Home // Church // Part 1
Sunday morning in late summer.
The sun shines through the stained glass.
I sit in reverence on a pew with a stained and faded fur somewhere between mint and puke green.
I sing the songs and listen to the sermon.
It's just another Sunday morning in the church I love.
As I worship with this congregation all the other things, the work, the fighting, the drama of being in church leadership fades away. I listen, not just to the songs and sermon, but for the still small voice of God as he speaks to me.
It was during the alter call. I can tell you what I was wearing and the name of the usher I passed on my way to out in tears because I knew. There are times when God calls us to go and times that God calls us to stay. He calls us to take times of rest and quiet. He also calls us to take times of action and doing. It was a watercolor dress with garden growing between white stripes. I was in mint green ked wedges. I had a cream bow in my messy waves. It was during the alter call, that I heard God call to me and I wasn't very happy.
"If you are angry or frustrated with what is happening here in this church, then step up into leadership. Volunteer and get involved in changing it."
The words floated in the air each one penetrating another layer of my emotional shield. By the end of those two sentences my heart was punctured and I cried hot, angry tears. I thought about the past year and especially the last three months. Over the past three months I had poured my heart and soul into a ministry. I didn't just step up and volunteer, I got on staff. I prayed countless hours over the church and the ministry. I thought everything would be the same when I stepped back. I thought I could let someone else take charge of the ministry and my passion for the children would fade. But the tear drops cutting through my make up told me a different story. I didn't want to step back, I wanted to step up. I wanted so badly to continue serving with the same fervor and energy and passion that I had for the three months I was the Children's ministry intern and the months between my becoming a member and then. I was angry. I was angry because I stepped up and when I no longer seemed useful, I was unceremoniously pushed out in the most hurtful of ways.
"Why?"
I begged God. All sermon I had been praying for clarity and this is what he brings me. My husband and I had been talking about our future in the church and I know a decision was impending. I fade in and out of listening to the pastor because I am trying to here what God is saying, but a few words slip through and they are the same buzz words that I've heard over and over again for the past year and shoved aside because my heart wanted so badly to take those words and run.
"Go."
A year ago, I would have gladly taken that and left. A year ago, I didn't want to be at my church. A year ago, I was mad at God and mad at myself because I had allowed all of my power to be taken and I had given it over to men instead of to God.
A year ago God called me to wait.
When I submitted to God, everything changed. I was able to find a home. I made good friends and mentors. I fed and was fed. I was able to invest in the lives of the next generation and help them to find their passion for God. I fell in love with a church, not the building or the administration, but the individuals.
It was moments of prayer and joy. It was moments of planning and executing.
It was the children's ministry.
It was the fifth grader begging every week to be in my class (K-2nd) because the kids enjoyed it. It was the increase in visitors and the growth of programs. It was the girl asking about baptism and how it could possibly be fun to read the Bible. It was teaching her that the Bible isn't just a story to read beginning to end, but something we can read in small segments. It was 22 kids making decisions about Christ at VBS and 1 (out of 5) making a decision at camp. It was little moments and big moments.
It was the Hispanic ministry.
It was the Bridal shower they threw me before they even knew me and a baby shower a few months after that with no judgement. It was women and men who did not allow a language barrier to get in the way of welcoming me and showing me God's love. It was teenagers who were actively participating in the class I was teaching even though I felt completely under qualified and too young. It was God showing over and over again God uses anyone who is willing for His will.
It was the women of the church.
It was the love I recieved when I really needed it. It was my teaching partner in VBS who encouraged me when I was afraid of making changes and putting myself out there. It was the very same woman who welcomed me in helping her with a Bridal shower she was planning. The same woman who cared about how I was with my family so far away. It was the woman who lost her husband, but somehow was showing me love not two weeks later. It was the same woman who tirelessly works toward making everything run smoothly at the church. It was the same woman who considered me family before I even really knew her name. It was the women who taught my son Bible stories. It was the women who constantly loved him. It was these women who I aspire to be like one day.
