Not long ago, my church participated in an international sermon series entitled One Prayer. It was a great concept, where thousands of churches around the world became video campuses and heard the same sermon as the other participating churches. The main idea behind the series was: If you could pray only one prayer for the church (as a whole), what would it be? Our pastor’s One Prayer was “Make us desperate.” Others were: “Make us one,” “Make us audacious,” and “Make us wake up.”
About a month ago, I realized what my One Prayer would be, and since then it’s all I can think about. So here’s what I’d pray: “Lord, make us servants.”
Of all the major characteristics a follower of Christ should exhibit, I believe the most important characteristic is servitude. I don’t only mean volunteering at a local homeless shelter or food bank, although surely those are significant and important in their own right. Specifically I mean everywhere we go, in every aspect of our lives, we should learn humility through servitude. We should be constantly on the lookout for what we can do to help.
One of my official job titles is “server,” and I have an opportunity to serve others on a daily basis while earning a living. It’s hard, however, and of course I’ve ranted about this before: the most difficult part of my job is feeling so constantly unappreciated. I’m okay with helping and serving–in fact, I probably thrive on it–but doing so without recognition or praise usually results in anger and annoyance on my part. Constantly I’d try to remind myself how “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve,” or how Jesus even washed his disciples’ feet, but of course I’ve been too self-centered to give up my personal right to acknowledgment and praise. It’s taken a lot for me to really grasp the concept of working for God in everything I do, and honestly, I’m still working on it.
I think we get so used to our routines and to life swirling around us that sometimes we miss the most obvious opportunities for servitude. My church meets in a Sportsplex and the stage and chairs are set up on a skating rink. On Saturday nights, a group of men spend hours setting up everything for the next morning. Then on Sunday after our second service, it all has to be disassembled. One morning a month or so ago, a friend of mine commented on how much it would help if everyone grabbed just one chair and folded or stacked it up. Until then, it had never occurred to me how perhaps I could help with that. Since then, I stay after the second service to help put up chairs and pick up pens, papers, and trash. The other people who are breaking things down and putting up chairs do so without praise or recognition, and yet I’ve found extreme comfort in helping them and just being around them. Their humility and servitude is an inspiration to me.
I feel guilty telling about this now, as if I’m demanding attention for it, but I assure you that’s not the case. I just want to make the point that sometimes our opportunities for servitude are just sitting under our noses, waiting for someone to step up and help out. Now I love putting up chairs, and as weird as it may sound, I look forward to it. I know it’s what Jesus wants me to do, to be that silent servant, and obeying Him fills me with joy in a way I can’t describe.
I could go on, and maybe some day I will, but my point is this: I believe if we all realized how lowly and undeserving we are of God’s grace, we wouldn’t demand the constant praise and recognition we so often desire. I believe if we all learned to be servants in every aspect of our lives, this world would truly change. That old, idyllic, “World Peace” wouldn’t be so hard to imagine if we let that humility and servitude infiltrate every aspect of our lives.

Whew. Okay. Next topic: church & community.
For many, many years I called myself a Christian and grew defensive when people asked which church I attended. “I don’t have to go to church to be a Christian,” I’d say, and sure, okay, that’s true.
But.
Now that I’m involved in my church, I’m understanding the importance of that community, that Christian fellowship, and that spiritual feeding. I’m not going to dwell on this issue, because I know some of the people reading this might already feel a little defensive. So a couple brief points:
1. If you’re truly serious about forming a relationship with someone, you’d probably want to spend all your time with him, getting to know him, and surrounding yourself with like-minded people.
2. I’ve heard this point in several sermons lately and I feel it’s worth repeating: the church doesn’t exist for you; you exist for the church. Craig Groeschel at LifeChurch.tv is the main pastor I can think of right now, and he’s said this several times over. We shouldn’t go from church to church seeking one to meet our needs. We need to find a church whose needs we can fulfill, and we need to get involved. It’s not enough to sit in the back and bring your Bible and drink coffee and eat donut holes and avoid eye contact with others. It’s important to actually get involved, to actively seek out ways to make a difference in the lives of others and, in doing so, see changes begin in your own life.
This all makes sense, and I feel like I’m beginning to see the big picture, not only in terms of my personal life or my church or work life, but with regards to the Acts Organization as well.

So here’s the other thing: Modernism, as a movement, is focused mainly with the concept of simultaneity. Simply put, simultaneity focuses on the view of one object from every angle and every point of view at any given moment. As much as I can understand, simultaneity is closely related to the idea of the fourth dimension.
The way I’ve been thinking about simultaneity and maybe (or maybe not) the fourth dimension is in the way I perceive, and subsequently treat, others. For example, a couple sat down at our bar a week or so ago, and the woman was rather rude, whispering to her husband about me because I didn’t understand what she was ordering. Her husband ordered for her and himself, and I wasn’t as friendly as I could have been. Over the next several moments of our brief interaction, I saw him initially as condescending and later as slightly bashful, extremely kind, and possibly a little insecure. It wasn’t as much in what he said as his expressions and mannerisms, and as soon as I saw kindness in his eyes, I felt immediately guilty for not being nicer to him at the outset. Unfortunately, this scenario happens to me all too often. I’m instantly abrupt and later remorseful of my insensitivity.
There’s a woman on the new season of Big Brother who just drives me nuts. From the very first, she annoyed the heck out of me and I wanted to jump into my television and slap her silly. In later episodes, however, I began to feel she was incredibly misunderstood and attempted to mask her rampant insecurities with wild, erratic behavior. My irrational sense of compassion reared its ugly head once again and I felt guilty for having judged her so quickly.
Likely this latest obsession has a little something to do with a major experience this past May, when I was able to see someone’s true colors, feelings, and personality for the first time. I imagine it also has something to do with seeing things the way God would see them–that each person is not a person in the very moment in which I’m viewing him, but he has a past and a present and a future and a great depth I can’t begin to understand in one split-second of introductions. And it’s for that reason I should treat him with respect, compassion, and understanding. Well, that, and because it’s What Jesus Would Do.

So of course this was long. What else would you expect? But all this has been swirling around upstairs for a month or so and needed to be shared, even if it’s just for myself.
The only other thing to say is I’m finally out of the funk that’s been dragging me down for a couple weeks. I’ve found amazing reassurance and conviction this week and know, without a doubt, I am where God wants me to be and doing what He wants me to be. As a result, I’m overwhelmingly joyous.
So that’s it.

Peace, love, and servitude.