Mary Said Yes

Scriptures:   Luke 1:26-38, Matthew 2:13-15, Luke 2:41-50,

Mark 3:20-21 & 32-35, Luke 14:31-33 and John 19:25-27.

Video Link: https://youtu.be/cBEKGkHA5rE

Audio Link: Stream Sermon – 7 Jun 2026 – Mary Said Yes by tawabaptist | Listen online for free on SoundCloud

Structure:

  • Introduction
  • Saying yes requires faith
  • Saying yes changes you
  • Saying yes costs you
  • Conclusion

Introduction:

Good morning everyone.

Yes, is a powerful word. Yes, makes things happen. Yes, can change the course of your life and sometimes the course of history.

Some yeses are relatively low impact, like when someone asks you for the time or when they ask you to open a jar of pickles and you oblige. Other yeses cost you more and cannot be taken back, like enlisting in the army or agreeing to start a family.

Today we begin our annual Renew Together campaign in support of Arotahi, our New Zealand Baptist missions organization. The Renew Together campaign runs over the first three Sundays in June, culminating with a special appeal on the 21 June.

Today’s message draws on the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Let’s read how Mary said yes to God, from Luke chapter 1, verse 26…

26 In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, 27 to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you.” 29 Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. 30 But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favour with God. 31 You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, 33 and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” 34 “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” 35 The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be calledthe Son of God. 36 Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. 37 For no word from God will ever fail.” 38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her.

May the Spirit of Jesus illuminate God’s word for us.

Today’s message is about saying yes to God: saying yes requires faith, saying yes changes you and saying yes costs you. Let’s continue with the faith that’s required to say yes to God.

Saying yes requires faith:

A river is a powerful thing. Sometimes deep and calm, other times wild and rough, but always moving forward. A river nourishes the land; it serves people, plants and animals alike.

God’s purpose, his redemptive will, is like a river; powerful, life-giving, unstoppable. Saying yes to God’s purpose for our lives is a bit like climbing into a whitewater raft. It is an act of faith. It requires courage.

Whitewater rafting puts you close to the action. It’s not some easy pleasure cruise. You are bound to get wet. Sometimes the water is slow moving and you need to paddle quite hard. Other times its swift and raging, and all you can do is hold on.

The thing with the river of God’s purpose is that we never know what’s around the corner or when it will end. Our best bet is to stay in the raft, follow the instructions of our rafting guide (the Holy Spirit) and take care of others on the river with us.

When Mary said yes to the angel, it was like she was climbing into a whitewater raft. Mary’s yes required real faith. She didn’t know what she was in for.

As far as yeses go, they don’t come much bigger. Mary was a teenage girl engaged to Joseph the carpenter. For Mary to get pregnant while still engaged was a huge risk for her personally.

Worst case scenario, she could have been stoned for what others would have wrongly presumed to be her infidelity. More likely though, Joseph would have been obliged to divorce her, which would leave Mary a single mum with little or no means of supporting herself financially.

For Mary to say yes, in this cultural context, was brave indeed. It required a high level of trust in God to provide for her. She really didn’t know how her yes would play out.

Mary’s faith was rewarded though. After Mary said yes in faith, God confirmed his call and gave Mary encouragement along the way. When Mary went to her cousin Elizabeth, it was as the angel had told her. Elizabeth was pregnant with John the Baptist and greeted her warmly.

On returning home Mary was not stoned and Joseph did not divorce her.

He stuck by her. Mary’s yes was supported by Joseph’s yes.

Later, after Mary had given birth to Jesus, the holy family received a visit from the wise men, who brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Then, when at the temple, the elderly Simeon and Anna, both spoke prophecies over the Christ child. God confirmed his call.

Mary pondered these things in her heart, not really understanding their meaning or where it would lead her.

In speaking about Mary’s faith in saying yes to God, we must also acknowledge God’s faith in trusting Mary with his son. God could have gone with a far safer plan, but he didn’t. God relied on the help of a vulnerable young woman.

God’s choice of Mary is interesting in itself. Mary embodied the righteous poor. The Lord worked through ordinary human beings (like Mary and Joseph) who were willing to say yes in faith. This shows God trusts us. Will we trust him?

