TD Jakes - The Inescapable Role of Service
This morning, I want to talk to you about the subject, «The Inescapable Role of Service.» You can’t get around it; the inescapable role of service is crucial. Go to Philippians 2:4-11. I’m going to read it in the Amplified Bible because I love how it amplifies the truth in such a way that your understanding is increased. This text is rather complex, but it is self-explanatory in many ways in the Amplified Bible, so I chose that version to present it this morning. When you have it, say «Amen.»
You need to have it because we’re going to put it on the screen for all of you who are struggling to find Philippians. We save you from being a liar by putting it on the screen! «I got it, Bishop, I got it,» you might say, «Over in Matthew.» Faking it! Listen carefully: Do not merely look out for your own personal interests but also for the interests of others. Have this same attitude in yourselves which was in Christ Jesus; look to Him as your example in selfless humility. Although He existed in the form and unchanging essence of God, as one with Him, possessing the fullness of all the Divine attributes, the entire nature of deity, He did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped or asserted as if He did not already possess it or was afraid of losing it.
He wasn’t intimidated, but He emptied Himself. He felt safe enough and strong enough to become vulnerable enough to empty Himself without renouncing or diminishing His deity—only temporarily giving up the outward expression of the Divine equality and His rightful dignity by assuming the form of a bond servant and being made in the likeness of men. He became completely human but was without sin, being fully God.
And there you have it. Afterward, He was found in terms of His outward appearance as a man for a divinely appointed time—33 years. He humbled Himself still further. If that were not low enough, He went down lower than that by becoming obedient to the Father to the point of death, even the death on a cross. For this reason also, because He obeyed and completely humbled Himself, God has highly exalted Him and bestowed upon Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow in submission—those who are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth—and that every tongue will confess and openly acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, Sovereign God, to the glory of God the Father. Can you say «Amen»?
Amen! Let’s pray. While we’re standing under the banner, the canopy of His word, the hope of His deity, and the transparency of His humanity, you are covered under the cloud of His divine power and omnipotence.
Father God, in the name of Jesus, let the word be made flesh in us today—not just something that we read, studied, heard, or listened to politely—but let it take on flesh in us today. Let it become tangible, material, maternal, and physical within us, until the nature of Christ becomes the habits of men. In Jesus' name, we pray. Somebody shout «Amen!»
You may be seated. Well, I got in about midnight and got into bed around 1, just returning from Virginia, determined to be here this morning because I’m on assignment—I’m on a mission. It’s a tough mission because I am fighting the strong winds of the sociological push that is aimed at us today, undermining the spirit of humility that is supposed to perpetuate itself in the children of God. Words like «servanthood» are not popular today. Even we ourselves have a leadership conference, but we’ve never had a follower conference. I’ve never had a follower conference; I don’t know anybody who is having a servant conference, because who would come? People are attracted to the idea of leadership, not serving.
But number one: if everybody’s leading, who’s following? We all like to think of ourselves in a certain light because we don’t want the vulnerability of not being number one. So if you want to wreck a church quickly, use a subject like, «I’m the one out of 8 billion people on the planet.» We like to think of ourselves in that light because we have been taught to be enamored by success. Consequently, servanthood is unpopular even with children. I know I sound old, but I grew up in an era where children were the dishwashers. I heard somebody say their mama didn’t have a dishwasher; my mama had five. Yeah, we were the dishwashers. Servanthood was ingrained in the nature of how we were raised. Now your little cute self is too adorable, and we are not taught to be servants.
Words like «submission"—the disdain for the word submission has exceeded that of curse words. If you don’t believe it, get on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and say something about submission; watch how everyone beats you up. Caregivers aren’t seen often in a positive light; there’s disdain for it. Nobody wants to give care; everybody wants to receive care. Today, there is a bloodlust for power in almost every area of our society. We have gone nuts for power. Nobody is for people anymore; they want power. They want to make moves and be movers and shakers. From corporations to marriage, everybody’s fighting for power. Nobody’s submitting—neither husbands nor wives; children aren’t submitting—nobody’s submitting. Submission is not popular, and everyone’s in a fight to prove to the other that they’re the one.
In that fight, we end up with no one. Oh, I’m going to mess with you today! I didn’t expect to get many «Amens»; I’m hoping for a few «Ouches!» When you start talking about careers, people are only interested in seeking protection so they can climb the ladder in corporations and businesses. Everybody’s trying to get higher—how high can I go? What promotions are available? What can I do next? I want to go up. Everybody wants to go up; nobody wants to go down. Everyone wants to be higher; everybody wants to be bigger; everybody wants to be greater. And no matter what method we choose, whether it’s the best looking, the best dressed, the best style, the most educated, the most intellectual, the most articulate—everybody’s trying to get further along than the people beside them—because all that is advertised to us is grandeur, opulence, and excessiveness.
