The Awakening

One day, while sitting in my office, the thought occurred to me that I was insulated from the world, and the needs of the world, the same world I was hoping to reach with the love of Jesus. Every day, I was together with people who think like me, dress like me, talk like me, and look like me. We all use the same jargon and we all believe the same things.  While that can be a good thing, for me it had become a smug, self-satisfied hiding place.  It was a tight-fitting cocoon that gave me an air-tight excuse for not engaging with the world – or anyone, for that matter.  I rarely even saw the guys that I worked with because we were always behind closed doors (granted, mostly for legitimate reasons: counseling, privacy, etc.).  This realization exposed two things: my own apathy towards the needs of others and my own gargantuan, smug self-righteousness.  I was satisfied with my own brand of christianity and was an expert at excusing myself from any real interaction with others, and I was also an expert at explaining why Jesus didn’t really mean what he was clearly saying. I had become a self-satisfied, self-righteous jerk; a pharisee of the first order.

Recently, I reviewed my ordination and calling as a deacon. In the Book of Common Prayer (1979), in the liturgy for the ordination of a deacon, you’ll find the following statements explaining my specific calling:

“In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”

“You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.”

“At all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself.”

And one of my ordination vows reads, “Will you seek for Christ in all others, being ready to help and to serve those in need?” My answer, my vow: “I will.”

In truth, without knowing it, I had become insulated and withdrawn from Jesus, the very same Jesus that I claimed to know and follow.

Looking back, the coming of the realization that I was hiding in a self-righteous, self-satisfied persona of holiness and spirituality was really God’s mercy and love to me.  Jesus was answering that simple prayer that I had prayed weeks earlier (see  previous post,”A Holy Discontent”) and was waking me up from my smug, self-induced slumber.  Little did I know, He was also waking me up to what it means to follow him.