When you can see your supervisor, you work. When you
cannot see him, your work style is likely to slow down. The
difference between those two things is the measure of your
character and your commitment.
When you can see your supervisor, you work diligently. You
work hard; you get the job done. You want to look good in
his eyes, and besides, if you do not do your work well, you
will be reprimanded. When you can see your supervisor,
and he is looking over your shoulder, your work style is
focused and diligent.
But let that supervisor go out of sight, and it things will
change. Once you know the boss is not watching, your work
style will become more relaxed, less focused. When you
know that the one who supervises you is out of sight, you
back off. The difference is the measure of your character
and your commitment.
What happens in a classroom when the teacher leaves?
Chaos! What happens in the office when the boss steps
away from the shop? Party time! We are different when the
supervisor is out of sight.
Some parents know that and have taken to installing video
cameras in their teenagers’ rooms. Balcony dwellers, for a
small fee I’ll tell your parents how bad an idea that is! We
are different when we are being watched than when we are
not being watched. But the difference is the measure of our
character and our commitment.
When I was a boy it was my job to mow the lawn. We lived
in a corner house, with a pretty good-sized lawn. It seemed
like there was a mile of sidewalks to trim. I did pretty well
with pushing the mower, but when it came to hand-clipping a
mile of sidewalks, I balked. I didn’t like to do that. The only
things that kept me going were that my father expected it,
and that when it was finished there would be a nice reward in
the form of a fifty-cent coin. Now I know that to today’s
generation, fifty cents for mowing a whole lawn doesn’t
sound like much. In the 1950’s, however, it wasn’t bad; and
there was something about the heft of the old fifty-cent coin,
which we don’t see much now, that really made it seem like a
great reward. Knowing that I would get that coin and that my
father expected this job to be done was enough to get me
started. But not necessarily enough to keep up me moving
to finish the whole thing – particularly not enough to keep up
me scooting along the sidewalks and working those shears
to trim that crabgrass. I delayed, I dallied, and I dragged; I
stopped to talk with my best friend across the street. I
stopped to laugh at my friend next door, who could do a
Donald Duck impression that would send you into gales of
laughter. I stopped to tie a clover chain. I lingered under the
magnolia tree to enjoy the shade. Anything I could find to do
to keep me from moving on with that trimming, I did. My
father was out of sight, and the fifty-cent reward was not
enough to keep me moving.
But – here was my problem. My father was a postal carrier,
and he had been assigned to carry the very same street on
which we lived. And so, suddenly I would see him come
around the corner, a short block away, plodding along, up
and down the steps, delivering that mail. I knew that in a hot
minute he would be down to our house and would have
something to say about my lawn-mowing work. When I saw
him come around that corner, then I dropped my dalliances
and discarded my delays! I jumped! And those shears
clattered with the crunch of crabgrass.
It made a difference whether my supervisor was out of sight.
When I could see him, I worked hard. When I couldn’t, I was
lazy. It never occurred to me at the time that he was working
without his supervisor in sight. His boss was back at the
post office somewhere. My father was working out of some
other motivation; he had some other commitment. The
difference between him and me was the measure of our
character and our commitment.
At His ascension, Jesus gave a command and then rose out
of sight. How would the disciples do at fulfilling His
commands when they could not see Him at their side?
Frankly, they hadn’t been all that good at it when they could
see Him! So now, what do you think they are going to do
with His assignment, when He is gone? “You will be my
witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the
ends of the earth.” That’s a huge assignment. The ends of
the earth! That puts to shame my feeling overwhelmed at a
hundred yards of sidewalk trimming. How will they deal with
this, how diligent will they be, when Jesus is out of sight?
I want to draw your attention to two men who are mentioned
in the first chapter of Acts and are never mentioned again.
We know almost nothing about them. And yet we can draw
some inferences that will teach us what it is to be diligent and
faithful even when Jesus is out of sight. The two men are
Matthias and Joseph Barsabbas, also called Justus.
Matthias who was chosen to be the replacement apostle and
Joseph Justus, who was not.
Just a reminder of the background here. Jesus chose twelve
people to be His disciples. The number twelve was not an
accident. Clearly He chose that number to represent the
twelve tribes of the ancient nation of Israel. He was using
that number to demonstrate that God was reconstituting the
chosen people – that now God was doing a new thing,
creating a new Israel, the church. The number twelve was
important.
