7/25/54

Scripture: Psalms 3 and 100.

Is there anything more compelling than service, freely given, without calculation of favor or return? General helpfulness, applied to specific needs, melts away the ice of suspicion and neutralizes the acids of hostility. It is a banner of good will. Whoever puts it in the quality of his life finds himself surrounded with friendships that bless his life with a kind of security of soul.

Do you recall that story of the life of an English school master, told in the book and the motion picture entitled “Goodbye, Mr. Chipps?” Mr. Chipping was a bachelor, devoted to his teaching in a boys’ school and disappointed that a promotion he had expected had passed him by. While hiking during vacation in the mountains to forget his disappointment, he met, fell in love with, and subsequently married a young woman who affectionately dubbed him “Chipps,” and who proceeded to remake his position in the affections of his fellow teachers and students. In due time they expected to become parents, but the beautiful and charming wife died at child-birth, and the baby died, too. In the loneliness of his loss, Mr. Chipps gave himself to his teaching with renewed intensity. But more than teaching subject matter, he gave himself to the boys whom he taught, with firmness and understanding and deep affection.

Many years later, having remained single all the rest of his life, Chipps lay in his last illness, at the end of his life. The doctor, bending over him and thinking him unconscious, said to one who stood by: “You know, he has no family. He never had any children.” The old teacher stirred and smiled. Though his eyes were still closed, he muttered cheerfully, “I have had many children -- all boys!” So had been all the boys who passed through his classrooms through the years --- “his boys.” He had served them with affection and firm understanding. And he knew a satisfying return in the good will and affection of those same fellows who were now grown men.

The word “service” springs from the concept of “servant” or “slave” --- not the unwilling one who acts from compulsion, but the devoted one who takes satisfaction in a labor of ministering to his master. His contentment and security come from knowing inwardly that he has done his work for the betterment of the one he serves. Such is the discovery of one like Mr. Chipps, or of another man -- this one not in fiction, but in history - John Bright. Bright was an English statesman. While yet a young man, the wife he had loved so dearly and to whom he was so devoted, died, and he was crushed in deep grief.

“All that was left on earth of my young wife,” he later wrote, “except the memory of a sainted life and a too-brief happiness, was lying still and cold in the chamber above us. Mr. Cobden called upon me as a friend, and addressed me, as you might suppose, with words of condolence. After a time he looked up and said, ‘There are thousands of houses in England at this moment where wives, mothers and children are dying of hunger. Now,’ he said, ‘when the first paroxysm of your grief is past, I would advise you to come with me, and we will never rest until the Corn Law is repealed.’”

John Bright did join forces with Mr. Cobden. Slowly, but surely, they did accomplish the repeal of the legislation that made it well-nigh impossible for the poor, the widowed, and the indigent to have enough bread. Bright’s own personal sorrow was eased. In doing a task that served so many in their desperation and need, he found a fulfillment which saved him from lingering self-pity.

Jesus commended to us all most earnestly, and demonstrated most powerfully, the teaching that “He that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger; and he that is chief, as he that doth serve.” [Luke 22: 26]. He demonstrated, in his own life, the grandeur and satisfaction of that concept in action: “I am among you as he that serveth.” [Luke 22: 27]. The whole orientation of Our Master’s life was outgoing toward others. All he sought on the incoming side was the will of the Father in heaven. And people through the centuries can affirm that our Lord’s humble, serving life was lived with dignity, serenity, confidence and grace.

(1) No man could be jealous of the possessions of Jesus, for he had no material goods, nor wanted them. (2) No one coveted his social position, for he had no exalted rank in community or government or church. He would do the most menial tasks, and in the end gave his body and his life for all mankind. (3) None could be jealous of his ideas, for there was no copyright upon them -- they were given freely to one and all. Jesus lived securely in the certainty that he was living God’s will and way for him. And the major response of those close to him was one of purest trust and love.

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There is great merit in the doctrine, generally held by Protestant Christians, of the priesthood of all believers. There is a New Testament ring to the belief that each faithful person is a priest of the faith; each one’s task is to be made holy; each person can -- as everyone should -- work for the glory of God in that person’s own sphere. In this emphasis, Protestantism has given impetus to many political, social, and economic opportunities for mankind; it has helped to bring protections to the individual that are precious to all the Western world and for which many of the East are longing.

If each person is a priest, in this spiritual sense, dealing with the divine, whether it be on a farm, in a shop or office, in the classroom or the court house or consultation room, in the sanctuary, the studio or the factory --- and if his tools have a spiritual value beyond their material worth, there is certain to be deep sincerity of heart.

I have known people to engage in the insurance business with the missionary zeal of one who is convinced that an incomparable service is rendered to folk who can be awakened to this practical degree of responsible protection for their loved ones. An insurance representative once said to his minister: “You have a special, holy task as a clergyman. But I tell you I couldn’t stay in the insurance field if I didn’t feel that I, too, had a real mission. I’m serving too - giving protection to homes and families, helping individuals plan for the education of children and a maximum of protection for their old age.”

