Here’s something we don’t talk about much: Jesus had to deal with difficult people. And I’m not talking about the ones who were obviously opposed to him—the Pharisees, the authorities. I’m talking about his own disciples. The people closest to him.
They argued about who was the greatest. They wanted special seats at his table. They asked for things out of pure ambition, not out of any kind of spiritual maturity. And Jesus didn’t send them away. He just kept trying to teach them something different.
The human one—that’s Jesus talking about himself—didn’t come to be served. He came to serve. And here’s what I think we miss: that’s not a sad thing. That’s not him being taken advantage of. That’s him modeling what wholeness actually looks like.
Because serving isn’t the same as being a doormat. It’s not about erasing yourself so that other people can have what they want. It’s about looking at somebody else’s actual need and doing something about it. It’s about putting down your own anxious need to be important and just—doing the work that’s in front of you.
And the minute you stop keeping score—the minute you stop wondering whether anybody’s noticing how much you’re giving—you start feeling different in your body. Lighter. More true to yourself. Because you’re not fighting anymore. You’re not competing anymore.
You’re just doing what you’re here to do. Showing up. Being faithful. Loving the people in front of you. Which, it turns out, is how you become the kind of person that actually leads. Actually matters. Actually changes things.
A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope