The Spiritual Practice of Service

Practicing service is not hard to define or illustrate.

Foster writes that you serve when you listen to someone, defend another’s reputation, or hold the hand of a grieving soul. You serve when you prepare meals for the homeless during the holidays, when you work in the nursery at church, make a financial contribution, or sacrificially clean out your closets and deliver the goods for resale by the women’s shelter.

At its most basic, service is thinking of another’s wellbeing first, ahead of looking out for yourself. Parenthood is therefore an act of service. So is holding the door for another. Teaching, advocating, recognizing, affirming: these are acts of service.

Service is noble, honorable, and thoughtful.

In its extreme, placing another ahead of yourself is what a hero does in laying down their life so another can live. We recognize heroism as an act of selfless courage and are offended when the heroes among us are disrespected.  

Society increases in civility when greater and greater percentages of its citizens practice the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

This is desirable and good. While we might be amused by instances of incivility, no one aspires to be uncivil, live in the toxic atmosphere of unkindness, or keep the company of a narcissist. Even a conversation infused primarily with first-person pronouns—I, me, my, mine—becomes tedious quickly.

If even an unbeliever aspires to a more civil society, then why does service to another, deference, and thinking of others before you think of yourself rise to the level of a spiritual discipline?

Technically, it is a correct answer to say, “I want to serve others because that’s what Jesus did.” True enough. In fact, Jesus said of Himself, “…the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”

But why?

Why did Jesus demonstrate acts of service—and why does service rise to the level of a spiritual discipline for us?

Whether you are analyzing the seven deadly sins, or the three, categorical sins listed in Scripture, you can make an argument that the sin of pride is the most fundamental, and therefore, the most egregious, devious, deceptive, and most alluring. Scripture portrays pride as the first sin, both in heaven by Lucifer and in the Garden by our predecessors.  

Thus, in our dedication to resist sin, the initial point of contact with the enemy of our souls is pride. Master pride, or prevent pride from penetrating your life, and you control the battlefield of life.

It is not good enough to identify an individual who is consumed with pride and then dedicate yourself to not be like that person. The reason is that resisting a big pitfall leaves too much room for negotiation, rationalization, and tolerance of a lesser form of pride. I may as well vow not to get wet while walking on a rainy day and judge my success against the man walking without an umbrella. We both get wet.

The man who declares he’s 99% unselfish and humble reveals that he is 100% proud because he continues to believe that his worth, value, and standing as a person are based within himself and his sense of self-justification. Lewis writes in The Four Loves, “…this pretense that we have anything of our own or could for one hour retain by our own strength any goodness that God may pour into us, has kept us from being happy.” He goes on to write, “The consequences of parting with our last claim to intrinsic freedom, power, or worth, are real freedom, power, and worth, really ours just because God gives them and because we know them to be (in another sense) not ‘ours’.”

Any aspiration or effort to establish myself, recognize myself, or set myself apart is a delusion of self-grandeur and self-entitlement—the conviction that I’m owed, deserving, or intrinsically due recognition and identification by God and others.

Dedication to self-establishment plants the seed of pride, first within you, then with God, and then with others. Once rooted, an established sense of pride makes you vulnerable to the lusts that define all sins: pride. Whether sin rewards you or embitters you, all sin is independence from God—and therein is the definition of pride.

Augustine said, “It was pride that changed angels into demons; it is humility that makes men as angels.”

In practicing the spiritual discipline of service, you practice, learn, and demonstrate humility. This is the rationale underlying this spiritual practice.

Both James and Peter state the same imperative: “Humble yourselves.” Paul offers a practical clue as to how humility happens: “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.”

Note that humility occurs in the mind. Thus, humility is an attitude, a decision, an outlook, a conviction.

Paul tells the Believers located in Rome that they will be transformed by the renewing of their mind. He tells the Colossian Christians to set their mind on things above, not on earthly matters.

Summing up, Paul writes: “Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.  Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

Paul instructs us to adopt the same attitude we observe in Christ. To this end, note that Jesus “humbled Himself,” just as James and Peter exhort us to do.

Self-elevation, self-primacy, self-sufficiency, self-determination, self-worth, self-importance; me, myself, I. Self-regard. Each of these terms is indicative of pride and the pride of [my] life. Even a light embrace, or passive adoption, of self-entitlement makes you vulnerable to temptation.

How did Christ manage temptation?

He adopted an attitude of service, a humility of mind. Each day, in every way, Jesus knew that He came to serve, not be served. Thus, we not only have a window into our Older Brother’s soul, but we see how He managed being tempted in all ways like we are… yet without succumbing to sin.

The practice of the spiritual discipline of service protects us from temptation rooted in pride, reminds us that we bring nothing to God that is worth keeping—sola Christos; for me, to live, is Christ—and reestablishes with every act of service that it is in losing our lives that we find our lives. While pride afflicts our ability to see clearly, humility raises our awareness of reality, especially what is true of us in our relationship with God.