So here we are in a fight—between political powers, races, family members, genders. It’s a fight. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed or not, but there’s a war going on between men and women. We used to like each other; we wanted to get with each other. Now we’ve turned our guns on each other. God help us to have some children because we’re all in this together. And the church is not exempt from this. There is an insatiable desire among many, even in the church, for status, titles, and recognition. To get it, they’ll do anything—say anything, undermine anybody, kill your reputation, destroy your influence, go after you by any means necessary, just to get to the top. I’m starting to wonder if there is any substantial difference between the church and the world because everyone is trying to get up; nobody’s trying to get down.
Even when we do the right things, we often do them for the wrong reasons. I’m after you this morning. We do right things for the wrong reasons. Certainly, those who put others' needs above their own often do the right thing, but they do it for the wrong reasons—because they want to medicate low self-esteem. They do so to their own detriment; they become people pleasers in the hopes that they will get something back from those they seek to please, validating their own existence. They are self-medicating their pain through false missions of humility because they think so little of themselves. They do the right thing, but for the wrong reasons.
It isn’t their service that is toxic—their service is great; it is the motive of being people pleasers that is the problem. The antithesis, however, is that we have become so against being people pleasers that we no longer serve; we seek only to be served. We have this vision, this idea, this philosophy, that being served elevates us into positions of authority. And so, if we can’t have that, we would rather be alone than serve anybody. We would rather be lonely and alienated, going to bed every night hugging our pillow than serve anyone. And the children cannot learn how to serve because they cannot be what they do not see. Are you hearing what I’m saying?
Somehow, it has been made more significant in our minds to meet a ravenous need for acceptance. This kind of good deeds and service is fictitious; it’s phony, it’s fraudulent. It has a negative motive behind it because it seeks grandeur by doing acts of service in the spirit of manipulation. This is an exercise in futility because people will eventually come to see your kindness as weakness. They will use you until they use you up, and it still won’t elevate you to the place you need to be. I know I ought to get an «Amen!» right there. Servitude cannot be done for what you can get out of it—for how you can be acknowledged, recognized, or validated by it. You cannot medicate a low self-esteem, a fear, or a vulnerability by hiding your vulnerability.
By acting like you care about people, but you really don’t—you really just want to be seen in a certain light. The real test is, would you do it if nobody was looking? Would you do it with the lights off and the cameras gone? Would you do it if the boss didn’t see you? I’m not worried about the people who serve in this church when I’m here. I’m not worried about the people who come to church while I’m present. I am suspect of people who only do it when I’m here. You couldn’t be doing it for the right reasons if you only do it when I’m watching.
I’m not worried about the staff member who performs well when seen and says they love you but really doesn’t because they’re actually undermining you. The only way they will do their job—by which they get paid—is when you’re looking. I’m going to set it off in here this morning! Real servitude must come from a sincere place, an authentic place of strength.
I know you don’t associate servitude with strength, but you have to be strong to serve. I’m going to shock you with this: I know you think all the people who serve are doing so either because they’re ignorant, or because they’re weak, or because they should have aimed higher, or been more ambitious, or have more degrees or education. But you have to be strong to serve! Do not allow the menial tasks that we do to blind you to the absolute strength it takes to give yourself away. You have to have strength, and you must feel safe enough to become vulnerable enough to serve others. The reason some people will never serve is that they’re too weak to serve. They’re afraid that if they lay it down, they’ll never get it back. So they would rather fight for their positions than serve you. It’s really weakness.
I have learned over the years that arrogant people are the weakest people I have ever met. They are arrogant because beneath that disguise—a camouflage, if you will—there lies a lack of strength to serve. You have to be strong to serve; you must have a sense of self and identity to be a good servant. You have to know who you are. If you don’t know who you are, you can’t lay down what you don’t know. I don’t do it because I’m weak; I serve because I’m strong. I’m here because I’m strong. Just because I’m on a stage doesn’t mean I’m not serving.
See, you think that getting into a higher position isn’t service. That’s the problem. It’s like people who start companies because they’re lazy, thinking, «I’m going to be an entrepreneur so I can sleep in.» You’re going to be broke; you’re going to starve to death! If you start a business, you’re going to work twice as hard for half as much trying to pay people, and you’re the last one to get paid because you have to be strong enough to be the boss. You’ve got to pay the cost to be the boss. Come on, talk back to me, I wish you would!
