messy (there's that word again)

Julie and I had a great weekend... Corey (my friend and Kevin's roommate in less than a week) met up with us over in Seattle for lunch and joined us as we checked out a little church in Fremont called Church of the Apostles. (I'll have to write a post on that soon, describing the experience, because it was so good for us to be there that night, and I'll be back again).

We then met up with Bethany, the first random internet contact I've ever had the privilege of meeting face to face. She's great! We had such a good time getting to know each other; I walked away happy to have made a new friend. After church, Beth invited Jules and I to a birthday party, where Julie and I ended up singing karaoke in front of an entire room of people we'd never met. Good times. Good times. She was brave for letting us crash in her living room; we were brave for showing up. I think it paid off. Random-as-all-get-out weekend, but sometimes that breath of fresh air is exactly what I need. Thanks Bethany, hope to hang out again soon!
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OK. So here's where I'm at. (This will not be a pretty post, I can tell now). Ministry relationships are proving really really hard. They're not so very different from any other kind of relationships, I guess, but somehow they still surprise me with their capacity for messiness. I don't know why I'm shocked - these relationships, just like all other connections, have one ingredient in common: they have people in 'em. And "ministry types" are no less human and no less flawed than any others. (Sometimes I question whether we're even more messed up).

It's not that I thought doing this was going to be a cakewalk. It wasn't easy when I was younger, and simply volunteering; and I knew it wasn't going to get any easier the more I became involved. Which is probably why I fought it for so long before finally giving in. The closer you get a magnifying glass to an object, the better you see the dirt on it. Its flaws and rough edges take on startling clarity. Ministry as vocation is still worth pursuing; it's an amazing journey and I am still awestruck that I get to be doing what I'm doing. I'm just getting close enough that I can see the dirt. Dirt on my heroes; dirt on me. We are so incurably human.

What makes it hard is that you sometimes feel like that dirt shouldn't be there. You feel like there should be this impenetrable unity, such clarity of vision and focus, that these petty little personal things wouldn't even show up on the radar. We're going to go on this lovely mission with Jesus; and all will be daisies and roses, right? Just like it was 2,000 years ago... hmm... If I remember correctly, the disciples were always jockeying for position and admiration, Peter was always blurting out something stupid (apart from the few brief shining moments he stumbled upon something profound); and half the time they all had little-to-no idea what the heck Jesus meant when he was talking. Even working directly with Jesus didn't seem to make everything run smoothly. (Which is kind of a relief and a bummer at the same time. We're no different, and yet, hope remains).

The other thing that has been a major wrestling match for me is that everything is so intertwined in this community of people, more so than in just a regular business. Boss is pastor. Coworker is accountability partner. Pastor is mentor. Coworker is friend. It's all so complicated. Issues in one realm tend to affect all the others. (This is true across all areas of life, it's just blatantly, painfully, ridiculously obvious here).

For me, it works out this way: whenever I get frustrated, along with it comes a very potent guilt. (Lethally toxic: guilt on top of frustration). It's hard to feel okay when I find myself on opposite sides of an issue with someone I admire and respect. If it's a person who is "above" me in leadership, double or triple the dosage. A Sunday School poster child, I grew up with a very powerful need to please people, especially those with whom I worked in the church... I count myself lucky that at least that need was to please people who were doing right things, people who loved God. A lot of that desperate need for approval has faded. But even now, at twenty-four, there are still moments, very painful ones, when I'm put through the wringer figuring out when I need to stick to my guns, and when I just need to shut up and humbly accept the startling revelation that I'm not always right. (and if I can't humbly accept it, at least I'll have shut up).

Lately, it seems like I find myself in that wringer all the time, in one particular arena, with one particular relationship. And I have no idea what to do. Am I following my heart, being true to who God made me to be, or am I being a stubborn jerk? Is the (more likely) combination enough of one or the other that I can have peace about what to do or not do?

For now, I've decided to say nothing, decide nothing, do nothing. It has occurred to me, in all my frustration, in all my weighing of potential decisions, that I haven't asked for any help from the One who understands this situation better than either of us ever could. I've been stubbornly trying to figure it out on my own, and God has always seemed more than willing to let me wear myself out until I remember Him. It occurs to me: the reason the disciples did great things even though they so often seemed borderline retarded is that they were with Jesus. There is hope yet.

I need to ask for, and begin to rely on, the grace I so often talk about trusting in. Simple as that. So, for now, I'm going to be still & remind myself that He is God (and, consequently, that I am not).
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(I'm open to thoughts on this, especially if any of this sounds a little familiar. Thanks).