Yesterday I was in the car with my pastor when he asked me how small group leading was going. I didn't have much to say because my group had only casually met up once, and, honestly, I felt a little ashamed that I didn't have anything profound to report due to this lack of meeting up. I felt responsible for having accomplished nothing in terms of meet ups and teaching lessons. So when I hesitatingly told him the truth (that we had only met up once), I braced myself for all the possible responses that I could imagine: Why don't you reach out more? You need to sacrifice for them until it hurts. Why don't you work harder? You need to love them more, invest more, do more.
To my surprise, he instead thanked me for being faithful to the ministry and for persevering, and even said that I was a blessing to the church. Whoa, what?
Now, my pastor is definitely NOT the kind of guy who would ever lecture you, put you down, or be disappointed in you about something like your ministry accomplishments/failures. But the fact that I was expecting a negative response to my lack of "deliverables" is a clear indication that my view of ministry is still subconsciously influenced by my academic and success-oriented lifestyle. Even though I know that numbers aren't important, I still find myself grasping for something, however small it may be, to report. In lab we call these "milestones," and report them every Friday morning at lab meeting.
The struggle is great because I have been immersed in a high achievement environment all my life, be it school, lab, work, or even at home. Having been accustomed to receiving little grace for failure, I end up approaching ministry with a checklist mentality. I don't fret too much about getting the logistics done, but instead I worry about "accomplishing" spiritual growing and learning.
This exchange with my pastor reminds me of when I used to lead campus evangelism in college and how sometimes no one would show up, or no one was willing to listen to a gospel presentation. One time I went with a sister and we walked all over campus after being rejected by about 10 people. We were passing over Snake Path when I began to complain about how we weren't getting anything done. Then she said, "You know, it's okay if you don't get to share the gospel with someone, or even if no one comes out. What's important and encouraging is that you're consistent every week, and faithful to God."
Again: whoa, what?
Both instances remind me of the true purpose of ministry: people. It's not always about whether people come out and learn and grow (though these are important), but whether the ministry serves the needs of the people in the best way possible. Sometimes this means that programs don't fit the traditional cookie-cutter molds, and sometimes this means that programs are rigidly structured. Sometimes this means that programs are removed completely and replaced with something new, and sometimes this means that they stay exactly the same.
Definitely thankful for such encouraging and godly brothers and sisters in Christ.