So you have to feel safe, and you have to be strong to serve. Many of us don’t feel safe because we have been used, misused, or abused. We have allowed the behavior of the recipient to change who we are as individuals, protecting ourselves from someone who is no longer present—somebody who is gone has disrupted your future over something they did in the past. Now, you camouflage your propensity to give your gifts, your service, your time, and your love into a false sense of arrogance too weak to be healed because healed people can be vulnerable.
Healed people can help people; healed people can serve people. Healed people understand that the only job in the kingdom is to be a slave. Why do you think, on God’s green earth, Jesus, on the last night of his life, got up from the table, girded himself with a towel, sat down on the floor, and washed the feet of the people who were his disciples? He then said, «If I, being Lord, know how to serve, how much more ought you to be able to serve?» Yet you won’t give up your seat, saying, «Somebody is sitting in my chair.» Jesus got out of his chair and washed other people’s feet, but when I say you’re not a Christian, you get hot mad at me over a parking space.
Oh, let me get off of this; Lord, it isn’t going well. Jesus, it’s not going well because what I’m teaching about affects every area of your life: your peace, your happiness, your mental well-being, how you see yourself, how you relate to yourself, how you relate to your family, how you relate to your friends, your spouse, your coworkers. Your labors must come from a place of strength and safety, where you do what’s got to be done, whether it’s in your job description or not. When you see something that needs to be done, you just jump in there and help get it done.
You’re not after the credit; you don’t need the recognition; you don’t need the glory; you don’t need to be acknowledged. You do it because it’s within your power to be of help to your fellow man because you love the Lord like that, and you are so blessed to be alive and blessed to be here that you don’t mind giving whatever service you can give. «If I can help somebody as I pass along, if I can help somebody with a word or song, then my living will not be in vain.» So, that means that all the camouflage is vanity. All this fake strength I see: «I’m just strong; I’m just a strong person,» and they can’t deal with me because I’m strong? No, we can’t deal with you because you’re arrogant.
We can’t deal with you because you’re nasty. We can’t deal with you because you’re hateful. It’s not your degrees that are the problem; it’s your attitude. Somebody hurt you so badly that you don’t feel safe enough to serve, and then you wonder why you are so alone. This camouflage is killing you. It is so heavy because you act tough around everybody and go home and cry. It would be easier to get healed into a place where we are not constantly fighting over who’s the boss, who’s the smartest, who’s the greatest, who’s the most talented, who can sing the best, and who can preach the best. It doesn’t matter. The best preacher I ever heard is the one God was using. I’m going to say that again for the people in the back: the best preacher I ever heard is the one that God was using, and He never uses the same person all the time. You’ve got to learn how, whether you’re up or down; I can tell what kind of preacher you are by how you act when you’re not preaching.
Because if you really love the Word, you love the Word. I don’t care who’s delivering it. If you only love the Word when you’ve got the mic, you don’t love the Word. If you only worship when you’ve got the mic, you’re not a real worshiper. A real worshiper will fall out on the floor even when somebody else is preaching. The inescapable role of service means that no matter how high up the ladder you go, all you run into is service. The guy who drove me to the airport last night said, «Thank you for your business.» I said, «Thank you for your service.»
I got on the plane and laughed to myself. He sees me as a customer and a client; that’s okay. He thinks he’s serving me, but he doesn’t realize that he’s serving me so I can serve, because the only job available is service. Are you of any service, or are you like the tree that takes up space, draws water, and takes up sunshine but produces no fruit? And the Bible says, «Why is it taking up ground?» Why are you taking up space if you’re not going to serve? Why are you in this house if you’re not going to serve? «I ain’t serving nobody. I went to school too long to not get out.»
I’d rather live in a trailer with somebody who’s got some sense than to live in a mansion with somebody that I have to come home and fight with at home, like I fight at work, and fight at church, and fight everywhere. I’ve got to have some place to lay my head. You’re power tripping; I just asked for some coffee. We’ve got to fight over a cup of coffee? I didn’t go to school all these years to make your coffee. Make your own coffee! You mean you went to school all these years, and you can’t make a cup of coffee? You should go back to class! I was in D.C., and I was in an elevator coming back from a preaching engagement. I was tired and headed back to my room. Our team was on the elevator with me, and a stranger got on the elevator. We didn’t know him: a white guy, a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, asked us where we were coming from.
