July 24, 2018
"Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies--in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ." ~ 1 Peter 4:8-11
I played tennis in 8th and 9th
grade. I wasn’t great at it (which is
why I quit after 9th grade) but I wasn’t terrible either. I was quick, I had decent stamina, and I was
fairly accurate with my shots. I could return the ball, but I couldn’t outplay
my opponent. I was timid, and I lacked a power shot. Or, at least I lacked a consistent power
shot. I can actually remember a handful
of practices and games in which I really sliced the ball or smashed a
serve. I can remember them because it
happened so rarely. My coach, our
beloved Coach Hull, would shout in his N’awlins drawl, “Dat was it
dahlin’. Now do dat again!” But I rarely could repeat the action. Never consistent with the power serve. I got the serve in the box. I knew how to accurately put the ball in
play. But I didn’t ace the serve.
Over the next several weeks I am going to attempt some
vulnerability. I want to work on my
serve. Not my tennis serve. I don’t have time to pick up tennis these
days (although I am considering another running another half). I’m thinking about my community serve, my
witness, my offering as part of the human race to make things a little better
in this world. I want to strengthen my
serve.
“Aren’t you a pastor?” Yes.
Which brings the vulnerable part. There are lots of things I like to do that
are “service” oriented. But it’s easy to
let the duties of pastor take the place of real service. So when I hear the people of my parish say,
“I’m so busy…” I totally get it. My hope is that by regularly updating you on
where I’m serving, you might find a spark to some passion you’ve been pocketing
for too long. I also hope to make myself
accountable. If I have to talk about
this weekly, then I’m more likely to do something…anything…weekly. So, it will be kind of like a volley. 
And that brings me to the something. Over the years, I have engaged lots of
avenues of serving. As a teen I went to
the nursing home down the street from my high school every Monday after school
to participate in a communion service provided by the diocese. I would sometimes accompany the residents
back to their rooms and read to them.
Every summer I would help with our church’s Vacation Bible School and
nearly every summer from 10th grade through college I went on a short-term
mission trip to help with a Vacation Bible School some other place. In Seminary I was the pastor’s wife, so it
was hard to tell what was volunteer and what was just helping my husband not be
crazy. But I started to teach English as
a Second Language to students at the seminary who were struggling. Colleges in the area started paying me to do
that, and it got blurry again: is this service or is this work, because I’m
helping people, but I’m getting paid.
Then I found myself as the clergy person married to another clergy
person parenting four children serving some pretty large churches. Volunteer work became more associated with
baking Halloween treats, reading to first graders, and making dinners for the Jr.
High football team.
Over the years, service and volunteerism have really been as
opportunity presented. I have honed
skills around preaching, church leadership and pastoral counselling, but I
haven’t worked on my service skills in quite a while. I serve…some.
But it’s a timid serve. It lacks
a power, a drive, an ambition that zips through sluggish selfish me thoughts to
land mightily in someone else’s court announcing the Kingdom of God. I preach the Good News that Kingdom of God
has broken in upon the earth every Sunday morning. But I want to lead my parish in living the
Good News. I want to serve up Gospel in
our schools, our shelters, our prisons, our nursing homes, on our sidewalks, at
our parks, and in our neighborhoods. And
I want to hear Coach say, “That’s good dahlin! Now, do it again!”
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