We went to a wedding on Saturday. “How should I dress?” I asked my wise and beautiful wife. “I’m not sure,” she said, “but I’m going to dress up.” So I went with the mock turtleneck (it was cool in the morning) and the sports coat.
We knew that the wedding was, how should I say it, not a model of planning. The bilingual group at church was going to help out with the meal that was to be served at the reception. They were expecting a crowd somewhere between 100 and 500. Did I mention that planning was not the strong point of this occasion?
We arrived early and went to the reception hall to see if any help was needed. No one was there. We walked over to the main building, then a few minutes later saw someone we know go into the reception hall. We decided to go back and check on preparations. Now things were in full swing, although there were basically only 3 ladies working there. My wife and I pitched in, along with our teenage daughter. Carolina, my wife, worked in the kitchen, while Andrea, my daughter, and I helped set up tables and decorate them. I also did some troubleshooting on a Dell computer. (Ha! Did I mention I’m a Mac guy? It’s a bit like me raising the hood on my car and trying to find something wrong)
It soon became clear that we weren’t going to make the ceremony. There was way too much to be done and not nearly enough people to do it. We were setting up for 300 people. I quickly realized that: (1) the wool sports coat was too much with the sweater; (2) a white sweater was a really bad idea. But I hadn’t known I was going to be working; I thought we were just attending.
I was a bit frustrated. I’ve done weddings and would have loved to be up in front, with everybody looking at me. (as I’ve mentioned before) Didn’t we have people who could set up tables, serve drinks, take out trash, etc.? Yes, I was feeling quite put upon, especially since much of this was due to a lack of planning on the family’s part.
Then I remembered another wedding, a wedding in John 2. A couple hadn’t planned well and was at risk of being embarrassed. Jesus quietly did a miracle, noticed by his followers but not by the crowd. He stepped up, resolved the crisis, yet never called attention to himself.
My situation was much different of course. For one thing, many people did much more than I to make sure this went well; if I had volunteered earlier to help out, I would have dressed for the occasion and known what to expect. Also, I did no miracle; I just moved some tables and poured some tea.
But I also realized that all of us who helped this young couple have a smooth reception (and the crowd was only 150, so things were well under control) did the same sort of thing that Jesus did on that day. It’s the quiet acts of service that mark the lives of believers, not the sermons preached nor the money given. It’s when we take up a towel that people can see our Lord in us.