It’s been a hard week. You know those weeks. The kind when one minute, you’re at your job, loving it, and think, “This is why I do what I do!” Then the next minute, something happens that causes you to not only retract your last sentiment, but then think, “Is there any way I can get out of this?”
My life in the ministry so far has looked a lot like this. There are things that I love about working at a church and committing my life to knowing Christ and making Him known. However, like many jobs, it’s one where you have to deal with people A LOT. But you’re not just dealing with people, no. See, I worked with people doing customer assistance for over five years, and although it was frustrating at times, it wasn’t a big deal. Because while working to assist customers, the customer is always right–even if they happen to be very wrong. In ministry, the job is not dealing with customers. It’s dealing with fallen human beings who are created in the image of God, and instead of selling a product, our job is to help them become more like God. What a tricky and impossible task. But this task is made all-the-more impossible by the fact that I am one of those people.
I’m a fallen human being, just like everybody else. The first inclination of my heart is not to wake up every morning and thank God for being alive. And it’s not to set a chunk of time aside every day to pray. Nor do I naturally desire to read an ancient text of literature for fifteen minutes every day, while I study specific sections for hours on end every week so that I can help others to understand it. There are times when each of these things and all that I know I should be doing seems totally unappealing and unnecessary. As much as I believe in prayer, Bible study, fasting, and tithing, that doesn’t mean that I always feel like doing them. And it doesn’t mean that I always do them even when I don’t feel like it, even though I know I should. In fact, it’s been a few weeks since I wrote in my prayer journal, I’m about three months behind in my one year Bible, I can’t remember the last time I fasted for a whole day, and I’ve got a little bit of a backorder on tithe. (I better stop and fix my tithe situation right now before I continue writing. . . . Okay, now we’re good. Thank the Lord for online giving!)
I think all of this is probably the hardest part of pastoring: knowing that I’m supposed to be leading other people in spiritual transformation when I still have so much farther to go myself. I’m a perfectionist, which means I believe in excellence, so I don’t like failing. And what is failing? In Starla terms, failing often means missing excellence, when I can think of so many ways that I could have done something better. The worse failures I make are when I missed my set goal and someone ends up getting hurt in the process. As a leader, I hate hurting and letting down the people whom I’m serving. And in these kinds of failures, that’s when I have to ask, “Why do I do what I do?”
I’ve asked this kind of question a lot this week. Then tonight, I had to ask God to help me let go of the things I obsess over that I want to improve. Shortly after this prayer, out of nowhere I received a text from a friend, who knows nothing of my situation, saying that she was praying for me and to keep faith.
A little over a year ago, I started keeping a digital photo album on my computer with all of the comments, emails, pictures, tweets, etc. that have encouraged me personally. I currently have 99 notes in that album, along with a plethora of saved text messages that remind exactly why I do what I do. I do what I do because God called me to do it. Because success in God’s eyes is measured in nothing but faithfulness. When it comes down to it, I often get my job confused with God’s. It’s His job to equip, empower, and send me out. My job is much more simple. My job is to let God do His.
Why do I do what I do? Because God’s doing what He does. And I’m letting Him.