Calls about Callings

Right before I went to lunch today the thought struck me: "When a church calls me for a phone interview, is it proper etiquette for me to open or close with a prayer?" I had spent most of the morning mentally preparing for an expected call from a church in Virginia, but nothing had prepared me to answer this question. For the first time, my stomach began to curl and jump inside of me. I had no answers, worse I began to fear I’d fall completely mute and dumb.

Part of me thought, "hey, if you're thinking about being a pastor, you're going to have to start praying and probably a lot to open and close conversations or meetings." Then the more introverted side took over, and I calmly rationalized that a mere “God bless you” at the end of the conversation would suffice.

But just because I was able to overcome that small matter my mind had no problem jumping to other frightening questions and scenarios. What will they ask me? Will they like my ideas; will they like me? Do I tell them I think I would make a good pastor; is that cocky? I was awash in self-doubt – beginning to ignore the number one rule for any interview: be clear and definite.

Yes, I know; I’m a little paranoid about the whole interviewing thing, aren’t I? The problem is I just don’t know how to go about this whole thing. I’m learning on the fly. But thankfully Anna’s by my side, and her cheerfulness and complete trust is keeping us both going these days. She keeps reassuring me that if God wills it, than it will be.

“Be yourself,” she reminds me with a calm smile and confident eyes, and I look back at her with a sheepish gaze; “and just who might I be these days,” I ask from within. “I desire to speak the good news I know of God. I desire to walk and work with others – to bring glory to God.”

And as I’m searching and digging up these thoughts from within – right in the midst of this searching – that’s when the real prayers begin. I begin to see prayer as a means of opening myself up to God not as a tool to show off my pastoral skills. Likewise, I’m trying to remind myself this stage in our life is more about being open to how God is moving, not about what I need to do to get us to move?

That’s hard for me.

David Gray has a song called “Easy Way to Cry,” where he concludes there simply is no easy way to cry. I’d add that there’s no easy way to live by faith. Sometimes I manage to forget that – assuming faith is something that gets easier with time and age. I figure if I were able to impress God with a little bit of faith, He would eventually give me comfort and leisure so I wouldn’t need faith. Seems logical, right? God would certainly reward us a lot if we gave Him a little? Isn’t faith able to move mountains?

I know it is, but the problem is the faith I had two years ago doesn’t get automatically credited to my life today. Isn’t Simon Peter’s short venture on the water a good illustration that a little bit of faith a while ago doesn’t make up for a lack of faith right now?

But for some reason, I figured the first step would be the hardest, and after that, well, there would be nothing to worry about. Once I turned my back on worldly comforts and $60,000-a-year jobs, the rest would be Easy Street – a lovely stroll with God through life.

Maybe other people assume that’s how it is for ministers. There life is relatively clear and lack constant significant decisions that face the rest of humanity. Heck, maybe it really is that way for other ministers. I just know it’s not that way for me.

As I’ve stepped away from the white walls and lofty heights of seminary, I’ve realized even a Master of Divinity degree is unable to make faith easy. The same uncertainties persist; the same dangers await. In fact, it’s probably more accurate to state living by faith gets infinitely harder, not infinitely easier. That was the case Bunyan made in “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” was it not?

I’ll have to ask Anna – tomorrow, of course. The night has come. Anna rests, and I should too.

Wes