“Longing to Serve My Master”

Have you ever been as “busy as a one-armed paper hanger” but had no “Joy in Serving Jesus”?  I think we’ve all been there, “bought the t-shirt” and sent the postcard!  Somehow in modern Christianity we have adopted a theory that “Busyness Equals Spirituality”.  How soon we (yes, I can stir up a mean cloud of dust with the best of ’em!) forget the poignant lessons of the final verses in Luke 10. 

I like to think that Martha actually did try to “listen in” while she was puttering around; but her important Guest was desiring her undivided attention.  Jesus was clearly in no hurry to attend the feast she was frantically attempting to create, giving Mary the praise for lingering at His feet.  If Martha had not been so distracted, maybe her service would have been genuinely joyful, the outgrowth of a full and devoted heart clamoring for every means possible to demonstrate its thankfulness.  Even if it meant dinner would be “late”.

When you find yourself feeling soggy in your service, dragging in your duties, weary in your work (you get the idea…) consider:  how long have you lingered at the Master’s feet today, to “Fall upon your knees and grow there,” as it has been said, to let the sweetness of that communion give a lightness to your step, ease to your cares, and a happy motivation to your efforts? 

Below is a poem I found while scooting (the way I crawl around is too slow to call “surfing”) the web.  I love truly good, thoughtful poetry and enjoy sharing it as well. 

 

I WAS LONGING TO SERVE MY MASTER

I was longing to serve my Master,
But, alas! I was laid aside
From the busy and happy workers,
Who toiled in the field so wide.
They were few, yes, few in number,
And I could not understand
Why I should be kept inactive,–
It was not as I had planned.

I was longing to serve my Master,
I knew that the work was great,
For me it was easy to labor,
But, oh, it was hard to wait;
To lie quite still and be silent,
While the song was borne to mine ear

Of the reapers with whom I had mingled
In the work to my heart so dear.

I was longing to serve my Master,
Oh, this was my one fond thought,
For this I was ever pleading,
When His footstool in prayer I sought;
And the seasons of sweet communion
Were few and far apart,–
Not of Him so much as His service,
Were the thoughts that filled my heart.

I was longing to serve my Master,–
He led to a desert place
And there as we stopped and rested
His eyes looked down in my face,
So full of tender reproaching,
That filled me with sad surprise.
Did He think I had grudged my service
And counted it sacrifice?

“Oh, Master, I long to serve Thee,
The time is so short at best,
Let me go to the field,” I pleaded,
“I care not to stay and rest!”
I knelt at His feet, imploring,
I gazed in His face above;
“My child,” He said gently, “your service
Is nothing without your love.”

I was longing to serve my Master,
I thought that His greatest care
Was to keep all His workers busy
In reaping the sheaves so fair.

But there on the lonely desert,
Afar from the busy scene,
It dawned on me slowly and sadly
Where the great mistake had been:

My mind was so full of service,
I had drifted from Him apart,
And He longed for the old confiding,
The union of heart with heart.
I sought and received forgiveness,
While mine eyes with tears were dim,
And now tho’ the work is still precious,
The first place is kept for Him.

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