I’ve just finished reading Joshua. It was part of my daily Bible reading, following Scripture Union’s “Encounter with God” guide.
He dies at the end of the book.
One day I will try to write something about how special the death of a godly person is. But right now I want to look at something else – related, but different.
After his death, Joshua was called the Servant of God, the very title given Moses after his death.
More than half way through the “Think Further” section that goes along with the daily readings, I found this compelling statement:
“God calls us not merely to serve but to be servants. An important distinction here. If I serve, I decide when and how. If I am a servant, all personal choice is gone; someone else gives the orders.”
Does that challenge you as much as it challenged me?
I’m just learning to serve. Now I have to quit that and become a servant?
Yes.
But I have a great story to tell about what that looks like.
I shared this Beth Moore story with my friend, John, earlier this week and he asked me (told me firmly) to write it up in my blog.
But I didn’t get around to it – until I read that bit about servants.
Now I want to.
John didn’t know who Beth Moore is, never heard of her. So he didn’t know whether I told the story correctly or not.
Many of you do know who she is – a Bible teacher extraordinaire whose teachings are being used by groups all over the world.
You may have heard her tell this story, in which case I plead your forgiveness for even trying to convey is here. I will leave out so much and maybe even get a little wrong.
But I won’t miss at least one of the messages of that story.
She started her telling by explaining how she got “filled up” with worship by singing and dancing to praise music one day before leaving for the airport to begin a trip to somewhere she was supposed to speak.
Being so full of the Lord, she decided to spend her time on the first leg of the journey trying to memorize the first chapter of John. Her method is to read this chapter of the Bible aloud several times and then to look away and see how much of it she could recite. Somewhere during the process, when she paused to try to remember, the person in the seat next to her provided the missing words – with an edge to her voice.
But Beth persevered. In the next airport, waiting to board a plane so small she didn’t think the airlines had a name, she continued her memorization efforts. Sitting with the Bible on her lap and a row of other waiting passengers facing her, she tried to focus – until she realized they weren’t staring at her, but at something behind her.
It turned out to be a man in a wheelchair, who was pushed to a stop at the end of her row, a couple of seats away. A man who looked at least 136 year old and had long nails and white hair way down his back. It couldn’t be Howard Hughes, but that’s who it reminded her of.
Then she felt the Lord preparing to speak to her and she said, please don’t make me witness to that man. Please don’t make me.
And He said, brush his hair.
I’ll witness, Lord. Really I will.
Brush his hair.
So she got up and went over to him and quietly asked if she could brush his hair.
And he said, what?
So she repeated it a little louder.
And he said, If you want me to hear, you will have to speak up louder.
So she did.
And he said, if you want to.
She said, I do, but I don’t have a brush.
He did, in his zippered bag behind the wheelchair. So she knelt down and felt through his jimmies and found the brush and stood up behind him.
His hair was clean, she said, but very tangled. Full of snarls and matted.
I am the mother of daughters, she said. I know how to get tangles out. You start at the bottom and work your way up.
So she did.
When she was finished and his hair was clean and shining and tangle-free, she came around and knelt in front of him and put her hands on his hands and said, Sir, do you know Jesus?
He said, as a matter of fact I do.
And he told her that he had been in a medical facility for a long time after being very ill and his wife had not been able to visit him. But now he was going home.
And, he said to Beth, you have made me beautiful for my bride.
I cried. And I wasn’t the only one.
Forgive me if I didn’t get all the details right. Go get Beth Moore’s “Loving Well” teaching series and listen and watch her tell the story herself.
In the meantime, I don’t think I really need to tell you how this speaks to being a servant, not just serving.
Beth was specifically teaching about how to really love well, how to love like Jesus. She had spoken to us about how to love those who are a joy to us, how to love those who are testy and even those who are our foes.
But until we learn to love those who are far from us – either across the world or across an airport waiting room – whose who cannot love us in return – we will not really know how to love well.
And until we learn to let God order our ways, we will not know the incredible blessing of being part of God’s blessing on someone else.
I have a lot to learn about loving well.
I have a lot to learn about being a servant.
But I cherish the seed sown through the telling and hearing of this story and I pray that this seed may take root and grow in my life and bear fruit.
And in yours, too.
