“But Ebed-melech the Ethiopian, an important court official, heard that Jeremiah was in the cistern. At that time the king was holding court at the Benjamin Gate, so Ebed-melech rushed from the palace to speak with him. “My lord the king,” he said, “’these men have done a very evil thing in putting Jeremiah the prophet into the cistern. He will soon die of hunger, for almost all the bread in the city is gone’” (Jeremiah 38:7-9).
When I confided in my pastor about a struggle I was having, he simply asked, "Do you want my help?" When I answered in the affirmative, he followed up with, "Are you willing to change?" Those two questions changed the entire course of my life. I don't know where I would be today had I not had the help of a man who was unwilling to leave me to face my struggle alone.
My pastor had every reason to write me off. I wasn’t a new convert. I understood enough about the Bible and God to know what sin is, and how He detests it. The thing about my pastor, though, is that he was also a former Marine, and if there’s anything he understood from the Marine Corps, it was that we never leave a man behind. That’s what discipleship is all about. Most people never recognize the parallel, that instinct to see a person in need and choose to care. It doesn’t stay in the church. It follows you to work.
I was assisting a new colleague with developing her monthly highlights for management. I could have just told her to write what she did, but instead I tried to draft some highlights that told the story of why she did what she did. One of our team’s most mundane tasks is to send faxes to vendors that outline authorizations for packing and storing household effects. Another colleague who was listening in on our conversation snickered that she couldn’t believe we were embellishing faxing.
Maybe you know that feeling. You did the work carefully, honestly, with the person on the other end in mind, and someone reduced it to nothing in a single snicker. Truth is, I’ve never been able to separate the task from the people behind it. I remember mistakenly thinking one of our travelers was going to be our organization’s first chaplain. I sent an email to get funding for his move after he had called our office to begin the process, and I had indicated in my email to HR and Finance that we would appreciate if we can get funding for “our organization’s first chaplain.”
You should have seen how quickly people moved.
In what would have otherwise been a painstaking process of back-and-forth emails: “flagging again,” “friendly reminder,” “appreciate your help,” “I know you’re busy, but if you can please…”, and my personal favorite: “BLUF.”
In Jeremiah 38, there’s a story about a man most people don’t know. His name was Ebed-Melech. He was an Ethiopian eunuch who came to the aid of the prophet Jeremiah when he was cast into a dungeon for preaching an unpopular message of surrender to Babylon. Ebed-Melech was compassionate and demonstrated “practical mercy” because he paid attention to the small, human details of suffering. Specifically, he provided old rags and worn-out clothes to put under Jeremiah’s armpits while pulling him out of the dungeon, so the ropes wouldn’t chafe or cut him. The thing is when no one else saw what Ebed-Melech did, God did. I’m not just talking about pulling Jeremiah out of the dungeon either. Most people may have had enough compassion to do that. Ebed-Melech’s compassion went further. He put himself in Jeremiah’s situation.
“Say to Ebed-melech the Ethiopian, ‘This is what the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, the God of Israel, says: I will do to this city everything I have threatened. I will send disaster, not prosperity. You will see its destruction, but I will rescue you from those you fear so much. Because you trusted me, I will give you your life as a reward. I will rescue you and keep you safe. I, the Lord, have spoken’” (Jeremiah 39:16-18)!
The thing is some days I show up to work, and I ask myself, “Why are you here?” And then someone sends me a message asking for help or I overhear someone struggling to find a solution to their problem, and I’m off on a mission to help them figure it out. I don’t always know how it will land. If it will make any difference, and then someone says, “This is VERY helpful,” and I remember that’s why I’m here. Not for the promotion. Not for the paycheck. Not for the rewards. For the people who needed my help.
This issue was sparked by a sermon on Ebed-Melech. Worth your time.