I Am Among You as One Who Serves

I’ve mentioned before in previous Forge articles that my father, Clifford Coughlin, died suddenly of a heart attack on November 2, 1956, just before my third birthday. I related how life changing that event was in that not having a father growing up affected my view of God as my heavenly Father.

But I did have a father figure in my maternal grandfather, Walter Berry.

Born March 2, 1900 on the family farm in northeast Missouri, “Tom” (as he would later be called) learned the value of hard work. He missed serving in both World Wars because he was too young when WWI ended and too old when WWII began.

When the Great Depression hit during the late 1920s and ‘30s, he took whatever job was available, usually with one of the alphabet soup of federal government New Deal job programs like the WPA (Works Progress Administration) and the PWA (Public Works Administration). He supposedly helped build the dam that impounded Lake of the Ozarks in central Missouri.

Tom then worked until retirement in 1965 with what today is called the Missouri Department of Transportation (MDOT). He supervised road and maintenance crews, procured necessary materials for road construction, and regularly traveled the state highways in two counties of northeast Missouri. All with only a high school education.

But two incidents burn in my memory: one involved fishing, the other the end of life care of my Grandma Thelma, Tom’s wife.

Because of the nature of his job with MDOT, my grandpa knew lots of people. Especially for me as his only grandchild and novice fly fisherman, he knew about every farmer and farm pond in his two-county district. The state of Missouri used to stock for free largemouth bass and bluegill in any pond when requested by the farmer.

One spring day he took me to such a pond near Lancaster, MO. I’d become enamored with fly fishing having recently bought a fiberglass fly rod and a heavy automatic reel. My grandpa began fishing with a bait casting rod and reel he had won in a drawing at the local Coast to Coast hardware store.

I began catching bluegills right away on a little cork popping bug. Bluegills are spring spawners and will aggressively defend their nests by attacking anything that threatens their space, including my popper. Grandpa wrestled with backlashes and tangles with his new reel. Since we were keeping fish to eat, I quickly filled my stringer with bluegills. Grandpa finally laid down his rod and reel and began cleaning fish, my fish.

It was an object lesson I’ve never forgotten. Here was a man who gave up something he loved to help someone else. He saw a need and quietly met it. It was a defining characteristic of his life.

Move ahead to the year 1980. I was in my second year of graduate school at Denver Seminary. My grandmother, Thelma, who had been in poor health most of her adult life, died from the complications of a stroke in May. I officiated the funeral at a little country cemetery in Schuyler County, Missouri. Grandma knew Jesus but often lacked assurance of her salvation. I preached Jesus at the graveside as best I could given my immaturity and lack of experience.

Later, I learned that my grandpa had taken on himself the complete care of my grandmother before her death. Bathing, cooking, feeding, carrying her from place to place, making sure she was comfortable; he did all of it himself. No outside caregivers. No help from neighbors. All of it. And he did it all without complaining. It was only later that my Mom told me the details.

To be sure, selfless acts don’t merit God’s ultimate favor. We’re saved by grace through faith. Never by our good works. But I have to say that my grandfather was more Christlike in his behavior than many Christians I’ve known.

It was later in life that my grandpa came to faith in Jesus. I officiated his funeral at another country cemetery in Schuyler County. And this time I preached a better sermon given my greater maturity and experience.

I share these two stories from my grandpa’s life because they tell us that it’s often what we do for others that sticks in their memories. John writes in his first letter (3:18) that we’re not only to love in word and speech but in deed and in truth.

Jesus makes a profound statement in the last part of Luke 22:27: “But I am among you as the one who serves.” This is in the context of the Lord’s Supper and the dispute among the disciples about the meaning of greatness. Jesus settles the conflict in vs.26: “Rather let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves.”

It’s not that those in authority never lead or speak direction into other’s lives. But it’s the selfless life, the willingness to meet others’ legitimate needs that marks out greatness.

Jesus lived a selfless life. Bonhoeffer called him “a Man for others”. Supremely, his death on the cross for the sins of the world exemplified servanthood.

But it’s in the lesser, selfless acts of others (like my grandpa’s) that we see greatness as Jesus defined it. Let’s be remembered as people who serve.