Calling

I mentioned in a previous post that I would share my calling experience with you guys. If you already know it, I don't care. Most don't know it.

In the summer of 2005, I went on the United Methodist Action Reach-out Mission by Youth (UM ARMY) in the town of Jefferson, Texas. One night, I was asked to lead in prayer during worship.

Hold up. A little bit of background may be necessary to take in what I just said. Growing up a preacher's kid, often I was asked to lead in prayer; it was a natural assumption that I wanted to. This was never the case. The truth is, I was quite bad at praying aloud. I always stumbled over my words, or forgot what I was going to say, or say something that didn't make sense, etc. Most often I would pass the burden on to other people. I didn't ever want to pray in front of people.

So I was asked to lead in prayer this time. Naturally, I said no. The worship leader insisted. After a few minutes of cajoling, I reluctantly agreed to it.

The entire day I went through what I was going to say that night. Over and over and over. Nothing came. It was going to be bad. It was going to be worse than bad, it would ruin the entire worship experience for the mission team, eventually causing everyone in Jefferson to become Satanist and summon Falkgwar, the Patron Demon of Coconut Creme Pies. Most probably it would have been awkward and we would move on, but I have an overactive imagination.

It came to worship time and I was a nervous wreck. We sang our songs. My turn. My mind went blank. I walked up to the altar and started the prayer. While I was thinking the words and saying the words it didn't feel like I was saying them. It didn't sound like ME to me. Something completely alien had occurred and I couldn't place it. Naturally it made me uncomfortable. I mentioned it at the end of the week during Share Time, and we all got emotional and cried and I wrote it off as a fluke.

One and a half years pass. Winter break, 2007. I'm lying in bed at my parents house and get to thinking. I had been going to college to earn an English Degree, and get certified as a teacher, all in hope of one day becoming a Writer. I thought I was happy, and I was, mostly. There was, however, this strange, gnawing feeling at the back of my mind. Was I happy? Was I going where I wanted to go? And then the weirdest question popped in my head.

What if I was blind?

Sure, this seems like an innocuous little aside at first, but here's the thing. The first thing I thought of was "I would thank God for what I had." What? Who put that there? All rational thought would have gone to the natural conclusion that I would work around it and continue writing. Whoopie-dee. No. The first thing was Thank God for What I Had and Be Grateful for What I Could Do.

Then another thought popped in. Why wait until I was blind to thank God?

This was a scary line of reasoning. I hadn't done much praying or thinking theologically at all for quite some time. All of a sudden I have this unrelenting urge to do something with what I had to honor God. Somewhere in there I had the crazy idea to become a preacher.

It took a few days to work through this. I went to Galveston to walk the beach, find a quiet center and let my answer come to me. All I got was the echo of what I felt, a reassuring whisper saying "be a preacher."

I realize that this whole thing might seem a bit silly on the surface, but I assure you it is not.

I still have a lot to figure out. If you ask me a simple theological question, I will still reply with stuttering and conjecture and English Major Analysis. I did it just the other day, which I'm still astounded by. I don't think in simple terms. Theology and Christianity has never been simple for me. How it can be simple eludes me. However, I am determined to figure out what I believe in and become stronger in my faith because of it. I will figure out what I believe in, but until then, I can only pray for guidance.



Mood: Revelatory
Now Playing: Who Do You Think You Are by Matt Pryor