Mr. Fantastic and I sat in an airport restaurant before boarding a flight home from some meetings.
Our waiter, Corey, was a really nice twenty-something guy. On one visit to our table noticed the stack of books next to me.
“Should I get that book for my girlfriend?” He asked, pointing to a funny little book of advice for wives that was written (literally) a hundred years ago.
We laughed and I told him where he could get a copy.
When he came back I handed him a different book from the bottom of the stack. It was an in-your-face, very “real” Christian marriage book. I had only begun reading it on the trip, but figured I could get a new copy when I got home.
“This book is for you and your girlfriend,” I said with a smile.
He seemed delighted. I felt like a great person, a supremely awesome Christian, and an all-around generous book-sharer. And I thought:
I hope he reads the book and comes to Christ if he hasn’t already. I hope they walk in purity and get hitched on a glorious day full of joy. I hope that when I get to heaven, I meet Corey and his cute wife, their eight children who all served the Lord and a slew of grandchildren who did too. I hope I find out that all those lives were spent building God’s kingdom; that there were missionaries supported and sent, Christ-centered businesses begun, teachers who love kids and thereby touch generations, political leaders and lawmakers, and all kinds of other awesomeness in that family.
The act of giving a waiter a book could change the world.
Because it could. I mean, you never know.
But then I acknowledged that:
Corey could take that book and throw it in the back of his Ford F150, and it could bounce out while he’s on a bridge and end up on the bottom of the ocean.
Because it could. I mean, you never know.
And that is exactly what pastoring looks like. You hand out books, speak the truth, try to love people, pray for them, and look for open doors to help where you can. Then they make their choices and live their lives, and sometimes you never get to find out what was really going on.
All your labor could change the world. Or it could just fizzle away one day because of a poor choice and a bump in the road.
Somehow, though, all that giving and loving and serving changes you.
And then you start to do it without allowing the results to define your worth.
You start to believe the gospel message that you share so earnestly; you know you are a small part of a big Kingdom, and that just being in the Kingdom is such a privilege, it doesn’t matter if you’re not the greatest, because belonging to Him is better than greatness.
…I really do wonder what Corey is doing right now. I hope he’s reading….
