A Deacon’s Life, Part 1: 3 Truths of a Deacon’s Call

Not long ago, I was officiating at a deacon ordination, and I was walking through the church before the service began as I, I sometimes do. I was a little preoccupied, thinking about things, praying about the service. And I came up the aisle, and  as I began to come around the aisle, a church member I knew said to me, “Hello, Father Brewer.” And then she went, “Oh, no. I meant ‘Bishop,’ Bishop Brewer.” She was all embarrassed. 

And I said, “That’s OK. I’m still a priest. All of the ordinations stick; they never go away.” 

Always in God’s Mercy

And that’s a part of what I want to say to you. These ordinations stick; they don’t go away. You are always in the mercy of God, no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life. Even if you’re ordained a priest, or even if you’re ordained a bishop, you’re still a deacon. That is something that God has placed within you. And he has committed to making sure that that never goes away. That’s his pledge to you. 

I say that because all ordination are an opportunity for me to remind myself of what is powerfully and personally true in each of these occasions. And the Lord has a wonderful way of reminding me of the things that somehow slip off the radar. And one of these is that in some ways, all deacons are called to be servants. Really are called, in fact, to a ministry that feels almost always somewhat inconvenient. Because you see, to be a servant is in fact to make a commitment to no longer live life on your terms, as Paul says very graphically, “We commend ourselves. We commend Jesus Christ to you as Lord and ourselves as” – what? “As your slaves” (see 2 Cor. 4). Which means, “What do you need? How can I help? How can I serve?”

Always a Servant

Which means what we’re asking Jesus to do is by the Holy Spirit, work in us a kind of inner alertness to what we should say, how we can step in, ways that we can be helpful. It actually doesn’t matter a lot. 

I still have to get used to this. That literally no matter what I have on my list for the day, in my calling, as a deacon in the church of God, anything can happen. And when that happens, my responsibility is to step up, be available, see what it is that I might be able to do. 

It’s important because, in fact, to have that kind of servant’s heart requires a certain level of intentionality training, as it were. Because you see, what we want training on how to lead. That’s somewhat different than training on how to serve. 

You see, to lead is to take command. It’s to step out in a way that causes other people to follow behind you, to be able to speak with a level of authority that causes other people to sit up and take notice. But honestly, the integrity of that leadership has to be grounded in a felt commitment, not just something inside of you, in a felt commitment that they trust you, and you trust them. And because that’s so, they know that when you speak, you are willing to lead and they are willing to follow, because they already know the servant’s heart that God has placed within you. And if that’s not evident, at best, you’re a dictator, a dictator with a clergy collar, which is honestly the worst kind. 

And so deacons are called to something really very different, something honestly that is exceedingly difficult. It’s easy to serve when things are going the way you want them to. When they’re not, that’s a totally different matter. 

Always Uncomfortable

And you see, that’s the context in which this commandment that Jesus gives in the Gospel of Luke is given. I mean, that whole chapter is nothing but controversy, upheaval, backbiting, wrangling, who’s going to be the greatest and who’s not. And here we are, literally at the very Last Supper, Jesus is consecrating bread and wine: “This is my body” (Luke 22:19b). They should all be basically on their faces in awe. Instead, they’re arguing: “Did you see who got the best seat tonight?”

In other words, it’s so profoundly and even painfully human. And of course, Jesus is aware that this is not just a night to share a meal. This is the night for the arrest, everything – in the worst possible way and in the most glorious way – is about to happen in the next few days. And so it is in the midst of all of this interior and exterior upheaval: anxiety, dread, anticipated joy, wrangling back and forth, that Jesus looks at his disciples and says, “Here’s how kings operate. This is what benefactors do. It is not to be this way among you.” 

Notice that it’s not when they’re on a grassy knoll, looking at sheep nuzzling each other, that he’s giving them a very kind, thoughtful word. The context robs the passage entirely from any sort of sappy sentimentality, because servanthood is gritty. Servanthood asks things of you that you wish in fact that it did not. Servanthood asks you to step in and get on your knees and wash feet with the people that you least likely want to be with, much less touch their feet, even metaphorically speaking. 

We’ll go into further detail about that uncomfortable life in next week’s post.

What do you see as an essential part of a deacon’s call? Share this blog and your response on Twitter. Please include my username, @revgregbrewer. 

(This post is an adaption of Bishop Brewer’s sermon at the ordination of deacons for the Diocese of Central Florida on Jan. 27, 2020, at The Cathedral Church of St. Luke’s, Orlando.)

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.