God Wants Me to Serve THEM?

Simple answer to that question: Yes. I know, I know...they don't serve you. And when they do, you hear about it for weeks because they expect something in return. Admit it, you do it too when you are nice, or when you serve one of your siblings. I do.

Do you remember the story of the mother of Zebedees sons? It's found in Matthew 20 and she came to Jesus with a request. Now, from the way the passage was written, obviously her two sons had put her up to making this request, simply by the fact that they were standing there when she made it. She asked Jesus that her two sons be allowed to sit on his right hand and on his left hand when he established His kingdom. This woman and her two sons thought that His kingdom would be established here on earth with Jesus somehow overthrowing the government and starting His own reign. Little did they know what God had in mind.

Jesus answers her question with a statement and a question. "You don't know what you are asking." In essence, you're a fool. He then asks, "Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?" This is a clear reference to His death. Can they drink with Him the cup of God's wrath? They answered, "We can." Again, a clear indication that they actually have no idea what He is talking about. They still think He is referring to an earthly kingdom. Jesus goes on to tell them that only God can do that. Only He has absolute authority to grant such a request as the one they were making.

When the other ten disciples heard about this they were upset with the other two. After all, they were asking to be counted more privileged than the the others, to be made great and to be recognized as superior in Christ's kingdom. Jesus called all the disciples together and tells them, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them." What he is saying is that the rulers of this earth exercise their power over those under them, they "lord" it over them and bend the people to their will. He clearly tells them, "Not so with you." You are not to be this way with others, making them serve you and do as you say simply because you are in authority. "Instead, whoever wants to be great among you..." Yes, Jesus? I want to be great! How do I become great? "...must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave--just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

I can just see their faces deflate, like a ball that has been popped and all the air rushes out of it. Not only are they to serve, but they are to be slaves. Slaves. How counter-cultural is that! This day and age we are told to push as hard and fast as we can to make it to the top, to make the most money, to retire young, to not be seen as weak and frail, even if we have to walk all over people to do it. Forget serving your parents! Forget serving your siblings! Forget serving anyone! Serve yourself. That is the only way to be successful, to be great. That is, great to the world and by the world's standards.

If you want to be great by far more important and lasting standards (hint: God's standards) you must be a slave, one whose only purpose for living is to please and serve others. Jesus points to Himself as the ultimate example. Even GOD himself did not come in human flesh to reign in power and glory on an earthly throne, with princes and kings bowing to him, and slaves rushing around seeing to His every need. After all, that is what the disciples thought was going to happen. Instead, He points to Himself as the Son of Man, the one who came to serve and not be served.

Rather, He was going to make the ultimate sacrifice, be the ultimate servant, be the only thing standing between us and God's wrath poured out against sin. He was to stand in our place, lay down his life, and ransom our souls from God Himself and the just penalty of our sins...hell.

If this is not motivation enough to cause you to want to serve your siblings, I don't know what will do it for you. I haven't even mentioned the rewards that you will get in heaven. I haven't mentioned how it can transform your relationships with your bothers and sisters. In fact, both those reasons are remarkable and exciting. Who doesn't want rewards in heaven? Who doesn't want to have fun and fulfilling relationships with those closest to them? Like it or not, you are stuck with these people for the rest of your life. Why not make the best of it and live in peace and harmony with your siblings?

Look, it can be as simple as making your brothers bed for him. Or helping your sister with her homework. Or babysitting your sisters kids a hundred gazillion times without getting paid. Or noticing that your brother didn't do his part ofcleaning the kitchen and is instead watching Sportscenter so you do his portion for him. Can you tell I've done all those things?

The other half of these scenarios is tattling on your brother to your parents that his bed isn't made, and can they please tell him AGAIN to make it. Or telling your sister that you are too busy, and she needs to be smart enough to figure out her Biology homework herself. Or that your sister needs to find another babysitter outside the family, whom she has to pay, because you've already babysat for someone else this week. Or getting mad at your brother and telling him to get off his youknowwhat and get in the kitchen NOW to finish his stupid chores. Can you tell I've done these things as well?

I have, and the results were vastly different each way I handled them. When I get angry and upset, guess what? My siblings get angry and upset! When I keep my mouth shut and serve them, guess what? They usually don't notice, but when they do, they are blessed and thank me. My motivation for serving shouldn't be to be noticed (Matthew 6:18), but to serve them, serve God, and obey Christ's call to be a slave to be great.

Love Lifted Me: Janelle's Testimony

I guess you could say that I come from a large family. Seven kids is a lot and I still get confused when someone says, "Did you LIKE growing up with all those people?" I didn't know any different. And I find myself hating being alone. So yes, I liked it. In fact, I still love it and wouldn't ask for anything to be different.

My Dad is a pastor. He hasn't known anything else, and being raised a PK in Sovereign Grace Ministries all my life isn't weird or strange. It's just life.

