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."
