A personal reflection on serving at the local church.
I did not feel like serving today.
I am part of the altar team. I have been in the role for about three months. We are called upon at the end of every service to pray for people. People come forward filled with faith, and vulnerability. We pray for them individually. It almost always ends with tears, and sincere thanks. We often hear extravagant testimonies back.
How my ministry sabbatical was cut short.
I was reluctant to join the team. I served as a pastor of a church plant for two and a half years. It was a trying assignment, though it did not always feel that way at the time. It ended with my resignation, as I felt led by God. The process of leaving was bitter, and led me to realize my experience pastoring with that ministry had been quite stressful.
Upon joining a new church, my motive was to rest. Especially for my marriage, which had been quite affected by my pastoring experience. When I was invited by the team lead to join, I told him I was not in a hurry. I wanted to just be a part of the community. What I really meant was that I did not intend to serve at all. I would serve God in my online capacity.
The team lead initially accepted my response. But we then had a brief conversation in which he wanted to know more about my pastoral experience. While answering, I burst into tears. This was not the first time I would do that while talking about my experience pastoring. I had apparently been enduring so much, not allowing myself to feel. This outburst was at a get together, just like the first one, which happened at a Sunday picnic.
He empathized with me, and encouraged me to move on from the experience. He advised me to join his team, because people like me with strong experience in God would only grow while serving. Private devotion would no longer be enough. That made sense to me. Having spilled my tears, I seemed to be more open to the idea. It was like a spiritual operation had taken place. I accepted.
Being God’s hands.
When I joined, I was nervous. I had been a pulpit-preaching, admin-managing pastor. But there was something different about somebody walking up to you to pray for them. A stranger who needed answers. I felt under pressure to perform. God needed to answer.
My nerves were especially shaky because it’s a large multiracial church. I was one of the few black people serving in the entire congregation, a congregation that was majorly caucasian. Would they come forward to meet me? And if they did, would I pray an effective prayer? Would I work a miracle, like our very experienced team lead? He had testimonies to the sky of how supernatural things had happened when he prayed for people.
There was nowhere to hide. I always embrace a challenge like this. I would pray before going to church. It was important to be filled with the Spirit. Another thing that made it so nerve-wracking in the beginning was that I had to step out of the congregation at the pastor’s invitation of the altar team. That is, with about a thousand people standing and watching in the stands as I make my way out. It was quite a spectacle. Months later, it still feels strange to do.
When I started praying for people, I would hope their prayer point was simple. If it was, I would be happy. “I can handle this!” If it was something that really required a supernatural manifestation, I would be a bit anxious. “Dear Lord, please… Don’t make me look bad. Don’t disappoint this person. Help them.” Either way, I kept praying.
I began to experience a deep fulfillment from praying for people. I soon realized… God needed a body. He just needed a body to be there for his children to hold on to, to cry to and through which they could be prayed for. It became common to hug people through their tears. They would smile with deep gratitude. One lady kissed my hand. I started looking forward to it. I recognized a true love for people in my heart, and I was eager to express it to them in prayer.
When excitement putters out.
On some days, I would not pray extensively before leaving for church. Either I was too anxious, and my prayer just did not last very long, or I would have woken up late. A third possibility was that my devotion that week had been wishy-washy, and I just didn’t feel like I was up to it.
Still, when the time came, I would step out. I would pray for people. On many of these days, a small miracle would happen. Nothing externally supernatural, but a precious moment of prayer. A black person would come out to me, the only black person on the team. It seemed clear that I was the only one they could trust. We would pray and it would feel so real. A non-black person, and I would give a word of prophecy. They would cry and hug me tightly. I would then wonder—what if I did not step out? What would have happened? I gradually learned that I should not make this act of service about myself. It was about God and His people.
Still, on some days, I would just not want to go out. Today was one of those days. I started to really entertain the possibility of not stepping out. I would just head back to the car and we’d leave. Such terrible behaviour. But that’s how I felt.
The realization from the back of the pew.
I was not in a great spiritual mood today. I had woken up late, and I was not enjoying the way the pastor was preaching. My nose was stuffy. I began to have thoughts about whether I even wanted to keep coming to this church.
I stepped out to blow my nose at a point when the pastor asked us all to stand. I was not interested in the reason for this standing ovation. I nearly considered staying out for the rest of the service. But that is just terrible behaviour, I knew. I wouldn’t dishonour Christ’s structure of the church that much. I slipped back in and stayed at the back of the pews instead of going back to my seat beside my wife, toward the front. I did not want to distract the congregation.
While I sat there, I had a different perspective of the pastor and the church. I realized that all my criticisms of him were based on my knowledge. I know a lot, and could easily spot what should be done way better. I was too close to the ideal. But that had started to make me critical. While I sat there, I saw him from a wider view. Physically, and inwardly. I realized, he is actually doing a terrific job. Especially compared to what obtains in this part of the world. I saw his strengths and his goodness, which I often try to keep in mind.
I sat at the back, still contemplating not stepping out to pray, and I realized something. The reason for me praying for people was simply because I loved them. I asked myself if it was a good idea to walk out of the church after service when there might be one or two people who would want and need me to pray for them. Sure, they might just pray with someone else. But… didn’t I love them? Why would I deny them? Aren’t they God’s children that God loves? Would I let my spiritual flu get in the way of love?
The pastor asked us to stand again, and I used the opportunity to make my way back to my sit. I worshipped as a song filled the air. I decided I would go out. And then he said something striking. As he called the prayer team, he said “Our team consists of people who have compassion, and love and kindness…” He had confirmed the thought that had crossed my mind.
What qualified me to pray for people was not that I understood spiritual mysteries. It was not that I could wield supernatural gifts. Both of these things may be true. The most essential qualification was love. That is why I keep coming back to it. That is the reward in itself. It echoes the ultimate Christian commandment; to love God and to love His people.
Wherever we are in our commitment to the local church, love is the essential thing. That’s what it really takes to serve.
Your brother,
Taiwo.