I'm crying as I am writing this because I found a home. I found a place where I can be passionate, occasionally disorganized, flawed self and there are people who love me.
I fell in love and I got involved. Within a month of becoming a member, I was hosting Children's Church, with two months, I was the lead teacher for Awana Sparks. Within three months, I began asking about the vacant Children's ministry director position. As I asked God to open doors, He did. As my passion grew, so did my opportunities to serve.
In May, after months of prayer, I submitted my application. When I did, I told the pastor that I was willing serve whether or not I got the position, and I was. I told him that if he hired someone else that I would help him transition.
By the end of May, Kevin and I were both interns for the summer, Kevin for youth and me for Children.
I set aside my anxiety about this feeling like an extended job interview and got to work.
First it was VBS, a month before, I had been helping recruit, but now my role was bigger (I hoped). I made call after call (some in Spanish) inviting children to VBS. My husband helped me lift and tape and pin and drill as we began preparing for VBS. Then, it was preteen camp, which had been all but left to the wayside. I made calls and emails and tons of inquiries until a week before camp I got down to the bottom of it and found that no one knew anything and there really weren't preparations. Again, I called and called (in English and Spanish) and invited 3rd-5th graders to Camp Overflow. the stress in the weeks preceding it waned as we drove up to camp. One camper had appendicitis and one decided she wanted to get baptized. then we were home. And things tapered. God gives and takes away. He is the one who is in control. When the opportunities for me to serve began dwindling, I was comfortable with the plateau, there was a lot to do from the top. I still had summer events planned and lots to do.
It was the last week in July. It was just an average staff meeting. I was in blue paisley heels and a navy and white stripped dress. Kevin and I arrived a few minutes late because Ephraim was being extra fussy that morning. We had both recovered from camp and things were going well. Casually, in the first five minutes of staff meeting, with no mention at any prior staff meeting, the pastor says "Oh, yeah, and we have a new Children's Minister coming and he's going to be so great and he starts Monday." And I froze. For some reason or another, he chose to tell me I didn't get the job in the middle of a staff meeting by describing the man who got the job. In the staff meetings prior there had been no mention of any promising prospectives for the job, which I had assumed was to keep me in the dark from my own hiring process or because there were no other promising prospective, but instead the last week of July I was blindsighted.
The next two weeks I felt irrelevant and unused. I helped him transition with write ups of all the summer activities and I assisted a bit in the planning of the back-to-school bash, but I no longer felt welcome at the staff meetings and anything I said was wiped off the table as soon as I set it down. I offered him any assistance I could and told him to ask any questions he had. He never did.
Two weeks later, while I sat at home on lazy Tuesday my son, the pastor packed up my office without as much as a text until he had already put my stuff in a storage closet. I felt pushed out. I was okay with leaving. I was okay with not being hired on permanently. But I was not okay with being treated irreverently because I was not permanent.
There were other communication issues this summer, most of which I wrote off as being a young woman, but it wore me out. It wore me out to the point where I dropped the ball on my last summer activity. I finished my internship on the 14th, but I had a science day planned for the 18th and the back-to-school bash for the 19th. The new children's minister had taken over the back-to-school bash, but the science day was still my responsibility and I didn't go. A family visiting the church showe up and I wasn't there. That was my first big dropping of responsibility and I felt bad, but I realized that I was burnt out on the last two weeks. The two months of constant serving didn't burn me out, but the two weeks of being treated second class and having my ideas disregarded not on merit, but on prejudice, did.
The alter call didn't tell me to go. I was angry. I was angry because God gave us all these opportunities and then just took them away. He had provided this awesome mission, but made it so that I could not affect change while there. In the moment, when I ran outside crying into the sticky hot afternoon air, I knew I cared so much for this church and I knew that God wanted us to be still. The pastor said we are all called to Go, but God was calling us to be still for a little while longer. As I washed my face, I prayed that God give my husband wisdom and discernment about what to do about church. I prayed for peace about the decisions that we made. I prayed for calm because my emotions were running high.
