By 8 A.M. this (Friday) morning, my schedule for next week was completely full. Mostly with meetings.
It's something I've guarded against fiercely.
Just like with my writing.
If I am spending more time writing about homelessness, or having meetings about my homeless ministry, than the ministry work itself, then I fear I will become nothing more than a clanging cymbal. (1 Corinthians 13:1)
I know that some of it is necessary.
Like in any assemblage, secular or ministerial, the concept of "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" is ever-present.
My husband has had to put me in check a time or two in this area. "Well, they won't take Johnny Z, I don't want to do this benefit for them." (I'm more apt to apply the polar opposite theory of leaving an itch unscratched.)
"That's NOT how we operate," my husband gently reminds me.
He's right. It's not how ANY of us should operate.
But it happens. A lot. And in the homeless/addiction/recovery/shelter sector, it remains very prevalent.
Business cards are passed around at every meeting.
Cell phone numbers are added when you become beneficial to an organization.
It is a ministry version of playing politics, albeit at a slightly more innocent level.
I hesitated at first.
Voicing my reservations to the head of a fellow ministry, I had decided not to partake in the regional homeless coalition despite several encounters leading me there.
"Oh, no, no, no, no," she sweetly said. "If any organization can help my ministry, and my [homeless] guys, I'd be remiss to pass that up." She continued, "You don't know that the Lord isn't using them to help you."
She was right.
That was a year ago and this homeless coalition has enabled me to house dozens of homeless men and women, as well as to get others into recovery programs, disability agencies, and veteran's services.
Earlier this year I joined the coalition's council as the faith-based rep.
My cell phone database increased exponentially.
Seriously, though, I appreciated being recognized as a faith organization. Everyone is doing GOOD work but I want it to be clear that I'm doing GOD'S work.
That appointment validated that.
Lately, though, I've seen a marked increase in organizations seeking my assistance on governing boards or advisory councils. I'd like to think this is because they recognize my ministering heart but I think it has more to do with my type-A personality and my schoolteacher-turned-accountant skillset.
The more organizations I'm involved with, the more resources I have for those I'm ministering to.
And I want to be involved with these ministries and organizations that share the same objectives I do.
So it's hard to say no.
Even when I don't have the time to add another responsibility to my calendar.
I do believe my frontline experiences bridge a gap between theories of homelessness and actual people.
And there's also the aforementioned organizational skills.
I like to spell-check and edit for fun. Send me your paperwork; send your proposals and bylaws; I proofread as a hobby!
But where's the line?
It's a question I often ask myself, in many situations. Spiritually, I want to do what the Lord has called me to do, and not venture off on my own.
Once I start getting caught up in meetings and appointments (all for the benefit of those in need) I sometimes wonder if I haven't gotten off the marked path.
Like the one in 1985.
I was on a ski trip with my church youth group in Winter Park, Colorado. While everyone removed their skis to walk down a small but steep slope on the beginner trail, I decided to go on down it on my skis. I'd never skied before, but it didn't look hard and I wasn't scared. Quite frankly, I thought my fellow skiers were a little nebbish.
Fifteen minutes later, I wondered where the group was. It was a five minute walk at best and there was not a one in sight.
Experienced skiers whizzed by and I got a funny feeling.
Looking around, I saw that I'd somehow ended up on an advanced trail.
Snow was falling, blinding me to the path I'd come from and leaving me with two options: a straight but bumpy trail and a smooth but steep one.
I chose the bumpy one.
I made it about three yards before I lost both skis. Twenty minutes later I'd made it about six more yards and fallen at least a dozen more times.
I walked back to the start of the other trail.
After tumbling a few times I ended up gliding upright down the hill.
I thought I was doing great, and I was.
Except I had absolutely no control.
Careening down a blind hill, I had no idea where I was headed until the edge of the cliff was mere feet away.
Moving fast and trying unsuccessfully to stop, sheer terror coursed through my veins.
A half-inch cable kept me from going over the edge.
As I stood looking out over the edge, I faced my own mortality. At sixteen, I still was under the mistaken assumption that nothing could ever harm me.
I also realized for the first time a lesson I would eventually have to relearn: I needed to stop running off ahead of the plan.
I try to slow down and wait on the Lord. It's the only way to keep my strength renewed (Isaiah 40:31). Sometimes I just get so excited. There are a lot of people out here who want to witness, minister, and be a light in an ever-darkening world.
We are the body of Christ. Our members should be helping each other.
Not just scratching backs!
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