broken beginnings

What if your ministry doesn't have any glamour or glory - no receiving line, no words of appreciation, no service to acknowledge or send you? What if your ministry pushes you past your limits, and brings out the ugliest, and doesn't seem to be serving anyone at all? What if your ministry is actually doing things that you don't want to be doing? What if your ministry is picking up the pieces of someone else's brokenness, and that makes you feel even more broken than you did before? What if your ministry isn't what you planned or expected? What if your ministry is normal, everyday life that goes unnoticed? What if your ministry is not actually using your gifts, but is actually requiring or refining your weaknesses instead?

What if someone else's ministry seems to be using the best of them? What if someone else's ministry is the one you'd rather have? What if someone else's ministry looks like it isn't requiring that much sacrifice for them? What if someone else's ministry seems easier? What if someone else's ministry is teaching them things that you wish you were learning? What if someone else's ministry is getting the glory? What if someone else's ministry doesn't seem as painful as yours?

If anyone - you, or them, or me, or anyone - if anyone of us has entered into ministry without brokenness, we are unqualified to be there.

Brokenness is the means by which we come to Christ and it is also the means by which we stay in Christ. It is the means by which we relate to others, and the means by which we heal each other. It is the means by which we are reminded constantly of our weakness and dependency and need. It is the means by which God receives all of the glory for all of our lives, even if it seems that possibly, temporarily, a person is momentarily having their moment of glory.

The Bible is clear on all motives related to ministry - the wrong ones, the right ones, and the truth that temporary earthly glory detracts from eternal heavenly glory.

No matter our form of earthly ministry, we are called to heal brokenness, bind up wounds, hold burdens, share tears, give generously, and lay down our own lives for the good of others. This always feels less glamorous than it looks to others. And it is always heavier than anyone else will ever be aware of. And it is always glorifying to God for each of us to graciously bear our own burden under His care and trust, showing to others where our real hope lies.

We always say yes to any form of ministry without a full awareness of what it will require of us. We agree to faithfulness before we know the full cost. And we promise to keep following Jesus the whole way even though we can't make ourselves do that - even though that's going to require Him to tell us what to do and where to go next every step of the way. We are never fully prepared for where a life of faith will take us, and we are simply incapable of living it without being completely broken and sold out for the plan of God.

Sometimes I fear what lies ahead because of the ministries we've been called into. Will international ministry lead us to dangerous places? Will one or multiple of our children suffer because of the pressures on them? Will something deeply hurt our family just because someone else needs our example or to see us suffer? Will things said over a pulpit in church become misconstrued or falsified, with great risk to our reputation or credibility? Will we hurt people and in turn hurt the work of Jesus in them? Will we still have friends when people feel convicted or challenged and need someone to blame their discomfort on? I said yes to Jesus and its humbling almost every week and sometimes every day.

At the same time - brokenness is not foreign to me. Brokenness - my own, and other people's - is what trained me for ministry. Broken is how we began - or at least, it is what resulted from saying yes to Jesus without knowing the full cost. And so if more brokenness is what follows - more humility, more learning, more growing - I already have evidence for how God works with that.

It is always uncomfortable. "Can you stay in the room when it gets awkward?" We stay, not because we like it, or because it feels good, or because it's what we wanted - but because faith produces a staying power that surpasses human ability.

I'm so sorry, because I know I'll mishandle your hurt sometimes, and I know it's more than you can handle. I'm so sorry, because my needs will interfere with yours sometimes and I'll accidentally choose mine. I'm so sorry, because I know that blanket statements don't apply to everyone and then it will seem really personal. I'm so sorry, because I'll do ministry imperfectly, and our family won't be a perfect example.

But at the same time - this isn't about me, and it's not about you, either. This is about watching Jesus change both of us into something we've never been before. Transformation hurts - but the pain is temporary. The glory is eternal.