Appetite: A Servant's heart

Pre-edited New Century Article that was published in Christian Century, by Daniel Sather

(Reflection on a Youth Mission Trip to Washington UCC, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2014)

The pastor said, “You have to have a servant’s heart if you are going to do this kind of work.”

It was our first youth mission trip and I wasn’t sure if the youth from a mid-size, rural and mainline congregation had the appetite for inner-city ministry. Will they really have a servant’s heart, aching to make a difference in the lives of people, or will they long for their more insulated existence far from the struggles of inner-city children?  I wondered if the youth would have the ears to hear the cries of the children or if their hunger to return to healthier, more stable families would deafen their ears to the children we were serving. I wondered if living in a neighborhood where drugs and violent crimes are a daily occurrence, would repress the heart of a servant.  

The children we would be serving are often the victims of breaking news.  The neighborhood in which they reside would be the setting for the lead articles in local newspapers or the topic of popular news magazines that analyze the terrible living conditions in America’s cities. The children with whom we would be sharing our day would be the very ones who are attending failing schools and/or arrive home to empty cupboards.  This is a neighborhood where being arrested is a badge of honor, and young teens are having babies. I wondered if we would be emotionally ready to be immersed into this kind of ministry. 

“You have to have a servant’s heart to do this kind of work.” That comment gurgled in my stomach as we made our journey to the inner-city, each one of us carrying a smorgasbord of feelings, expectations, and perceptions.

We arrived with butterflies in our stomachs.  Soon we were immersed in the lives of these young children who in their short lives had witnessed more terrible things than the participating adults from our mid-size rural congregation. We shared many meals together. We were partners in a game of dominoes and were chosen to read any number of books. We were swimming buddies on swimming day and friends on our field trip to the zoo. Soon our middle class values were set aside; our lives, for a time were at one with those for whom we were called to serve. Before long, through daily worship, late night conversations, prayer, and sensitivity, ears were unstopped, eyes were opened, and our day was not what we wanted for ourselves but what we wanted for the children with whom we were entrusted.

The faces that would greet us each morning pricked our conscious and teased our taste buds.  Soon the smorgasbord of disparaging and fractured expectations we were feeling earlier in the week were forgotten and our hearts were being shaped in new ways.  Our insulated hearts began to feel and the unstopped ears began to hear the words spoken by Jesus, “Truly, just as you did to one of the least of these my family, you did it to me.” (Mt. 25:40).

I watched as one of the youth divided her portion of food with the hungry child that was sitting near to her. The rules prohibited the children from getting a second cup of juice and I saw another youth quietly slip over to the volunteer table, pour a glass of juice and gave it to a thirsty child. Our appetites once repressed by anxiety and uncertainty hungered to serve another day.

Our week of serving the children in the inner-city came to an end much too soon. As the last of the children left for their homes, we said our good-byes, and we gathered for our final worship. As part of our closing worship, we selected a small item from a box of discarded game pieces, numerous marbles, lost puzzle pieces, broken pencils, torn pages from books, and several other tokens that could represent our week. We each selected an item from the box and were invited by the pastor to share our token and to tell others why we selected this item. Much was shared; but one observation stood out to me more than the others. A youth selected a puzzle piece explaining that this puzzle piece would remind her of this experience and how these children would now be a part of her spiritual journey.  “This experience”, she said, “would always remain a part of her heart – it is now, an important piece of this journey I am on.”

It was a fitting end to an incredible week. We left with a servant’s heart and an appetite for more, hungering for more opportunities to be the hands and feet of God.