Saying yes to God requires faith. Saying yes also changes us.

Saying yes changes us:

At the start of the Hobbit, An Unexpected Journey, Gandalf asks Bilbo to come on an adventure with him. Bilbo is not sure. He takes a while to say yes.

Gandalf says, “You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back”.

And Bilbo asks, “Can you promise that I will come back?” 

To which Gandalf replies, “No. And if you do… you will not be the same.”

For some, the call to overseas mission work is like Gandalf inviting Bilbo on an unexpected journey. There Bilbo is, minding his own business, enjoying his garden and his books, when quite out of the blue a wizard interrupts his hobbies and his peace. Bilbo does eventually agree to follow Gandalf on the journey, but he has no idea what he is in for.  

Saying yes, changed the direction of Bilbo’s life. He did return to the shire, but he was not the same. Saying yes to God, set Mary on a journey of change too.

Parenting is a journey that changes us. We embark on that journey not knowing what we are in for. You have settled times of course, but you also get blindsided occasionally. There’s no terror like a parent’s terror.

Not long after giving birth to Jesus, Mary and Joseph were forced to flee to Egypt. They became refugees, living in exile, for a couple of years. Being away from home in a forced exile is no easy thing. Having to learn a new language and new customs. Not knowing anyone. Trying to fit in. Missing loved ones. Eventually, though the holy family were able to return to Nazareth.

Those sorts of experiences shape us; they change us somehow. We return from a cross-cultural experience seeing the world and own culture differently.

Another scary moment came when Jesus was around twelve. The family had travelled to the temple in Jerusalem for a feast and, when it came time to leave, Jesus was left behind by accident.

When Mary found Jesus again (three days later) she said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this. Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

Jesus replied, “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” But they didn’t understand what he was saying to them.     

Even at twelve, Jesus knew who he was, but his parents were slow to catch on.  They did not understand their son. We might think we know Jesus, but do we really? Jesus won’t be tamed or domesticated. He will surprise us.

On another occasion, when the adult Jesus was preaching to the people, his mother and brothers heard about his ministry and thought he was out of his mind. They tried to take charge of him, but they could not get near him because of the crowd. Jesus was not out of his mind. He was in God’s will.

When someone told Jesus that his mother and brothers wanted to see him, he replied: 33 “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 34 Then he looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! 35 Whoever does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother.”

Saying yes to God redefines our relationships with others. To say yes in obedience to God is to choose a new loyalty.

Saying yes to God requires faith and it sets us on a life long journey which changes us. Mary also discovered that saying yes to God would cost her.    

Saying yes costs us:

Over the past couple of months Robyn and I have been watching the TV programme Grand Designs New Zealand. Grand Designs documents the house building process from architectural drawings to new build and lived in.

At the beginning of each show Tom Webster (the host) asks the owners what their budget is and at the end of the show he asks them what it actually cost. Almost every time the owners end up going over budget by hundreds of thousands of dollars. Building houses usually costs more than you expect.

Saying yes to God is like building a house. It takes time and energy and despite your best laid plans, there will be hold ups and challenges and frustration and it will cost you, probably more than you expect.

A hundred and twelve years ago thousands of men said yes (in good faith) to the call of king and country to go overseas and fight in the first world war. When these men enlisted, they had no idea of the real cost of war. Many did not return and those who did were not the same. The war left its mark.

Saying yes to God is like enlisting in the army. You give up your freedom and your comfort for a time, and you follow orders, so that others may be set free.

Saying yes to God will cost you in blood, sweat and tears. You won’t be the same on the other side.

In the gospels, Jesus tells a parable or two about counting the cost of discipleship. In Luke 14 the Lord says…

“…suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. 33 In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.”

Saying yes to following Jesus, means surrendering our lives to the Lord’s purpose. It means saying no to many other things. No to the selfish pursuit of fame, fortune and our own grand designs. Not to mention the more painful decision of saying no to family at times.

Saying yes to Jesus may cost us dearly, in this life. It certainly cost Mary.

