Me

The idea of servitude is counter-cultural to Americans. To the human race, perhaps, but especially Americans. We are a me-first, claw-my-way-to-the-top, look-out-for-myself-'cause-no-one-else-will society to the core.

So if/when we open our Bibles and scan a verse talking about valuing the needs of other people, about dying to ourselves, we think, "Ha ha, Jesus, that's a good one. But seriously, now."

But I think he knew a thing or two about serving.



"When Jesus washed the disciples' feet, he taught them a final lesson about serving. Two of those feet belonged to Judas.

Judas Iscariot.

Just saying the name leaves a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. For it is a name synonymous with the most treacherous of betrayals--the betrayal of a friend." (Ken Gire)

"It has been said that forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that crushed it. Could there be a fragrance as sweet in all the world as that of Jesus having washed the very heel that was poised to crush him?" (again, Ken Gire)


And then, of course, he also died to benefit the very people who were killing him.

So he modeled not only general servitude, but also serving those who despise you, even when the personal cost is overwhelming. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time with that one.

It's like swimming upstream, and I don't mean going against the crowd. I mean struggling against the inclination of every cell in my body.

I penned (okay, keyed...but "penned" reads so much better, don't you think?) this bit last night, in reference to this dying to self principle:

It’s that hour when dusk falls down, settles in the cracks like ash, scatters the light from the air. It’s a somber time, the pause after sunset’s explosion, with leftover color sinking through the earth.

Melancholy.

That sad smear of resignation that comes when you’ve done all your trying, and it just isn’t working. I’ve tried.

I really have.

But tomorrow will bring the sun back, and I’ll try yet again.