Two weeks ago, 20+ students from our youth group spent two hours and considerable elbow grease dusting the both the new and old sanctuaries of our church.
We went over each surface at least twice. We stuck the corners of our rags into every crack and crevice. We worked hard. At the end of our time together, David (one of our sextons) came and thanked us for our work telling us we had done a great job. Before I could even reply, I heard a chorus of students behind me say, "Thank YOU David for all the hard work that you do so that we can have our programs."
You see, two people are in charge of the cleaning and care of our entire property, with all of its buildings and light bulbs and bathrooms and lawn work and dust and carpets and trash....and on and on and on. Our youth reflected about how many lightbulbs would need to be changed and how many surfaces collect dust each day. They reflected on all the things that need to happen in order for them to have youth group each week, all the trash that is taken out from their snacks, all the waste that is cleaned up behind them -- a lot of work, a lot of behind the scenes, thankless work. Spending two hours hard scrubbing might not be the most enjoyable afternoon, but it enabled our youth to reflect on the many things that are necessary for the church to function as it does, especially a church our size.
Happily Ever After...Ish?
Often, this is where we end out testimony. I am perhaps the most guilty of this: I like to tell you all the successes and the blessings and the joys of youth ministry in our congregation. I like you to know that your youth are learning and making a difference in their community. Even in times that aren't as great, I like to spin it around to sound good or talk about what we've learned or how we are going to do better in the future or frankly, I just leave out some of the mess. Everyone doesn't need to know all the sordid details of youth ministry.
We really like to tell stories of faith and mission that end with shiny pews and smiling sextons. But discipleship is not a fairy tale that ends with perfection and happily ever after.
On Wednesday of last week, a crew came into the new sanctuary to climb a considerable height to change some of those light bulbs. (As a side note, I should have sat and watched, as the sheer cavernous quality of our sanctuary is mind-blowing to me.) As they worked, a sprinkle of debris turned into a blizzard of dust particles cascading in earnest onto the freshly polished chairs, pews, and and wood surfaces below. Many observers came to me and expressed their dismay about the dust:
Oh no, the work the youth did was completely negated.
Oh dear, the youth will feel so bad.
Even after all that help, now the sextons will still have to do the work of dusting once again.
When I first heard these statements, I confess it was much the same feeling I have each week when I put on my freshly cleaned white Saturday sweatshirt, last week's coffee stain carefully and diligently removed, only to immediately spill my first cup of coffee down my front.
Total frustration. Overwhelming exasperation. Admit it: you know the feeling I'm talking about. When you've just cleaned the kitchen sink and someone puts in a dirty plate caked with dried food. When you've just cleaned the litter box and your cat chooses that moment for his morning constitution. When you've just cleaned and organized your desk and a pile of papers comes into your inbox.
Sometimes it's like the chores of life never end; we just cycle back through them over and over again. Sometimes we put all of our effort into something that goes unrewarded and unnoticed. Sometimes no matter how hard we work, it's like we can't get ahead. Sometimes, if we are really honest with ourselves, we wonder why we even try, if our efforts really made a difference, if there was a point to any of this.
The total monotony of discipleship
The reality is that discipleship can often be like dusting our sanctuary: by the time you finish, the other side has already gotten dusty again. Whether it was workers changing light bulbs or just simply time, the dust returns and must be scrubbed away. We can avoid it, sure, but in a few weeks, as we pull out our hymnals, feeling the grit of their dirtiness and sneezing as the dust assaults our noses, we know it simply can't be avoided any longer.
When I think of the monotony of discipleship, I think about the Israelites in the desert. After weeks of wandering and eating nothing but manna, the Israelites cry out, "If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing but this manna to look at!" (Numbers 11.4-6).
We long for the cucumbers and the fish, the melons and the leeks, the onions and the garlic, the wild, flavorful, vibrant pieces of discipleship. We long to be doing exciting and adventurous things, things that make a big difference, things that make us feel good and like we are a part of something bigger than ourselves. We signed up for this Christian journey for the excitement of the Promised Land and the hipster Jesus bracelets. We didn't sign up for manna...day in and day out...manna...bland, bland manna.
God responds that humankind does not live on bread alone but on the word of the Lord. We do not do this whole Christianity thing for the glory, and the warm fuzzy feelings and the total ecstasy we feel. We do this whole Christianity thing because we are following God, because we are committed to God's will and God's journey, because we want to give the glory and honor, praise and majesty to God. That means a lot of discipleship is eating boring manna. A lot of discipleship is endless dusting of the sanctuary and shredding documents and sitting in meetings and cleaning up the kitchen after we're done and stuff that's not sexy or glamorous but contributes to the real experience of worshiping Jesus.
Just keep swimming...
So today, I want to encourage us to do a couple of things:
1. Let's celebrate the monotony as well as the excitement. When we tell stories of discipleship, let's tell about dusting as well as about worship at Montreat; let's tell of digging post holes as well as the beach trip; let's tell of service as well as games. Let's not complain that the manna is getting bland and boring; rather let us give thanks that we have manna at all.
2. Let's look not for entertainment but for Jesus, not for fulfillment but for Jesus, not for self-satisfaction but for Jesus. For Jesus.
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