In our tradition, we’re church folk; we dress up a little. He thought maybe we’d been out or something. We said we came from church, and the guy said, «Really?» I said, «Yes.» He said, «What do you do?» I said, «Well, I’m a preacher.» He said, «You’re a preacher?» I said, «Yes.» He said, «Where is this at?» I said, «I’d like to come.» I said, «Really?» He said, «Yeah.» I said, «Cool.» So I had one of the brothers that was with me slip one of the flyers we had back then under the door so he would know where to come. I didn’t think he’d really come, but I wanted to make sure that I made the way because that service didn’t matter who he was; that was service. Bless my soul, he came to church the next night! I did not know that he was the owner of what was then called the Atlantic Monthly and it ended up leading to an invitation for me to come and speak at the Aspen Institute’s Ideas Festival.
To this day, Jan is waving at me because she was there and knows all about it. To this day, I wonder what would have happened if I thought myself too high to give the man a flyer that I didn’t even know. But in humbling my tired self to make sure he still got a flyer, God gave me an opportunity. I didn’t even know what the Aspen Ideas Festival was; I didn’t know what Aspen was. Let me be honest with you: you don’t hear Black people talking about Aspen; it’s just not where we go. We go to New Orleans. I had to ask Jan, «What is Aspen?» She said, «Take it, crazy. That’s a big deal!» Stand up, Jan. She’s been my publicist for years and my literary agent for years. She said, «Take it. That’s a big deal; that’s important. You should take that engagement.»
I didn’t know what Aspen was. It was there that I met Colin Powell. I spoke after Alan Greenspan at the time and was interviewed by Bob Schieffer in front of an audience of thousands of people. That opportunity started on an elevator. Colin Powell was sitting in the front row. I knew who he was, but I didn’t think he knew who I was. He probably didn’t; I’d never seen him before. Afterward, he struck up a conversation with me, and I thought, «Pinch yourself. Am I dreaming?» It wasn’t polite talking; he was like really talking, having a real conversation. I thought, «Really?» You know, I didn’t wash my hands for about six weeks. We didn’t have COVID back then, so you could afford to just kind of keep it real.
Later on, a relationship ensued, and we would text back and forth occasionally. I took my oldest son to D.C. to meet him because I was writing a book called «Mama Made the Difference,» and I wanted to know who his mama was. «I know you’re a five-star general, but who was your mama? What’s your story? How did you get to be?» He was born in April of 1937 in Harlem, but his family were immigrants from Jamaica who snuck over here on a fruit boat in hopes of a better life and made it to New York. He went to school and said, «I lived in a day when my mama and her sisters raised me. If you got a whipping from one, you got a whipping from everybody.» Somebody knows what I’m talking about! And you had to pass by all your relatives' houses to get to school, and they would say, «Hurry up, boy, you’ve got to keep going; you’ve got to get there.»
He graduated from the City College of New York in 1958 with a degree in Geology, and he told me, «By the skin of my teeth,» he decided to take ROTC for some extra credits, and the rest was history. He served in the U.S. Army for 35 years, achieving the rank of a four-star general. He served two tours of duty in Vietnam and earned the military honor of a Purple Heart. He was appointed as National Security Advisor to President Ronald Reagan all the way back in 1987. He became the first African American chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 1989 under President George H.W. Bush. He played a very pivotal role in the military operations during the Gulf War in 1991, right on the land that we are hoping to remodel for housing. Is where he fought. Are you hearing what I’m saying?
He retired in 1993 and published his autobiography, «My American Journey,» in 1995. He was appointed U.S. Secretary of State under President George W. Bush in 2001, and that’s when I took Jamar, my oldest son, up there because I wanted my son to be in the room with greatness. Because if you could just get them in the room, just get them in the room, just get them in the room, just get them in the room. And so you had to go through magnets and all of this stuff, and they escorted us up there. Jamar and I were going up there to meet Colin Powell. It was an amazing moment for me, and I’m writing a book about him called «Mama Made the Difference.»
I’m interviewing him with my son in the room because I want him to be in the room. Though he had some slip-ups in the war in Iraq and went through some changes and struggles, he still remained, until his death, one of the most amazing leaders in our country. Like we do with all military personnel, as I was leaving out of his office, I said, «Thank you for your service.» Y’all don’t get it; the dude is Secretary of State! He’s a four-star general at the height of his career, and I said, «Thank you for your service.»
Protected by the FBI, covered by the CIA, going through all kinds of magnets just to see him, and I said, «Thank you.» Y’all don’t get it: when you saw his picture, you all clapped in the room. Not me! You see him as a great leader. What you don’t realize is that you cannot escape giving service. If you want to be great, serve. If you want to go high, go low. If you want to go up, go down. If you want to make yourself indispensable, serve everybody—anybody, even strangers in an elevator with blue jeans and t-shirts. You never know what’s going to happen if you give your life to service. That’s what this text is all about. This text is about the example Jesus teaches us about service. Put my text back up. When you understand the text, you will understand humility.
