Introduction — The Art of Unselfish Living
When Jesus took the time to explain His reason for coming among us, He was simple and direct: to serve and to give. Not to be served. Not to grab the spotlight in the center ring. The very words He chose cut against every natural instinct — “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”
Centuries earlier, Isaiah had prepared the announcement. God declared: “Behold, My Servant. He will not cry out or raise His voice, nor make His voice heard in the street. A bruised reed He will not break, and a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish; He will faithfully bring forth justice” (Isaiah 42:1–3). How unusual those words must have sounded to the people of that day. God was proclaiming, ages before it happened, that the Savior would come as a gentle servant — a leader who would transform the world and bring forth justice, but not with loud harangues or offensive threats. He would do it with love. Gentle as a lamb. And because He came in peace, as a gentle servant, Jesus Christ succeeded in changing the world forever — and He brought real and lasting justice.
Serving and giving don’t come naturally. They never have. Living an unselfish life is an art — and like all art, it must be learned, practiced, and pursued with intention. This is not a book designed to give anyone warm fuzzies. It’s meant to be applied. You don’t have to be brilliant or gifted to pull off these truths in your life. But you do have to be willing.
Chapter 1 — Who, Me a Servant? You Gotta Be Kidding!
Hoarding and flaunting have replaced sharing and caring. That is the honest diagnosis of our age, and it stands in sharp contrast to what God is actually working toward in His people. Scripture is unambiguous: “For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first-born among many brethren” (Romans 8:29). God is committed to one major objective in the lives of all His people — to conform us to the image of His Son. After bringing us into His family through faith in Christ, the Lord God sets His sights on building into us the same quality that made Jesus distinct from all others in His day. No mumbo jumbo. Just a straight-from-the-shoulder fact: He came to serve and to give. It makes sense, then, that He desires the same for us.
Jesus was direct about what that looks like in practice. “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them,” He told His disciples. “It is not so among you, but whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave; just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:25–28).
At this point someone usually says, “But there must be leadership to get the job done.” Yes — but it must be servant-hearted leadership among all. Which form of government a church embraces matters far less than whether everyone involved — whether leader or not — sees himself as one who serves, one who gives. It’s the attitude that is most important. Perhaps the finest model, except Christ Himself, was that young Jew from Tarsus radically transformed from a strong-willed official in Judaism to a bond servant of Jesus Christ — Paul. Almost without exception he begins every piece of correspondence with words to this effect: “Paul, a servant” or “Paul, a bond-slave.”
Two revealing tests expose the presence — or absence — of genuine humility. First, a nondefensive spirit when confronted. This reveals a willingness to be accountable. Genuine humility operates on a rather simple philosophy: nothing to prove, nothing to lose. Second, a true servant stays in touch with the struggles others experience. There is a humility of mind that continually looks for ways to serve and to give.
Being real — that’s the major message of this chapter. Being who you really are, and then allowing the Lord God to develop within you a style of serving that fits you. Servanthood is not one-size-fits-all. It is personal, specific, and deeply individual.
Chapter 2 — A Case for Unselfishness
”The trouble with success,” as it has been well observed, “is that the formula is the same as the one for a nervous breakdown.” And what is that formula? Work longer hours. Push ahead. Let nothing hinder your quest — not your marriage or family, not your convictions or conscience, not your health or friends. Be aggressive, and if necessary mean, as you press toward the top. It’s the same old fortune-fame-power-pleasure line we’ve been fed for decades.
Scripture cuts through it directly: “You younger men, likewise, be subject to your elders; and all of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble. Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety upon Him, because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:5–7). Following God’s directives will bring the one benefit not found in the world’s empty promises: a deep sense of lasting satisfaction. This is what could be called the forgotten side of success — and it is the success that comes to those who develop the heart of a servant.
Consider how naturally the opposite flows out of us. We ridicule, we dominate, we criticize. We cut a person to ribbons with our words and then develop clever ways to keep from admitting it. “I’m not dogmatic, I’m just sure of myself.” “I’m not judging, I’m discerning.” “I’m not argumentative, I’m simply trying to prove a point.” “I’m not stubborn, just confident!” All of this pours out with hardly a second thought.
Paul set the alternative in unmistakable terms: “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself; do not merely look out for your own personal interests but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:3–5). The portrait of a servant is simple: not a getter, but a giver. Not one who holds a grudge, but a forgiver. Not one who keeps score, but a forgetter. Not a superstar, but a servant.
