The Secret Service

It’s time for a change. You’re not sure why, but your nine to five job at the potter’s wheel just isn’t giving you the job satisfaction it used to. You’re feeling restless. You’re not sure what it is you want to do – something with a bit more excitement, a bit more risk. That’s when you spot it in the ‘Positions Vacant’ section of the Persian Times:

WANTED: Secret Service Agent. Loyal and trustworthy person required to serve in the palace of the King. Training will be provided. Must possess ability to stand perfectly still while looking interested at all times. Royal robes and handsome remuneration offered to the right man. All applications to be directed to King Artaxerxes.

Wow! This is it! The Secret Service. You couldn’t get much more exciting than that. And you’d get to work in the King’s palace, with the King himself, wearing royal robes. What an honour!

Of course you apply. You go through a gruelling interview process where you have to name the last thirty kings of Persia from tallest to shortest, and list the king’s 379 concubines in reverse alphabetical order. The psych test consists of some pretty straightforward questions: “Do you want to be King?” Check ‘NO’. “Are you planning on killing the King?” Ah, ‘NO’ again. Finally, your loyalty to the king is tested when you are asked if you are willing to lay your life on the line for His Majesty. You pass the tests with flying colours and humbly vow to serve the almighty King to the best of your ability as a member of the Secret Service.

You are well aware of the pitfalls and dangers of a position such as this. There are countless assassination plots at any one time. From straight out coups to subtle attacks, the king’s position is never safe. You imagine yourself protecting the King as he comes under fire from a hail of arrows, your bravery and skill displayed in a Crouching-Tiger-Hidden-Dragon-esque manouevre. As you fly through the air screaming a slow motion “Nooooooooooo!” you take an arrow in the chest for the King and die a hero.

You are overwhelmed when you are chosen to be The One. Out of all the applicants in the land, you are the man deemed fit to fulfil this important role. You bid a hasty goodbye to your family and skip merrily up to the palace door, presenting yourself for service.

You are treated with absolute honour. Firstly, you visit the tailor who whips up an outfit like you’ve never seen. If only that kid from school who used to laugh at your tattered sandals could see you now. Gold – real gold – lines your gown. Your extreme makeover continues with some accessories, a hair cut and some grooming tips on how to look your best at all times. After all, you’re in the public eye now. Paparazzi lurk at every corner.

Then comes the part you’ve been looking forward to most of all. Up until this point, no-one has said what it is you will actually be doing (that’s why it’s called the Secret Service). But now that you’ve cleared level 7 security checks, you’re about to find out. You’ve been working out lately and you know you’re looking ripped, so you’re expecting to be added to the list of the king’s personal bodyguards.

It is with great anticipations that one of the King’s advisors greets you and pronounces, “I now bestow upon you the instrument of your service, the tool through which you will ably and humbly serve your King.” Your heart is beating with sheer excitement. You’ve seen the swords those bodyguards carry and they are impressive. It lies on a cloth-covered table. Barely able to contain yourself, you shift from one foot to the other. Here it comes…

Like a child at Christmas you close your eyes and hold out your hands in anticipation. The aide places it in your hands with great pomp and ceremony. You open your eyes in wonder. You can’t believe it. Finally! You are a servant of the king. You hold in your hands…a cup. What? There must be some mistake. What happened to the spear, or the shield, or the bow? Wait a minute. You are going to hold a cup for the king? Surely not.

The realisation dawns on you. You are not part of the elite fighting force protecting the king. You are not going to march stoically beside him as he ventures outside the palace gates. No, you will stand, slightly to the left behind a veiled screen holding a cup. It is a pretty cup, this is true - gold, lots of jewels, engraved with the Kings’ seal. But it’s just a cup. You quickly run your hands over it, looking for the secret compartment that holds the weapon, but alas, it’s just a cup.

Apparently you are the Royal Cupbearer. Your disappointment is overwhelming. Your visions of grandeur are shattered. You’re going to be the pretty boy, dressed in finery, who stands silent all day behind a screen holding a cup. At some point during the day the king will grunt, or beckon or look slightly to the left and you will know that it is you he is seeking. Not because he is under attack and needs your expert fighting prowess. No, because he is thirsty. And you will pass him the cup, which he will put to his lips, then pass back to you again. It’s about as exciting as watching your fingernails grow – possibly less so.

Oh, and I forgot to mention – you could die at any moment. No, not from the sheer burden of carrying the king’s best golden goblet, but from poison. Any day now you could be writhing in agony on the floor, blood dripping from every crevice in your body. Just so you know. You see your job of the cupbearer is two fold. Yes, you pass the king his cup when he is thirsty. But here’s the catch - before you give it to him, you take a swig first. That’s right. Take a sip of what’s in the cup and count to ten. The king will be watching with interest.

It’s the Persian equivalent of being the President’s Chief Mail Opener. In the post-2001 terrorist era of white powder in the mail, it’s like being the one to personally open and lick all the president’s letters – just to see if that white powder really is anthrax – or icing sugar, as the case may be.

What a job. Cupbearer to the king. Impressive sounding, impressive looking, but not much chop really. Are you sure you want it?

The Bible tells the story of a cupbearer named Nehemiah. This was a guy who took his job seriously. Although he no doubt spent many boring hours standing like a sack of well dressed potatoes next to the king, he was a man of integrity, a man of principal. Royal cupbearer to the king may have been a poor second cousin to the real bodyguards who muscled and grunted their way around the palace, but a faithful cupbearer he would be. He took a job that had little going for it and made it his own. If that was what God was calling him to do, well then by golly he’d be the best he could be.

A few hundred years later, Jesus told a parable of the master and servants. There was a faithful servant who was left in charge of a small amount of money while his master was away. He took his job seriously and did the best he could with what he had. When the master returned, he praised him highly. “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!” Matthew 25:21 (NIV).

The same thing happened to Nehemiah. He was in charge of something small, but he was true and honest and trustworthy. And God had big plans for him.

How long did he serve the king before he got his real assignment? I’m not sure, but it was long enough for the king to learn about Nehemiah’s character. It was Artaxerxes who noticed Nehemiah was unusually sad. The king was concerned about his friend and wanted to help. He listened to Nehemiah and gave him permission to go and supervise the rebuilding of the wall around Jerusalem. He also bundled him up with gifts and letters to ensure safe passage along the way. Rebuilding the wall around the Holy City? Now that was God’s big plan for Nehemiah.

What is God calling you to do right now? It might be something significant, or it might be something small. Either way, be faithful in what you do, because God has something in store for you. He needs faithful people who will help fulfil His plans. Are you up to the task??