Philippians 2:4 is a message not just in Divinity, not just about the Godhead, not just that He thought it not robbery to be equal with God, not just that He was both fully God and fully man; it is a message in humility. It is given to us in the hopes that the writer, who writes to Philippi, a diverse and cosmopolitan society, might bring them into a place of unity. Because you cannot have unity without humility, and the reason we don’t have any unity in this country—though we call ourselves the United States of America—is that we have lost our minds to power, and nobody has the humility. Without humility, you can never have unity. If you want unity in your house, you’ve got to have humility.
If you want unity in your country, you’ve got to have humility. If you want unity in your office, you’ve got to have humility. Everybody can’t be walking around with a t-shirt that says, «I’m a…». The Bible says, «Do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but for the interests of other people.» Forget about you. This narcissistic attitude that it’s all about you: they did it to you. Your daddy left your mama and you said, «He did it to you.» No, he left your mama. He left your mama. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt you; I’m not saying it didn’t change your life. But he wasn’t aiming at you. Everything is not about you. Everything bad what happens is not about you, and everything good that happens is not about you.
Can I go deeper? The Bible wants you to have the same attitude as Jesus—the same attitude. The Bible cares about your attitude; your attitude determines your altitude. I don’t care how smart you are; if you have a bad attitude, it will stunt your altitude. I don’t care how attractive you are; they may be drawn to your looks, but as soon as they meet you and discover your attitude, you can’t be cute enough to camouflage a bad attitude. You don’t stay married to people for 50 years just because they are attractive. You stay married to someone for 50 years because their attitude is one of service. You are working on the wrong thing. If we could take some of the money you spend on those eyelashes that are as long as Egypt—I’m not saying you shouldn’t have them; I’m just saying you’re focusing on the wrong things.
If we could take some of that money you spend on other things to camouflage and understand that the beauty you possess is a meek and quiet spirit and a kind heart, you would understand that it lasts longer than baldness, beards, and biceps and triceps. We go to the gym every day but hardly ever read our Bible or help anyone along the way. Every selfie we take shows we are working on things that do not last. You have to adopt this attitude, and the Bible wouldn’t tell you to have it if it were automatic. It is not just natural to have a good attitude because I never have to ask you to be what is natural to you. I would never have to ask you to be Black because that is inescapable. If I ask you for something, it indicates you have an option; your attitude is within your control. You can change your attitude. If there’s anyone here who has ever had to change your attitude, you ought to shout me down right now!
So, the Bible says to look to Jesus as your example in selfless humility. The Old King James Version says he «thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made of himself no reputation, and took on himself the form of a servant,» not because he didn’t know who he was, but because he knew who he was. He was strong enough to lay down who he was and put on the form of a servant, which is why he put on the towel in the first place. The towel is a type of him showing what he was when he took on flesh.
He came to serve; the lion became a lamb, the Divine became a servant. He who sat up high came down low and was born in a manger that he might show us that he is stronger as a lamb than he was as a lion. I feel like preaching this gospel in this place! We are headed in the wrong direction; everybody’s trying to roar, but who God wants to bless is a lamb. Worthy is the Lamb that was slain from the foundations of the world! He said, «I know I’m God; I don’t need you to tell me I’m God, but I took on the form of a servant.» Now, look at how opposite that is: we are servants acting like gods, and he’s a God acting like a servant. He said, «If you get my attitude, I will change your whole life.» The Bible stated that he took on the form of a servant. That was his birth, and then he became even more obedient to his father and died.
It was amazing that God would become a man—that’s humble all by itself. For the first time, he got sleepy as God; he never took a nap as God. He never needed rest as God. He sat on the circle of the earth as God, commanded winds and waves as God, and said, «Let there be light,» and there was light. But as a man, he needed milk, a manger, and a woman; as a man, we find him asleep on a boat. He took on the form of a servant, and that’s what he acts out when he wraps himself in a towel. He’s showing you that he wrapped himself in flesh. What do you need to wrap up in to change the trajectory of your life? He became obedient unto death, and death is the trip switch.
