What does it mean to serve out of love, not fear?
Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.” (John 21:16 NIV)
I’d grown up believing that church staffers were naturally “holy” people who were born into devoutly religious homes, attended Sunday School faithfully every week, sang in the choir, spent long weekends at youth retreats, and set their sights on seminary since junior high. I had none of this in my background, yet, here I was, the newest member of a staff of forty, surrounded by a number of people who did.
Intimidation set in, followed by doubt. Was God calling the right guy?
I remembered what my colleague in Indonesia had shared with me during a morning commute– that if God could work through someone like Moses, He could work through anyone. When he was called by God to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, Moses was a fugitive, on the run for murder (Exod. 2:12). He had been a prince in Egypt (Exod. 2:10), but as a fugitive, he became a shepherd– the most detestable profession to Egyptians (Gen. 46:34). Think about this: a former member of the royal household ends up taking the most loathsome job in his culture– how humiliating would that be? Yet, God would say to this lowly shepherd, “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt” (Exod. 3:10).
Moses’ response? “Who am I (to do what You’re asking)?”
He argued that people might not believe that God sent him (Exod. 4:1). He told God he wasn’t eloquent enough for the task (v. 10), even asking God to send someone else instead (v. 13). In spite of all this, God made Moses one of the greatest leaders of all time.
After all, God can do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine (Eph. 3:20).
I had to trust that God knows what He’s doing: when He calls us to something, our role is simply to obey, and He takes care of the rest. I sensed He was calling me to serve at a church, so I took the only job opportunity that was available to me there: that of administrative assistant.
I had once read how film director James Cameron (Avatar, Titanic) broke into the film industry by taking an entry-level job at a B-movie studio, with the intent of showing everyone there what he was capable of once he got his foot into the door. This story stuck with me for years, and I applied a similar strategy to my first full-time ministry job, resolving to be the best administrative assistant I could be.
I knew that the church had taken a risk by hiring an inexperienced, 35-year-old man with a wife and a child on the way, and I was aware of the possible perception that I was only taking this job as a temporary solution to my unemployment woes: during my interview, I had been asked to commit to a minimum of two years in this role, and I was questioned on what I’d do if another film-making opportunity were to arise during that time. I assured my interviewers that I felt called to work at the church, not in film.
This was no temp job. This was a calling, and I felt that I had to prove it to everyone.
I’d do anything and everything I could, from making copies to making coffee, from filling out expense reports to stuffing envelopes, from contacting caterers to taking out the trash. When I’d do a good job, compliments and affirmations would come my way and I’d feel great about it, but whenever I dropped the ball or failed a task, the chiding I’d receive grated on me and I’d respond in anger, either at myself or at others.
About six months into the job, right after my first child was born, my supervisor and I were tasked with organizing a leadership conference for five hundred people, with a Celebrity Christian as the keynote speaker, to be held on the campus of a Christian university. There was a lot riding on this. Both my boss and I felt tremendous pressure to pull this off.
Well, everything that could go wrong seemingly did.
Little errors became huge problems. Tensions mounted between staff members. Fingers were pointed, and one of them was mine.
It didn’t get any better during the event: Rooms that we had booked were locked, delaying our set-up crew. The main speaker showed up several hours late, forcing us to cancel one session that scores of people had been waiting in the hot sun for. A lack of volunteers meant that I was stretched thin, filling in gaps in our staffing needs.
I was convinced that I’d take the fall for all these failures. Anxiety simmered into anger– I nearly had a “take this job and shove it” moment in the middle of the conference, but with a newborn son at home, I couldn’t risk being unemployed yet again. I stuffed my resentment deep inside and buried it under layers of polite smiles.
Not a good idea.
One of the general sessions was about to begin and everyone filed into the auditorium– everyone but me, that is. I kept hearing how great the Celebrity Christian and his messages were, but I couldn’t hear any of it because I had to hold down the fort outside.
Sitting there alone, stewing in my thoughts, I asked God why He put me in such a predicament. The stress, the pressure, the frustration…
While everyone else was in the auditorium, listening to yet another awesome message, I calmly strode into the men’s room, shut the door, made sure there was no one else around, and let it fly in an explosion of pent-up rage.
Shrapnel blasted the bathroom walls in a barrage of punches as I eff-bombed the place. I didn’t think anyone could hear me, but as I moved to leave, blasting the door open with my shoulder, I found my boss right outside the door, on his way into the restroom.
Our gazes locked for a moment, my indignant glare swiftly fading into shame. I brushed past him and left.
I was done for, I thought. I had to be.
I bee-lined for the shade of a tree and slumped against its trunk, defeated, wondering what I was going to do with my life now. I thought I’d failed at my job, burned bridges with the staff, and, worst of all, blew my chance at fulfilling what I thought God had called me to do.
That’s when I got an impression: “Serve out of love, not fear.”
I didn’t get it at first, so I reflected on what that meant.
“Serve God out of love, not fear. As it stands, you have a newborn baby and you’re worried about losing your benefits and salary. Fear of getting fired is what motivates you now, and that’s the wrong reason to be working here. God got you into this job, and He will take you out when it’s time. He’s your boss– not your supervisor, not your lead pastor. Serve God’s people because you love Him.”
It was painful to process, but I knew it was true– my fears manifested as my people-pleasing tendencies and constant need for affirmation. I was convicted: if I was to continue serving the church, I would have to do it out of love, not fear.
This brought to mind the passage from John chapter 21, when the resurrected Jesus approached Peter, who had denied knowing Jesus three times before the crucifixion. Jesus asked Peter, “Do you love me?”
When Peter replied that he did, Jesus asked him to “Feed my lambs.”
Jesus asked him again, “Do you love me?” and again, Peter answered in the affirmative. Jesus then called on him to “Take care of my sheep.”
Jesus asked Peter a third time, “Do you love me?”
Peter replied, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.”
This cast new light on my job– it wasn’t just menial labor, but a calling to help take care of God’s flock, which I was to do out of my love for Jesus, not because a paycheck was involved. The Lord reminded me that He is the one who got me into this role, and when it was time to go, He would be the One to remove me from it– no sooner and no later. This freed me up from my fears, which had fed into people-pleasing, which had fed into a need for affirmation, which bred anger when I failed to receive it.
I again resolved to be the best administrative assistant I could be, but this time, it wasn’t because I had something to prove.
It was because of the love of Jesus Christ.
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. (Colossians 3: 23-24)
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