In John 19 we read something of that cost…

25 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother… 26 When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” 27 and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”

From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

Mary saw her son die in the worst way imaginable. We often talk about Jesus’ sacrifice, and it is right that Jesus gets the glory; but Jesus’ sacrifice was also Mary’s sacrifice.

The bond between a mother and a child is profound. I imagine, next to Jesus, no one at the foot of that cross felt the anguish more than our Lord’s mother. As the prophet Simeon had said to Mary in the temple over 30 years earlier, “And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Mary was able to take comfort in knowing Jesus’ death was not in vain; that her son’s death meant our salvation. Mary knew Jesus’ resurrection.

We might not know (in our lifetime) how our saying yes might serve God’s purpose and benefit others. That’s okay. We do know God does not waste anything, especially what we offer in love for him.

Whatever our yes may cost us, God is able to restore in full measure. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away and then the Lord restores again. Orientation, disorientation, new orientation. (It’s the cost that changes us.)

Conclusion:

Saying yes to God reminds me of the Mainland cheese ads. ‘Good things take time.’ Mary’s yes was a life-long response. As a teenage girl, Mary may not have known what changes her yes would bring about or how it would cost her, but Mary saw it through in faith that God would work it all for good.

As New Zealand Baptists we have said yes to ongoing partnerships with Christians across Asia, with Maori in Aotearoa and with people in other parts of the world. Our work and relationships are for the long haul.

Our goal, our hope, is to see gospel renewal in all places and for all people.

This doesn’t happen quickly; it takes the faith and work of many generations continuing to say yes to God’s purpose of salvation.

Mary’s yes begs the question: What is your yes to God? What is our yes?  

A question like that may leave you feeling burdened. Yet another thing to do and another thing to feel bad about if it doesn’t get done. Saying yes to God doesn’t just mean doing things for God, as important as that is. Saying yes begins with receiving what God wants to give us, by his Spirit.

Grace comes first. We can only give to others what God has given us.

Without the Holy Spirit, Mary would not have been able to bear God’s Son. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot become vessels of God’s word either.

So the question becomes: What particular grace has God given you to share? What grace has God given us?

If you are not sure what God has given you, then ask him to reveal it.

You probably won’t be visited by an angel, as Mary was. Often the grace we have been entrusted with is so familiar, so natural to us that we take it for granted, not realising the treasure we hold in these jars of clay.  

Let me finish now with a prayer written by the people at Arotahi…

God, you who first spoke yes, are the One who breathed life into being.

You, who drew close, spoke to Mary, calling her to bear your hope into the world. Teach us to listen to the movement of your Spirit, and to walk humbly in your ways, so that we too may say yes, echoing the love and openness that Mary showed. Weave our response into the fabric of your kingdom work: to notice the faithfulness of others, to nurture the seeds of courage, and to invite others to say yes. May our yes be to the work of justice and renewal: to stand with those at the margins, and to go to the places you call, from here to the ends of the earth. Like Mary, may we carry your hope. May our yes join with your work, so that your kingdom of justice and peace may take root in our world. Amen.

Questions for discussion or reflection:

  1. What stands out for you in reading this Scripture and/or in listening to the sermon? Why do you think this stood out to you?
  2. Imagine being Mary. Put yourself in her shoes. How would you feel? How might you have responded to the angel? Why was Mary’s response brave?
  3. How did God confirm his word/call to Mary? How has God confirmed his word/call to you?
  4. In what ways has God shown trust in you?
  5. What is your (personal) yes to God? What particular grace has God given you to share?
  6. If you have been saying yes to God for a while, how has this changed you?
  7. What has it cost you to say yes to God? In what ways has your yes served God’s purpose and benefited others?    

The Servant Song

Scriptures: Matthew 6:1-4, Mark 15:40-41, John 13:1-17, Matthew 5:41,

Ruth 1:16-17, Romans 12:15, Acts 2:41-46, 1 Peter 4:12-13, Hebrews 10:32-33.

Structure:

  • Introduction
  • Service
  • Journey
  • Communion
  • Conclusion

Introduction:

Good morning everyone.

On the 25th January 1992 R and I were married in Hamilton South Baptist Church. It was a sweltering day and humidity was high. It was also a very happy day. By the end of it I had a sore face from smiling so much.