But now the band of twelve was one short. Judas Iscariot
had betrayed Jesus and had killed himself. A replacement
was needed. And so, according to the story, two men,
Matthias and Joseph Justus, were proposed; the group
prayed and asked the Lord to show them which He would
have as the replacement apostle. Then they cast lots –
something like drawing straws – and believed that God had
in that way led them to Matthias. That may not be what you
and I would do, perhaps, but it’s what they did. So the lots
fell. Matthias became the new apostle, and Joseph Justus
didn’t.
I
Now, suppose you were Matthias. Imagine yourself in his
shoes. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t campaign for this.
It wasn’t in your game plan. You were just an ordinary
Christian, plugging along, content to take a back pew and
just to be one of the crowd. And then the lot falls on you!
Someone proposes you for the office of apostle, sort of like
getting a piece of mail from Publisher’s Clearing House.
“You may have already won an apostleship!” And before
Matthias could say a word, they all bowed their heads in
prayer, and zap! They cast their lots and his name came up!
What would you have done? What would your response
have been?
There are two possible responses. There are two ways to
react when the lot falls on you for something you did not
seek. Either you can say, “No way, not me, not going there.
Didn’t want it, didn’t ask for it, won’t do it, look for somebody
else.” Or you can trust the process, you can see God in it,
and you can do your very best to accomplish what they have
asked you to do. Either you can turn it down flat, based on
your own self-centered wishes; or you can take a deep
breath, look for the will of God in the process, and commit to
doing what God wants you to do. The issue is how we
respond to the expectations of the one who is out of sight.
Has anything like that ever happened to you? Some
situation in which someone just turns to you and, out of the
blue, asks you to do something for the Kingdom? Probably
your first instinct was to look for all the reasons why you
didn’t want to do it. Someone called the other day and asked
if I would find housing for a whole family that was coming up
here from Arkansas to be with a relative confined to the
hospital. I must confess that my first instinct was to whine,
“Why me, Lord? Why do I have to do this? With all the
other work that is piling up and all the other needs I am
supposed to address, why does this lot fall on me?” And I
looked for reasons not to do it.
But then I remembered another occasion when someone
called and asked for help. I remembered that not long ago
they called and said, “There is a young lady from Tennessee
who is in serious condition at Washington Hospital Center.
She and her family want some church folks to come and pray
with them. Would you go?” I remembered how some of us
saw God at work in that, and how we went and prayed with
Amanda Satterfield; I remembered how we have kept up that
relationship, and how her church in Maryville is praying for us
and especially for one of ours who was also in serious
condition. I remembered all of that and said, “Lord, how
could I miss it? How could I not see that here is a witness
that I didn’t ask for? But are you giving us another
assignment, a greater assignment? A Jerusalem, Judea,
Samaria, ends of the earth assignment?”
Just because God is out of sight, and just because the
process is peculiar, and just because we don’t want to do it,
that does not mean that we are excused from responding.
Selfishly, we stay away from tasks we didn’t seek and
question responsibilities we didn’t ask for. But our problem
is that we haven’t stopped to consider whether this is God’s
assignment, even though He is out of sight. And what we do
when we do not see Him is the measure of our character and
our commitment. We have to look for God at work, for, just
as my father was likely to come around that corner and see
how my lawn-cutting was coming, so also our Christ will
come again – that is part of the Ascension Day promise – He
will come again, and there will be an accounting. The
measure of our character and our commitment is whether we
do what He assigns us to do, even when we didn’t ask for it,
and even though He is out of sight. Matthias accepted the
apostolic task and gave himself to it when the lot fell on him.
II
But now suppose you were not Matthias. Suppose you were
Joseph Justus. Suppose you really would like to have been
in that apostolic role, and they built you up to think you might
get it. But the lots were cast, they tabulated the votes, they
counted noses – and you came in second. You didn’t get it.
It went to Matthias, and they all crowded around Matthias
and shook his hand and congratulated him and made over
him. But here you are, Joseph Justus, in your lonely corner.
Playing second fiddle. You didn’t get it.
