My Dear Shepherds,
Nothing so reliably identifies Jesus’ disciples in this world as our love for one another. But as pastors everywhere can attest, we’re not nearly so good at obeying that command as we once thought. Pastors are on the front lines of changing that, not only by what we say but by what we do.
On his last night, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet and while they were still wet between their toes he said, “As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” The next day he died for us. Later John wrote,
This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. (1 John 3:16-18)
Financial scarcity might not be the most pressing issue facing our flock but their poverty runs deep and wide nonetheless. The real risk for us—the sin—is seeing their needs and being unmoved, heartless, withholding the resources we’ve been gifted and authorized by Christ to give. Or worse, giving from cold hearts.
There’s a lot of dying in pastoral work. It’s not really the sacrifices themselves that take a toll but the sacrifices of self that get old. Being a servant is one thing; being treated like a servant is another. When I bear with a critic in love or forgive someone who takes my grace for granted—well, then I’m actually laying down my life.
Often I prayed before a counseling session not only for wisdom but for love, especially when I was weary of spending myself. After I lost my cool in a couple of board meetings my chairman made sure he and I started meeting ahead of time to pray for love. Our people might not notice our lack of love right away but sooner or later they’ll start hearing the overtones of a clanging cymbal.
When we serve lovelessly we start keeping score of who’s taken advantage of us. Hurts and grudges begin to puddle at our feet and ministry becomes a muddy slog. We begin to burn out. But when our work is infused with the love of Jesus our sacrifices become music and medicine to those we help. Like good shepherds, we refresh their souls instead of weighing them with debts they can never repay.
The advantage to us is that we develop our true identity as servants of Jesus, “who took on the very nature of a servant.” The small, daily dyings for the love of our flock are a crucible refining away the dross of our old nature. (Crucible hides the word “cross.”) What’s more, all we pour out is miraculously refilled, like the widow’s jar of oil. We gain greater capacity and greater faith in the workings of Christ’s own love.
Sitting for half an afternoon with a lonely widow or giving up a precious evening to watch a middle school play, stepping into a marriage mess or bearing harsh criticism with grace—these are “love with actions and truth” as surely as emptying your wallet. In laying down our lives for a brother or sister we are offering ourselves “as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—your true and proper worship” (Rom. 1:1-2). And there’s nothing small about that!
Be ye glad!
Lee Eclov
