Called to Faithfulness

"Did that sermon resonate with you?" asked the man sitting beside me.

I nodded.

"Then raise your hand, get the mic over here. Or I'll get it over here for you."

I shook my head vigorously.

The congregation I attend has the practice of an open mic response time after the sermon. It's really neat to be able to hear other people share some of the responses that the sermon evoked in them, and it's great to be able to continue the conversation together as a congregation in this way.

But, as I've noted before, I'm extremely introverted, and I'm most comfortable with mulling over my thoughts and responses for some time before sharing them with anyone else. Especially things as deeply personal as how I've heard God whispering to me through the sermon on any given day. I'm obviously not opposed to sharing my thoughts--I'm about to do just that--but I've often thought if we could respond to the previous week's sermon instead of the one 'hot off the press' I'd be more able to participate.

Oh, there will be weeks when participating in this response time will work for me, to be sure. As someone who preaches from time to time, I actually find it interesting to get to listen in to a taste of people's responses to the sermon and to be able to extend the monologue to a conversation. But this has been a long, hard week, and I'm emotionally drained, and this week was not about to be one of those weeks, especially not under pressure. (Some might say that I'm a bit stubborn that way...)

Nonetheless, today's sermon about the transfiguration really did resonate with me, and so I'll work on processing my thoughts the best way that I know how. The transfiguration is a strange story, for sure! Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain. When they get to the top, Jesus' clothes become dazzling white, and Elijah and Moses (both, obviously, long dead) appear and talk with him. The disciples are a bit stymied (as we would be, too, if we were there in real time and didn't have the advantage of knowing how this story ends).

Peter, ever practical, volunteers to start setting up tents and making camp--desperate to do something, anything, that is familiar and safe in the midst of this unexpected and frightening turn of events.

Then as quickly as it starts, it's over, and Jesus warns them as they head back down the mountain not to discuss what they saw with anyone.

What in the world???

The thing is, as my pastor pointed out, encountering the holy so often leaves us standing there, scratching our heads, sometimes a bit terrified, wondering what in the world just happened and what on earth we're supposed to do as a result. Following Jesus leads us to all kinds of places that we don't expect. Surely, this girl, who was timid and shy and terrified of giving class presentations, did not expect to grow up to find that she feels most fully alive when she's preaching. Of all the crazy things, the likelihood of that scenario probably ranks right up there with me becoming an athlete or phys ed teacher. And yet, here we are!

It's been a really hard week, in the midst of a few really hard months, and I've been wrestling with feelings of failure and bewilderedness in the work that God has called me to do of late. I'm not sure what success looks like, but as I look around all I can think is, surely this isn't it.

But, when we most desperately want to find ways to be effective--to set up tents, to make camp, anything to be productive--sometimes it's then that God asks us instead simply to be faithful. And it's harder to figure out what faithfulness looks like than it is to figure out what effectiveness looks like, especially living as we do in a world that values productivity and outcome measures.

And yet, as my pastor pointed out, being faithful is not the same as being effective. It helps me immeasurably, this idea of striving first of all for faithfulness. Sometimes, I think, faithfulness in ministry means standing with people in the midst of the beautiful and painful mess of life, and simply continuing to love them and to hold out the assurance that God still loves them, even when it feels like the edges are fraying, when I can't make sense of what I'm seeing. Sometimes faithfulness means standing your ground, witnessing the pain, and finding that God is present even there. Sometimes faithfulness means following Jesus to Jerusalem--because while effectiveness usually doesn't end at the cross, sometimes faithfulness does.

Striving for faithfulness gives me permission to focus less on the doing, and more on the being. Faithfulness means seeking the One we do know in the midst of situations that are entirely unfamiliar and frightening, and holding onto His loving gaze so that we can invite others to meet His eyes once again too. It means letting go of control, and looking to the One who has had it all along. It means trusting that God will meet us once again on the other side, even if current reality seems more like a dream.

So, this week I'm going to experiment with releasing myself from the pressures of effectiveness, and instead use faithfulness as my measuring stick of choice. My call, after all, is to love others as God loves them, and to care for the flock that God has entrusted to me as best as I am able. My call is to remember that God is sovereign and I am not, and to draw my strength from God rather than relying on my own (which is quickly diminishing anyway).

Sometimes we're called to effectiveness, surely. But I think that for me--and I'm sure I'm not alone--this is a season for striving for faithfulness.