If you can die to your own ego, if you can die to your own significance, if you can die to your own selfish needs, if you can die to your visions of grandeur, if you can die to the point that you stop thinking more of yourself than you are—if you can just die. Nobody’s preaching about dying anymore. In the old church, we used to preach, «If I die now, I don’t have to die no more,» and we’d be shouting about that. Now, nobody’s shouting about dying because no one wants to give up anything. Everybody wants to gain something. Jesus said, «If any man shall be my disciple, let him take up his cross and follow me.» You become my disciple at the point you die. If you can get your ego and pride healed enough to find a dying place, maybe the reason you are going through the trouble you are right now is that God is trying to kill your pride and ego so you can find a dying place.
I’ve got to find a place where I can die. The Bible said that when they hung him on the cross, he said, «No man takes my life; I lay it down. And if I lay it down,» look at how powerful he is, «I can pick it back up again.» That’s how come I can get down, because if you mess with me, I always know I can get up. He set his face to go to Jerusalem; he was going to rest until he found his dying place. Where Samson rested in the lap of Delilah, Jesus—the ultimate judge—rested his head on the cross. They hung him high and stretched him wide; he hung his head, and for me, he died. And the Bible says because he went so low, God has highly exalted him.
Watch this: you’re trying to get a great name, and he gave him a name that is exalted above every name. At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess. Jesus, how did you get a great name? He said, «I didn’t get it by trying to be high; I got it by going down low.» I got so low that I didn’t have to exalt myself, but God became my booking agent and has highly exalted me. At the name of Jesus, at the name of who? Jesus! At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess.
Whatever you’re wrestling with, if it has a name, there is a name above it. The name of Jesus is greater than any president. The name of Jesus is greater than any king. The name of Jesus is greater than any witch. The name of Jesus is greater than Baal. The name of Jesus is greater than Buddha. The name of Jesus is greater than Ashtoreth. The name of Jesus is greater than Diana. The name of Jesus is greater than Zeus. The name of Jesus is greater than cancer. The name of Jesus is greater than leukemia. The name of Jesus is greater than Hitler. The name of Jesus is greater than any name. I’ve seen the Pharaohs come, and I’ve seen the Pharaohs go, but the name of Jesus is a strong tower where the righteous run in and are safe. If you know anything about it, somebody call his name!
I’m about to take my seat, I’m about to sit down, I’m about to get out of your way, but I will not apologize for being a little old school. In the old church, we gathered around the altar, and we didn’t just say «glory»; we didn’t just say «hallelujah,» but we got down on the floor and said, «Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.» After a while, we said, «J—Jesus, J—J—Jesus, uh, J—J—Jesus, uh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.» And the more we called him, the more we got set free. The more we called him, the more the power fell. If you could call on Jesus right now, every demon in your house would have to run for the door because at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess. If you want to do some spiritual warfare, open your mouth and call his name out loud. He has been highly exalted above every name that is in the earth and under the earth and above the earth.
I don’t care where you are; the name still works! Somebody call him; like you know him, call him like you need him, call him like he has all power. I dare you to open your mouth; if you call him, he’ll deliver you. If you call him, he’ll set you free. If you call him, he’ll bring you out of your camouflage. If you call him, he’ll bring you out of your disguise. If you call him, he’ll bring you out of your pride. If you call him, he’ll bring you out of your ego. If you call him, somebody call him! Everybody call him! Black folks calling, white folks calling, Ukrainians calling, Frenchmen calling, somebody say Jesus! Demons tremble, demons tremble, demons tremble at the sound of his name. At the sound of his name, somebody call him!
Look, Jesus, I need to change! Jesus, I need to drop my disguise! Jesus, I need to humble myself! There isn’t an area in your life that’s under attack that wouldn’t benefit from this message. There’s not an issue in your life that God isn’t talking to you about this morning. There’s not a relationship in your life that wouldn’t benefit if you would drop your camouflage. I know it’s scary. I know it’s frightening. I know you’ve been hurt, but their behavior should not control your response. What you’re doing to protect yourself is prohibiting you from what it really means to be a Christian. What it really means to be a Christian is to understand the inescapable necessity, the inescapable immediate urgency, the role that servitude wants to play in your life—this is how you are going to be exalted.
I got exalted preaching in storefronts. I used to have to put my car in neutral and float down the hills because I didn’t even have gas money to get back home. I heard Pastors Robinson and Hol; yes, they remember those days in the hills of West Virginia when they would give you canned goods. I can’t spend no canned goods; my car doesn’t run off of green beans. But I had to pass by the dying place so God could trust me. I am not name-dropping when I talk about Colin Powell or anything related to preaching because the highest position we can ascend to is that of a servant. I would have loved to have had him come speak at my leadership conference about being a servant, and I thought to myself: your parents were literal servants in Jamaica, working in the hot sun as obvious servants, and now you have stars and purple hearts all over you, but you’re still serving.
