The everyday nature of greatness…

Image credit: National Archives. Crossing the Rhine under enemy fire at St. Goar- March 1945. ID: 535978

The Second World War ended almost 80 years ago. While thousands of books, films, and accounts of the conflict have been recorded, each day fewer people who experienced combat and their loved ones who lived through the conflict on the home front remain. Only a few years at most remain until the last members of America’s “greatest generation” pass from this life.

These brave men and women did more than protect the dream of democracy and liberate the world from tyranny- they also form the last living link with the devastation of the Great Depression and the economic rebuilding and social restructuring of America. Many of these same individuals became our social, political, and religious leaders who impacted the following decades through the Civil Rights era, the space race, and the explosion of new cultural movements and technological advances. People who were taught in one room schoolhouses saw the results of the atomic bomb, watched a man walk on the moon, and now can FaceTime their great-grandchildren on the other side of the world in an instant.

Every nation and every community have larger-than-life figures who tower over their history. Sometimes these men and women are politicians or war heroes or long-serving monarchs. Communities of believers have these people turned legends as well. Augustine, Luther, Wesley, Spurgeon, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., Billy Graham- such names evoke powerful memories among those who study church history. While such men and women were far from perfect, they each left a legacy that impacted the spiritual lives of millions. While it is unlikely that we will never achieve worldwide recognition, none of us is without influence. As we live from day to day, we are each crafting our personal legacy of faith.

Are you caring for a preschool-age grandchild a few times a week? Your attitude and influence will shape that child forever. Do you teach a Bible class to a half dozen seemingly-disinterested teenagers each Sunday morning? Some of those young people will grow up and remember not just the facts you shared, but the memory that you showed up week by week and sought to share the love of Jesus with them. Our impact is not always seen instantly or even measured in the course of our lives, but it touches eternity.

While we do not all have the measure of ability, each of us is charged with serving faithfully wherever he or she is planted.

You may not be gifted for greatness in the kingdom, but you are gifted for faithfulness- and faithful is what we are ultimately called to be.

Whether we are preaching to thousands from a prominent pulpit, influencing millions from bookstore shelves, or showing up to patiently love and minister to the handful of saints gathered in a rural congregation, it is not the size of the crowd, but the condition of the heart that determines faithfulness.

We do not look upon the photographs of D-Day or Iwo Jima, see the bravery there, and say “Well, those guys weren’t the generals or admirals or presidents or prime ministers, so they really didn’t matter.” Such a pronouncement would be blasphemy. It would disparage the faithful service of the very people who directly sacrificed the most in a vital moment in the world’s history. While political officials and military commanders were essential, the masses of the almost unknown soldiers were the key to lasting victory.

In the same way, God looks at His kingdom and sees value in each person. No one is nameless or small or insignificant in the kingdom of God. Honored professors, beloved authors, and celebrity preachers have their place, but the vital work of discipleship and ministry is most often carried out by unknown believers in overlooked places never seen by the majority of the watching world.

May we remember the truly great people that helped shape us into we are, and may we seek to use our gifts, whatever their shape or size, to pass on our blessings. We should never forget that our gifts, which may seem to us so very small, can be used for great good when we are willing to yield them faithfully in service to Christ.

Time marches on…

Earlier this month, I graduated with my Master’s degree in ministry after beginning my undergraduate studies 20 years ago. As I approach the last full year of my thirties and with time’s gathering to glory of more and more family and friends in recent years, it seems like a good moment to reflect as the calendar page turns yet again. This photo fell out of an aging album a few weeks ago during Thanksgiving festivities, and in looking at my younger self, it seemed like a story come full circle.

I am sure this shot was taken at a Vacation Bible School decades ago (probably around 1990 or so), and my first thought was that Mrs. Johnnie Bell Webb would have been at her post passing out Kool-aid and cookies in the fellowship hall. Paper plates overflowing with her signature saltines and peanut butter would be stuffed into our mouths as we bolted from crafts to playground and back again.

Mrs. Johnnie Bell passed away a few weeks ago, but I realize more and more that she was one in a long lineage of unsung heroes who form the mortar that holds the church tight and together without being singled out for praise.

I have been blessed to be able to spend my life sharing Jesus with others for many years now, and I am grateful for each opportunity, but I know too well that much of the Christian influence in my own life came from those faithful believers who showed up after work to glue popsicle sticks, who spent their Saturdays draining baptisteries, and who cooked countless casseroles to feed the grieving and the lonely.

The church is a body with many parts, yet we who stand week to week on platforms and in the pulpits often get a disproportionate amount of the praise. More than ever, I am coming to see that the quiet, committed disciples who show up and do whatever is needed are among the church’s greatest strengths. 

In Christ’s kingdom, there is no greater honor than to be, as He was, the servant of all.

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