One of the things I do in the course of my ministry is to provide spiritual direction.  Spiritual direction is the classic term for it, but it is also called spiritual guidance, spiritual companionship, and, more recently, spiritual coaching.

What I do in spiritual direction, for the most part, is to provide people a space in which to talk about their spiritual lives.  Many of the things they talk about are not, on the surface, spiritual, but I try to help them to see how God is present in those places or how they might more intentionally engage God in those places.

One of the things I do in the course of my providing spiritual direction is to meet with other spiritual directors and to talk about our work together in peer supervision.  Most of our conversation there is not so much about the people that we are seeing, but about our own spiritual lives and about the spiritual issues that come up as we sit with people and do this work.

One of my peers is a Roman Catholic nun.  During one meeting, she shared how a middle-aged man had come to her for direction.  His goal was to become ordained as a priest and his bishop told him, if he wanted to do that, he needed to see a spiritual director.  So, he sought out my friend.

In the course of the conversation, she realized that he was seeing his bishop the next day and he wanted to be able to report that he had done what the bishop had asked.  It also became apparent to her that he had seen a spiritual director before and might not be taking direction very seriously.  At one point he said, “Oh, my last spiritual director brought that up, but I have seen her in a year and I don’t remember her name.”

And my friend thought to herself, “I wonder if he will remember my name a year from now.”

In the group we talked about the desire we have, as spiritual directors to appear spiritually deep and wise and we want them to get so much out of our conversation that they will want to see us again and maybe even tell all their friends about us.

At the end of our conversation, I said, “What if, instead of worrying about all that, we entered each appointment with the attitude, ‘A year from now this person won’t remember my name.’”  

It is one of our life’s tasks to make a name for ourselves.  It has to do primarily with identity, coming to know who we are and living that out.  But it does not merely have to do with coming to recognize ourselves, but with being recognized by others.  We need to be confirmed in our identity by others.

Still more, it has to do with making a mark in the world – a permanent mark – a token by which we will be honored and known and remembered beyond our own life.

And this is where we sometimes get into trouble – when making a name for ourselves becomes more about us than about the act of service or love we are seeking to perform.

We are warned about this trouble very early in the Bible.  We know, of course, about the creation and the man and the woman in the garden and the eating of the forbidden fruit.  We know about their banishment from the garden, about one brother killing another, and even about the great flood by which God tries to wipe the slate clean and start all over.

We probably remember less the story in Genesis 11, when the people band together and say, “Let us build a city and a tower that reaches to the heavens and let us make a name for ourselves so we won’t be scattered across the face of the earth.”  And when God saw what they were doing, God said, “If they build a tower that reaches even to the heavens, then nothing will be impossible for them.”  So, God indeed scatters them across the face of the earth and gives them different languages so such an assault on heaven will be humanly impossible.

If we forget the lesson of this story, we see it repeated in the disciples.  For the second time, Jesus tells his disciples what is in store for him – suffering, rejection, death and resurrection after three days.  This is his path.  This is where he is going.  And if they want to go along, then they should expect the same for themselves.

But the disciples aren’t thinking about suffering.  They are thinking about glory.  They are thinking about greatness.  They are thinking about making a name for themselves.

Jesus senses this and asks them, “What have you been talking about?”  They know they’ve been caught red-handed, so they say nothing.  So, Jesus speaks.  “If you want to be first, you must be the last of all and a servant of all.”  And when Jesus says, “All,” he means ALL. 

For then he takes a child in his arms, someone who has no place, no status, no authority.  You won’t win any community awards for helping children.  There won’t be any fancy dinners where you receive a plaque with your name engraved.

But when you give up thought of reward or recognition, when you become a servant of all, then you are embracing all.  You are embracing God.

It is one of our life’s tasks to make a name for ourselves, to find our identity.  But when it becomes more about us than about others, when it becomes more about our project than about service, then we get into trouble.  Then it is time to reevaluate. 

In the last month, there are three people with whom I have been connected who have suddenly died.  There was Mary Ehrlinger, a veteran triathlete and director of rehabilitation at Oakwood Village , who drowned while training for the Ironman.  Then there was Stanley Dodson, newly retired professor of Zoology and Tai Chi friend, who was killed in a biking accident in Colorado .  Then this week there was David Fritz, who drowned in a boating accident with his family and whose twin four year-old sons attend our preschool.

They all died suddenly, without warning, without expectation.  And aside from my own personal grief, I must ask myself – how much longer do I have?  Am I only living to serve myself or am I living to serve others?  Am I living the way God wants me to live?

When I think about these questions, I think of an old Eastern story.  God wants to reward a man for his exceptional kindness and pure in his intentions.  He calls an angel and tells him to go to the man and ask him what he wants.  God will give him whatever his heart desires.

The angel appears before the man and gives him the good news. The man replies, "Oh, but I am already happy. I have all that I want." The angel explains that, when God offers you a gift, it is best to accept, lest you appear disrespectful.

The kind man then replies, "In that case, I would like all who come in contact with me to feel well. But I want to know nothing about it."

From that moment, wherever the kind man happens to be, wilted plants bloom again, sickly animals grow strong, ill people are healed, the unhappy are relieved of their burdens, those who fight make peace, and those beset by problems resolve them. And all this happens without this man's knowing — always in his wake, but never in front of his eyes. There is never any pride, nor any expectation. Unknowing and content, the kindly man walks the roads of the world, spreading happiness to everybody.

Jesus said, “When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet, trying to attract attention.  If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.  Instead, when you are helping someone, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.  Then, God, who works behind the scenes, will help you.  And that will be its own great reward!”

In the end, it is not our reward that counts.  It is not our name, it is not our glory that counts.  It is God’s glory, the glory of the Son who can not to be served, but to serve; to give his life a ransom for many.