On Humility

I’ve wanted to do something great for quite some time. I wanted to be the savant, whose first novel gets published quickly, transcending eons of success, labeled the next great American book. Similarly, in my work with at-risk youth, I want to be recognized as the most talented and caring individual ever to be called a teacher and social worker and quickly be considered for the next Nobel Peace Prize.

My stories are about something important: empathic explorations of veteran’s coping with life after war; they’re relevant and have every right to be read by the world. Similarly, my work helping the less fortunate is not only meaningful to me, but also necessary for the good of society. I see myself deserving greatness and should be arriving shortly.

This past Sunday, my pastor preached on Mark 10:35-45. This is the passage where James and John declare they want to sit at the right hand and left hand of Jesus, in his glory. I think I can relate to these guys. I think understand what they’re asking. I imagine myself demanding the same closeness to Christ, asking for it with the same hint of righteousness. It’s not that I want to be the best or desire recognition, I just want to do something great, do the goodest good and anything less, just isn’t good enough.

The problem is what I’m missing in the meantime. Jesus responds by saying “whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” A slave is not only someone who serves, but serves enduringly, tirelessly, with little recognition of their service. Someone who understands the importance of every moment and doesn’t become blinded with future glory. Someone who knows that each task at hand is not only required of them, but a part of the something bigger.

I write stories not for an award someday, but because each is an important story I want to tell. Each story is an idea, an experience, a character and a world, much like our world, that needs to be told. And though there may not be millions of people reading my stories, it’s the few dozen (or less) actually engaged with them that matter. Similarly, the youth I have helped thus far are as important, maybe even more important, than the thousands I see myself potentially helping in the future. It’s not about one instance of greatness that affects millions, but about doing one thing for one person daily, hourly. If any level of greatness is possible it must be lived regularly just as the servant serves and with no regard for recognition.

Post two in a series of five posts for a class at Luther Seminary this semester: "Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Martin Luther King Jr. in Dialogue with Public Theology Today."