The musician, Beethoven, had the urge to serve which kept him going after he could no longer hear. He made out a kind of “will” in which, speaking of his growing deafness, he said that when others speak of hearing a flute, or a shepherd singing, he was moved to despair of his very life --- except that he could not leave the world until he might bring out all that which he himself felt capable to give in music.

Well, does this sound vague to you if you, for instance, happen to be dealing in plumbing supplies? Why should it be vague? Isn’t the best of business still, not in the closing of the contract, and collecting a commission, essential as that can be, but in bringing satisfaction to your customer? If you sell me indifferent merchandise and give me only casual service, I’ll have a ready ear for your competitor. But if you really try to help me make a success of my house, so that it may be convenient, inviting and homelike; if you study my needs, help me save burdensome costs, and suggest convenient arrangement in installation, I’ll more gladly do business with you than with a less considerate competitor. What’s vague about that?

If it’s just financial profit you’re after, then the customer can hardly be interested in you more than on a “dog-eat-dog” basis. But if it’s a genuine service you’re giving, because you’re interested in your customer’s needs and his well-being, then there is a spiritual quality to your transaction that makes of your business a vocation.

Does all this mean that serving brings a profit? I belong to one organization whose motto is: “He profits most who serves the best.” I doubt that the profit therein referred to means, necessarily, dollars and cents profit so much as that total sense of well-being and personal satisfaction that comes form the sense of fairly meeting the needs to others.

Service may mean profit on the economic ledger. A fair profit had better be there, on the average, if you are going to stay in your business. I like to be able to live and take care of my obligations, too. But the deeper meaning of service comes to the individual who serves, in what the Bible calls “abundant life.” Jesus managed to achieve it, and to commend it to his followers, quite aside from economic consideration.

There is a peaceableness, a contentment, a strong sense of security that comes to the server. And his service helps to build the decent, trusting, confident society of mankind that may be worthy of the title, “The Kingdom of God.” One who plays a part in that larger building of the Kingdom has a touch of the glory that shines in his life.

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There are a few practical angles to service that should be understood. (1) One is that our personal satisfaction in serving is not the end of our effort. It is often, and I think usually, a rewarding by-product of our effort and intention. But the aim and end of service is far above self in devotion to what is right, as to the will of God. You and I know men who have served our country to the complete annihilation of their own lives and hopes. Millions of us who are the heirs and beneficiaries of their sacrifice ought to be grateful for the preservation of our whole way of living. But even if we are so ungrateful as to forget, their service has still been real and worthy, because it rises above self.

(2) Another consideration is this: being mortal, there are some limitations to the scope of our services. We can’t individually answer all calls to service nor meet all needs. We are not God. We can give ourselves in service to some causes and needs where it appears we can take hold with the hope of worthy accomplishment. But it can be frustrating to be scattered over too wide a field of needs to help effectively with any one need. And we need to be open-eyed that no mercurial activity over the tribes of distant Africa or South America shall close our eyes to the plight of tribes in Wisconsin, or the hunger for understanding affection in our own households. And too, we need a material order, an intellectual order, a moral order in what we do undertake, that first things may come first in our service. If our neighbor’s house is on fire, it is more important to carry out his child from its crib than his tuxedo from the closet. If the Persian refugee has been driven from his house, the provision of raisins and water for his desert travel is more important than the saving of his rugs. If a man has received, and served, a prison sentence, the hand and heart that will help him to restored self-respect is more important than anything else that, apart from it, may be offered him. We need order in all our lives -- in our service as well as anywhere else.

I’m indebted to Russell Ditzen for much of the thought I’ve shared with you today, and for an account of a school teacher who retired, but out of her retirement performed a service more mellow and broad than that of teaching language and arithmetic. With the busyness of preparation for the classroom past, that teacher took to writing letters to former pupils, because she wanted to -- letters of contact and counsel, letters of advice and sincere interest, remembrance of a birth or a precious anniversary in some former pupil’s home. And this homely, sincere interest in living made those letters and that friendship treasured in the homes of many folk. [Miss Sellew - “retired” social worker].

When we ask the way of growing in inward goodness, what more sound answer can be given than the faith that we are God’s children and that our chief end is to serve and enjoy Him forever?

“Thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory and the lifter up of mine head.” [Psalm 3: 3].

“Serve the Lord with gladness; Know ye that the Lord He is God’ it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are His people and the sheep of His pasture.” [Psalm 100: 2, 3].

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, July 25, 1954 (Union Service).

Wisconsin Rapids, July 10, 1960 (Union Service).

Wisconsin Rapids, June 20, 1965.