Serving In the Shadows

Saying Yes to God When No One Else is Looking

I’ve been volunteering in various ministries for years now, but this is the first time I’m writing about it. Honestly? I feel a bit uneasy. I dread being misunderstood. I dread being idolized or looked at in awe. That’s the last thing a volunteer wants.

We, volunteers, operate in the shadows, fueled by God's grace; far beneath the blinding light of applause and well beyond the spotlight. Way beneath the light of God’s grace. Being a volunteer means keeping my Master at the forefront. Whatever He asks, whether I have the skill set or not, I do it.

Working in the service of our Lord Jesus Christ is often tiring, and always exhilarating. Not exhilarating in the way that praise or applause tickles human pride, but in the quiet smile that comes from knowing my Master sees me. That’s what fuels us.

Volunteers are not heroes. Far from it. We’re the kind of animals who respond despite our lack of experience or know-how. We are the ones who, though flawed and sinful by nature, dare to go beyond our comfort zones in the service of the King.

Isn’t that what love is all about? It’s the intimacy of knowing and being known. It’s about waking up and asking, “What can I do today to please my Master?” Not because I have something to prove, but because I have Someone I love.

And what does this love look like in the gritty details of everyday life? There’s the matter of real-life logistics. The mother who cooks all the family meals in advance so she can volunteer. The student who carefully tracks their allowance just to have extra for transportation.

The young professional who compresses an entire week’s workload and then runs on four hours of sleep every weekend—just to serve.

The dad who gives up a family day once a month. The retiree who mentally and physically prepares for the strain of serving.

Let’s not sugarcoat this, it takes a lot to volunteer. And yet, we do it.

Masochistic, you say? Not at all. This is hedonism at its finest.

There’s joy in it, the deep kind. The kind that shows up in tired eyes and full hearts.

Me? I’m always dog-tired after serving. My joints make themselves known by throbbing all on their own. My body complains loudly. But spiritually and emotionally? I’m on fire. It’s weird, but during the work, I don’t even notice the tiredness. It’s the aftermath that hits like a truck.

Still, there’s this quiet joy in my chest. That somehow, no matter how fumbling or awkward I was, I made my Master smile. And that’s important. That’s everything. It was never truly about us. It never was. It’s all about Him.

And if we’re really being honest, I’m a little anxious, too. Can you imagine the worry? What if I said something wrong? What if I hurt someone unintentionally? What if I was the crack in the road that made someone stumble? And yet… I go on serving, fears in tow.

Because by God’s grace, I hope they see Jesus, not the paranoid, fumbling me.

So if someone like me, a flawed, tired, sometimes paranoid servant, can be called to serve, then so can you. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be willing.

We may serve in the shadows, but we are seen by the One who is the Light. And that is enough. More than enough.

By: Sharlene Faith Gomez