Let me make this clear: I did not choose to be in ministry. I did not set out to be a youth leader, youth minister, youth director. I did not want to work with adults. I had no intention of being a women’s minister or a family minister. I did not ask for this. It was not the desire of my heart. When I was a child, I dreamed of being a mommy. When Pops said that he hoped I had kids and they were ten times as rotten as I was, I changed my mind and swore off children. Pops told me I had to go to college, and my choices were Beauty School or Secretary school, I chose beauty school. It seemed like fun, but I didn’t really like school. Still, I did it because my dad said I had to.
When Richs and I got married, I could not wait to have babies. I wanted 10!!! Being a cosmetologist married to a military man meant that I would be working at Cost Cutters, or Regis, and no offense, I didn’t want to work for someone else. Not when I’d been renting a chair and I knew how much money I could make. So, I took job after job wherever we went. But I always wanted babies. I never stopped wanting to be a momma.
Then, one winter evening at the West River Retreat Center in Maryland, I attended a Women’s retreat that changed my life forever. We were standing in a circle, singing “Holy Ground”, and the doors blew open and the Spirit of the Lord came over me. He said to me, “You are going to be a minister. You are going to care for people. You will minister to young women.” PLEASE HEAR ME… I did not ask for this, I answered this. If you never remember another word of this post or anything else I ever say, remember this. I did not ask for this. I answered this.
When I heard that voice, I said, “Yes, Lord, yes.”
“Use me.”
“I will.”
“Whatever you ask, Lord, I will do it for you.”
I turned my back on everything I ever wanted, and I started walking along this road. Do I stop? Yes. Do I try to avoid what God is asking of me? Sometimes. Ok, yes. Do I wish I could be doing something else? Sometimes. Ok, no. But do I wish it were easier? Absolutely.
Windstream came out the other day, to install a new modem for us. The tech was supposed to be out the day before but ran into a snag. My husband asked if I growled at them for putting us off another day. No. I didn’t. Why? Because I know what it’s like to run into a snag. I worked in IT, I get it. The tech and I commiserated about it, and laughed because people seldom understand what it’s like to have to work in IT. Unless you’ve done it, you can’t possibly understand. Because by nature, IT, especially networking, is invisible. You can’t see it. So, when someone’s internet isn’t working, the first thing you do is look at hardware, because that’s the easy part. But when you can’t find an issue in the hardware, you have to go deeper. You must dig beyond wires and boxes and switches. You must go into a place not many people understand. Then you must troubleshoot all the variables that can go wrong until you can replicate the issue. If you can replicate the issue, you might be able to see where the problem is. But that’s just finding the problem. That’s not actually solving it.
Ministry is a lot like IT. When people have problems, you can’t just tell them what the problem is and expect them to fix it. Some people aren’t even aware that they have problems.
Oh babies, I am going to pray really hard that we can endure this time in ministry and come out healthy and still intact. I’m going to pray God’s protection over you, because a lot of people are going to be really unhappy with me for a really long time, and some of them are going to say nice things and act very kind to your face and then turn and say horrible things about me and maybe even you, behind our backs. But babies, I can’t help that. I can’t do anything about mean people. I can’t change them. I want to, but I can’t.
We discussed the ways we solved some of the problems, like tracing and tracking and then rerouting and redirecting and hopping switches and plugging lines or adding ports. I didn’t think much about the conversation, just enjoyed thinking about my Senior Vice President, who invested in me, who taught me the tricks of the trade, and trusted me to do my absolute best every single time. I thought about the immense amount of confidence she had in me and wondered why. Thoughts about my Florida job always bring smiles and warm heart. I genuinely loved my job and I considered many of the people I worked with my family. They were the ones who loaded me with gifts when our daughter was born. They were the ones who celebrated our move home and continued to support us with a telecommuting job. The tech finished the installation and then went on to the next job, and I went on to my next responsibility.
While God has had a plan for me my entire life, and He claimed me before I was born, I’ve been being pursued by God for the past 16 years. I don’t say that lightly. Even when I was working in IT, God was using my infertility, my work, my relationships with others to grow and develop me into a new person. All the ways I struggled in my past, I see now, were being used to sharpen and change my heart, my attitude, and my life. I wasn’t afraid of being pursued by God unless I was deliberately running from God. I found myself in places I didn’t want to be, and my spirit felt very confused. Being close to God, being inside His will is the most peaceful, comforting place ever. Even now.
Today, I was part of several conversations. Some healthy, encouraging; some sad and deflating. My heart has been hurting lately, over various things; yet I still have work to do, and I must do it with a hurting heart. Today, my hurting heart took on more pain for others again, and I spent the late afternoon and evening crying into my blanket. I wanted to write a letter telling a mass group of people to stop behaving the way they were. I wanted to judge them and convict them for their mean-spirited behavior. I wanted to chastise them like children and make them feel remorseful for the pain they’ve caused others. I wanted to stick a mirror in their faces and shake my fist at them and shout like an angry parent. But all I could do was cry.
I cooked supper with tears running down my cheeks. I washed dishes while wiping a sniffling nose. I lay in my bed and tried relaxing breathing. Eventually, I started writing. I wrote about the God who blessed me with my two miracle children. It will always start with them.
That God is a God of love and kindness. He is a just and righteous God, who has expectations of His children, but more than expectations, He has compassion. My God is a God of Mercy and Grace. He loves and he extends another chance. And another. He gave me a life, He saved my life, He restored my life, He enriched my life. I owe Him my life. So, as I wrote words about God, I began to think about the people who hurt other people. The people who hurt me. I wondered what I could do differently, and I began to plan what I would do next. I wrote my letter, and I was short and clear about it. I saved it to my hard drive and came back to blog this. As I started writing, I remembered part of a conversation from today, and the words I said, “I didn’t plan for this, this wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Then why are you doing it? Doesn’t God give you free will?” the person asked me. Seemingly innocent, possibly snarky. I don’t care how it was meant. Anyone who knows me well knows that I process things for an exceptionally long time, and this is the thing that I am processing. My answer? “Yes, God gives me free will, and I said, ‘Yes’.”
Remember the women’s retreat? “Yes, Lord, yes.”
Remember the parking lot after watching Facing the Giants? “I will still love You God; I will still love You.”
I am not begrudgingly serving in ministry. But I didn’t ask for it. I am not sad, sorry, or regretful that I am not in a lucrative position at a multi-billion-dollar corporation anymore. But it’s not what I wanted. If I had my way, I would pack up tomorrow and move back to Florida, and I would not look back. But this isn’t about me. I’m not interested in my way anymore. I’m interested in doing God’s will. Whatever that means. These days, it means hurting in my heart. It means that I must bear another’s burdens. It means I must stay silent when I really want to blast someone. It means that I must show my faith, rather than speak it. It means I must pray for those who persecute and bless those who curse. It means that I don’t get what I want. I get to do what God wants me to do, and I will do it with the joy of the Lord. Not because it’s fair. Not because they deserve mercy or justice. Not because I feel like it.
I do it because it’s what God wants, and I want what God wants. Period. Full stop.
Momma Rich's 