Erwin McManus writes, “Humility is not about having a low self-esteem. Humility is about self-awareness.”

The more a person understands the magnitude of God’s grace, the more they realize what Lewis conveyed earlier: In candid self-awareness, I understand that I bring nothing to God. There is NO basis for my life, my esteem, or my standing apart from Jesus Christ. All that I am must be attributed to the mercy of God.

Understanding, adopting, and demonstrating this attitude, disposition, and conviction is pure, direct, unadulterated power. But this is the power of Christ in and through you. This is clear-headed self-awareness. That God would condescend to include you in the life of Christ is remarkable. Grasping even a whiff of this grace causes gratitude to overflow your soul and permeate your life.  

It is a heady thing to be loved by God, to access His Scripture, grasp what is true, and enjoy eternal destiny. It is remarkable to be blessed by God. To be forgiven of your sin and sinfulness is empowering.

Practicing the discipline of service assists you in your avoidance of pride. Practicing service protects you from any belief that you merit God’s mercy, deserve heaven, or that you occupy an exalted position in life because of anything you’ve done.

In any endeavor, and within entities like the church, there are always adjustments, issues, and concerns. Life in general is a bumping and grinding along an uncertain journey. Any venue featuring more than a few folks is a messy and inefficient business. For this, there are leadership books, business books, and religious books.

But these are not the issues I’m addressing in this series of articles.

Civil society is veering toward chaos and societal breakdown. Given the magnitude of our tumult, there are only two options large enough, knowing enough, and powerful enough to quell our concerns and fulfill our needs: government or God.  

It is imminently clear that human institutions and governmental initiatives are insufficient to calm the storm and restore the peace and tranquility we desire. A November 2021 Pew Research Center study is alarming. America is not divided in two: Red and Blue, Conservative or Progressive. We are divided into nine, distinct groups the study reports.

Thus, we are not divided. We are fractured. President Biden pledged in his inaugural address to bring unity to the country. Eleven months into his term, our schisms are metastasizing and his polling numbers are plummeting. And while there is talk of change with the mid-term elections, a realist realizes that a change in government does not ensure unity.

If your hope and future are tied to government, your hope and future are tenuous.

The alternative option belongs to God.

Of course, the Kingdom of God is unfazed by humanity’s heaving and sighing, writhing and wriggling. The Christian comfort is that you are God’s ambassador—His representative living in a foreign land, representing your true home. As the poet wrote, “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through, / My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue; / The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door, / And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”

On the one hand, this assurance—this reassurance in life’s lunacy—gives you confidence, security, and eternal hope. On the other hand, this assurance equips you to engage this life. As you’ve read time-and-again in this series, Jesus told us we are to be salt and light in a dark, collapsing, and increasingly petty society.

As society unravels, stress escalates. As life grows uncertain, people become more desperate. Desperate people, do desperate things—and desperation is not rational, reasonable, judicious, calculating, logical, or efficient.

Pew’s political typology is telling: American society is no longer as stable as it once was. We are degenerating as a society and culture. Referencing Mordecai’s famous counsel to Queen Esther, the church has been raised up for just such a time as this.

Except that the church—generally speaking—has shot itself in the foot and is no longer in the fight for those lost in sin and darkness. As I’ve written earlier, there are no good numbers associated with the church.

The broad view of why this has transpired is so complex as to be overwhelming—and overwhelmed people are resistant to change, even if their status quo is unproductive. While this is normal, Einstein (it’s thought) was correct when he said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

I was visiting with a close observer of the church. As we talked about the business and function of the church, and lamented the criticism that the church and its message are deemed irrelevant—by both those inside the church and outside—his thoughts grew sober, his voice dropped, and he said, “When it comes to the future of the church, I fear we are straightening deck chairs on the Titanic.”

Remediating the church, breathing life back into her, feels overwhelming. Complex problems require complex solutions.

Unless….

Unless the problem only seems complex and is in reality a fundamental problem.

Fundamental problems require fundamental solutions. Said another way, a fundamental problem cannot be resolved programmatically. You remedy a fundamental problem by working on your fundamentals.

Thus, the rationale for this series of articles exploring the fundamentals of faith: the spiritual disciplines.

Merton said, “Pride makes us artificial; humility makes us real.”

When you practice the discipline of service, your faith is made real—real as in relevant, compelling, loving. Indeed, faith-in-action. The world is not impressed by spiritual living. The days of inviting people to church, and this having perceived value to outsiders, are past.

While the spiritual practice of service guards your soul against pride and instills you with the safeguard of humility, your practice expresses love to those whom you serve. Why? It’s like Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”

Herein is the benefit and bounty of practicing the spiritual discipline of service.