Entitlement and Servitude (some old ramblings)

Entitlement vs. Servitude

As a servant of God what am I entitled to?

As a kid born and raised in (and never having left) America, I can honestly say I struggle with entitlement. There are things which I figure are my due. I deserve to be treated kindly and with respect. I deserve to be thanked when I help someone. I am entitled to be paid for working, to be treated well. I am entitled to my convenience. These are the things America has told me. And when the things I am entitled to are infringed upon I have every right to start a big fuss over it, because I am being denied my rights. I am allowed to react in defense to these things. I am supposed to. Or am I?
What does it REALLY mean to be a SERVANT of God? What rights does a servant get to keep? What rights do I have to give up in order to be a servant of my God and his creatures?

The pursuit of happiness?

Liberty?


Life?

Wealth?

Success?

Moral consideration?

Am I allowed to demand being treated well?

Society teaches that life should be fair. Legal systems are in place to try to ensure a just world. People are to be valued by other people, because that is good to do and we all like feeling valued. When people treat you in a way that does not recognize your inherent value, you should demand that they do.

Right?

Or is the proper response to suffer in silence? Not to correct their abuse?

And why is it easier to play the silent-sufferer role amongst non-believers? I can be a martyr, but not a slave.

Yet James identifies himself as a Bondservant of Christ when writing his epistle to his brothers and sisters (James 1:1,-2).

I used to think context kind of excused it, and there may be something to that, after all in my own home if a bug crawls onto my plate and into my dinner I probably won’t touch my food, or at least I make rather a fuss about it; however, if I am camping, I just flick it off and continue my meal. I feel like most people just aren’t as bothered by bugs and dirt while they are camping as they are while at home.
Analogously, it is harder to get along with my siblings than with anyone in the world (or it used to be). It is harder to serve and be generous in my house than when I “go into the world.” I always thought of it as a matter of context. James seems to think otherwise.

Why would He, or I, have to identify myself as a servant to my family???? Even if what he means is the church, this is difficult for me. When I come home from a day of serving people I am supposed to come to my siblings (and the rest of my family) and say “I am the bondservant of Christ,” so I can continue serving? Home is supposed to be a place of refuge and rest.

…. Unless we are not home yet….

Hmm…..

the ever-struggle - a poem

Just to offer context for this poem: I love life at the UO. It has been socially, educationally and spiritually edifying to be here, and I will continue to love it here, I am sure. But, these last few weeks I have felt drowned in trying to find the balance between studying, working and de-stressing.. And I have found that what seems to be suffering the most is my relationship with Jesus. It is that closest relationship that the stresses of my life strain... and this bothers me. It manifests itself in big ways, in how I relate to the world, and in more subtle ways, like thinking about Merleau-Ponty's "Cogito" while reading my Bible at meal times and between classes and having no idea what I've read. When I realized how long its been since I dedicated the whole of my heart and mind to Jesus for a specific moment, this is what came out.



The ever struggle: living center focused in and edge focused world.

I just want to abandon myself to the will of the Lord. I want to make my Maker my Master so that He can master the decisions I make. I am sick of sin creeping in…again. And the feeling of it leaves me empty and sick.

How disgusted must He be- The Spirit of the living God who lives in me-? I am living like a stranger, when I am the daughter of the King.

How easy I think it would be, to live to You and die to me if I was not stuck here, all wrapped in new clothes, drowning in headphones. I want to be let go, by the grip of the world, by the overflow.

How can I live with so much opportunity and squander all my gifts? How can I fail in apathy? And tell me how to start again, in this world. I’m drowning in this overflow.

Jesus, I can’t see you beyond the books and coffees, I can’t see you beyond the work and receipts!!! But sometimes I think that beyond the laughter filling up my room, you are weeping for me.