God called us to wait, again.
The sun shines through the stained glass.
I sit in reverence on a pew with a stained and faded fur somewhere between mint and puke green.
I sing the songs and listen to the sermon.
It's just another Sunday morning in the church I love.
As I worship with this congregation all the other things, the work, the fighting, the drama of being in church leadership fades away. I listen, not just to the songs and sermon, but for the still small voice of God as he speaks to me.
It was during the alter call. I can tell you what I was wearing and the name of the usher I passed on my way to out in tears because I knew. There are times when God calls us to go and times that God calls us to stay. He calls us to take times of rest and quiet. He also calls us to take times of action and doing. It was a watercolor dress with garden growing between white stripes. I was in mint green ked wedges. I had a cream bow in my messy waves. It was during the alter call, that I heard God call to me and I wasn't very happy.
"If you are angry or frustrated with what is happening here in this church, then step up into leadership. Volunteer and get involved in changing it."
The words floated in the air each one penetrating another layer of my emotional shield. By the end of those two sentences my heart was punctured and I cried hot, angry tears. I thought about the past year and especially the last three months. Over the past three months I had poured my heart and soul into a ministry. I didn't just step up and volunteer, I got on staff. I prayed countless hours over the church and the ministry. I thought everything would be the same when I stepped back. I thought I could let someone else take charge of the ministry and my passion for the children would fade. But the tear drops cutting through my make up told me a different story. I didn't want to step back, I wanted to step up. I wanted so badly to continue serving with the same fervor and energy and passion that I had for the three months I was the Children's ministry intern and the months between my becoming a member and then. I was angry. I was angry because I stepped up and when I no longer seemed useful, I was unceremoniously pushed out in the most hurtful of ways.
"Why?"
I begged God. All sermon I had been praying for clarity and this is what he brings me. My husband and I had been talking about our future in the church and I know a decision was impending. I fade in and out of listening to the pastor because I am trying to here what God is saying, but a few words slip through and they are the same buzz words that I've heard over and over again for the past year and shoved aside because my heart wanted so badly to take those words and run.
"Go."
A year ago, I would have gladly taken that and left. A year ago, I didn't want to be at my church. A year ago, I was mad at God and mad at myself because I had allowed all of my power to be taken and I had given it over to men instead of to God.
A year ago God called me to wait.
When I submitted to God, everything changed. I was able to find a home. I made good friends and mentors. I fed and was fed. I was able to invest in the lives of the next generation and help them to find their passion for God. I fell in love with a church, not the building or the administration, but the individuals.
It was moments of prayer and joy. It was moments of planning and executing.
It was the children's ministry.
It was the fifth grader begging every week to be in my class (K-2nd) because the kids enjoyed it. It was the increase in visitors and the growth of programs. It was the girl asking about baptism and how it could possibly be fun to read the Bible. It was teaching her that the Bible isn't just a story to read beginning to end, but something we can read in small segments. It was 22 kids making decisions about Christ at VBS and 1 (out of 5) making a decision at camp. It was little moments and big moments.
It was the Hispanic ministry.
It was the Bridal shower they threw me before they even knew me and a baby shower a few months after that with no judgement. It was women and men who did not allow a language barrier to get in the way of welcoming me and showing me God's love. It was teenagers who were actively participating in the class I was teaching even though I felt completely under qualified and too young. It was God showing over and over again God uses anyone who is willing for His will.
It was the women of the church.
It was the love I recieved when I really needed it. It was my teaching partner in VBS who encouraged me when I was afraid of making changes and putting myself out there. It was the very same woman who welcomed me in helping her with a Bridal shower she was planning. The same woman who cared about how I was with my family so far away. It was the woman who lost her husband, but somehow was showing me love not two weeks later. It was the same woman who tirelessly works toward making everything run smoothly at the church. It was the same woman who considered me family before I even really knew her name. It was the women who taught my son Bible stories. It was the women who constantly loved him. It was these women who I aspire to be like one day.