Although the service was the better part of an hour long it seemed to be over in a flash. Nevertheless, I remember many of the details.

I remember the way R looked.

I remember the pastor’s sermon and jokes.

I remember my fingers swelling up with the heat so it was hard to slip the ring on my finger.

I remember the faces of the guests in the congregation.

I remember at least one of the songs we sang.    

And I remember walking out of the sanctuary with the lapel mic still on.

Fortunately, our MC had the presence of mind to make a dash to the sound desk and turn the volume down before I said anything too personal to R after the service had finished.

Today we continue our ‘Anthems’ series. In this series we are looking at the lyrics of one hymn or Christian worship song each week to see how that song informs our thinking about God and how it connects with Scripture and the heritage of our faith.

The song we are looking at this morning is called The Servant Song. And, you guessed it, this was the song we sang on our wedding day. I don’t remember if we chose this song or if it was chosen for us by our pastor. Either way it was a good choice. The words of The Servant Song have held a great deal of meaning for R and I through our married life.

In researching the origins of The Servant Song I was surprised to learn that it was written by a New Zealander, Richard Gillard.

Richard was born in 1953 in England (the eldest of 6 children) and brought to NZ at the age of 3 where he has lived ever since.

Richard’s mother came from an Anglican background and his dad’s side of the family were Pentecostal.  

Richard Gillard started his working life as a Primary School teacher but has held other jobs as well.

He doesn’t have any formal training in music. He is self-taught.

The composition of The Servant Song began in 1977 when Richard was around 24 years’ old. After returning from his OE in Israel and Europe, Richard found the jottings of verse 3 in his guitar case. He then completed the song and it was published in 1978. Written in a folk style, which was popular in the 1970’s, it has become a church classic.

Broadly speaking I see three key themes in the lyrics: service, journey and communion. First let’s consider the theme of service.

Service:

The song starts and finishes with the words…

Brother, sister let me serve you. Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

The main idea to hold on to here is that, the way of Christ is the way of a servant. Jesus did not come to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many. As the followers of Jesus we are to have the attitude of Christ and serve others too.

The idea of serving others sounds romantic and even heroic, especially when we sing it to the lovely tune that Richard Gillard wrote. But, as many of you know, the reality of true service is often more difficult and frustrating and humiliating.

Serving others isn’t just about doing things for other people, like doing the dishes or mowing the lawns or cleaning hair out of the shower drain. It does include those things but true service runs deeper than that. It’s about the attitude or motivation we have in doing things for others. What I mean is, true service doesn’t come with strings attached. It has no agenda except that of seeking the wellbeing of others.

If someone washes your car with the expectation that you will now be in their debt and owe them a favour, then that’s not really true service.  

Or, if someone showers you with compliments so that you will be more inclined to give them what they want, then that’s not service either, that’s manipulation.

Or, if someone helps you out financially and then goes and tells everyone about how they’ve given you money, then they are not really serving you; they are serving their own ego. Jesus preached about this in Matthew 6:1-4 when he said

“Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honoured by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Jesus is saying a number of things in this passage. One of the things he’s saying is, ‘make sure your service to others is about them and not about you.’

Because if it’s about you, people are going to get hurt. When we make a big deal about helping others we make the people we are supposed to be helping feel small. But when we do our acts of kindness discretely we make the people we are helping feel good and we set them free from any obligation they may feel to us.

God loves a pure heart – so it might seem strange or contradictory that Jesus says God will reward us for the good we do in secret. Well, once again, it is a question of motivation. We don’t do our good deeds in secret so that God will reward us. Doing good is its own reward – there is joy in it. What we find, when we do good in secret, is that it becomes something sacred between God and us. Something pure, something intimate, something valuable, something no one else can touch. And that is the real reward.

Many of the people (perhaps most) who served Jesus in practical ways, without being noticed, were women. In Mark 15 we read about Jesus’ crucifixion and death. Verses 40-41 of Mark 15 tell us how Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joseph,and Salome. 41 In Galilee these women had followed Jesus and cared for his needs.

