For a servant named Gehazi, working alongside a high-profile, greatly respected prophet like Elisha was a privilege. But at the same time, it was a particular position that brought about unique temptations.
Insight for Today
Written by Chuck Swindoll, these encouraging devotional thoughts are published seven days per week.
Afflicted. Perplexed. Persecuted. Struck down. These terms reflect the struggles common to all of us. Under stress, confused, pursued, rejected—Paul (and every servant since his day) understands what it means to endure the constant blast of problems.
To some folks, serving others sounds as safe and harmless as a poached egg on a plate. What could possibly be perilous about it? Plenty.
Most every calling and occupation carries with it peculiar hazards—some subtle, some obvious. It's not just the steeplejack or submarine crew or high-rise window washers or S.W.A.T. teams who face perils in their work. We all do. No exceptions.
Since God has called us to be His salt-and-light servants in a bland, dark society, it will be necessary for us to commit ourselves to the task before us. Remember, salt must not lose its taste, and light must not be hidden.
Does it seem important to you that Christ calls us what He called Himself? "I am the Light of the world" (John 8:12). "You are the light of the world" (Matthew 5:14). Servants of Christ shine with His light in a society that is hopelessly lost, left to itself.
Jesus says that believers are "salt to the world" (Matthew 5:13 NEB). Our very presence halts corruption...and preserves society.
A society characterized by savage violence and the darkness of depravity and deception will, without a preservative, deteriorate...and, ultimately, self-destruct. Because servants of Christ are like salt on society, our influence is essential for society's survival.
Need a picture of just how hopeless and empty society really is? Just glance over 2 Timothy 3. Within the first 13 verses, I find three undeniable descriptions of our world: difficult, depraved, and deceived.
The late Peter Marshall, an eloquent speaker and for several years the chaplain of the United States Senate, used to love to tell the story of "The Keeper of the Spring,"¹ a quiet forest dweller who lived high above an Austrian village along the eastern slopes of the Alps.