I'm crying as I am writing this because I found a home. I found a place where I can be passionate, occasionally disorganized, flawed self and there are people who love me.
I fell in love and I got involved. Within a month of becoming a member, I was hosting Children's Church, with two months, I was the lead teacher for Awana Sparks. Within three months, I began asking about the vacant Children's ministry director position. As I asked God to open doors, He did. As my passion grew, so did my opportunities to serve.
In May, after months of prayer, I submitted my application. When I did, I told the pastor that I was willing serve whether or not I got the position, and I was. I told him that if he hired someone else that I would help him transition.
By the end of May, Kevin and I were both interns for the summer, Kevin for youth and me for Children.
I set aside my anxiety about this feeling like an extended job interview and got to work.
First it was VBS, a month before, I had been helping recruit, but now my role was bigger (I hoped). I made call after call (some in Spanish) inviting children to VBS. My husband helped me lift and tape and pin and drill as we began preparing for VBS. Then, it was preteen camp, which had been all but left to the wayside. I made calls and emails and tons of inquiries until a week before camp I got down to the bottom of it and found that no one knew anything and there really weren't preparations. Again, I called and called (in English and Spanish) and invited 3rd-5th graders to Camp Overflow. the stress in the weeks preceding it waned as we drove up to camp. One camper had appendicitis and one decided she wanted to get baptized. then we were home. And things tapered. God gives and takes away. He is the one who is in control. When the opportunities for me to serve began dwindling, I was comfortable with the plateau, there was a lot to do from the top. I still had summer events planned and lots to do.
It was the last week in July. It was just an average staff meeting. I was in blue paisley heels and a navy and white stripped dress. Kevin and I arrived a few minutes late because Ephraim was being extra fussy that morning. We had both recovered from camp and things were going well. Casually, in the first five minutes of staff meeting, with no mention at any prior staff meeting, the pastor says "Oh, yeah, and we have a new Children's Minister coming and he's going to be so great and he starts Monday." And I froze. For some reason or another, he chose to tell me I didn't get the job in the middle of a staff meeting by describing the man who got the job. In the staff meetings prior there had been no mention of any promising prospectives for the job, which I had assumed was to keep me in the dark from my own hiring process or because there were no other promising prospective, but instead the last week of July I was blindsighted.
The next two weeks I felt irrelevant and unused. I helped him transition with write ups of all the summer activities and I assisted a bit in the planning of the back-to-school bash, but I no longer felt welcome at the staff meetings and anything I said was wiped off the table as soon as I set it down. I offered him any assistance I could and told him to ask any questions he had. He never did.
Two weeks later, while I sat at home on lazy Tuesday my son, the pastor packed up my office without as much as a text until he had already put my stuff in a storage closet. I felt pushed out. I was okay with leaving. I was okay with not being hired on permanently. But I was not okay with being treated irreverently because I was not permanent.
There were other communication issues this summer, most of which I wrote off as being a young woman, but it wore me out. It wore me out to the point where I dropped the ball on my last summer activity. I finished my internship on the 14th, but I had a science day planned for the 18th and the back-to-school bash for the 19th. The new children's minister had taken over the back-to-school bash, but the science day was still my responsibility and I didn't go. A family visiting the church showe up and I wasn't there. That was my first big dropping of responsibility and I felt bad, but I realized that I was burnt out on the last two weeks. The two months of constant serving didn't burn me out, but the two weeks of being treated second class and having my ideas disregarded not on merit, but on prejudice, did.
The alter call didn't tell me to go. I was angry. I was angry because God gave us all these opportunities and then just took them away. He had provided this awesome mission, but made it so that I could not affect change while there. In the moment, when I ran outside crying into the sticky hot afternoon air, I knew I cared so much for this church and I knew that God wanted us to be still. The pastor said we are all called to Go, but God was calling us to be still for a little while longer. As I washed my face, I prayed that God give my husband wisdom and discernment about what to do about church. I prayed for peace about the decisions that we made. I prayed for calm because my emotions were running high.
God called us to wait, again.
Comments
Post a Comment