If you want to master something this morning, it’s going to be hard—to master being a servant. Children, serve your parents; parents, serve your children; husbands, serve your wives; wives, serve your husbands. Because the more you serve each other, the more you elevate yourself. You make yourself invincible by how you serve. I don’t know why God had me preach this message this morning, but I think you do. And if you have any aspirations to go up, switch them around and go down. If you take care of going down, God will take care of you. I don’t care if you came from another country or walked across the street; if the Lord needed you to hear this message, I didn’t preach it to make you shout. If it convicted you, if it challenged you, if it spoke to your attitude, come down to this altar, and let’s seal the deal on the transformative power of God’s ability to change your life.
If you’re watching online, I say «come.» If you’re watching online, the fact that you cannot come to this altar does not mean you cannot come to the altar. God wants to do something amazing in your life—even in this season. Maybe the trouble in your life is just there to create a place for your pride to die, for your ego to die, for your ambition to die, for you to take on the form of a servant—not because you’re weak, but because you’re strong. And because Jesus has modeled to you how to go higher. God has already prophesied to you about higher; hallelujah! He has already given you a vision of a crown. The prophets of old saw all through the Old Testament they saw the crown. They were waiting on the Messiah to restore Jerusalem, rebuild Israel, and set up his kingdom. They were looking for him to reign and to rule.
Most of them saw the crown, but very few saw the cross. The cross was the mystery that brought you to the crown. God prophesied to you about crowns but told me to preach to you about crosses. Maybe God gave you that unmanageable, disrespectful child to be your dying place—not your fighting place, not your curing place, not your warring place, but your dying place. Die until you shut up. Die until you stop defending yourself. Die until you hold your peace. Die until you stop being vindictive. Die until you stop rendering evil for evil. Die until you get over your need to retaliate against who hurt you. There is room at the cross for you; there is room at the cross for you! Though millions have come, there is still room for one, there is room at the cross for you.
There is room for you standing there looking at me, but there is room at the cross for you. There is room at the cross for you. All the millions have come, yet He still has room for one. There is room for you. I am not bothered by those who have assessed themselves and found no need to come because they are already crucified where they stand, but I am deeply concerned about those who will not drop the camouflage. Your stubbornness is not just exemplified here, where it doesn’t really matter to me because I am going to go eat in a minute either way, but it’s messing up your life. It’s affecting your emotional well-being, your mental health, your spiritual life, your financial situation, and your marital life.
Sometimes you don’t know how to be humble; sometimes you’re scared to be humble. I want to wait a minute for somebody who doesn’t feel safe enough to do what you just did, but deep down in their heart, they know that God is talking to you about serving—not so you can get something from people, not for validation. This has nothing to do with other people; this has everything to do with you. Although many have come, there is still room for one—there is room for you to change, whether you take it or not. There is room; don’t blame anybody if you stay as you are because there is room at the cross for you. God has made room at this altar for you. God has made room for you. Different people have come to this altar for different reasons, to be better, stronger, or safer—maybe areas where they need to be more confident in themselves so they can be more vulnerable in their service.
Maybe it’s a perpetual low self-esteem brought about by something that you did not cause yourself, and you’ve been victimized into a place where the only time you feel safe is when you’re in control. You cannot legislate your own resurrection; that’s where your faith comes in—to believe God, though He slay me, yet shall I trust Him. The only way this prayer works is if you drop your camouflage at this altar. If you stop fighting back, stop being cynical, smart, vindictive, and manipulative, and really become like Jesus. This is an attitude change. We always preach about actions—stop drinking, stop smoking, stop fooling around—those are actions, sins of the flesh we ought to preach about. But there are sins of the spirit that are just as damaging. I have not mastered it; I am still in process. As a little boy, I grew up singing, «To be like Jesus, oh how I long to be like Him.»
He was meek and lowly; He was humble; He was holy. Oh, how I long to be like Him. I’m 66 years old, and I’m still longing for it. I haven’t mastered it, but I’m better—I’m better, I’m better. I know I’m better because I don’t have to say everything I think anymore. You know what I’m saying? I don’t have to respond. I know I’m better because sometimes I respond to people on Instagram and then delete it. I know I’m better because I think of something to say and then delete it. I thought it not robbery to be equal but humbled myself. I know I’m better because I can walk away from your negative opinion and not be bothered by it because I know who I am and I know who brought me here. I know I’m better, and I got more peace, more joy, more contentment, more deliverance, more resources, and more doors opening for me.