I have a "boring" testimony, though any story that begins with a sinner going to hell and ends with a sinner going to heaven isn't boring. I had a dream about hell and didn't want to go there, so I sat with my dad and mom while dad drew me a graph on a piece of paper. It showed a heart that was full of sin, that was then erased and filled with the Spirit of God. Fiery darts (my dad drawing streaks of pencil lead across the page) can now bounce off my heart and not take hold because God lives in me. The joy I felt was real...and tears rolled down my face as I asked God to forgive me of my sin and to make His Spirit dwell in me.

I understood the Gospel at seven. I even had fruit in my life; I loved to worship and read deep theological books, namely by dead Puritans with titles like "Sin and Temptation". I also read books by modern guys, books like "Desiring God" and "Trusting God." As I got older, around 10 or 11, we would sit as a family at dinner and talk about subjects like free will, eschatology, predestination, and election. We would go over worship songs and hymns in the morning, songs like "Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed" and "It Is Well." My brother Jesse would play the guitar, and Mom with her small brood would worship, and confess sin, and read books. Then we would usually start school, which looked like us sitting on her bed while she read from "A History of US." Those mornings are some of my fondest memories, and ones that I want to have with my own children. Not only was a love for God instilled in me, but a love of learning, and of debating, not only theological topics but historical ones as well.

One family vacation stands out to me in my spiritual walk. I almost drowned in a rip current. I was twelve, and it was the summer of 1997. I was very comfortable with my spiritual walk...I was reading all these great books, worshiping with passion, and learning what it was like to have a love of Scripture. Even at a young age I struggled, and gave into, intellectual pride. I knew that I was different, that my family was different, and that most kids didn't grow up the way I did. I was smarter than them. I loved God more than they did. I was more blessed and given more grace than they were. This made be, naturally, better than them.

One day at the beach, my friend Peter was swept away in the water, struggling because he could only doggie-paddle. I could swim better than him, and didn't think much of it, just figuring that he had gone out too deep. No other adults were at the beach yet, so I went out and grabbed his wrist, only to be sucked out into the waves with him. I quickly realized I was in trouble. A storm had just come through and the waves were monstrous, sweeping me further out while pounding me over the head with their ferocity. Peter floated to safety, which is what you are supposed to do in a rip current, but I didn't know how to float.

I was terrified. I clearly remember screaming for help, seeing people on the beach doing nothing. I thought I was going to die...I was tired, had swallowed water, and thought I would just be swept away into the ocean and drown before help arrived.

Then, to my intense relief, I saw my Daddy tearing down the dune towards me, ripping off his shirt and diving headlong into the waves. There is no adequate way to express what I felt. I went from utter terror to intense relief in the space of two seconds. I knew that I was safe. Dad wouldn't let me drown. There was no doubt in my mind that he would save me.

That wasn't the end. We both battled the waves for what seemed like hours, in reality only fifteen minutes. Dad thought we were goners...he put me on his back, not expecting to come back up out of the water and doing what he could to make sure I didn't drown with him. If you know anything about rip currents, or have ever been in one, you know that they are savage and unrelenting...the harder you fight it, the further it drags you out and under. Dad knew this, and fully expected to die in trying to save me. So on his back I went, and under the waves he was submerged.

Then, as he was submerged and I was starting to sink as well, a wave pushed us towards land. Again, if you know anything about rip currents, this is unusual, if not impossible. There were bystanders who saw this happen and were waiting in the shallows to try and grab us. A man named Jack grabbed me off Dad's back and hauled me to shore. I sat and watched as Dad was pulled, half unconscious, out of the waves and laid on his back. Medical personnel finally arrived and began to pump water out of his lungs while rushing him to the hospital. I watched as they loaded him into the ambulance...I was saved because he had come in after me. My Dad had just saved my life and was now struggling for his own life in return.

Again, there is no adequate way to describe the next few hours. He remained in the hospital and was finally released when all of the water was pumped from his lungs. He still could have drowned, even out of the waves, because of the amount of water he had breathed in while rescuing me. We found out that two days before, on the same beach, a fifteen year old boy had drowned in a rip current, and his father had also drowned trying to rescue him.

This was a turning point. I realized that it was not enough for me to know theology, or love worship, or to read the Bible everyday. My very existence is contingent only on the mercy and grace of God. My very breath is breathed only on His sustaining hand. My knowledge and understanding is based on what He provides and not on what I do. Coming that close to death, and then that close to losing my dad, brought me against this stark reality: God alone is sovereign and He alone does what He wills. In turn, who am I to think that how much I read or how many discussions I get in about doctrine are in any way adding to my salvation, or making me more holy than others who don't? The very fact that I love theology and doctrine is only from God.

