Have you ever seen a movie that turned out in the end to mean something entirely different than what you thought it was about? I’m hoping that’s what you’ll read this blog entry that way. There’s quite a bit in it about me (Tom), but by the time you reach the end I hope you’ll understand it’s really about you—and especially about the grace of God working through each of us.
Yesterday morning while reading through my daily web news sources I ran across a sneak-peek preview of next month’s Salvo magazine cover. Salvo is one of my favorite publications, with an intelligent Christian perspective on tough issues in contemporary culture. This time the cover has my name on it. I knew I had an article slated for that issue, but I was fairly well stunned to see it make the cover. (The article is about certain false and dehumanizing views of what it means to be human.)
A couple hours later I took my first look at the newly re-designed website for the Chuck Colson Center for Christian Worldview. There on the home page was a gallery of Colson Center “Voices” and “Contributors.” Some of my most respected leaders communicators were included there, including Chuck Colson, Tim Keller, and Mark Steyn. I did not expect to see my picture there along with them. But there it was.
I don’t quite know how to explain how this is affecting me, but honestly, for the most part it’s been panic and stomachache, all wrapped around with a disorienting sort of bewilderment. At the same time there’s another sense trying to work its way up toward the surface above those other feelings, which is worship.
Here’s the confusing part. I come from a small town (a good one, still one of my very favorite places to be). I remember when they installed our second traffic light there, shortly after my sister was in an accident at that corner. My Sunday School class at church has an average attendance between three and four people—counting myself, that is.
My greatest claim to fame by far is that I have the best wife and kids in the whole world. The home we live in is small by local standards—though certainly not by global standards—where we’re always competing for space to do our various homework and writing and emailing. Our family is famous at our church for wearing slings and casts for various injuries. Lisa and I, in particular, keep having bone and joint problems.
What I’m trying to say is that this business of being on a magazine cover or listed among the Colson Center contributors doesn’t fit the way I view myself. I don’t get it.
Still I can think of a few things that help me make sense of the whole thing. One is that God is great, good and gracious. I read Psalm 1 yesterday, which includes this encouragement for the one who delights in the law of the Lord:
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers
Even this is bewildering to me, in a way. I am seeing fruit in season, and ministry is prospering. But I know I am not worthy to be regarded as righteous. I know myself better that; and I know I am by nature a child of wrath, a rebel and a sinner. But then as I reflect on that, another thought pokes through all the other strong feelings I feel, and it gently urges me to get on my knees and worship God, who has regarded me worthy in Christ, by Christ’s merit, through Christ’s sacrifice.
The second thing that helps me understand it all is that God intends to do his work through inadequate people. There is work to be done—and if God didn’t plan to do it through unworthy people, who else could he choose? God wants us to make a difference in our world, and he has delegated his people authority in our various spheres to make things different and better in his name. We all have different spheres. We’re all called to act boldly and with courage in the sphere that is ours. (More on that perspective here in a BreakPoint/Colson Center article or in this 12-minute mp3 audio version of the same, both of them fresh this week.)
Finally, what helps make this make sense is this: websites and magazines aren’t where it’s at anyway. The ministry that really counts is local and face-to-face: in homes, in churches, displaying Christ’s goodness on the job, helping someone make it through when they need a few dollars or some deep encouragement, sharing Christ’s good news, and supporting the same kind of personal, relational ministry everywhere around the globe.
What writers, speakers, and other Christian leaders do (when we’re not doing personal ministry ourselves) is really just a service of supply and equipping. There’s an Army logistics (transportation and supply) and training center, Fort Eustis, near where we live. Logistics officers and trainers know they have a job to do, but they know they’re there for the front-line troops, not the other way around. They know who’s important, and that their job is to serve them.
Likewise, the real action in Christian ministry is up close, direct, and relational. That’s where you’ll find the heroes of the faith. That’s you. Thank you for your service, and may God bless you in it.