Shotgun: Self-absorption and Other People's Ministries

Self-absorption kills gratitude.

Jesus tells his disciples that he's going to be betrayed, beaten and killed in just a few days.  This is in Mark 10.  He tells them this because he want to comfort them.  He'll be killed, but he will rise again in three days and he's doing it for a bigger purpose: the ransom of many (including these disciples).

But his disciples barely hear him.  They certainly show no gratitude for his sacrifice and comfort or concern for his impending hardship.  They actually change the subject back to themselves.

Imagine a father approaching his children, who are sitting on a cold leather couch watching TV.  There's tension in his shoulders and a waver in his voice as he says "Kids, your Mom's really sick.  Let's go get in the car and take her to the hospital."

Imagine the kids yelling "Shotgun" and fighting over the front seat, asking Dad to settle the dispute.

That's what happens in Mark 10.

Right after Jesus foretells his death and resurrection, James and John approach him and ask him if they can have the most important seats in his coming kingdom.  You see, it's not enough for them to be welcomed into the kingdom of God, to be included in this special and history-shattering kingdom, they have to have better seats.

I do this too.  It's not enough (sometimes) for me to have the good seat of the Staffworker, the Sunday School teacher, the Small Group leader.  I want to have the biggest chapter, the best class, and THE Small Group.  Shotgun!

One of my really insightful co-workers got a note once, from a donor (our work is funded by the generosity of donors and churches).  The note said "Don't you people ever say 'Thank you.'"  Now, this note was painful and undeserved.  These people do say "Thank you" a lot and the whole thing was cleared up quickly, but it's illustrative.

We easily get wrapped up in our ministry and in how we're doing compared to other people that we miss opportunities to be grateful, grateful to God.

Different parts of me produce the "Shotgun!" and the "Thank you."  Would that God would ransom me from the shotgun-shouting, self-aggrandizing self-absoption, even as he's already ransomed me.

I know he wouldn't give his life for me and leave me here.  Let's learn to say "Thank you" more than we cry "Shotgun!"