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It’s about being a servant I don’t watch too much Christian television these days. It’s not that I’m against it and I know that thousands of people are helped and ministered to by the different programs. I do watch the EWTN network some (the Eternal Word Television Network, a Roman Catholic broadcast) and I watch some of the local Atlanta-based church services once in a while. In general, though, I’ve become disillusioned with much of the offerings. My disaffection began even before the televangelist scandals of the mid-1980s. From late 1980 to mid-1983, I served as an associate minister in a large evangelical church out West. From time to time, the leadership would bring in the “big names” in Christian television to speak at the church for several days. I was often charged with driving these men around and making sure they were fed. What I saw on stage was wonderful but behind the scenes, it was another story. One man preached hard and conviction came to the congregation but afterward he was a boor and a slob at the restaurant. He ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, finished it off, and rudely ordered another. On stage it was all about Jesus but offstage he carried himself like a celebrity and it was all about him. Another “big name” came to the church and, after preaching, received the offering. As people came forward to give their money, he would say, “God bless you for that twenty,” or “God bless you for that hundred,” or “for that check.” If someone gave less than a twenty dollar bill, they didn’t rate a “God bless you.” Another man came and preached but refused to pray for people or greet them afterward saying, “I don’t want to lose the anointing.” I guess that he never read in Scripture that Jesus mingled with the common people and never seemed to lose “the anointing.” I suppose what distressed me the most was the preening, the posturing, and the aloofness with which many of these “big names” conducted themselves. Somewhere along the way, I heard that ministers were to be “servant-leaders” and the concept stuck. In 1998, I got off a plane in Nairobi, Kenya, and a bishop of our church approached me. A distinguished, well-spoken, highly educated man, Bernard Njoroge Kariuki warmly greeted me and then promptly picked up my suitcases and began to walk to the waiting car. Horrified that he, a bishop of the church, was carrying the bags of a lowly parish priest, I protested and tried to grab my bags back. Gently, but firmly, he said, “No. When you are in my country, you are my guest and I am your servant.” Now, that’s a servant-leader. In fact, he became the standard by which I personally evaluate other “big names” that I encounter. Someone shared with me recently he knew of a mega-church pastor that kept someone on his staff who, among other responsibilities, had the duty of carrying the senior pastor’s Bible. Excuse me? Recently, I was privileged to speak to the clergy of the Great Lakes Province of our denomination at a location north of Detroit. One day, the bishop of the Great Lakes, Frederick Fick, wore a grey clergy shirt. Now, to most, that is not a big deal. But in our communion, deacons, the lowest order of ordained clergy, wear the grey shirts, priests wear black clergy shirts, and bishops wear purple. To quietly, without fanfare, don a deacon’s shirt, is a simple act of humility which says, “It’s not all about me, it’s about being a servant.” Last week, I attended the Southeast Province Annual Convocation. Two things happened that, symbolically, spoke volumes. The first is that Charles Jones, the new archbishop of the Southeast Province, which encompasses seven southern states, publicly gave out his personal cell phone number. That means that no layer of bureaucracy, no office personnel, no system of safeguards stand between any minister in the southeast and his archbishop. Try getting a television evangelist’s personal cell phone number! The second was that Randolph Adler, the patriarch of the denomination (and we have churches on every continent except Australia), wore a deacon’s stole the last night he preached and celebrated communion. When fully vested, Bishop’s wear miters, priests wear priest stoles, and deacons wear a distinctive piece of cloth, that marks them as a “servant of the church.” The patriarch, who sits above archbishops, wore a deacon’s stole. This simple act sent a message to the hundreds gathered — “It’s not about you, it’s about being a servant.” I can’t imagine Jesus prancing, preening, or demanding privilege. I can’t imagine him aloof, or boorish, or demanding that an underling carry his Bible. I do imagine him being a servant, being among the people, and blessing them even if they had no money to give. And, if he were in my church’s gatherings, I can imagine him wearing a grey shirt, a servant’s stole, and carrying the bags of the lowliest person present. login to post comments | Father David Epps's blog
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