These women, who served Jesus during his earthly ministry, also served Jesus in his death. On the first Easter Sunday they went to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with spices but the tomb was empty. Their reward was being the first to see the risen Lord Jesus.

Brother, sister let me serve you. Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

This verse of the song often reminds me of John 13, where Jesus washes his disciples’ feet. It was the night before Jesus’ crucifixion. As the last supper was being served Jesus got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, put a towel around his waist, poured water into a bowl and started washing his disciples’ feet.

In ancient middle eastern culture washing feet was a job for the lowest servant. There was no glory in it. Washing feet was dirty, humiliating work.

It’s difficult to say what the equivalent would be in our society today. Whatever job no one else wants to do I guess. Like when the school care taker gets the saw dust out to clean up someone’s vomit – that’s like washing people’s feet. But it’s not just janitorial staff who wash people’s feet (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes the boss has to do the unpleasant things that no one else wants to do. Leadership can be lonely, especially when you have to make an unpopular decision, which most people don’t understand but which is actually for the greater good.

Jesus is both our janitor and our leader. He cleans up our messes and he makes the hard and lonely calls of leadership. Going to the cross to die for the sins of world was the most famous way in which Jesus washed our feet. His sacrifice was unpopular and misunderstood but it was also for the greater good. Jesus’ blood cleanses us from our sin. By literally washing his disciples’ feet Jesus acted out a parable of what he was about to do on the cross and he gave his disciples an example to follow.

Now, in many ways, I’m preaching to the choir. Generally speaking, people at Tawa Baptist are ready and willing to serve others. Practical acts of service are one of our church values. It’s woven into the fabric of who we are. Perhaps where we aren’t so strong is having the grace to let others serve us.  

Verse 6 of John 13 tells us that when Jesus came to wash Peter’s feet, Peter refused. He thought this was beneath Jesus. Interestingly, Jesus did not wash Peter’s feet by force. Rather he gave Peter an informed choice saying, Unless I wash you, you have no part in me. Only then did Peter accept.   

Richard Gillard’s song says, …let me serve you, let me be as Christ to you…

Service cannot be forced on people. We can only serve others if they allow it. We kiwis (New Zealanders) are fiercely independent. We’ve had to be. Our ancestors came here from thousands of miles away without support and had to do things for themselves. And it has become part of our ethos too. We feel uncomfortable being served. It’s not the kiwi way. But it is the Jesus way.

…pray that I am may have the grace to let you be my servant too. It takes a special kind of grace to accept what other people offer. We see this grace in the way Jesus accepted the woman who washed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. By accepting her act of love and devotion Jesus was essentially accepting her. To reject her service would be to reject her.

Journey:

The next verse of Richard Gillard’s song reads…                

We are pilgrims on a journey. We are brothers on the road.
We are here to help each other, walk the mile and bear the load.

This verse picks up one of the central threads of the Biblical story – that of journey. Abraham was not settled in one place. He was a pilgrim (a sojourner) following God in faith.

The people of Israel made a number of great journeys. They left slavery in Egypt and journeyed in the wilderness for 40 years before entering the Promised Land. Then, some centuries later, they were taken into exile in Babylon before making the journey back to Judah.

Jesus was often on the road during his public ministry. Never staying in one town for long. Always on the move toward Jerusalem.

Likewise, the apostles travelled far and wide spreading the good news about Jesus outward from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. 

We too are on a journey of faith through this life but we don’t walk alone. We walk beside each other, supporting one another.

…walk the mile and bear the load is probably a reference to Matthew 5:41 where Jesus is talking about not resisting an evil person and loving your enemies. Jesus says, If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. It is from this verse that we get the expression, ‘going the extra mile.’

You see, 2000 years ago the land of Israel was occupied by the Romans. A Roman soldier had the legal right to make a Jew carry their pack for one mile. Jesus was saying, if a soldier stops you and forces you to carry his pack, surprise him by carrying it an extra mile. That is an incredibly unpopular (foot washing type) thing for Jesus to say to an oppressed people. No one wanted to carry the Romans’ baggage.

We don’t have soldiers or police forcing us to carry their loads these days but we are sometimes forced to carry things we don’t want to.

Maybe we are carrying a load of grief from the death of a loved one.

