
That was me, wanting a bonfire when a match would do. In order for me to “fit” into God’s Kingdom work, I thought I had to do something really, really BIG for it to count. I had to be part of the church leadership, join the choir or praise team, or teach a Sunday School class. I thought I had to be in the limelight, be seen by everyone as actively working in the church so people would know I was a Christian and think about what a wonderful person I was.
Of course, at one point I also thought being a good person and doing good works was what made me a Christian. Certainly it didn’t require devotion or adherence to rules. I didn’t have to be obedient to God’s Word or set time aside to study it. I didn’t have to attend church or fellowship with other Christians. I didn’t have to do much more than a 2-minute prayer to get by. As long as people thought I was a Christian I’d be okay. Right? Sure, Merry, Cinderella isn’t a fairy tale and the moon is made of green cheese too.
So what’s a girl to do. I’ve had a lot of challenges in working in the church. As I’ve said before, I’m not the work-in-the-kitchen-or-nursery kind. I have a rule – if you can’t nuke it then you don’t need to eat it. Cooking is not something people ask me to do (unless they’re new and don’t know about my burnt offerings). I’ve found that many people believe because I don’t have any children I shouldn’t be allowed to care for them in the church nursery.
I could sing in the choir but during tax season getting to practice is an anomaly; when you work 54-60 hours a week and you never know what shift you’ll be working it’s hard to get to practice. I’ve worked on websites but decided that wasn’t in my best interests when folks got in my face and threatened me if I put their names on the Internet. In many churches I couldn’t teach a male above the age of sixteen, or couldn’t teach males at all, even if they were two years old. There were certain tasks that were bastions of male expertise. Committees were often off limits unless it had to do with women’s missionary groups, the kitchen, or the nursery.
I’ve often wondered what was left for me to do and whether there was something wrong with me since I didn’t exactly fit the typical social female stereotype of being married with 2 ½ kids. Could I possibly have a calling considering my background? I was almost afraid to ask. I seemed to bring up all kinds of ill thoughts because I wasn’t what most folks thought I ought to be.
Most of the time I felt like a ghost. I’d come into service and sit on the end in a middle pew. I’d listen to the songs and the sermons and leave out the side door. Just like a ghost. I felt bereft of fellowship. Even when I went to gatherings I ended up sitting by myself, in my own little corner, in my own little chair. Poor Cinderella! I think what hurt most was that it didn’t seem to bother anyone that people like me were ghosts; we didn’t fit in, weren’t part of the community clan, didn’t have a place, and were, for all intents and purposes, virtually invisible.
Recently I’ve begun to notice that there are more ghosts than we think – hurting people who wander into a church looking for hope and understanding, only to discover no one even knew they were there. I wondered if I’d been one of the ghost-makers. Had I ignored them the way I’d been ignored? Probably. More than likely. Yes, I have. Color me oh so guilty.
What I came to understand was that I had to make some changes in the way I approached church and the people who are the church. I had to change my perspective. It’s not about how the church meets my needs but how I meet the needs of the church – and by church I mean the people God intentionally put in my path. It is God’s church, his people, so if I want to be about the business of working in God’s Kingdom, then I better remember that what I do for any one of them (the people who make up the church) is the same as doing it for God.