call to ministry. Faraway places seem romantic, even exotic, and there is a thrill and sense of sacrifice. Lo! These remote spots often turn out to be no more exotic than slums in the very city in which one lives. A young man found his Peace Corps assignment bewildering: dirt, poverty, crime. "I thought it would be uplifting," he lamented. A woman asked about serving in a leprosariurn - giving her life to the outcast lepers. She seemed disappointed when told modern leprosaria were not unlike other hospitals and medical centers where patients with leprosy - Hansen’s disease - were treated by trained medical personnel. Hers, alas, was the early nineteenth-century view of going to the "poor lepers" and, like Father Damien, contracting the disease and dying in sacrificial love. Here we make a serious error. Ministry is far more than doing good to somebody in order that we might feel good, in the pattern of Lady Bountiful, noblesse oblige, the Thanksgiving Basket for "the poor and needy."
Ministry means "the love of Christ controls us" (2 Corinthians 5:14). Ministry is "fire in my bones" (Lamentations 1:13) which will permit no other course. Ministry is complete dedication of the whole self to God’s purposes, whatever, wherever, and whoever those purposes entail. We do not pick and choose once the commitment is made. "Are you a wilted flower or do you have a calling?" queried the dean of a School of Nursing.
The key verse in Mark’s Gospel is 10:45: "For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (I learned that my freshman year at Maryville College Bible 101.) This is ministry in its complete definition. Can a mere human being, like ourselves, ever comply? Hardly! Ours is, at best, an approximation. But it is a goal.
Saying No
One essential in ministry, whatever the form, is discipline. Out of discipline comes growth. A sad realization that comes to teachers is seeing a student matriculate at college, graduate or professional school - especially divinity school - fulfill all requirements, and even receive the desired degree, yet remain essentially unchanged. That student may have acquired knowledge, but has there been growth? Has the academic experience been solely a matter of the head - the heart left untouched? Is the graduate a larger person, mature, with insight into life? Has the degree-holder learned compassion, understanding of people, humility, a sense of humor about herself/himself? Has knowledge begun to be transformed into wisdom?
Discipline means saying No. One cannot do everything. I learned this early in my ministry. I always enjoyed drama. It was the Thespian Society in high school, and many roles at Maryville College and Ohio Wesleyan University. It was during an early pastorate that a lovely lady came to me asking if I would prepare a reading for the Woman’s Society of Christian Service, a fun reading. I responded affirmatively and turned to that delightful "The Bird’s Christmas Carol" by Kate Douglas Wiggin. I chose the chapter where the children have been invited to the Christmas party, a lengthy piece, but pure enjoyment. I memorized it, rendering it without a slip, and the ladies applauded heartily. I learned a lesson. I counted the hours spent in memorization and was appalled. I could have prepared three complete sermons in the same length of time. There were other ministerial duties I could have looked after. Acting is splendid for those called to act. I was not called to be actor or entertainer. That was my last reading.
Ministry means "this one thing I do," that singleness of purpose. One cannot accept every speaking invitation; one cannot join every worthy organization; one cannot attend every meeting of every club in the community. "Do not spread yourself too thin," I was advised by an elderly gentleman when I became youth minister in Milton, Massachusetts.
Reality
Ministry brings one down to earth. It is not always the one with the best ideas, but the one who has the idea. An important church meeting was in progress. A youthful, minor executive made a proposal. The presiding officer, along with the entire committee, brushed aside the recommendation as though it had not been mentioned. An hour later an important personage arrived, late as usual, and in pontifical voice made a proposal. It was verbatim what the young executive had suggested. Chairperson and all joined in chorus: the best idea that had been suggested all morning!
A discussion was held at a Learned Society. A youth got the floor, was told he had two minutes, and those present started looking at watches, checking agenda, whispering. Prompted by what the yough had said, a noted scholar rose. All listened with rapt attention as the minutes ticked away, and away, and away! It is part of life. A moderator speaks and people listen; a housewife makes a comment and everyone is otherwise engaged. The Convention’s president may write what she/he wills and it is published. A student submits an article and is lucky to have it appear in reduced form.
James and John wanted to jump ahead to those positions which only come with time and to
"those for whom it has been prepared." The young upstart often deserves a put-down. Rashness can be insufferable, and who but the neophyte can be the "wise of the earth"? Leave it to the sophomore to outdo everyone in opinions. Truth to tell: We often have to wait, and rightly so. James and John had to.
Preferment
As a young soldier, John Fletcher had an uncontrollable temper. In time that soldier was converted, soundly so. He became one of God’s choice instruments. An ordained Anglican priest, he served for 25 years as vicar in remote, rural Madley: no honors, no wealth, no publicity. The recognitions most folk hope for seem to have passed him by. His Checks to Antinomianism should have resulted in laudatory notice. No! Here he was, a brilliant mind, a Christlike spirit, confined in a nondescript parish.
The American Revolution hit the scene. Being a loyal Tory, Fletcher published several articles supporting the British government. By chance one of these publications was given to a high government official who, impressed by what he read, took it to the Lord Chancellor. In turn the publication was placed in the hands of the King himself. George III was delighted and dispatched an envoy to Madley. Was there an preferment in the church which might tempt Mr. Fletcher? Could the Chancellor render any special service? Here was Fletcher’s long-awaited opportunity. He could name it: an outstanding pulpit? A comfortable pension? Perchance a deanship? The King of England had made the offer. It was the chance of a lifetime. Fletcher’s answer, "I want nothing, but more grace."4
A Word From A Prince Of The Church
To all who aspire for preferment, to those who dream of high offices in the church, hear the words which Shakespeare gives to the dying Cardinal Wolsey:
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes afrost, a killing frost;
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new open’d. O! how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on prince’s favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have -
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.5
Wolsey’s parting advice to young Cromwell may be good advice to all: "I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels." A dying Cardinal then made his last confession:
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
1. Elmer T. Clark, ed. The Journal and Letters of Francis Asbury (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1958), Journal I:669.
2. The Book of Hymns, number 413.
3. The Cokesbury Worship Hymnal (Nashville: Abingdon, 1981), number 142.
4. See Warren Thomas Smith, "Justice and Grace" in The Upper Room Disciplines 1976 (Nashville: The Upper Room, 1976).
5. King Henry VIII, Act III, scene 2.
6. Ibid.