An Ill-Equipped Leader

As I wrote in my last post, God used a cute blond co-ed to get me to walk through the doors of the Lutheran Campus ministry at Central Michigan University. After that I started attending on my own. I’m not sure why, other than the fact that I felt comfortable and at home in a church. The people who met on Wednesday night welcomed me into their group right away. I learned that the they traveled to lead worship in churches around the state one weekend every six or eight weeks. Those trips. like the Wednesday evening rehearsals, were completely organized and run by the students.

When I returned for my sophomore year I brought a used guitar I had picked up at a garage sale. I started learning the half dozen chords needed to play the songs that we sang and stood up front at rehearsals with the other guitar players. My playing wasn’t great but it was passable. At the end of that year the people who had been leading the group graduated and everyone gathered to elect new leaders. When I was chosen to lead the group I felt honored and a bit surprised.

Returning to school my junior year I found myself leading not only the student folk group but also the tuba section of the marching band. That gig had been handed to me by the previous section leader. I was excited about leading these groups because I loved being a part of them and I wanted to give back and support them. But I also felt ill-equipped to lead them.

Both groups were centered around music and both groups had members who were stronger musicians that me. I worried that someone would make an issue of that fact and point out that I wasn’t fit to lead.

The other reason I felt ill-equipped was because of my natural introversion. Leaders have to be in front of groups. They have to motivate and energize people to move in a desired direction. Leaders need to have really good social skills. As an introvert I prefer quiet reflection and developing strong relationships with a few people. While my passion for the groups that I lead naturally showed in what I did, sometimes my lack of social skills got in the way and caused all sorts of frustration for myself and for others.

It was also about this time that I started thinking again about being a pastor. That sense of call crept back into my mind as my peers began putting me into positions of leadership. Finding myself with the responsibilities of leadership, while at the same time feeling ill-equipped for the task, created a strange mixture of confidence and fear that continues to be with me to this day.

Learning to lead (and live) with this paranoid confidence has been the real work behind everything I have done as a pastor.  I’ve tried bluffing and bullying my way through certain issues. I’ve tried meditating and reminding myself constantly that God loves me the way that I am, telling myself to “do my best and God will do the rest.” I’ve tried delegating to others. I’ve read leadership books and journals. I’ve attended leadership conferences. So far, nothing has changed that swirling mass of mixed emotions that resides within me.

In the Bible there are many stories about people called to leadership who feel ill-equipped for the job, or at least they claim to be. The best, by far, is when Moses is called to lead the Hebrew people out of slavery in Egypt. Moses excuses himself by claiming that he’s not a good public speaker. The funny thing is, he tells this to God in one of the most eloquent and cleverly crafted speeches in the Bible. Then, throughout his time of leadership, Moses constantly struggles with his belief that he is ill-equipped for the job.

I wonder sometimes what the world and what the church would be like if every leader had this paranoid confidence and shared it openly. Would people still follow? Would it make for better leaders?

Returning to my sense of call meant entering into a place of discomfort and rarely feeling at ease with myself or what I needed to do. It meant that I would be discovering and rediscovering that the joy of being chosen is quickly overshadowed by the immensity of the task. And, as it turns out, it meant entering into a daily struggle between the awesomeness of being called to something bigger than myself and the dreadful realization that I will never quite be up to the challenge.

The Everyday Call

The call to ministry isn’t always a thundering voice from the sky or a burning bush on the side of the road. In my case it was a slow accumulation of experiences and encouragement from people I respected. The most mundane and everyday things that people are paying attention to can contain the call to ministry.

I stood in front of my first grade classmates and launched into an incredible account of my weekend activities. It was time for Show & Tell. This was one of my favorite parts of the school day. I didn’t get to go up front every day but I did whenever I could. Sometimes I would bring something to show but most of the time I preferred to regale the class with adventurous tales of riding motorized mini-bikes through the woods, exploding firecrackers in glass bottles or attending some spectacular show that had been advertised on TV. I would talk until the teacher told me it was time to sit down so someone else could have a chance.

Had anyone been paying attention they might have thought I would grow up to be the World’s Most Interesting Man and make a living pitching Mexican beer. Evidently, no one was paying attention, including the teacher, because it would have been pretty easy to tell that I was making things up as I went along. Some might call it lying. They would be justified to do so. I prefer to think of it as the beginnings of my creative writing talents and practice for public speaking.

I found that I liked being at the front of the class or the front of the church. Of course, I was in the Sunday School Christmas program every year but I also volunteered to act in special dramas put on at the church. When I was old enough I signed up to be an acolyte for worship. The acolyte got to wear a special robe, light the candles, hand out the offering plates and collect the tiny glasses as people finished receiving communion. It wasn’t long before the pastor began asking me to help out at special services. Adults encouraged me and said that I did a good job which made me want to do more.

None of these things is particularly ground shaking. There isn’t a single one that I can point to and say, “That’s when I knew I would be a pastor.”  But when I look back at them I begin to see a pattern. I was encouraged through these things and was given opportunities to lead and serve. These were some of the experiences that led me into ordained ministry. And even though I never heard God’s voice speak to me as I did these things I can now comfortably say that God did indeed “call” me through these everyday events.

The Bible is full of stories where people hear God’s voice speak to them. Is it possible that God’s call came to them in one of these everyday events and when they looked back at what had happened they could “hear” what God was saying to them? What if the places where God speaks to people in the Bible were more common than we assume they were?

God spoke to Abraham through three travelers that he hosted by the Oaks of Mamre. Who hasn’t hosted someone in their home and found themselves in conversation late at night only to reflect on what it meant later? While Moses paid attention to a burning bush that appeared not to be consumed, God spoke. Who among us hasn’t seen some phenomenon that boggles our mind, makes us take a closer look and wonder aloud at what we are seeing? Yes, words came out of Balaam’s ass (I could say it was his donkey but the play on words here is way too rich) while Balaam was trying to go someplace and was frustrated by his animal’s refusal to move. Who hasn’t been frustrated at the roadblocks (often put in place by someone who resembles the aforementioned animal) and the inability to get around them, and then spent time wondering what to do next. God speaks to the prophets, to Peter, to Paul, to John of Patmos and to so many more through dreams and visions. Have you ever awakened with the memory of a dream so vivid that you return to it over and over again during the day and ask, “What does this mean?”

I’m not disputing that people actually heard words they understood to be from the voice of God. I’m simply saying that God doesn’t always come to us in big, grandiose ways but frequently in the everyday moments that are easily overlooked. God doesn’t always come in the earthquake or a whirlwind but instead comes in the still, small silence that takes shape when we take time to listen and reflect on what we have been through