Chapter 3 — The Servant As a Giver
The posture of the giver starts with a prayer: “Lord, show me how You would respond to others, then make it happen in me.” The Philippians text sets the foundation — doing nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regarding one another as more important than ourselves, looking not only to our own interests but also to the interests of others (Philippians 2:3–4). From that foundation, Paul paints a picture of what servant-giving looks like in practice. It means being devoted to one another in brotherly love, giving preference to one another in honor — not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer, contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality (Romans 12:10–13).
Paul himself modeled this in his own ministry: “We do not preach ourselves but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your bond-servants for Jesus’ sake” (2 Corinthians 4:5). And the calling extends to every believer — you were called to freedom, but not freedom for selfish ends; rather, “through love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13). Encourage one another and build one another up (1 Thessalonians 5:11). Consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds (Hebrews 10:24).
All of this leads to a fundamental shift in orientation. Instead of always thinking about receiving, start looking for ways to give. Instead of holding grudges against those who offended you, be anxious to forgive. Instead of keeping a record of what you’ve done or who you’ve helped, take delight in forgetting the deed and being virtually unnoticed. A great proof of true servanthood is anonymity.
The churches of Macedonia give us one of Scripture’s finest examples. In a great ordeal of affliction, their abundance of joy and their deep poverty overflowed in the wealth of their generosity. According to their ability — and even beyond their ability — they gave of their own accord, “begging us with much entreaty for the favor of participation in the support of the saints” (2 Corinthians 8:1–5). This was not what anyone expected. But notice what preceded the gift: they first gave themselves to the Lord and to us by the will of God. The servants in Macedonia gave themselves first and their gifts second.
”Let each one do just as he has purposed in his heart; not grudgingly or under compulsion; for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). How many people are hurting but don’t feel free to say so until someone voluntarily reaches out to them? Jesus Himself said, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me.” And Paul reminds us of the grace behind the call: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich.” Scripture promises that “he who is generous will be blessed” (Proverbs 22:9). Become a giver, and watch God open the hearts of others to Himself.
Chapter 4 — The Servant As a Forgiver
Forgiveness is not an elective in the curriculum of servanthood. It is a required course, and the exams are always tough to pass.
The starting point is to reflect on the forgiveness you yourself have already received. God has not dealt with you according to your sins, nor rewarded you according to your iniquities. The psalmist captures the scale of it: “For high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:10–12). That is the posture from which forgiving others must flow. Paul makes it explicit: let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you (Ephesians 4:31–32).
Jesus told a parable that makes the logic inescapable. A king settled accounts with a slave who owed him an incredible debt — about ten million dollars — a sum that could never be repaid. The king felt compassion, released the slave, and forgave the debt entirely. But that same forgiven slave went out and found a fellow slave who owed him a hundred denarii — a fraction of what he had been forgiven. He seized him by the throat, refused to show mercy, and had him thrown into prison. When the king heard, he summoned the wicked slave: “You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you entreated me. Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, even as I had mercy on you?” And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he could repay all that was owed (Matthew 18:23–34).
The lesson is not subtle. The debt God has forgiven us is infinite — requiring mercy on a scale the human mind cannot fully grasp. The debts owed to us are finite, manageable, and small by comparison. We are to forgive as we have been forgiven. Release the poison of all that bitterness. Let it gush out before God and declare the sincere desire to be free. It is one of the major steps each of us must take toward becoming God’s model of a servant.
Chapter 5 — The Servant As a Forgetter
Love “does not take into account a wrong suffered” (1 Corinthians 13:5). It has good manners and does not pursue selfish advantage. It is not touchy. It does not keep account of evil or gloat over the wickedness of other people. On the contrary, it is glad with all good people when truth prevails. And Jesus was pointed about what that demands of us: “Do not judge lest you be judged yourselves. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it shall be measured to you. And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:1–3).
When we talk about “forgetting,” three things are meant: refusing to keep score (1 Corinthians 13:5), being bigger than any offense (Psalm 119:165), and harboring no judgmental attitude (Matthew 7:1–5). It is not a demand to somehow delete a painful memory. It is a choice to decline the right to use it.
