I was thinking about something that happened when I was a teenager the other day. I had the most glorious time in high school. Most of the kids I hung out with were "Christian" and were really trying in our inept, incomplete way to live like Jesus...much like I'm doing today.
We were a part of Campus Life Youth for Christ and met weekly at a friend's house. I remember one night in particular. I was feeling particularly "Godly" (can I say that?!). I felt I had things just about figured out - - like only a 17 year old can.
We were talking about being slaves to the Lord. I remember discussing this at length with some friends later. Slaves for the Lord? Certainly, the leader didn't mean Slaves. Surely he meant, Servant. Servant sounds much better than a slave.
How many times in my life have I excused something because of a technicality? It wasn't a big sin, God. Hmm.
No, here I am sitting at 50 years old and I think the Campus Life leader had it right. We are slaves. S L A V E S. But, the difference I didn't get at 17 years old is that my master is loving. He's got my back. May I love him enough to willingly be his slave. May I love him enough to wash his feet and others feet. May I love him enough to treat the unlovable and "entitled" with the heart of a slave. Thank you, Lord, for your example.
Chained to you, Lord,