Being in Ministry is Hard
There, I said it! It's many other things as well; it's exciting, meaningful, uplifting, surprisingly fun. But it's also hard. However, I don't want to sit here and list the reasons why it's hard because 1. I don't want this post to become a buzzfeed article and 2. I know myself and the list can become a string of complaints and end up making me feel yucky.
But I do want to be honest with where I am right now and why despite the ups and downs I've been through in being a leader in church I would still fight tooth and nail to make it to the meetings and throw myself into worship and give bear hugs to awkward teens every week (they love em, they just don't know it yet). Right now, I'd say that I'm in a bit of a dry spell - I'm learning how to have a full-time career and be a full-time leader in a small church at the same time (I'm not good at math but I don't think you can technically be "full" time with two different...times), our service attendance hasn't been the greatest, we have more church spectators in our congregation than Jesus lovers, our core team is small and oftentimes overworked, and I just can't seem to find the time to properly disciple the girls.
I was sitting at my piano today, alone in my house, and just started playing a few chords, trying to write a song. A few mildly depressing verses came out, some sounded nice, others I've forgotten already. But I suddenly became struck with a feeling I'm well-acquainted with: inadequacy. The more I played and tried to sing, the more annoyed I got at the way I sounded or the words I came up with. Then I realized my thoughts were beginning to change; my mind drifted over the various parts of Blueprint (my church name) that had issues and another well-acquainted emotion set in: guilt. If only I was more dynamic, or more loving, or more eloquent, or was less self-absorbed then maybe things would be different. This desire to be a more effective leader often plagues my thoughts and keeps me up at night, but it never comes from a place of security and love. It always leaves me feeling small and I end up doing even less because hey, why bother trying harder at being a mediocre leader?
By God's grace I've learned throughout the years to stop this kind of thought-train before it runs on and on so that it takes me forever to get back to where I'm supposed to be. So after a couple minutes of this, I got up from the piano and came upstairs and felt the urge to write what ministry means to me as a reminder of awesome and privileged it is to work for our God. So here I am, reminding myself and perhaps some of you who struggle with the same feelings of guilt and inadequacy when the health and vibrance of our ministries are in question.
I'm led to think of Jesus and His love for Judas throughout their 3 years together, knowing that he'd betray Him in the most painful way. That kind of love cannot be conjured by human affection. It's the kind of love that tears down walls, melts the coldest hearts, and heals the unbelievably broken minds of the people who come through our doors. My biggest struggle with ministry is feeling hurt when people walk away, or misunderstand, or become disinterested and disappear. But I have to believe that loving people without the condition of reciprocation is a form of suffering with Christ, and in so I become more like Him, and becoming more like Him means I can love like Him.
My loneliness, my failures, my weaknesses cannot compare to the joy of knowing Him, nor can it compare to seeing the face of one who has known Him too for the first time.
But I do want to be honest with where I am right now and why despite the ups and downs I've been through in being a leader in church I would still fight tooth and nail to make it to the meetings and throw myself into worship and give bear hugs to awkward teens every week (they love em, they just don't know it yet). Right now, I'd say that I'm in a bit of a dry spell - I'm learning how to have a full-time career and be a full-time leader in a small church at the same time (I'm not good at math but I don't think you can technically be "full" time with two different...times), our service attendance hasn't been the greatest, we have more church spectators in our congregation than Jesus lovers, our core team is small and oftentimes overworked, and I just can't seem to find the time to properly disciple the girls.
I was sitting at my piano today, alone in my house, and just started playing a few chords, trying to write a song. A few mildly depressing verses came out, some sounded nice, others I've forgotten already. But I suddenly became struck with a feeling I'm well-acquainted with: inadequacy. The more I played and tried to sing, the more annoyed I got at the way I sounded or the words I came up with. Then I realized my thoughts were beginning to change; my mind drifted over the various parts of Blueprint (my church name) that had issues and another well-acquainted emotion set in: guilt. If only I was more dynamic, or more loving, or more eloquent, or was less self-absorbed then maybe things would be different. This desire to be a more effective leader often plagues my thoughts and keeps me up at night, but it never comes from a place of security and love. It always leaves me feeling small and I end up doing even less because hey, why bother trying harder at being a mediocre leader?
By God's grace I've learned throughout the years to stop this kind of thought-train before it runs on and on so that it takes me forever to get back to where I'm supposed to be. So after a couple minutes of this, I got up from the piano and came upstairs and felt the urge to write what ministry means to me as a reminder of awesome and privileged it is to work for our God. So here I am, reminding myself and perhaps some of you who struggle with the same feelings of guilt and inadequacy when the health and vibrance of our ministries are in question.
I'm led to think of Jesus and His love for Judas throughout their 3 years together, knowing that he'd betray Him in the most painful way. That kind of love cannot be conjured by human affection. It's the kind of love that tears down walls, melts the coldest hearts, and heals the unbelievably broken minds of the people who come through our doors. My biggest struggle with ministry is feeling hurt when people walk away, or misunderstand, or become disinterested and disappear. But I have to believe that loving people without the condition of reciprocation is a form of suffering with Christ, and in so I become more like Him, and becoming more like Him means I can love like Him.
My loneliness, my failures, my weaknesses cannot compare to the joy of knowing Him, nor can it compare to seeing the face of one who has known Him too for the first time.
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