Paul demonstrated this with both his pen and his life. “Whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:7–8). He did not pretend to have arrived. He kept pressing forward, bringing all his energies to bear on this one thing: “Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God is calling us up to heaven because of what Christ Jesus did for us” (Philippians 3:12–14). Woven into those words are three statements, each revealing a characteristic of servanthood. “I have not arrived” shows vulnerability. “I forget what is behind” shows humility. “I move on to what is ahead” shows determination. Very near the end of his full and productive life, Paul wrote the grand epitaph of a man who had forgotten his failures and run toward the finish: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).
Two questions are worth sitting with honestly. Is there someone or something you have refused to forget, which keeps you from being happy and productive? If the answer is yes, stop and declare it openly to your Lord, asking Him to take away the pain and the bitterness. And are you a victim of self-pity, living out your days emotionally paralyzed in anguish and despair? If the answer is yes, stop and consider the consequences of living the rest of your life excusing your depression rather than turning it all over to the only One who can remove it.
Chapter 6 — Thinking Like a Servant Thinks
There is a counterfeit form of servanthood that turns a human being into a puppet — a slave without personal dignity, without the privilege to think and to ask questions, and without the joy of serving others willingly under the control and authority of Jesus Christ. Weak and meek people can become the prey of paranoid, self-appointed messiahs, resulting not in spiritual growth but in exploitation and the loss of human dignity. True servant-minded thinking is something altogether different.
Paul lays the foundation in Romans 12:1–2: “I urge you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” Living differently begins with thinking differently. A life characterized by serving others begins in a mind that is convinced of such a life. That explains why the great passage describing Christ’s willingness to take upon Himself the form of a servant begins with the words: “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5).
Paul describes the spiritual warfare dimension of this mental renewal: “For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:3–5). The servant’s prayer captures the whole aspiration simply: “Make me a man who asks of You and of others — what can I do for you?”
Chapter 7 — Portrait of a Servant, Part One
”What do you want to be when you grow up?” In all of life it is hard to recall anyone ever answering that question with “a servant.” And yet imagine putting that same question to Jesus Christ — asking Him what He wants us to be when we grow up. He would give the same answer to every one of us: to be different, to be a servant. Serving God necessarily means serving people, especially those who cannot repay, because there is no visible benefit or glory from anyone except from God. Christ gave us the example: “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28).
The scriptural account of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount spans Matthew 5, 6, and 7. If one overall theme emerges, it is this: be different. Time and again He states the way things were among the religious types of the day, then instructs His listeners to be different. The pattern repeats — “You have heard… but I say to you…” appears five times in Matthew 5 alone (verses 21–22, 27–28, 33–34, 38–39, 43–44). In Matthew 6, He further explains how they were to be different when they gave to the needy (verse 2), when they prayed (verse 5), and when they fasted (verse 16). The key verse of the entire sermon is “Therefore, do not be like them” (6:8). Jesus saw through all the pride and hypocrisy and was determined to instill in His disciples the character traits of humility and authenticity.
In the sermon’s introduction, the most familiar section is Matthew 5:1–12, commonly called the Beatitudes — the most descriptive word-portrait of a servant ever recorded. Eight character traits that identify true servanthood. When all eight are mixed together in a life, balance emerges. This is not a multiple-choice list where anyone is free to pick favorites. Our Savior has stated very clearly the qualities that lead to the different lifestyle that pleases Him.
The first trait is poverty of spirit. In Hebrew, the word for “poor” was used to describe the humble and helpless person who puts whole trust in God — one who sees himself as spiritually bankrupt, deserving of nothing, who turns to Almighty God in total trust. A special promise follows: theirs is the kingdom of heaven. The indispensable condition of receiving a part in the kingdom of heaven is acknowledging our spiritual poverty. The opposite attitude is on full display in the Laodicean congregation, whom Christ rebuked with severity: “You say, ‘I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,’ and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked” (Revelation 3:17).
The second trait is mourning — which a satisfactory paraphrase might render: “How happy are those who care intensely for the hurts and sorrows and losses of others.” At the heart of this character trait is compassion, a servant attitude so desperately needed today. The third trait is gentleness, which includes having strength under control, being calm and peaceful when surrounded by a heated atmosphere, emitting a soothing effect on those who may be angry or beside themselves, and possessing tact and gracious courtesy that causes others to retain their self-esteem and dignity. It is Christlikeness in its most visible form, since the same word describes Jesus Himself: “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29).