Or maybe we are carrying a load of sickness or a load of prejudice.

Maybe we are carrying a load of guilt from something we did in the past or, even worse, a load of false guilt from something we only imagined we did.

Maybe we are carrying the baggage of an abusive childhood or a childhood raised in poverty.

Or maybe we are carrying a load of depression and anxiety.

We might pray for release from the tyranny of these heavy loads and sometimes we get a miracle, sometimes God sets us free.

Other times though it seems God is slow to answer. Some bullets we just can’t dodge. There are no short cuts with grief, for example.

What does Jesus have to say about these unwanted loads? Jesus says, share them with each other. Don’t carry them on your own.

We share the load in a whole variety of ways. Verses 3 and 4 of the song describe some of those ways. Verse 3 reads…

I will hold the Christ-light for you in the night time of your fear.
I will hold my hand out to you; speak the peace you long to hear.

Jesus is the light of world. Among other things, light is a metaphor for truth.

When we are in the dark we can’t see the truth – we lack the knowledge we need and that makes us feel afraid. To hold the Christ-light is to speak the truth (or impart the knowledge) someone needs so they are not afraid anymore.

This doesn’t mean having all the answers. It may be as simple as saying, ‘You are not alone. I am here with you. We’ll get through this together’.

I will hold my hand out to you; this line indicates an invitation. Once again, we offer, we don’t force.

As I reflect on this verse of the song I am reminded of the movie Good Will Hunting, starring Matt Damon and Robin Williams. Matt Damon plays the part of a young man (Will Hunting) who works as a janitor cleaning up other people’s messes. Will, who has had a troubled childhood, ends up in court and is required by the judge to get counselling. At first he treats the people who are trying to help him with contempt. But eventually he is able to respect one man, Dr Sean Maguire, a trained therapist and Vietnam vet.

Sean helps Will to face the night time of his past. In one of their counselling sessions Sean holds his hand out and speaks the peace Will longs to hear saying, “It’s not your fault’. Sean has to keep saying this several times before Will accepts it. In the end the light of truth finds its way through Will’s defenses and the message hits home.

What we notice about this story is that Sean Maguire had to walk with Will Hunting for quite a long time – he had to go the extra mile with him, sharing the load – in order to earn Will’s trust. If Sean had tried to tell Will it wasn’t his fault at the beginning, without doing the hard yards first, then Will would never have believed him. 

Who are you walking with? Who is your Will Hunting? Who is your Sean Maguire? What is the peace you long to hear?  

Verse 4 of Richard Gillard’s song continues the theme of journey – going the extra mile with people and carrying each other’s loads.


I will weep when you are weeping. When you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.

This verse of the song puts me in touch with two passages of Scripture. The first is from Romans chapter 12, verse 15, where Paul is describing what it means to offer ourselves as living sacrifices. Paul says, ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.’  In other words, I will weep when you are weeping. When you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.

The other passage of Scripture that comes to mind is from the story of Ruth. Naomi has lost her husband and her two sons. She has no grandchildren and it seems nothing to live for. Naomi is living abroad, in the land of Moab, and decides to return home to Bethlehem, in Judah. As she says good-bye, one of her daughters-in-law (Ruth) says to her…

“Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. 17 Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried…   

In other words, I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through. Ruth, the Moabite, the one no one expected, did the unexpected and committed herself to Naomi in an act of loyal love.

Mother Teresa is quoted as saying, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.” I think Ruth understood that. Ruth served Naomi with a pure heart and God rewarded her. Ruth became the ancestor of king David.

Communion:

The first and last verse of the song are about service. The middle verses are about journey and the fifth verse is about communion

When we sing to God in heaven, we shall find such harmony.
Born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony.

I find it hard to sing this verse without choking up. In my view it is the most powerful verse of The Servant Song. These words are talking about the communion of Christ’s followers.  

‘Communion’ is a word which means sharing or exchanging intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a mental or spiritual level.

‘Communion’ comes from a Latin word. The Greek equivalent, used in the New Testament, is koinonia.

