Let me write about what I’ve been doing and thinking of recently.
Sweet sweet fellowship
I started classes in a preaching course a month or so ago. And it’s on nights when there are classes that I feel most recharged and refreshed. It’s a wonderful fellowship that encourages me. Even though we don’t have much time to talk about life or struggles, the small conversations we have always make me feel that I’m not alone in my walk with God. Every Monday, one sister will rush in, slightly late from work and sit on my left. And during breaks we’ll share a joke or two and chat a little. Greg, who’s probably old enough to be my father, sits beside me as well, and will tell me about his work and his opinions of the passage. Graham, a wonderful full-time ministry worker, will ask me every week how my week went, and how I did for my interviews with genuine interest. It didn’t feel like they had somewhere else to be, we were just around one another, and even for such a short moment, I enjoyed it, and give thanks for that.
A passionate preacher for Christ
Perhaps due to the number of books I read and my pensive disposition, sharing my thoughts in a more formal setting has never been too difficult. Yet, in retrospect, my sharings were no different from my blogposts, too often lacking in real, biblical content. And it’s really exciting to be able to learn how to teach the bible and to say what it’s saying. It’s as exciting as solving a puzzle as one attempts to unlock hidden treasures with the help of the spirit.
Over the past weeks, I was greatly impressed by a classmate of mine. Both of us are of the same age, the youngest students in the class. The first week we met, he was a quiet and unassuming, almost bashful guy, even if he told me he had intentions of going into seminary. Yet, when all eyes were on him as he assumed centre-stage for his turn at exposition, he spoke with fiery passion and utter conviction that it almost terrified me. My heart warmed to know that future generations of passionate preachers are now in the making, and just being in the presence of such people is greatly encouraging and edifying.
Love and truth
One theme over the past few months has been the struggle between love and truth. As a Christian, it’s easy to think that we ought to let truth lead the way most of the time. Yet, I’ve been reminded again and again that it is love that should lead the way. That doesn’t mean that we tolerate untruth and just cast a blanket over all things. It simply means that not every thing is about asserting the truth.
And this, I think, might also be one aspect of what it means to count others more significant than ourselves. Because sometimes we aren’t really fighting for the truth, but for our integrity. In other words, our pride. The bible doesn’t say: defend me always, must have the last word. On the contrary, it says to deny yourself. And sometimes it means not having the last word, for to win the argument but lose an opportunity to love is a pyrrhic victory.
Disqualifying myself
I think one of the greatest struggles of engaging in word ministry is in being a hypocrite. My supposition is that the more pastors preach, the more they realise how wretched they are. Even though I’m not a pastor, nor do I have a congregation to preach to, reading the bible with others too often can feel like I’m simply taking on a different persona, like filling a role.
Add to the fact that you may read the same material with different people again and again, and it almost feels as if you’re simply going through a lesson plan. Every Christian thus needs to be preached to, for the struggles of those who engage in word ministry are even greater. Just as Paul said in 1 Corinthians 9, there’s a need to run to Christ often and beat one’s body into submission, lest one is disqualified by one’s preaching. A great struggle indeed.
Work
Finding work has been a trial in itself. Having gone to a handful of interviews, I oscillate between great anxiety and having immense patience for God’s plans. Yet, the reality is that I think I’m not even worried about really finding work; I’m more concerned about finding good work. And the true reason why I’m anxious is only because of pride. But anything that humbles me is good for me. My greatest gain I count as loss. It really doesn’t matter if people think poorly of me. That’s what I try to tell myself anyway. I trust it will come, even if it must utterly humble me.
My abject worminess
There are some days that I look back at what I do and ask despairingly: shall there be any redemption for a worm like myself? Thankfully, the final answer is always: yes there is, yes there is! Is that not the most comforting thing? Ironically, I especially enjoy the days that I feel the most wretched, because there is nothing that clouds my sight and I see clearly who I am and whom I need.
Shall I tell you what it’s like to feel like a worm? Don’t be mistaken, it’s not a crisis of self-confidence or an attempt at sulking over my pitiful self. Curiously, when I feel like a worm worthy of damnation, it is not a coy admission of guilt, because at that moment, I feel that even if people hurl the worst abuses and accusations or even rocks at me, I will have no strength to answer. The paradox is that it leads to a renewed view of hope and a glimpse of glorious splendour.
If I wake up every morning realising what a wretched worm I am, I would believe that I’m one of the most blessed people on earth.
Signing off,
Fatpine.
fatpine 