The fourth trait is an insatiable hunger and thirst for righteousness — a passionate drive for justice. Spiritually, the servant is engaged in a pursuit of God: a hot, restless, eager longing to walk with Him, to please Him. But there is a practical dimension as well. It includes not just looking upward in a vertical holiness, but also looking around and being grieved over the corruption, the inequities, the gross lack of integrity, the moral compromises that abound. The servant “hungers and thirsts” for right on earth. Unwilling simply to sigh and shrug off the lack of justice as inevitable, servants press on for righteousness.
What these first four beatitudes promise in return is striking. Those who are genuinely humble before God, turning to Him in absolute dependence, will be assured of a place in His kingdom. Those who show compassion on behalf of the needy and hurting will receive, in return, much comfort in their own lives. Those who are gentle — strong within yet controlled without, bringing soothing graciousness into irritating situations — will win out. And those who have a passionate appetite for righteousness, both heavenly and earthly, will receive from the Lord an unusual measure of personal contentment and satisfaction.
Before examining the final four character traits in the next chapter, the bottom-line question is not “What do you want to be when you grow up?” but “What are you becoming, now that you’re grown?”
Chapter 8 — Portrait of a Servant, Part Two
Mercy, in the servant’s vocabulary, means concern for people in need — ministry to the miserable, help for those who suffer under the distressing blows of adversity and hardship. Those special servants of God who extend mercy to the miserable often do so with great effectiveness because they identify with the sorrowing — they get inside their skin. Rather than watching from a distance or keeping the needy safely at arm’s length, they get in touch, get involved, and offer assistance that alleviates some of the pain. James made the point bluntly: “If you had a friend who is in need, and you say to him, ‘Well, good-bye and God bless you; stay warm and eat hearty,’ and then don’t give him clothes or food, what good does that do?” (James 2:15–16). John pressed even deeper: “if someone who is supposed to be a Christian sees a brother in need, and won’t help him — how can God’s love be within him?” (1 John 3:17). True servants are merciful. They care. They get involved. They get dirty, if necessary. They offer more than pious words.
Purity of heart does not refer simply to doing the right things. It refers to doing the right things for the right reasons. In Matthew 23 — one of the most severe rebukes against hypocrisy in all of Scripture — Jesus delivers not eight “Blessed are you’s” but eight “Woe unto you’s” (verses 13, 14, 15, 16, 23, 25, 27, and 29). The indictment was specific: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside they are full of robbery and self-indulgence… You are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness” (Matthew 23:25, 27). The Pharisees were big on rules and little on godliness. Big on externals and little on internals. Big on public commands and little on personal obedience. Big on appearance and little on reality. The very word “hypocrite” traces back to the ancient Greek theater: an actor would hold a large grinning mask before his face for comedy, then slip backstage and return with a frowning tragic mask. He was called a hupocritos — one who wears a mask. Servants who are pure in heart have peeled off their masks. And God places special blessing on their lives.
A peacemaker is not someone who avoids all conflict and confrontation. It does not mean “Blessed are those who are laid back, easygoing, and relaxed,” nor “Blessed are those who defend a peace-at-any-price philosophy,” nor “Blessed are the passive, those who compromise their convictions when surrounded by those who would disagree.” Romans 12:18 commands: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.” Romans 14:19 adds: “Let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another.” James identifies the deeper root: “Where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every evil thing. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy and good fruits” (James 3:16–17). A peacemaker is first at peace within himself — internally at ease, not agitated or abrasive. Second, he works hard to settle quarrels rather than start them, and finds no pleasure in being negative. The Lord Jesus promises that peacemakers “shall be called sons of God.” Few things are more godlike than peace.
Notice something important in the eighth beatitude: not “if” men revile you, but “when” they revile you. And not only will they revile you — they will persecute you and say all kinds of evil against you, lies and slanderous accusations. Jesus is speaking of being viciously mistreated. It is tough to bear. But the Savior says you will be blessed when you endure it — promising a great reward for patient, mature endurance. There are times when the only way servants can make it through such severe times without becoming bitter is by focusing on the ultimate rewards that are promised. Jesus even says we are to “rejoice and be glad” as we think of the great rewards He will give in heaven.
The calling has been stated clearly: poor in spirit, mourning, gentle, hungering and thirsting for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemaking, and willing to be persecuted. Eight traits. All eight. Not a buffet from which favorites are selected.
Chapter 9 — The Influence of a Servant
Strange as it may seem, Jesus told that handful of Palestinian peasants — and all godly servants in every generation — that their influence would be nothing short of remarkable. They would be “the salt of the earth” and “the light of the world.” So far-reaching would be the influence of servants in society that their presence would be as significant as salt on food and as light in darkness. Neither is loud or externally impressive, but both are essential.
