I’m spending some time in quite solitude, trying to sit as simply as possible with all my questions taunting me. I feel I need to create enough space inside to hear the voice of guidance.
I just briefly want to record something that happened last night. In one clear moment I caught a glimpse of what being a real servant means. Most of us get buried by the weight of the garbage of others before we become radiant through our service.
It’s hard enough to own my own hate and anger, prejudices and petty discrimination, but to be expected to own the sinfulness of others doesn’t seems fair. Why should I have to take the dirt of those who sexually abuse children, who lie, cheat and murder, who keep the poor chained to poverty?
But in that moment I really saw the great love of Jesus which bears the sins and troubles of everyone. I could feel the great measure of love necessary to understand servanthood. I had a vision of Uncle Rover as old and ill, and in that moment I understood the glorious gift it can be to care for a loved one made feeble by age. I was held by such great love that I was not weighed down by the burden of that care. It was a wonderful moment, and I still feel its effects, but I’m not sure it made my decision of staying here easier.
Only if I will be able to bear the title “St.” with honesty. Until I would not have been able to understand that those initials stand not only for Sent or Saint, but also for the most mysterious of all titles- Servant.
Only when I am able to see that I am more than an isolated individual, that I am a part of everyone, will enable me to find my purpose.
One of the most amazing things ever said on this earth is Jesus’ statement: “He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.”