I recently began working on jigsaw puzzles in my spare time. I
got the idea while I was listening to a church message in which the teacher
compared the process of putting a puzzle together to living in the Kingdom of
God. So, of course, my mind has stolen that metaphor and run with it.
Many years ago, I think I bought this puzzle for my family so that we could put
it together, and I think we did once or twice. The other day, I fished it out
of my closet and thought I’d work on it... but I soon discovered that a
1,000-piece puzzle was a very ambitious project for just one person. No wonder
it takes an entire family to put a puzzle together. I did it myself, but it
took me several days (over two weekends). I spent hours on it. As an introvert,
it was nice to kind of lose all track of time during the project. I had several
seasons of The Office playing in the
background while I worked on it, and that is how MeepMeep and I spent our
holidays.
But watching the individual pieces come together wasn’t an instant fix.
It was a process.
The church teacher explained that when you put a jigsaw puzzle
together, you usually start with the corners and the borders. I tried to do
that with this particular puzzle, but it didn’t seem to work that well due to puzzle
size and color schemes. Instead, since this particular puzzle featured
different buildings and quaint scenes, I tried to work on one building and one
scene at a time. Since I didn’t have enough space to lay out every piece, I
kept most of them in the box and combed through them several times. Each time
I went through them, I found several pieces that I needed. (And MeepMeep “helped”
me, too.) Gradually, the puzzle came together.
There were several places in the puzzle that really didn’t have any
reference point, so the only way to fit them together was by trial and
error. There were also several times when I thought a piece would fit... but it
actually didn’t, and I had to move it. But if it really fit, it was immediately
obvious... and it gave me an immensely satisfying sense of accomplishment. (OK,
so I’m easily entertained.)
Since this particular puzzle was so time-consuming, I felt like giving
up on it a few times. There were other things I could be doing. There were
other ways I could be enjoying my time off. But I decided to stick with it
until I was done.
If you’re staring at a puzzle piece and wondering where the heck it’s
supposed to fit into the grand scheme of things, you’re frustrated because it
doesn’t seem to fit anywhere, and you’re wondering why in the world it ended up
in your hands in the first place...
The Master of the puzzle knows where it goes. And He isn’t usually in a
hurry to finish the puzzle.
“For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” (Romans 11:29)
The other day during my quiet time, I sang some worship songs and then placed
my guitar on my living-room carpet when I was done. I looked down at my guitar
and flashed back in my mind to all those other carpets that my guitar had
rested on for the past 20 years. I thought about all those living rooms where I
had completely lost track of time while I had worshiped, sung songs, written
songs...
That’s me. That’s my home. I belong there.
About 21 years ago, as I was riding home after my college graduation, I
had a revelation: “I’m right-brained!” I know. It was random. (We right-brained
people are like that.) I remember kind of wishing I had known that important
piece of information while I was in college. I guess it might have come in
handy.
Ironically, I learned how to lead worship (and I learned what “worship music” is for the first time) while I was away at college. I graduated with a degree in something else, and yet while I was earning that degree, I found my calling without realizing it.
God showed me a long time ago that He hid my calling from my parents,
and I believe He hid it from pretty much everybody else, too, including myself.
Recently He reminded me about that right-brain revelation that I had 21 years
ago. I believe that’s when He showed me what my calling was, in a vague,
right-brained sort of way... even though I had no idea.
Perhaps He handed me a puzzle piece for safe keeping.
Then as the years went by, I eventually received more pieces of the
puzzle. People in choirs would try to sit or stand next to me so that they could hear me sing their part,
which kind of annoyed me until I embraced what was happening. I took a spiritual gifts test one time in which “shepherding” was my highest score, which shocked me until God showed me that I had been shepherding people pretty much my whole life.
And then one day about six and a half years ago while I was driving
home, I heard myself say, “I want to be a worship pastor so bad, it’s not even
funny.” Whaaaaat? That wasn’t anywhere in my plans, goals, or dreams.
And the Master of the puzzle gradually talked me through the dream that
He put inside me... the dream and the design that have been there all along.
“Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not
need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)
The other day when I explained to a coworker that my schedule would probably change because I’m going back to school, she asked me what I was going to
study. When I replied that I’m going to study church music, she laughed. “You have to
go to school for that?” she asked. “You can’t just volunteer?” (It’s OK; that’s not the first time anyone has ever pooped on a dream of mine.)
