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The Church That Serves When No One Is Filming

With no audience and no livestream, the church's service goes on Monday: this is what the gospel looks like when no one is promoting it.

By Rafael Montoya · Primera Plana
· 3 min read
The Church That Serves When No One Is Filming
Photo: Julia M Cameron / Pexels

A soup kitchen opens at six; a group visits the jail on Thursday. No one is recording them. That is the church too: the one that serves when no one is filming. No livestream announces it, and yet it happens every week.

Sunday is seen; Monday is sustained

The chairs get stacked and the projector gets switched off. The next day, someone cooks for fifty people, someone else sits with a family in a hospital waiting room, and a woman teaches a teenager to read after he entered the school system late. None of that shows up in an annual report, because it doesn't produce numbers that fit on a slide.

And that's fine. Faithfulness almost never has an audience. What sustains a soup kitchen isn't a month's worth of enthusiasm, but the steadiness of the months with nothing new, when no one remembers there was ever a special livestream.

«We serve because Christ served, not because someone is filming us»

— Rafael Montoya

Service is not the gospel's advertising

Jesus described his mission with a sentence that disarms any stage: "For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45, ESV). That is the order. First the cross, then the pot of soup.

If service were the price of God's love, it would stop being grace. But it isn't. We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works (see Ephesians 2:10). The works come after the gift, never before. That's why believers don't serve to be watched, but because they have already been looked on with mercy.

There is a subtle trap in good intentions. When the soup kitchen becomes a film set, the person being served becomes a prop. The young man who arrives hungry turns into an illustration for a message, and his dignity is pushed into the background. That's where service becomes advertising, and advertising always charges a price: it demands applause, views, comments.

Paul closes that door with a single line: "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31, ESV). Eating, drinking, cooking, carrying chairs, listening to someone who is crying. It all counts, even if no one shares it.

A concrete step this week

Pick a door in your city, whether Madrid, Phoenix or the place you call home, and knock without bringing a camera: a soup kitchen, a jail, a hospital, a nursing home. Ask what they need and offer time, not a photo. Come back next week even if no one saw anything.

Find someone who will ask how it's going and tell only that person, so you have accountability without a showcase. Commit for three months, because service is more like a shift than a premiere.

The service that pleases God doesn't need witnesses on social media; it needs witnesses on the block. The camera goes off, the message is forgotten, and the Lord keeps watching what is done in secret. Whom will you serve this week, even if no one finds out?

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