Confession #20: Ministry was nothing like I thought it would be

A woman in ministry. What does that even look like? I know what I thought it was supposed to look like. And let me tell you this, when ministry found me I was in for a rude awakening. Yes, funny how that happens. When I surrendered my life to Jesus I had a very skewed, or maybe romanticized, view of what ministry was. You see, my whole life I loved children. I loved watching them, taking care of them, and playing with them. I even worked as a preschool teacher when I was in college. I love, love, loved it! You get the idea, right? So naturally, when it came time to serve the Lord I assumed that’s where He would call me to serve Him. I put on my rose colored glasses and my first attempt at ministry was a stint in the church’s children’s ministry. Though it was fine and fun, I never felt that children’s ministry was what the Lord had for me. Then one day, our youth pastor got on stage and talked about the need for volunteers on Monday nights and I eagerly decided to serve with the youth group. I was leading a small group of high school girls and I loved it. The Lord started preparing me for what would be my true calling and life mission through this season. Each week as I met with these girls, they would shape me as much as I shaped them. I was getting close, oh so close, but still when that season of serving was over I felt no loss or longing, just a sense of mission accomplished. 

So I continued to seek the Lord. I grew in my faith. I had no expectations or aspirations to pursue ‘formal” ministry. This was probably because I was not raised knowing anything about ministry. To be totally and honest I had never even heard of the word ministry until I started attending the inter-denominational church where I met and fell in love with the Lord at. Oh but soon I would learn. I would learn quickly and abruptly that there was a line drawn in the sand when it came to women and ministry. 

You were either in or you were out.

“Say what?!” you ask. I know, I know … I was a little confused too. So let me back up a minute and give you the background info. How can someone go from never even fully understanding what ministry was to feeling totally unqualified, excluded, and shunned from what I now call the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. It all started innocently enough, with a Facebook post. Like most modern day dramas, it all started with Facebook. I remember the day so clearly, that as I sit and type this I realize that my heart must still hurt over this. That there’s more healing that must need to take place. But I’m rambling, so let me get back to my story. I was scrolling down my newsfeed and a friend of mine (a pastor’s wife, lovely both inside and out) posted about an upcoming conference; she shared the details with the link. I can’t remember who the main speaker was at the time, but I do remember that it was a speaker I had told my other friend about. I was excited to share with my friend just to say, “Hey, this is that lady I told you about”. So without thinking twice, I tagged my friend in the comments with a note along the lines of, “so and so, check this out”. I proceeded to log off of Facebook and go on with my day. When I did this I didn’t think anything of it or the other women that might have been tagged in the post. Nor did I notice who was hosting the event. All of that was irrelevant to me because like I said earlier, I was just pointing out something to my friend, kind of like how I would point out a car, handbag, or beautiful house I like with no actual intention of buying it. No foul, no harm. Right?

Wrong. 

Oh boy was I wrong. Little did I know I was about to be schooled in the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. Later that evening I saw the red dot of suspense, I mean the notification dot. Facebook so kindly informed me that a prominent woman in ministry in my community had tagged me in a comment. I was curious to see what she had tagged me in, as we weren’t close but I admired her greatly. And then came the burn. She had pointed out very publicly and pointedly (remember she tagged me with my first and last name) that the event I had commented on was ONLY for pastor’s wives and “women in ministry”. Ouch.

I was confused, mad (fuming actually), and hurt. I had no clap back. All I had was the feeling of being sucker punched and the conversation in my head that went something like this:

1. Who are you to say I’m not a woman in ministry?

2. I didn't know there was a special club for these “special women” and the rest of us    were not invited.

3. If my place in the caste system was so low that I’m not even allowed to comment      on a post, why would I want to do ministry anyway?

4. I didn’t want to go to your stupid event anyway!!!!

These four thoughts went in and out, up and down, and around my head for hours, maybe even days. Then I realized something, my anger was just masking the very real and raw emotion that I didn’t want to face, REJECTION. I had come from a community of believers that were accepting and loved and celebrated me just as I was. A community where I didn’t even realize that what I was doing was “ministry”. I just wanted to serve the Lord and the church gave me the opportunity. Other than passing a background check to be able to work with kids and youth, nothing else was required of me. But now, now I found myself wading in unknown waters. I never in a million years would have thought that the Body of Christ would be so exclusive, elitist, and clique-y. So what was I to do? How was I to reconcile this rejection with my heart’s desire of serving the Lord? More importantly, how would the passion I had to help women discover their true identity in Christ, be affected by this? How when it was the same women who I thought were on my team were the ones to reject me? But God.