Koinonia describes a certain quality of fellowship and unity within the church. And by fellowship we don’t just mean making small talk over a cup of tea or coffee. The fellowship or communion of koinonia is more profound than that.

For example, in Acts 2 when the Holy Spirit is given at Pentecost, we read, Those who accepted Peter’s message were baptized, and about three thousand were added to their number that day. 42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship [that is, koinonia], to the breaking of bread and to prayer.

Acts 2, goes on to describe the quality of communion or fellowship enjoyed by the early church in Jerusalem: 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.

What we notice in Acts 2 is that koinonia (or fellowship) was created by a shared belief in Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit. Their koinonia was characterised by harmony.

Verse 5 of the song starts by looking forward to heaven: When we sing to God in heaven, we shall find such harmony.

Notice it says, ‘When we sing to God in heaven’. It’s going to happen. Our hope is secure. 

‘Harmony’ is not when everyone sings the same note. Harmony is when people make a beautiful sound singing different notes at the same time. Harmony indicates agreement, accord and peace as different parts work together.

If the first half of verse 5 of the song looks forward to heaven, the second half acknowledges the reality Christian believers experience in this life: Born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony.

Agony speaks of pain – intense pain, horrible pain. It reminds us of the cross. Love and agony go together. Jesus suffered a great deal because of his love for God and humanity. As followers of Christ we too share in Christ’s sufferings.

In 1st Peter 4:12-13 we read: Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. 13 But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed.

The word translated there as ‘sharing’ comes from the Greek word koinonia. The idea is that if we share in Christ’s sufferings we will share in his glory too. 

We also read about the communion (or koinonia) of suffering in the book of Hebrews chapter 10: 32 But recall those earlier days when, after you had been enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, 33 sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so treated.

Again, the word translated as ‘partners’ is derived from koinonia.

What we notice, in the New Testament, is that there is a certain kind of communion in suffering together.   

Soldiers who have been through battle together share the common bond of koinonia. Theirs is a communion forged by fire.

Likewise, survivors of an earthquake or a plane crash or a pandemic or some other catastrophe, share koinonia through that experience.

The disciples of Jesus were all quite different from each other. Each one sounded a different note. But at the same time they shared one thing in common – Jesus. They were all witnesses to the ministry, the suffering, the death and resurrection of Jesus. They saw Jesus’ love and agony first hand. They smelled his sweat. They felt his passion. They walked the mile with him.    

You know suffering is never pleasant at the time. When we are going through it we just want it to be over. But sometimes God is doing his best work, in our relationships, while we are suffering. Suffering can be a gift – it is the gift of intimacy (or closeness) with Jesus and communion with one another.

It is no accident that The Servant Song was first published on an album by Scripture in Song called “Father Make Us One”.  

Conclusion:

In a few moments we will have the opportunity to share the ritual of communion at home in our bubbles. Normally we would do this together as a gathered community, but that’s not possible while we are in lockdown. Even though we are physically separated from each other, we are not spiritually separated. We are connected with each other by the Spirit of Jesus. God is making us one as we share in Christ’s love and agony for the world.

Let’s sing The Servant Song now as we prepare to receive communion…

The Servant Song

Brother, sister let me serve you.
Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant, too.

We are pilgrims on a journey.
We are brothers on the road.
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night time of your fear.
I will hold my hand out to you;
Speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping.
When you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow
Till we’ve seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven,
We shall find such harmony
Born of all we’ve known together
Of Christ’s love and agony.

Brother, sister let me serve you.
Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant, too.

Questions for discussion or reflection:

Listen to ‘The Servant Song’.  What are you in touch with as you listen to this song? (What connections, memories or feelings does the song evoke for you?) 

How would you describe true service?

Why did Jesus caution us to keep our good deeds a secret? What do you think Jesus meant when he talked about God rewarding us for the good we do in secret?

Why did Jesus wash his disciples’ feet? What would be some modern day equivalents of washing someone’s feet?

Are you carrying an unwanted load at the moment? What is it? Is there someone sharing the load with you? If not, who might you ask to help you? What is the peace you long to hear?

What is the meaning of communion (or koinonia)? How is koinonia created?

How might suffering bring us closer to Jesus and closer to each other?