I got God making ways for me that I never even asked Him for. I got God blessing me in ways I never even thought to pray for. I got God doing things that I never even thought in all my life I would see—especially at this stage in my life. I found out that if you can spend almost 20 years pastoring a storefront church, God can put you in someplace like this. I still can’t get used to it; every time I drive up to it, it still shatters my thinking—from a 1967 Valiant with the floorboard rusted out, getting canned goods for offering, to this! I can’t believe what He did in such a short time. When I was murmuring and complaining about teaching Bible class to five people, and two of them were asleep, last Sunday we had 91,000 people streaming online from every country imaginable.
People from France would come to The Potter’s House. People from Ukraine would come to The Potter’s House. People from Brazil would come to The Potter’s House. I couldn’t get people to come down the street! Y’all don’t hear me; I couldn’t get people to come down the street. But when you want to grow your marriage, grow your business, and grow your life, thank you, Jesus, when you stop worrying about profits and start worrying about service. How can I serve? How can I leave the world better than I found it? How can I make a difference for the people coming behind me? How can I help my neighbor? How can I help my sister? I wonder if that woman stopped on the side of the road needs jumper cables.
I wonder what I could do to help somebody in need. Lift your hands; God is getting ready to use you like you’ve never been used before. He’s going to use you in a way that you don’t have to promote yourself; He’s going to promote you. He’s going to take you up! Don’t you worry about going up; you worry about going down. The lower you can go, the higher you’re going to go up. Hallelujah! They dug these footers so deep that they could erect this building and it wouldn’t collapse. God wants your footers to go real deep. This is a deep-down season because God’s getting ready to take you to a high place, and you’ve got to be willing to get down. The only way you can get down is to know who you are, know who you are in Him, know what He’s done in your life, and understand that you don’t have to fight for yourself or promote yourself—God’s got you covered! Hallelujah!
It took strength to walk down this aisle. It took strength to come to this altar. It took strength, and safety that some people are still working on. Maybe they’ll come in three weeks, or four weeks, or a month. Everybody doesn’t come at the same time, but this is your Sunday for deliverance. As you lift your hands and open your mouth, God is getting ready to do a new thing in your life. God is getting ready to do a new thing in your life. God is getting ready to do a new thing in your spirit. You don’t have to get even; you don’t have to respond; you don’t have to get back. There are gifts in you that God’s getting ready to release. You’re going to serve people in ways you never served them before.
God gave you talents, degrees, education, and beauty—not for you, but so you can serve somebody. God’s going to use everything you’ve got—everything you cook, everything you build, everything you draw, everything you make, every business plan you’ve got, every hope, every aspiration, every book, every dream you’ve got. God’s getting ready to use you when you stop letting it be about you and start letting it be about Him. God is going to blow your mind with your hands raised and your heart open. God is going to fill you with fresh oil. I feel fresh oil blowing; I feel fresh oil coming this way. I feel fresh oil flowing in the people right now! The spirit of the Lord God be upon you from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet.
As you take on the form of a servant, God is going to use you in fresh ways as you get creative about how you can serve, how you can help, how you can be used, how you can make a difference. I need to serve; I need to show; I need to give; I need to do it. You may not need to take it, but I need to give it. I need to give it; I need to do it. I need to give my time; I need to give my service; I need to give my talent; I need to give my wisdom. I need to give it because I’ve got to show God that He can trust me with servitude.
If He can trust me with servitude, He can raise me as a leader, but He can’t raise me as a leader until He can trust me with servitude. Until I can preach and not be seen, until I can serve and not be seen, until I can sow and not be clapped for, until I can give and not be applauded, until I can give my life—not just to my church but to my children, to my family, to my friends—if I can serve somebody.
Lord, give me creative concepts, innovative ideas—ways in which we can get beyond ourselves and serve. We have asked You for creativity, but sometimes we ask for ourselves. But now we’re asking You to make us creative servants so that we can solve problems that have never been solved before. That we can deal with people that nobody else will deal with. That we won’t just talk about people and be arrogant, but that we might serve our community in amazing ways; that we might touch the unclean, that we might serve the lepers, the broken, the wounded, the hurting, the suffering. God, anoint us; anoint us with fresh oil until we can help the homeless, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. Anoint us, Lord, that we can be valuable in the kingdom of God. Stop us from being impressed with ourselves and trying to impress people that don’t even matter, and give us innovative, creative ways that we can serve people who desperately need to see Jesus through our hands—Jesus through our voice—Jesus through our talent—Jesus through our education—Jesus through our intellect—Jesus through our connections. You put me in that position, put me in that office, put me in that corporation so I could serve the world, not so I could be important. And today, I surrender; I surrender all— all to Thee, my blessed Savior.