I am still learning this even now. The temptation in being a graduate nurse is to pat myself on the back for getting through on my own wits and knowledge and not point to the One who gave it to me in the first place. What arrogance, to assume that any accomplishment of mine is by my own strength! It would be like if I patted myself on the back for making it back to shore when I was near death, instead of crediting God for saving my life and that of my dad's. This hymn has always resonated in my heart since that day at the beach. Whenever I am tempted to credit myself for a job well done, the Lord reminds me of these timeless words.

I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore
Very deeply stained within, sinking to rise no more
Than the Master of the sea heard my despairing cry
From the waters lifted me, now safe am I

Love lifted me, love lifted me
When nothing else could help
Love lifted me

Wild Hearts: Jessica's Testimony

People have always used one word describe me: “passionate,” and it took the passion of an almighty God to capture my heart.

One of the largest parts of my identity stems from my ethnicity: I am half Lebanese. My father was raised Muslim and became a Christian in college. He married my American mother, who had become a Christian in high school. Because of my dad’s background, my parents always wanted to make sure that I was able to choose for myself my religion. I was educated about multiple faiths and philosophies, and told that I would have to decide what I myself believed. Probably because I had the heart of a child, and also because of the mercy of God, I came to believe in Jesus as my Savior at a very early age. I have always been passionate. I remember at five years old, desperately wanting to tell my friends and relatives about God. At age seven, my Father finally allowed me to be baptized. I began to read and study the Bible shortly after, and started journaling at age eight. I asked my parents for permission to stay in the sermon rather than going to children’s church, and besides this, my father and mother both provided me with excellent teaching from the scriptures.

As I learned about the Bible, I started to contemplate some of the more challenging questions regarding what I had been hearing and reading. What if the Bible was really written by one person—a grand but perhaps even accidental hoax? What if everything we believed was all just a fiction? What if it never actually happened? What if Jesus never existed? These questions were especially distressing to me because I had, at this point, a very intimate relationship with God’s Spirit, had received his close care for many years, and could not reconcile how I could have experienced this what I understood was not real. My Dad came home to me crying one day as I contemplated these things. My parents sat down with me and began to explain how the Bible was written and how we know the way it was written. They gave me books and research which answered many of my questions, and encouraged me to continue studying on my own. Although I have continued throughout my life to have many questions about the Bible and my faith, from that day on I became only more and more thoroughly convinced that the Bible is true, that Jesus is indeed the son of God, my Savior, and that the very same God was living and breathing into me, each day—of these things I have been convinced and upon them, I have staked my life.

This, of course, was only the beginning of my journey. Shortly after I was assured of my faith, God filled me for the first time with power by His Holy Spirit. And it’s a good thing, because my sin was already taking a strong hold in my life. Pride has been, and still is, my greatest enemy. From an early age I struggled with judging my parents, especially my father. I knew enough about Christianity that I could see what they were doing wrong—when they weren’t living up to the standard of the Bible or the teaching at church—and I held it against them. I felt that I should not have to respect those who did not “earn it.” As the oldest, I was a great challenge to my father and his authority. Although we had a very good relationship when I was a child, as I moved into pre-adolescence and adolescence, things only became more difficult. By the time I was fourteen we were thorough enemies. My mother was always trying to mediate between us. Even though I never seriously disobeyed my parents, or immersed myself in the world, or ran away from my home, I doubt that anyone could have broken the fifth commandment more thoroughly than I did. Both of my parents tried to tell me how serious my pride and arrogance was, but I was staunchly certain that I was the correct one and that they were the ones who did not understand. They could correct me over and over, but it was like I couldn’t even hear them.

It took me until high school to see my arrogance for what it was. God used a series of very humbling events and godly men and women in my life to show me just how disgusting my sin was. Everyone had been effected by my pride—my parents, my siblings, my friends, my teachers—I was the only one who hadn’t seen it; and then all the sudden, my eyes were opened, and I thought I would die. In his love, my Father God patiently disciplined me, and began to tame this tongue of mine, which was as a sharp sword which wounds. He also began to teach me of the cross, and for the first time, I grew to understand the great cost which my savior paid for me as he hung at Calvary. Wild hearts can’t be tamed, but they can be captured, by the great and powerful love of an awesome God.

From then on, it has been a continual process of breaking and healing, humbling and sustaining, growing and glorying in the gospel of my Lord. For those of you who can relate to me: those with a strong head and a stubborn heart—with difficult questions and deep thoughts—with a passionate desire for something worth living for—let me assure you: there is one and only one who is worthy of your allegiance; he is the Lion of Judah, the Holy King of Israel, the Creator of the ends of the Earth. Pledge him your sword and he will make you a mighty warrior for him—only under his mighty hand will your knee bow, but when you do, you will experience the freedom for which your fiery heart has always longed—freedom in an unquenchable and passionate love which alone is powerful enough to hold you.

~Jessica