October 1, 2008 + Our lifetime tour of duty + Hayward Fong

Luke 17:7-10

As many of you know, I devoted over thirty-five years in the military service. “Duty, Honor, Country” is the motto of West Point, the United States Military Academy. Duty constrains us to do things well; love constrains us to do things beautifully.

About fifteen or so years ago, there was an article in the newspaper about Dr. Diane Komp’s experience with dying children and the wonderful lessons they have taught her. Her experience with these children gave her back her faith. The article said, “She has seen so many of her patients die in peace after having had visions, that she no longer is the skeptic whose religious convictions were derailed in medical school.”

What was so interesting is that she started staying with the dying children out of a morbid sense of duty. “Certainly,” she said, “not from any sense of anticipated joy.” Duty made her do it. Duty drove her to be with the dying children. Duty, dirty duty, made her undergo what she thought would be an unpleasant experience. She was “duty driven.” When you hear a person talk about his or her “oughts,” you are listening to a person who is “duty driven.”

Think of how it would be if a mother or father took care of their children out of duty to them and society. What if a husband or wife kissed each other or gave each other a little squeeze because it was their duty? Wouldn’t those be strange relationships.

What if Jesus were to say, “Look, the only reason I died on the cross was out of a sense of duty. I hated to do it. I could think of a thousancd things I would have rather done. It ws actually a lousy idea, but once I realized I was God’s Son, I was duty bound to do it. So I gritted my teeth and did it, but I hated doing it, and now I hope you are satisfied.”

“Duty driven” people often seem to be people merely going through the motions, acting out a role, doing as little as possible. They don’t behave out of a sense of “anticipated joy.” This is not to denigrate “duty driven” people. They perform well, but miss the real joys of life. They have the words, but lack the music of life.

The parable that our Lord told is a surprising one to me. Here we have a loyal hard working servant tending to his master’s farm and sheep. When he returns from a day’s hard labor, he isn’t greeted with “You’ve had a hard day, sit down while I get you a glass of wine and fix your dinner.” On the contrary, the master sits down and looks at the servant and says, “Well, what’s for dinner? Get with it, fellow. I’m hungry, you know! What’s taking you so long?”

The parable says the master doesn’t have the thank the servant for what he was commanded to do. He was, after all, only doing what servants by definition do: they serve. But Jesus adds meaning to the story when He says to the disciples, and us, “When you have done everything you are told to do, you should say ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty (Luke 17:10, NCV).’” What a field day for psychologists or psychiatrists in this day and age of self-esteem!

The rhetorical question implicit in the parable is whether the servant should receive the gratitude of his master in performing his duty. The answer is “no.” Should a fish be congratulated because it can swim? Should a bird be thanked for flying? Should we be grateful to the grass, the trees and the bushes for growing? They are simply doing what is expected of them.

Are we surprised when a teacher teaches, or a physician heals, or the dentists drills? Certainly not. It is expected of them. So it is expected of servants to serve. They, by definition, are people who meet others’ needs. They are people who, by definition, tend to the necessities of others. It is not strange when they do it. It is strange when they don’t do it, for when they don’t do it they are no longer servants.

Jesus Christ calls us to follow Him and be servants. Jesus in one modern translation said, “If you merely obey me, you should not consider yourselves worthy of praise. For you have simply done you duty!” He is saying, “No big deal! Servants serve.”

The point of this parable is an important one. When we have done our best, when we are through doing good works, we do not have a claim on God. He does not owe us anything. We have no right to say to God, “I’ve always been a good person. Why did this tragic event happen to me?,” for that assumes that doing good somehow puts God in our debt. That implies that God is watching over us and smoothing the way for us. That implies God loves some of His people more than others. This parable says otherwise.

Life itself is a “tour of duty.” Servanthood is a way of life. We like the servant in the parable, are never done with being servants. We are always servants, wherever we are, no matter what we are doing. We are here on earth to serve God and the needs of His people, which includes the whole world.

But the real servant, the most effective servant, does it out of love for the Master. Servanthood is best when love replaces duty. When the physicaian loves to heal, the teacher loves to teach, and a married couple love each other, you have the ideal biblical model of servanthood. Duty constrains us to do things well, loves constrains us to do things beautifully.

In “A Tale of Two Cities,” a story set in London and Paris at the time of the French Revolution, Charles Dickens weaves the plot of a righteous murder and the vicarious sacrifice of Sidney Carton, who is given a chance to make good by taking the place of a friend at the guillotine. Carton does this, not out of any sense of duty or external “oughtness,” but simply from the compulsion fo love. His explanation, as he took his place in the group of those about to be executed, was “It is far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done before.” He went beyond external duty, for the motivation of love. His servanthood became a lifestyle.

When we complete our “tour of duty” here on earth, if we too have surrendered ourselves totally to a greater love and finally realize that our life belongs to God alone, our tour of duty will end with an “honorable discharge.” We will hear the Master say, “Well done good and faithful servant, ... enter into the joy of your Master.”