Secret Service

A week or so before Christmas a smidgen of church members gathered in the foyer to venture into our community. We had planned to sing Christmas carols to a handful of elderly shut-ins.

It was a clear, cold evening, and the stars twinkled against the night sky as we united in lifting our mediocre voices in melodies of old, pausing only to blow warmth into our frozen hands. The recipients heard our warbling and shuffled to the door in slippers and robes, frail in the glow of porch light, tears glistening and spilling down wrinkled cheeks.

They were not forgotten, after all.

Yet I would venture to say it was us, a little band of untrained singers, who were most touched. After singing multiple times over, we congregated back at church to reflect on our evening. One man shared from the deep places, tearing up as he spoke.

That was a powerful time, serving others. I almost didn’t come out tonight but am so glad I did. One day that might be me, a shut-in. I pray my church family remembers.

I mulled over his words as I drove home in the pitch dark, considering the ways God mysteriously enlarges and softens our hearts as we stretch to serve others rather than ourselves.

No bells no whistles, only our openhanded: Yes, Lord. Send me.

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The following morning I took an extra long walk to consider the slow and quiet kingdom work waiting to be accomplished.

This I knew: the holiday bustle and glitz and excitement would soon dim, once the calendar page turned, and I would naturally return to my own dutiful rhythms while neglecting to serve the community until the next Christmas season returned.

One glance at my day planner reminded me of an obvious truth. The majority of my days were spoken for; brimming with work. With precious little time to spare, what could I do to serve the forgotten?

I prayed for wisdom and God graciously opened the door. Within a week, I zipped up my coat, met a friend, and entered the world of Secret Service.

Do you realize that there is an entire globe of marginalized, discouraged, and unreached people on planet Earth, residing in your town and neighborhood? People who are in despair, waiting for someone to hold their hand, listen to their stories, receive prayer, and hear the hope of Christ?

It is magnificent that every single Christian has been entrusted with spiritual gifts meant to edify the church body and further the gospel. This is God’s good design and such giftings are most definitely a blessing–when properly stewarded. Yet sadly, there have been times I have waved the This is not My Spiritual Gift banner as an excuse to neglect loving others in ways that will meet their deepest needs. Making myself available to new endeavors outside of my wheelhouse stretches me uncomfortably, which also nudges me to trust God more.

Denying ourselves, taking up our cross, and following Christ will not always neatly conform to our natural abilities. Personally, I have found that moving beyond my own safety shell of spiritual giftings and personality tendencies has been a healing balm to my sore heart. It has pumped fresh oxygen into my lungs as I serve in humble, quotidian, hidden ways. A slender, fragrant bouquet offered to my Heavenly Father.

What a joy it has been to give back a thimble of love in Jesus’ name. No hype, no announcements, no committee meetings. Just two middle-aged women savoring a few hours each month to serve aching people. As we travel along, we happily discuss the things of God: Sunday’s sermon, narrow-path living, meaty Scriptures, answered prayers, weighty sufferings, the hope of heaven, and what it means to be the Bride of Christ beyond the walls of our church. We laugh and tear up and trade delicious dinner recipes and cleaning hacks. It is fun.

As I have discovered, laying aside myself while choosing to serve others with the love and truth of Jesus lifts my heart and soul to new heights. In a world that champions self-fulfillment, I am most fulfilled when I place others before myself.

Imagine if the entire universal Church joyfully skipped into their communities and served wherever the needs arose, regardless of personal giftings. I think our Sunday morning church services would be overflowing with a depth of spiritual vigor, pulsing with the Fruit of the Holy Spirit.

We are born to glorify God and make much of Christ. What a pity to miss the mission.

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I encourage you to smile and serve someone else in quiet humility this week. Pencil in a few hours to table your giftings, agendas, and dreams. Keep the riches of Jesus’ words from Matthew 10:39 close.

Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

Your behind-the-scenes kindness might mean delivering a meal to a shut-in, visiting a sick soul languishing in a hospital bed, buffing the smudgy fingerprints off of your church’s glass door, or writing notes of encouragement to weary pastors and missionaries. Perhaps it will involve rolling up your sleeves and scrubbing bathroom sinks for an exhausted mother or anonymously mailing grocery gift cards to a hard-pressed neighbor. You might even stuff Little Free Libraries across town with Bibles and good books. No need to construct a billboard detailing your efforts. God sees.

The truth? Secret Service will cost you something: time, money, and convenience.

Such efforts will also spear to death any self-absorption. Praise God.

You may bank on this: God sees your quiet service and will reward you.

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“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’  The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Mark 12:30-31