If you have never read it, I encourage you to grab of copy of Timothy Keller’s book, Every Good Endeavor.  In it, Kellor offers a roadmap to the ways in which individuals can make the critical link of tying everyday work to Kingdom work.  In a chapter entitled, “Work Becomes Selfish,” Kellor connects his thoughts to the story of Esther and her circuitous journey to the palace of Persia.  He writes, “God urges you to think about where you are and why you are there, to realize the importance of being in the palace.  It’s possible that only then can He use you to do His work in this world.”[1]  He goes on to say that we are in the palace only by grace.  “You worked with talents you did not earn; they were given to you.  You went through doors of opportunity you did not produce; they just opened for you.  Therefore, everything you have is a matter of grace…”[2]   And then he offers this insight, “Unless you use your clout, your credentials, and your money in service to the people outside the palace, the palace is a prison…”[3]

Connect the dots to your place of ministry.  What does the palace resemble from your frame of reference?  Maybe it’s a prestigious pulpit in a large city, maybe it’s an endowed chair at a University, or maybe it’s a corner office in a successful business.  Now ask yourself how it is that you get to live in that palace?  Is it a result of your superior talents, work ethic, or education?  You might like to think so… but what if Kellor is right?  What if you are in your palace simply by Grace… meaning that God placed you there for a reason?  What if it is not about who you are, but instead, what if it is more about what God wants to do through you?  Surely it is His intention that you would leverage all that you are… your clout, your credentials, and your money, to serve people outside of the palace.

Take a moment to look beyond the safe and comfortable walls that surround you.  Can you gain a perspective on a greater world of need into which you can speak hope and even offer tangible aid?  I think Kellor hits the nail on the head.  Our palaces can quickly become prisons of selfishness, pride, and meaningless endeavors if we only work to better our small corners of influence.  What a waste of grace if we only build our kingdoms for self-promotion and notoriety.  Maybe it’s time to acknowledge that we really don’t deserve the palaces in which we live, but out of sincere gratitude we will strive to find ways to serve a bigger world.  Take off your robe and roll up your sleeves.  It’s time to make a difference.

[1] Timothy Keller, Every Good Endeavor, (New York, Riverhead Books, 2012), p.117

[2] Keller, p. 120

[3] Keller, p. 119

I am a proud graduate of Samford University.  The time spent on Samford’s campus shaped and molded me in many ways.  My sense of God’s call was brought into clear focus.  I developed life-long friendships.  I learned about religion, English, and science.  And somewhere along the way I learned about life.

Samford University was once known as Howard College… back in the day when my dad attended school there.  Through the years the name changed and so did the location. Once located in East Lake, the school moved in 1957 to its new and present location on Lakeshore Drive.  By design, the architects did an interesting thing during the first year or so.  Rather than plan the location for all the sidewalks, they waited to see where students walked most frequently, and then they added the walkways.  Interesting, right?  Rather than dictate where students had to walk, they waited and watched and in so doing, they learned where students really wanted to go and they planned accordingly.

There is a strong parallel from that story to the relationship between church and community.  In a very noble attempt to provide for the needs of a community, a local church will often map out a ministry plan, envision a need-meeting program, and even raise some funds, all based on the perception of what the church “thinks” are the needs of the community, having never really asked the community their response to such a question of need.  It’s a little backwards.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to first engage the community to see what the real needs are, before building the sidewalks?  In my previous pastorate, we discovered an unknown and unmet need in a local High School that centered around feeding hungry students.  We would have never known about the need without asking.  We thought we knew what a school might need in the way of help from a local church.  We made some incorrect assumptions.  The ministry vision became clear as soon as we asked the right questions.

In my role as the executive director of a new program designed to meet the needs of leaders in faith-based organizations, the notion of where to put the sidewalks is vital.  I can dream and scheme all day long about direction and if I am lucky, I might come up with a teaching module or two that meets a need.  But what if I took the time to see where leaders really wanted to walk and built the sidewalks accordingly?  So I’m going to ask a lot of people a lot of questions.  The last thing that I want to do is spend my efforts on programs that don’t scratch the right itch.

You might want to do the same as you envision your ministry within the context of your local community.  What are the real needs?  Have you asked?  It’s better to see the paths that your neighbors need to walk and build the kind of sidewalks that will help them in their journey.