Consider what salt does. It is shaken and sprinkled, not poured — it must be spread out, because too much salt ruins food. It adds flavor while remaining obscure. No one ever comments, “My, this is good salt.” We frequently say, however, “The food is really tasty.” Servants add zest to life, a flavor impossible to achieve without them. Salt is unlike any other seasoning — its uniqueness is its strength, it cannot be duplicated, and it must be applied before it is useful.
Paul’s description of the days surrounding us is sobering: “In the last days difficult times will come. For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, revilers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, unloving, irreconcilable, malicious gossips, without self-control, brutal, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God; holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power” (2 Timothy 3:1–5). Into that world, servants carry the salt.
And they carry the light. Jesus had called Himself the light of the world: “I am the light of the world; he who follows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). Now He says the same of us: “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do men light a lamp, and put it under the peck-measure, but on the lampstand; and it gives light to all who are in the house” (Matthew 5:14–15). Does it seem important that Christ calls us what He called Himself? The greatest tragedy of Christianity through its changing and checkered history has been our tendency to become like the world rather than completely different from it. The prevailing culture has the power of a vacuum cleaner, and conformity is always the path of least resistance. The servant resists it by declaring simply: I am different.
Chapter 10 — The Perils of a Servant
Paul wrote honestly about what it means to carry the ministry of a servant: “always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh” (2 Corinthians 4:10–11). The bond-servant of the Lord must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged, with gentleness correcting those who are in opposition — “if perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to the knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil” (2 Timothy 2:24–26).
Be prepared: more often than not, a servant will be overlooked, passed up, behind the scenes, and virtually unknown. The reward will not come from without but from within. Not from people, but from the satisfaction God gives down inside. That is the nature of the calling.
Which means the most penetrating peril of servanthood is not the opposition from outside but the corruption of motive from within. The questions worth pressing honestly into every act: Why are you planning this? What is the reason behind your doing that? Why did you say yes — or no? What is the motive for writing that letter? Why are you excited over this opportunity? What causes you to bring up that subject? Why did you mention his or her name? These questions are uncomfortable precisely because the answers reveal who is actually being served.
Chapter 11 — The Obedience of a Servant
In all of history, no one has appeared among us quite like Jesus — the most phenomenal Person who ever cast a shadow across earth’s landscape. He is awesome in the truest sense of the term. Yet when He chose to describe His own inner life, He bypassed the language of power and greatness entirely. There is only one place in Scripture where Jesus Christ, in His own words, describes His own inner character. And the two words He uses are not phenomenal and great. He doesn’t say, “I am wise and powerful,” or “I am holy and eternal.” He says: “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29). When God the Father is committed to forming us to the image of His Son, qualities such as these are what He wants to see emerge. We are never more like Christ than when we fit into His description of Himself. And how do those qualities reveal themselves best? In our obedience.
In first-century Jerusalem, paved roads were few. The roads and alleys were winding dirt trails covered with a thick layer of dust — and when the rains came, they became liquid slush several inches deep. The custom, therefore, was for a host to provide a slave at the door of his home to wash the feet of dinner guests as they arrived. If a home could not afford a slave, one of the early-arriving guests would graciously take upon himself the role of the house servant. What is interesting is that none of the disciples had volunteered for that lowly task on the night of the Last Supper. The room was filled with proud hearts and dirty feet. Those disciples were willing to fight for a throne, but not a towel.
Jesus never announced, “Men, I am now going to demonstrate servanthood — watch my humility.” That kind of obvious pride was the trademark of the Pharisees. Unlike those pious frauds, the Messiah slipped away from the table, quietly pulled off His outer tunic, and with towel, pitcher, and pan in hand, moved quietly from man to man.
When He came to Peter, the impulsive disciple dug in. There was no way Jesus was going to wash the dirt off his feet — Jesus was the Master. Is that humility? It is not. Being willing to receive sometimes takes more grace than giving to others. And our reluctance to do so exposes our pride. Jesus left no room for negotiation: in effect, “If you do not allow Me to do this, that is it. Get out.” Being a servant in no way implies there will never be a confrontation or strong words. The reproof of a servant who has earned the right to be heard can carry as much weight as that of any aggressive leader.
After washing their feet, Jesus sat back down and explained: “You call Me Teacher, and Lord; and you are right; for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a slave is not greater than his master; neither one who is sent greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them” (John 13:13–17).
