Read Philippians 3:7–14.

Our world has become a large, impersonal, busy institution. We are alienated from each other. Although crowded, we are lonely. Distant. Pushed together but uninvolved. No longer do most neighbors visit across the backyard fence. The well-manicured front lawn is a modern moat that keeps barbarians at bay. Hoarding and flaunting have replaced sharing and caring. We occupy common space but have no common interests, as if we have entered an elevator with unwritten rules: “No talking, smiling, or eye contact without written consent.” We’re losing touch with one another.

Caught up in the fast-lane treadmill of the twenty-first century—making mad dashes through airports, meeting deadlines, responsible for big-time decisions, and coping with the stress of other people’s demands mixed with our own high expectations—we lose sight of our primary calling as Christians. Even in our church life we tend to get caught up in a success and size race that eclipses our primary calling as followers of Christ.

Authenticity has a beautiful and refreshing simplicity about it—as do servants of God. No ulterior motives. No hidden meanings. An absence of hypocrisy, duplicity, political games, and verbal superficiality. As honesty and integrity characterize our lives, there’s no need to manipulate others. We cultivate a taste for the genuine, the real.

My first impression of the apostle Paul pictured a man that rammed his way through life like a battleship at sea. Blasting and pounding toward objectives, he was too important to worry about people who got in his way. But careful study revealed a man who most often referred to himself as “a servant” of God, a “slave” of Jesus Christ.

Three traits characterized Paul, a true servant: transparent humanity, genuine humility, and absolute honesty. First, Paul wasn’t perfect—and best of all, he didn’t hide it. “I have not arrived” is a concept Paul mentions at least three times in Philippians 3. Here is this brilliant, competent, strong leader who freely admits weaknesses.

Second, Paul became increasingly impressed with the living Christ and less impressed with himself. Genuine humility operates on a simple philosophy: Nothing to prove. Nothing to lose. If you’re the type that always has to come out right, if you have the need to be “perfect,” then you will always have something to prove.

Third, Paul had no ulterior motives. During my days in seminary, I had my artistic sister, Luci, print a question on a card I then placed on the wall above my desk: “What’s Your Motive?” Motives must be honestly searched. Paul says, in effect, I disregard my own accomplishments as well as others’ offenses. “Forgetting what lies behind” assures us that Paul refused to live in the past. He pressed on.

The principles for serving others are implemented from within. You want to be a force for good in a world of evil—a person of authenticity in a world of hypocrisy. You are tired of just criticizing what you see around you. You want to be part of the answer, not part of the problem. Because the path of servanthood is so perilous, cultivate a sensitive walk with God.

The art of unselfish living is practiced by few and mastered by fewer. Yet every act of servanthood, no matter how small or large, will be remembered by God. He takes special note of the heart—He knows the love behind actions.

Adapted from Charles R. Swindoll, Improving Your Serve (Waco, Tex.: Word Publishing, 1981), 17–19, 21, 23–27, 74–75, 158–9, 207, 210–11.