“If you want to be on staff, you need to get training,” I explained.
I didn’t even realize that what I had been doing over the years as a
church volunteer would be considered “ministry” -- being a lifegroup leader, leading
worship, following up with visitors, writing discussions, praying for people,
answering people’s questions, listening to people who needed somebody to talk
to, writing a song, singing in a choir, etc., etc., etc.
I thought that’s what everybody did.
But maybe my cat thinks everybody knows how to purr, groom themselves
with their specialized tongue, stalk prey, climb on furniture, beg for table
scraps, etc., etc., etc. But they don’t. Maybe she wonders why I don’t do any
of that. All of that stuff comes naturally to HER because she’s designed to be
a cat.
The Master of the puzzle knows what He’s doing when He designs the
pieces. And when they all begin to fit together, their design will make sense.
Over the years, He’s shown me that I’ve already been preparing for the ministry...
long before I enrolled in school.
Perhaps some of my pastoral design is genetic or generational, considering
that I grew up in a pastor’s house. Oh, I saw some crazy things while I was
growing up. I saw people who needed to talk through some tough things with somebody. I saw
people show up at the house during a pregnancy crisis or during a church-split
crisis. I heard people openly criticize Dad during a meeting right before he
resigned. One time, I heard about a visitor who invited Dad to her house because
she had questions about a sermon that he preached about Adam and Eve. (In
hindsight, I’m pretty sure she was flirting.)
That’s what shepherds do. We shovel sheep dung.
I saw my share of crazy things, too, while I was leading lifegroups.
Right after college, I heard that many of the girls in my group were crushing
on my co-leader, nearly fighting over him, and my section leader had to step in
to take care of it because it was distracting. Years after college, when I
explained that my group was a safe place to worship God freely and biblically,
a visitor asked something to the effect of, “So we can take our clothes off and
dance naked before the Lord like David did?” (I believe he was arrested some
time after that.) Another time, after another visitor had sexually harassed somebody in our
group, and was kicked out of the group as a result, he accosted me in the
church foyer, grabbed my arm, and said creepily, “I forgive you.” (I’m glad my
church has buff security guards.)
So, over the years, I’ve seen that I’m no stranger to the ministry.
I’ve seen my share of crazy stuff, but I’ve also seen some pretty
awesome stuff. After all, we shepherds point people to the Master Shepherd.
I’ve spent time with people, poured into their lives, and seen them
become happier with God than they’d ever been before. I’ve listened, I’ve shared
what I’ve heard, and I’ve been told later that I ended up relaying messages
that turned out to be important. And I’ve experienced how beautiful and
breathtaking it is from a worship platform to see thousands of sheep expressing
love to the Master Shepherd... to me, that makes it all worth it.
Because people can be silly. When they need prayer, they can sometimes treat you
like a vending machine. When they’re frustrated, they can take it out on
you. When they’re needy, they can forget that you’re just another human and
wonder why you’re not meeting all their needs in the same way that God would. When
you make a mistake, they can nail you to a cross and crucify you.
And I’ve done the same thing, too, because I’M people.
So, this is the journey that I’m on. This is the training that I’ll be formally receiving very soon. It’s an exhilarating place, but can also be kind of a
scary ride. What if I feel like quitting? (God has already shown me that He’s
paying for school; if I were to pay for it myself, it would be easier for me to
quit.) What if it’s too hard? (I think considering everything that God has put
me through so far, my soul is basically strong enough to bench-press a Buick.)
What if I suck at it? (Um, I hope if I sucked at ministry-related things,
somebody would have told me by now.) Why would I want to make myself a target
for the enemy? (Um, I’ve kind of already BEEN a target for a long time now.)
What if people hate me? (Take a number; get in line; join the club.) What if I
hate being in vocational ministry? (I’ll have to ask my cat if she hates being
a cat.)
What if I fall in love with the ministry? (Then I’ll live happily ever
after.)
The word that God gave me for 2019 is “phenomenon,” so I know this will
be a phenomenal, incredible, unique year for me.
In this post, I’ve talked about myself... but reader, I know you have
your own puzzle, too. I’ll repeat what I said earlier: The Master of the puzzle
knows what He’s doing when He designs the pieces. And when they all begin to fit
together, their design will make sense.
No matter who joins you on your journey.