The popular misreadings of that last command are endless. “I gave you an example that you should study about it on Sundays.” No. “I gave you an example that you should form discussion groups and meditate on it.” No. “I gave you an example that you should memorize My words and repeat them often.” No. Jesus said it plainly. He was looking for action, not theory.
We cannot serve one another in absentia or at arm’s length. If someone is drowning in a troubled sea, we get wet. If someone drifts away, we reach out to help and restore. Nobody ever learned to water ski in the living room through a correspondence course — you have to get in the water and get personally involved. Just studying about servanthood or discussing it produces no lasting happiness. The fun comes when we roll up our sleeves, wrap the towel around our waist, and wash a few feet — quietly, graciously, cheerfully — like Christ who was “gentle” and “humble in heart.”
Chapter 12 — The Consequences of Serving
Americans like things to be logical and fair. The prevailing axiom goes like this: if I do what is right, good will come to me, and if I do what is wrong, bad things will happen. Right brings rewards and wrong brings consequences. It is a reasonable axiom — there is only one problem with it. It is not always true. Life doesn’t work out quite that neatly.
If we serve others long enough, we will suffer wrong treatment for doing right things. That is not a warning to frighten anyone away from servanthood. It is preparation for the inevitable. Peter knew it firsthand: “For it is better, if God should will it so, that you suffer for doing what is right rather than for doing what is wrong. For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, in order that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:17–18).
Hebrews 11 is one of the most moving passages in all of Scripture on this reality. Some women, through faith, received their loved ones back again from death. But others trusted God and were beaten to death, preferring to die rather than turn from God — trusting that they would rise to a better life afterward. Some were laughed at and their backs cut open with whips. Others were chained in dungeons, died by stoning, were sawed in two, promised freedom if they would renounce their faith and then killed with the sword. Some wandered over deserts and mountains in skins of sheep and goats, hiding in dens and caves, hungry and sick and ill-treated — “too good for this world” (Hebrews 11:35–39).
The goal of sitting with all this is not to produce despair but preparation. Bitterness is often bred in the context of disillusionment. Many a Christian today is sidelined, eaten up by the acid of resentment, because he or she was mistreated after doing what was right. Paul’s answer to the reality is this: “We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing greatness of the power may be of God and not from ourselves” (2 Corinthians 4:7). Afflicted in every way, but not crushed. Perplexed, but not despairing. Persecuted, but not forsaken. Struck down, but not destroyed (2 Corinthians 4:8–9).
Paul’s own record stands as evidence of what faithful serving can cost: in far more labors, in far more imprisonments, beaten times without number, often in danger of death. Five times he received from the Jews thirty-nine lashes. Three times beaten with rods. Once stoned. Three times shipwrecked, spending a night and a day in the open sea. In frequent journeys, in dangers from rivers, robbers, his own countrymen, Gentiles, the city, the wilderness, the sea, and from false brothers. In labor and hardship, through many sleepless nights, in hunger and thirst, cold and exposure. And beyond all the external things, the daily pressure of his concern for all the churches (2 Corinthians 11:23–28).
And yet: “For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18). Two truths anchor the servant through such times. First: nothing touches us that has not first passed through the hands of our heavenly Father. Whatever occurs, God has sovereignly surveyed and approved. Our pain is no accident to Him who guides our lives. Before it ever touches us, it passes through Him. Second: everything we endure is designed to prepare us to serve others more effectively. It empties our hands of our own resources and sufficiency and turns us back to the faithful Provider.
Chapter 13 — The Rewards of Serving
Ultimately, we shall spend eternity with God in the place He has prepared for us. And part of that exciting anticipation is His promise to reward His servants for a job well done. There is scarcely a believer who has never thought of being with the Lord in heaven, receiving His smile of acceptance, and hearing His “well done, good and faithful servant.” A Scottish hymn captures the right orientation toward that day: “The bride eyes not her garment, but her dear bridegroom’s face; I will not gaze at glory, but on my King of grace: Not at the crown He giveth, but on His piercéd hand; The Lamb is all the glory of Emmanuel’s land.”
Paul lays out the principle in 1 Corinthians 3: he laid a foundation as a wise masterbuilder, and the foundation can only be Jesus Christ. “Now if any man builds upon the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it, because it is to be revealed with fire; and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work. If any man’s work which he has built upon it remains, he shall receive a reward” (1 Corinthians 3:12–14).
