I don’t know about you, but being a bellhop is not exactly on my dream board. Memorable preacher? Yes. Founder of a prestigious institution? You bet. Pastor of a respected church with a national platform? Let’s go. I’d be thrilled to do any of it—for the sake of ministry, of course.
But if I’m honest, there’s a disease that’s been known to infect me—and many others in the church. It’s subtle. Sneaky. It doesn’t start with evil intent. But once it takes hold, it poisons how we see the church.
I’ve seen its effects on members who leave when things don’t go their way. I’ve seen it in the mirror too. The disease is Me-And-Mine. And it comes in a couple of strains.
Strain One: My-Church-Is-for-My-Identity Syndrome
We live in extraordinary times. Historically, identity was shaped in community—through family, culture, faith, and tradition. But today, identity is personalized, defined from within, and grounded in how we feel.
In our cultural moment, feelings don’t just matter—they define who we are.
But there’s a catch. Identity cannot stabilize in the ever-fluctuating market of feelings. No matter how much we insist otherwise, identity is hardwired to be shaped in community. It requires recognition from others to become solid and enduring.
When identity is grounded primarily in feelings, entitlement quietly takes root. Our emotions can’t bear the weight of loneliness produced by self-defined identity, so we hunger for affirmation—from others, from institutions, from the church. And when affirmation doesn’t come, disagreement is no longer disagreement. It’s interpreted as rejection. Or worse, as an assault on identity.
That shift has massive implications for how we view the church.
Instead of being “the pillar and buttress of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15), the church becomes another platform for personal expression. Institutions no longer form people; they are expected to affirm them. And when feelings define identity, the individual becomes sovereign.
Marriage bends. Education bends. Government bends. Even human nature bends. And the church? The church is expected to bow.
Strain Two: My-Church-Is-for-My-Ministry Syndrome
Is the church a place for ministry? Of course it is. But this strain carries the same deadly “me” virus. Once it takes hold, what we do becomes more important than what we believe—or where we belong. The church becomes a stage for our gifts. A place to receive recognition. Compliments. Validation. A platform for my ministry.
Psalm 84:10 delivers the antidote:
“For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of wickedness.”
That verse hits you right between the eyes. David is saying something simple—and radical. One day in the right house is better than a lifetime anywhere else. Being a lowly doorkeeper—first one in, last one out—is better than position, power, or comfort apart from God’s presence.
A few years ago, this truth was driven home to me through the quiet faithfulness of a modern-day “doorkeeper.”
The man was a theologian. Not just any theologian—one of the most respected minds in Christian theology. He wrote important books. Edited prestigious journals. Discipled leaders who would go on to shape seminaries around the world.
But on Sundays? Most of his church had no idea. To them, he was the guy wiping up coffee spills in the fellowship hall. The one stacking chairs, folding tables, making sure the building was ready for the next gathering.
A doorkeeper. That’s what it looks like when a brilliant mind chooses humble service. That’s what it looks like when your church isn’t about your ministry.
Moving Beyond Me
Free from the tyranny of managing me, something beautiful happens. We begin to enjoy the church again—not as a platform, but as a body.
We start to savor quiet faithfulness. We find joy in opening doors, stacking chairs, welcoming guests, or packing up coffee—not because it’s glamorous, but because it’s love.
Paul says it plainly:
“To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”
(1 Corinthians 12:7)
Our gifts are not about us. They are given for the body. Entrusted for God’s glory. From pastors to parishioners, from preachers to those on coffee duty—every gift is grace.
I once heard someone say it like this: “What you’re a part of is more important than the part you play.”
When the spotlight shifts from our role to God’s work through the church, love for the church grows. Not ambition through the church—but affection for the church.
Pastor, building this kind of culture—one that lasts—means helping people see the beauty of behind-the-scenes faithfulness. It means celebrating folded chairs as much as public teaching. It means modeling joy in unseen service.
Pastor, lead the way. Because what you’re a part of is far more important than the part you play.
Today’s Tenacious Questions
In what ways have you sought glory in the local church? Have you ever left a church because “your ministry” didn’t gain traction? What do those responses reveal about your heart?
Prayer
Lord, test my heart. You know how easily I seek glory from others instead of from You. Lead me into the humble joy of a servant—content to be a doorkeeper in Your house for as long as I live. Amen.
Photo by Matthew Menendez on Unsplash
