Sometimes I think of myself as a foot in the body of Christ’s church—relatively unglamorous (painted toenails notwithstanding), but willing to work and contribute in many ways. So when I got one of those fateful phone calls asking me to meet with the bishop, I considered the possibilities.
Maybe he’d ask me to walk or hike for a while, or skip rope or jump through a few hoops. Maybe I’d need to help with swimming or biking. I could even be asked to run, maybe a distance longer than I’m comfortable with. He might ask me to learn how to tap dance, or waltz, or heaven forbid, cha-cha (because then I’d have to work with the hips, and you know how they can be). Or maybe someone needed a good swift kick. I’m the gal for that.
Here’s how it went down:
Bishop: Hi, Sis. Y.
Me: Hi, bishop.
Bishop: We’d like to call you to smell the roses.
Me: Um, excuse me?
Bishop: We’re calling you to smell the roses. It’s a great calling—you’ll really enjoy it.
Me: Perhaps you misheard my qualifications. I have toes, not a nose.
Bishop: Yes, I know this is outside of your comfort zone, but it’s good to stretch beyond our normal capacities, don’t you think?
Me: I can’t do this. I’m a foot. I really don’t have what it takes to fulfill this calling.
Well, most of you know how the “I’m not capable of doing this” argument flies with bishops. It doesn’t.
“This is ridiculous,” I later grumbled. “It’s like asking the stonemasons to sew the curtains.”
I did accept the calling, but it ended badly after only a few weeks. I’m still left wondering whether I made the mistake or the bishop did. Or maybe a little of both? Because it’s true that getting outside of your comfort zone is a good thing. It stretches us in ways we might never go otherwise. Maybe I could have developed some nose-like qualities if I’d tried harder, or found some nosy people to help me out. But my attitude was…less than pliant, which did not help.
However, it’s also true that asking people to do things they are completely unprepared for (and maybe even incapable of) is not the best recipe for success.
I think using a lay ministry is both complete brilliance and a total nightmare. It’s a refining fire that sometimes burns. But I’ve found that when I really put my heart into it, things work together for my good (sometimes in unexpected ways). I’ve also decided that God likely cares less about how the curtains turn out than He does about what I learned while trying to sew them.
I’d like to hear your stories, especially if you happen to be a foot that learned how to smell.
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