Written in heaven

Give me Jesus.

-Moses Hogan

Up until two weeks ago, my preparatory work for VBS was done almost entirely at home and unseen.  

The week itself kicked off with set-up day on Sunday:  5-plus hours of transforming the church and dozens of classrooms into cave-y awe and wonder.  For the first time my direction was manifestly needed--by lots and lots of people.  I spent the day being sought out and surrounded by people needing to ask me--me!--questions.  

It was immensely satisfying to see the people of God and all the prep work coming together to create a memorable week for the children.  

But an ugly part of me was immensely gratified by my place in it all--important, needed, solving problems left and right.  

When the week began in earnest, after the morning rush of greeting children and getting everyone settled into their proper classrooms, I was pleasantly surprised to see the program rolling along smoothly.  

In fact, I could spend some time during the middle of every morning sitting down, having a snack, and visiting with the other directors.  I had access to the War Room, a VBS command center hidden in the nursery wing that I previously didn't even know existed.  

The War Room.  When in action, filled with registration gurus typing away on laptops, printer humming in the back, directors with thick notebooks open discussing details.

Other staff were gracious, knowing I was new at this.  They were so relieved and thankful for my help when they were under pressure.  Several of them complimented me and said I was doing a great job.

And that little ugly part inside drank it all in and swelled with pride.

The Monday after VBS was over, a post appeared on Desiring God entitled, "You Can Love Ministry and Miss Jesus." 

In it, Marshall Segal comments on Jesus' sending out of the seventy in Luke 10 to do an amazing ministry of miracles.  

When the seventy returned, they were exhilarated, "saying, 'Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name'...'Nevertheless [Jesus says] do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are recorded in heaven'" (verses 17 & 20).

Segal writes:

It's more appealing to our pride to marvel at what wonders God does through our efforts in ministry, than what He does for us, despite our weak and sinful effort.

That broken mentality is at the bottom of why I might find my ministry for Jesus more exhilarating than Jesus's ministry to me.

As thrilling as it might be to be used by God in ministry, though, Jesus promises an even greater pleasure...God penned our deepest joy in a different ink and another world...

Nothing can compete with the happiness of being held for heaven...

Jesus is not rebuking all joy in ministry, but in the kind of joy in ministry that eclipses joy in Jesus.  Beware of loving God more for what He does through you than for what He does for you.

He subtitles his last section, "You Cannot Serve Both God and Ministry," and goes on:

What captivates your heart more:  what God does through you, or what He has done for you?

Where is your imagination more prone to wander:  how God might choose to use you, or that He chose to save you in the first place?

A related article appeared on Thursday of our VBS week, commenting on the Jason Bourne movies: 

We have forgotten who we are in Christ.  When we forget our identity, like Jason Bourne, we should be relentless until we know it again.

Bourne, one of the great action heroes of our day, is a highly trained agent--to understate it--capable of winning a fight with nothing more than a rolled up magazine or a ballpoint pen.  He is armed with unrivaled skill and know-how for every situation he faces. 

In the first Bourne film, he wakes up from a failed mission, not remembering who he is, but quickly realizing all he is capable of doing.  Bourne is determined to find out who he is.  He doesn't seem to care that he can do things James Bond only dreams of doing; he wants to know who he is.

Herein lies the parable for the Christian life:  we are often more drawn to what we can do for Jesus, rather than who we are in Jesus.

So once again, a child of God discovers that her best efforts are but feeble, that God doesn't need her service, and her pride is embarrassingly foolish.

Yet though my sin is great, His grace is greater still.  He smiles on my effort and receives it in Christ as an acceptable service of worship.  He invites even me--me!--into the joy of His work, gently rebuking me as only a Good Shepherd can.

And He invites me to keep participating, as my wonder grows that He would not only save such as I, but He would then draw me into His work to proclaim to others the glory of His marvelous grace.