The soul finds itself saying, instead of the "May I?" of love, the "Must I?" of duty. The yoke, which was at first easy, begins to gall, and the burden feels heavy instead of light.
You do love your work in the abstract, but in the doing of it your find so many cares and responsibilities connected with it, and feel so many misgivings and doubts as to your own capacity or fitness, that it becomes a very heavy burden, and you go to it bowed down and weary before the labor has even begun.
Now from all these forms of bondage the soul that enters fully into the blessed life of faith is entirely delivered. In the first place, service of any sort becomes delightful to it, because having surrendered its will into the keeping of the Lord, He works in it to will and do His good pleasure, and the soul finds itself really wanting to do the things God wants it to.
It is always very pleasant to do the things we want to do, even if they are difficult to accomplish, or make our bodies tired. If our will is really set on a thing we view the obstacles that lie in the way of reaching it with a sublime indifference, and we laugh at the idea of any opposition or difficulties which might hinder us.
I am ashamed to think that any Christian should ever put on a long face and shed tears over doing a thing for Christ which a worldly person would be only too glad to do for money. What we need in the Christian life is to get believers to want to do God's will as much as other people want to do their own will. And this is the idea of the Gospel. It is what God intended for us; and it is what He promised. In describing the new covenant in Hebrews 8:6-13, He says it shall no more be the old covenant made on Sinai, - that is, a law given from the outside, controlling a man by force, - but it shall be a law written within, constraining us by love.
What you need to do, then, dear Christian, if you are in bondage in the matter of service, is to put your will over completely into the hands of your Lord, surrendering to Him the entire control of it. Say, "Yes, Lord, YES!" to everything , and trust Him to work in you to will as to bring your whole wishes and affections into conformity with His own sweet, and lovable, and most lovely will.
In truth, if we only knew it, our chief fitness is in our utter helplessness. His strength is made perfect, not in our strength, but in our weakness. Our strength in only a hindrance. (pp. 237-241)
Jesus has now obtained a more excellent ministry, and to that degree he is the mediator of a better covenant, which has been enacted through better promises. For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second one. (Hebrews 8:6-7)It is at least comforting to know that I am not alone in my resistance to service. When no one seems to care what I am doing for some youth as long as they are entertained in a youth group or when it does not seem to matter whether I do something well at work or just get it done or when "someone" needs to clean up some mess at home that no one really wants to clean up, the "Must I?" of duty kicks in. Although it gets done, there is no real gratitude or joy or growth, just grinding through it all.
Mere duty and compassion are found together so often that I forget that they can be separated. I am so used to pushing through my work or service that I set up my own reward system. "When I'm done with this I'll . . . " is what I say to myself. Such rewards indicate that the service or work is not at all what I want to do, but what I must do. It almost seems a "given" in my life.
Smith points out that this is not only regrettable, but actually not at all what God wants. God is not pleased with mere duty, but wants me to want to serve. At first, this can seem to be burden added to burden, almost a demand that says, "Now, do it with a smile." This is not the spirit of the gospel at all. The gospel does not merely say, "Whistle while you work. . . ."
The good news is that my "wanter" can be converted and changed. I can find myself wanting to serve and work for others with enthusiasm and anticipation. Smith has some hints about how such a transformation takes place.
First, there is the realization that there is something wrong with compassion out of mere duty. When someone is paid for their service to me, I say it is just their job to be nice and render service. When someone is not paid and they perform their actions out of mere duty, as a burden to be accomplished, anticipating what they will get to do when they are done, I find myself not really wanting them to serve me at all. I find that the reason for their service is at least as important as the service itself. Because of this, most of us "paint on a face" of pleasure at doing what we don't really want to. We call this hypocrisy.
Realizing there is something wrong with how I have been going about serving is repentance. Interestingly, the realization is not merely a for personal growth, but more of a vision of what is right and true and how I fall short of that ideal. Repentance is not only "I'm sorry" but also the understanding that I have been missing something important and good in what I am doing.
Next, I find that I cannot merely put a smile on or just think positively about service in order to bring compassion. Compassion comes from surrender to God, not from trying to have compassion. Smith observes that God's will - what he wants - must become what is desirable and pleasing before I can put aside my own desires and have genuine compassion. Compassionate service is born out of a heart surrendered to God and his purposes. It is "Yes" to God and "No" to my desires.
Finally, this surrender is not accomplished by putting my best foot forward. Instead, it is accomplished when I can acknowledge my own weakness and inability to be compassionate. My strengths do not help me to surrender to God. My weaknesses do. In weakness I find humility and neediness. In weakness I look for help. In weakness I find myself sitting with those who need service most and understanding how little I have to offer except the truth of a God who helps the weak, even me.
Like my kids, I often feel frustrated by my weakness. In order to avoid it, I either try to convince myself that nothing is really wrong with me and my lack of compassion. I also try to bring compassion through force of effort to just think or feel compassionate. With my kids, forcing surrender in them is cruel and usually becomes mere guilt trips. I do the same thing to my own heart. Somehow I must help myself and them to embrace and even rejoice in their weakness because of God's mercy and grace.
Weakness is not "blessed" in itself, but only blessed because of the universe I live in. In the creation, I am loved and watched over by God, so I can be weak. I can even enjoy the thought and feeling of being weak since I find in such weakness, I find the experience of God lifting me up. Without that as my true joy, weakness will always be something I fear and avoid and compassion will always be a sham.
Lord, how I struggle with embracing my weakness, even in the light of your strength and love. Part of me does not like needing you, depending on you. Please show me the joy of your salvation and the depth of your compassion. Let my heart melt before your love. Amen.
I have been using Psalm 51 as a time of reflection on my sins and weakness. Instead of making such a time one in which I merely regret my sins, I have been asking God the "restore to me the joy of your salvation." That joy is in being the recipient of compassion and grace. As I learn to receive such joy, I may be able to be a messenger of such joy to others I serve.
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