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Good Shepherd Lutheran Church Marks of a Frontline Shepherd July 13, 2003 |
"H" Hands-On Service |
Sermon Title: Hands-On Service
Grace and peace be unto you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
It’s good to be home. As wonderful as it is to be able to travel and meet and work with people from across the world, it’s good to be back in my own bed, my own apartment, and my own church again. As good as it is to be back though, it was tough to leave.
Bosnia is an amazing place. It is a country is such dichotomy, such contradiction, even within its people. They are beautiful, lean people who obviously adhere to the advice Pastor Dave gave last week about stewardship of our bodies. They relax and stay centered, valuing relationships rather than jobs. But they have a look of sadness in their eyes. There’s tiredness there from years of living in fear during the war, and after. The capital city has the same marks. Sarajevo has certainly begun its rebound from the war in the early 90’s. Café’s are full, streets bustling, and even some tourists walking around in the historical areas. But as you look at the buildings, you see the same sadness that’s in the eyes of the people. Bullet holes are everywhere. The not-so-occasional lot is open because the building that inhabited it for decades if not centuries was destroyed. And in front of the café’s full of trending young people, or the stores with the latest fashion, there is often a Sarajevo rose (as it’s called). It’s a divot in the pavement from a grenade or shell, filled with red paint to mark the spot where someone’s spouse, or parent, or child, was killed. So I suppose it’s fitting that after living in a place of such contradiction for 18 days, I’m torn over being happy to be home, and aching to go back.
On Sunday evening, we were given the opportunity to have dinner overlooking that city of contradiction in our farewell night as a group. We still had one more camp, but this was the opportunity to give gifts, start our farewells, and give thanks for a successful two weeks. I strategically chose a seat at the table that had a clear view of the beautiful panorama of the valley of Sarajevo as the sun set behind it. It was hard to believe that what I was looking at was once called the Valley of Death.
After dinner, and thank-you’s and all the like, our group of 18 ordered coffee and just relaxed around the table. I stopped talking at one point, and just lost myself in the amazing view for awhile. I was brought back to the group when I overheard someone remarking on how she loved the table after a big meal. The empty plates, napkins and silverware still there as evidence of a great feast. The laughter, and conversation mixed with the clinking of coffee cups on saucers as people share stories and jokes on a full stomach. And as I looked around the table, I realized that moment was the mark of the Good Shepherd. As I searched through countless experiences over the last two weeks of intense, Hands-On Service, I could find no better example than what was laid before me.
That’s not to say that there weren’t examples in the days and weeks before. It seemed as if every aspect of the program we were working with took into account the possibility for service. And it was in that service that I so often saw the face of God during our 18 days. The presence of God was with us as we prayed together as a team before we left Dulles, and every night as we gathered for devotions. That presence was there as we shook hands with our host families in our first day. Families that many of us were adopted into by the end of the trip. As our arms wrapped around the children at our camps in a loving embrace. As we shook hands with the teachers of the school, and as we all played together, I saw the face of God. With each encounter, each experience, it seemed as if the love of God became more and more real. But it was at that table, when we held hands together in prayer for the first time as a singular group of missionaries, administrators, and interpreters, that the entire mission trip came to culmination.
Around that table were Americans and Bosnians. Christians and Muslims. Young and old. Around that table were people tired from living out of a suitcase. People who had worked hard together to bring Serbs, Croats, and Muslims together if just for one day. Who had laughed and played with children who had known death and hardship in their lives already at the age of 10. People who lived the horrors of the war, or learned about them in detail from their hosts. Around that table were people who had cried together, and laughed together as we grew together. And it was around that table that all those individual experiences of God throughout the trip seemed to linger over the table that night. You could almost see God up there in the night sky, when I was suddenly stuck by the similarity between that dinner and the one of our Gospel for today.
We often look at the Last Supper as a depressing meal. With Jesus about to be arrested and killed, how could anyone even eat. But I don’t picture it that way. I picture a party. A celebration of the Passover in that upper room, with the same laughter, same familial relationship that was around our table that night. But as it begins, Jesus reminds the disciples why we can gather together as a family. As he kneels before them and washes their feet, he reminds them and us that the mark of a family is love. We must love one another in everything we do. And he teaches them, and us, that the expression of that love is in serving one another in everything we do. Even more, that no one is above that need for service. No one is above getting on his and her knees; getting down and dirty (quite literally) in order to serve all of God’s children. And it was only after that reminder that the dinner party could gather around the table and break bread.
I realize now, looking back, that the feeling we had around the table that night – the camaraderie, the laughter, the love – wasn’t due to team building exercises. It wasn’t from spending time together. It wasn’t from sharing stories or doing devotions. It was because we had worked hard together to bring the love of God to the people of that country. And it was because through that service we all saw the love of God emanating from those faces. It was only because of that, that I felt the very real presence of God that evening. And it was at that moment that I realized how easy hard work is.
Hands-on service isn’t always pretty. It’s grubby work that most wouldn’t dream of doing. It’s exposing yourself to ridicule or inconvenience. It’s seeing the face of God in the person you are helping, and realizing that they see the face of God in you. And it’s tiring, and inconvenient, and risky. But I promise you, you’ll get back more than you give every time.
With guilt, I look back on the trip and realize that the people I went to help probably gave me more than I gave them. I played games, and sang songs, and listened and told stories. We gave them money and sports equipment and lesson plans and a touch of tenderness and love. But they gave us – they gave me - so much more. In their eyes was hope, genuine gratitude, and pure love. They had the hope of a future where there is no violence between religions. Hope of a time when our Muslim interpreter wouldn’t suddenly get jittery when we entered into Serb territory. Hope of a day when there is plenty to eat, and houses are rebuilt. Hope of a better time. Gratitude for the gifts given to them even in lean times. And the love that poured out of them and onto us was extraordinary. And that it why Jesus insists that we get directly involved in service. Because in Hands-on service we come into relationship with the people we help, and realize that they’re helping us right back. It’s not our burden to serve the world. It’s our gift.
I tell you of this trip because it was a time when I saw God’s love for me and the world so strongly. I tell you this because it was a complete spiritual renewal for me. I tell you because I know I’m not the only one here today who’s had this experience. Many of you are involved in serving every day in your neighborhoods, or towns, or across the world. And many of you have told me that you’ve seen God, and felt refreshed in that service. We should tell one another more often about those experiences. So often we’re afraid of being boastful, telling about how we’ve done some great deed. But in fact we’re telling others about the gifts we’ve received. I also tell you because I know that many aren’t involved in any form of dedicated, hands on service. I know that your life is busy, and the work seems so hard. I know because that’s what I’ve told myself a thousand times. A thousand times I’ve made excuses not to go out on a limb, not to get dirty, not to put all of my heart and body into serving. But I tell you, you get more than you give every time. If you’re not involved in something that allows you to be in relationship with someone in need, find something. Not because you have to. Because you want to see that very real presence of Christ in your life.
As we gather around our banquet table each Sunday, let’s share stories, and laugh and cry and grow together through our work. As those stories are shared, and that love is exchanged, you can almost see God just hovering up above us like the mist in the air that night.
Amen