When Serving Sucks.

 

Paul used an illustration few weeks ago with two types of fish tanks. He talked about fresh and salt water and how the two types of fish can’t mix. Here’s the tragic back-story behind what you saw on stage.

Saturday night I set up the tanks. Beach sand and ocean water made the salt tank and the fresh water tank came from Walmart. I could have bought small fish salt water from the pet store, but bigger fish from my home 75 gallon reef system would make a better point.        

Sunday morning at 7:00am I attempted to catch the fish in my home aquarium. They kept hiding in the rocks. I started tearing the tank apart to get these fish. Buckets filled with siphoned water protected the rock and coral I pulled out of the tank. With in minutes my pristine home tank was in shambles. My kids, stood in their PJ’s, are staring at me.

Finally, I caught my first fish, then the second. As I looked for the third, I saw a yellow snout sticking out from under a large rock. Ahh. I moved the rock and realized that my final catch would never move again; he was crushed.

Ironically, this is the same fish I freed previously from the deadly grip of a clam. Me and my yellow fish had a delayed appointment with destiny. Off to Relevant.

I dumped these Caribbean fish into 62 degree water. I’m sure they remembered the comfortable 81 degree tank they just left. I ran down to the cantina to set-up for children’s ministry. Tim Mann greeted me with a cheerful smile; a smile I could not return. He asked if he could help with anything. “Not unless you can raise fish from the dead” I responded.

The fish in question, were valued at $150-$180 each. The dead one would have fetched $120. All of these fish were at least 9 years old. I gave them 2 pinches of food daily, for 2 years. I brought 15 gallons of new water to the tank weekly. They experienced dawn, daytime, dusk and even moon light. I even scooped their poop. My sons knew them as Nemo, Dori, and the Yellow one.

While I was laying tiles in the children’s area those thoughts raced through my mind. “Why am I so angry?” I wondered. I was not not angry at God, but at myself. I went all out for this illustration. “I could loose everything”. Laid another tile.

 

Carl and the band practiced upstairs; loud as usual. I laid another tile.

Jesus paid it all,
 All to Him I owe; 
Sin had left a crimson stain,
 He washed it white as snow.

 

And when before the throne 
I stand in Him complete, 
I’ll lay my trophies down
 All down at Jesus’ feet.”

 

 

I began to weep, quietly. Laid another tile. I started to see all my selfishness. I was committed to making this illustration work. I never imagined how much my commitment would cost. I never considered how much work it was going to be. Two days of prep unraveled 2 years of nurturing. I never thought I would lose something I cared for. Laid another tile. As Carl sang the refrain again, “Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe”, I felt terrible that God gave his son and I could not give a few fish.

Serving has a cost. Serving is not dependent on our feelings. Faithful serving is a process of letting go of ourselves one bit at a time.