I confess to at least one guilty pleasure. For years, I have
watched at least a portion of the Miss America pageant. In
particular, I have watched the end of the pageant, when the
winners are announced. Do you remember how they do
that? “The third runner-up is ... the second runner-up is ...”.
Now there are only two left standing. One is going to win
and the other isn’t. One is going to walk the walk and wear
the crown and hear that song, and the other isn’t. With a
flourish and a roll of drums, the emcee says, “And the first
runner-up is ...” Well, the one who shrieks and cries and
jumps up and down is not the one whose name is called, but
the one whose name is not yet called, for she knows that
now she is the only one left. She gets the prize, she gets the
attention, she gets the glory; and Miss Runner-Up is
supposed to hug and smile and congratulate, when, inside,
you know she is churning with disappointment. When you
have wanted something, and it does not come, that feels like
rejection. That feels like a slap in the face. When the lot
does not fall on you, you just want to run.
Poor old Joseph Justus. Built up to think he might become
one of the twelve, but now set aside. He is a little like the
cartoon I once saw, of a man in a hospital bed. He has a
visitor. The visitor says, “I have good news and bad news.
The good news is that our club members voted to wish you a
speedy recovery. The bad news is that the vote was five to
four.” Even when the news is good, it feels like rejection.
So what choices, now, did Joseph Justus have? How could
he have responded to this almost victory that seems like a
defeat? Either he could pick up his marbles and go home,
feeling rejected because he didn’t get the glory; or he could
pick up his injured pride and see that the work of God is
bigger than he is, and get to it anyway. Either Joseph could
go sit in a corner and sulk, sit it out on the sidelines, because
he didn’t get the fancy title, the accolades, or the glory. Or
he could see that the God who loves the church has a place
for everyone, and that the task of being His witnesses in
Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth
requires the diligence of every believer and the commitment
of every Christian.
Brothers and sisters, we do not have the luxury of stopping
to nurse hurt feelings or to attend to bruised egos. The field
is the world, and there is work for everyone of us to do. We
do not have time to let anger divide us or disappointment
derail us. The task is to be His witnesses. The assignment
is this Jerusalem community, this Judea city, this Samaria of
cultural diversity, this endless world of needs. Some folks
just don’t get to do what they think they want to do. They
can choose to undermine the church with hostility, they can
just plain absent themselves. Or they can see the Lord at
work, even when He is out of sight. The willingness to work
for the God who is out of sight is the measure of our
character and our commitment.
Joseph Justus didn’t get to be an apostle. No lot fell on him.
But the nickname he received – Justus, a just man –
suggests that he got right up from the agony of defeat and
found in serving Christ some other way the thrill of victory.
III
Brothers and sisters, the church of the Lord Jesus Christ is a
sacred thing. It is the entity to which Christ has given the
task of redemptive ministry for all people. God in His
sovereign wisdom has given us the ministry of reconciliation.
There is no one in this church who is not needed. There is
no one in this congregation who has no assignment. All are
needed and all can do Kingdom work. There is a place for
you here. The lot may fall on you, or not; but if you accept
what you are given to do, your joy will be out of sight!
There is a place for you if you are Matthias, who quietly and
in faith does what he is asked to do, even though he never
sought it. But Matthias believes that God will empower him
to do what he is assigned to do, and Matthias becomes a
witness to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the
world – a very large task. Bigger than a hundred yards of
grass clippings by far! But not a burden when you are
committed to the one who, though out of sight, will empower
you. Matthias’ joy will be out of sight!
And there is a place for you too, if you are Joseph Justus,
who in faith and with a selfless heart, finds his own
assignment, though it carries with it no title and no rewards,
not even a hefty half dollar! And Joseph Justus too becomes
a witness to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and even the ends
of the world, for, unsung though he may be, he works not for
glory but for the one who, though out of sight now, will come
again and will reward him. Not with fifty-cents, nor even with
pearly gates and golden streets, but with the words, “Well
done, good and faithful servant”. I submit to you that Joseph
Justus’ joy will be out of sight!
For after all, both Matthias and Joseph Justus serve one who
for the sake of the joy that was set before Him endured the
cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the
right hand of the throne of God. For the sake of the joy set
before Him – tell me, isn’t that out of sight!?