The world provides certain people with special honors — the Pulitzer Prize, Nobel Peace Prize, Academy Awards, Emmy, Tony, Grammy, the Heisman Trophy. The military offers medals of bravery: the Navy Cross, the Purple Heart, the Bronze Star, the Medal of Honor. But when it comes to servanthood, God reserves special honor for the day when “each man’s work will become evident” and “he shall receive a reward.” Most of the rewards servants will receive come after death, not before. And notice what will determine them: the fire tests not size or volume or noise or numbers — it tests quality. God’s eye is always on motive, authenticity, the real truth beneath the surface, never the external splash. Which means everybody has an equal opportunity to receive a reward.
No act of serving, well known or unknown by others, will be forgotten. You can be a nobody in the eyes of this world, and your faithful God will someday reward your every act of servanthood. Rewards may be postponed, but they will not be forgotten forever. “For God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown toward His name, in having ministered and in still ministering to the saints” (Hebrews 6:10). The exhortation follows: keep right on loving others as long as life lasts, so that you will get your full reward — and knowing what lies ahead, you won’t become bored with being a Christian or grow spiritually dull and indifferent (Hebrews 6:11–12). Paul adds: “Nothing you do for the Lord is ever wasted as it would be if there were no resurrection” (1 Corinthians 15:58). Galatians reminds: “Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary” (Galatians 6:9). Whatever good thing each one does, it will be received back from the Lord, “whether slave or free” (Ephesians 6:7–8).
Christ Himself, while preparing the Twelve for a lifetime of serving others, promised an eternal reward even for holding out a cup of cool water: “He who receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous man’s reward. And whoever in the name of a disciple gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water to drink, truly I say to you he shall not lose his reward” (Matthew 10:41–42). And in the parable of the sheep and the goats, the King says to those on His right: “Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.” When the righteous ask when they did such things, the King answers: “To the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me” (Matthew 25:31–40).
Scripture promises at least five specific crowns. The Imperishable Crown (1 Corinthians 9:24–27) is promised to those who victoriously run the race of life, consistently bringing the flesh under the Holy Spirit’s control and refusing to be enslaved by their sinful nature. The Crown of Exultation (Philippians 4:1; 1 Thessalonians 2:19–20) is the soul-winner’s crown, given to those who faithfully declare the gospel, lead souls to Christ, and build them up in Him — and rewards will be based on quality, not quantity (1 Corinthians 3:13). The Crown of Righteousness (2 Timothy 4:7–8) awaits those who live each day loving and anticipating Christ’s imminent return, conducting their earthly lives with eternity’s value in view. The Crown of Life (James 1:12) awaits those saints who suffered in a noble manner — not simply those who endure suffering and trials, but those who endure their trials loving the Savior all the way. And the Crown of Glory (1 Peter 5:1–4) is promised to those who faithfully shepherd the flock with willingness, sacrificial dedication, humility, and an exemplary life.
After receiving these crowns, what then? Revelation 4:9–11 gives the answer. The twenty-four elders fall down before Him who sits on the throne and worship Him who lives forever and ever — and they cast their crowns before the throne, saying, “Worthy art Thou, our Lord and our God, to receive glory and honor and power.” Not strutting around heaven displaying trophies. Not separated like peacocks proudly showing their tangible achievements. The servants are bowing in worship, having cast all crowns before their Lord in adoration and praise, ascribing worth and honor to the only One deserving of praise — the Lord God.
Chapter 14 — A Challenge to Improve Your Serve
It is difficult to cultivate a servant’s heart when you are trying to survive in a chaotic society dominated by selfish pursuits. And the greatest tragedy of such an existence is what it produces: an independent, self-sufficient, survival-of-the-fittest mentality — the exact opposite of what Christ calls us to.
Jesus phrased the challenge well: “For who is greater, he who sits at the table, or he who serves?” His disciples would naturally answer: the greater should sit, the lesser should serve. All of life confirms that. But Jesus turned the tables entirely, saying: “Yet I am among you as the One who serves” (Luke 22:27).
That is the challenge laid before every one of us. And it rests on four realities that do not change. Every act of servanthood — no matter how small or large — will be remembered by God. He takes special note of the heart — He knows the love behind our actions. As servants reach out to others, Christ’s life is modeled and a spirit of thankfulness is stimulated. And special and specific rewards are reserved in heaven for those who practice the art of unselfish living.