God. G-O-D. My Father, My Redeemer, My Healer, My Vindicator, My Hero, and My Everything. He was so good to me. If He loved me, and I knew He did, I could face anything. I could move past this rejection. He could heal the wounds from that painful sting and use that very wound to start a fire in my soul. You see, instead of allowing that seed of rejection grow and fester into bitterness, He changed my heart. He gave me grace. Grace for me and grace for those who never realized they had hurt me. And that fire that began to burn that day was the fire that fuels the passion for my life ministry, helping women know their identity in Christ so that they may live the purpose and call God has for their lives. I learned something so vital and so essential from the moment of that pivotal Facebook post: 

Ministry is not something that you do. Ministry is not something that you are in. Ministry is a way of life.

You beautiful woman of God, child of the Most High King, have been called to a life of service, a life consecrated unto Him, a life of ministry. What does that look like? It’s not Wednesday morning Bible Study, it’s not greeting at the church, serving in the kid’s ministry, attending conferences, writing a blog, speaking, preaching, or singing on a stage. I mean it can be all these things but sweet sister, it is SO MUCH MORE. It’s the way you smile at the new girl who just walked into church for the first time, it’s staying up late to help your husband study for his Board Exams, it’s feeding the homeless, it’s taking your daughter shopping or drying her tears after her first heartbreak, it’s praying for your coworker who doesn’t know the Lord, it’s giving a check to the family in your community who just lost it all, it’s loving on the unlovable, and sometimes it’s just making it through the day when you think you can’t go on. 

We are not part of the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. We are the community of women living our ministries. 

The other night, I was on Facebook and I felt the Holy Spirit wanting me to share on the topic of ministry. If I can leave you with one thought on ministry it would be this:

As I sit here I reflect on this thing we call "ministry". Man, this is totally not what I signed up for. It's harder, messier, more complicated, and absurd than I could ever imagine.

It's also the most beautiful display and dance of God's love I've ever seen in action. So now what? So now I dance. I dance in the sunshine. I dance in the rain. I dance in the storms. When I'm drowning I give in and dance in the water until He gently and so gracefully lifts me up. I float and bask in His presence until he gently brings me to shore. And then? And then, my friends I get up and dance again. But this time I find someone to dance with, someone who hasn't heard a song in a very long time, the one who needs to dance the pounding of the heartbeat God has placed in the core of their being. And then we dance and dance some more. We bring others along with us as the love of the Father shines down on us all. And this, this is the beautiful imagery of ministry in action.

It's not about a 501c(3). It's not about a building. It's not about a board of directors or trustees. It's about relationship. It's about love. Our relationship with our Father overwhelming us to the brink so that nothing but love can pour out to those around us. It can be your family. It can be your workplace. It might be your sick husband or the mother in law you think you hate. It's the smile to the stranger. The sandwich to the homeless man lying filthy on the street. It can be all of this and so much more. It is all of this and nothing less. 

Do not despise where you are at. Do not crave position. Do not orchestrate a platform. Just be. Receive. Dance. Love.

This is ministry my friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Don't love to be loved. Love because you are loved.

It’s messy, it’s rewarding, it’s complicated, and sweet. It’s not a club, sorority, or clique. It’s me and it’s you. Don’t give up. Keep on truckin’. Keep on keepin’ on. You are worth it. You are called. The world needs you because the world needs more women living in ministry, not just “women in ministry”.

Much Love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #9: Last night I was too tired to write...so I didn't.

This could be my go to prayer as of late. It seems like lately (past few weeks) I've been tired to the point of exhaustion. It would seem crazy that knowing this I would choose to take on this challenge but I did. There's actually some health reasons along with just what's going in my life right now to make the  exhaustion that has hit me almost bring me to the point of crashing.

Luckily, after first facing this extreme type of exhaustion last year before being properly diagnosed I've learned to pick up on the cues my body starts to send me. I consider it a win that I crash anywhere from 9 - 10 pm  instead of the 2 or 3 pm window. I'll share more about my Hashimotos Thyroiditis in a future post. It's kind of a long story and as you can see from tonight's post, I'm too tired to tell it now. LOL.

So back to last night. I was exhausted. Normally I would push on through and throw together a post. I committed to this challenge and I've pushed through the exhaustion before in order to stand true to my commitment. But not last night. Last night I gave myself the rest I deserved without any guilt whatsoever. As women and moms we sometimes set our expectations and standards so high that we forget to take care of ourselves. That is not ok.

Sweet sister, don't over work yourself. You don't have to be supermom, or wife, or sister, or coworker, or friend. You are perfect just the way you are. You have permission to rest...even God did on the seventh day.

Much Love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #1: I don't always go to church...and I don't feel guilty about it

Depending on how you know me this might or might not come as a shock to you. On the other hand, depending on your life experiences is how you react to which part of my statement is considered a "confession". Now before you react and either 1-)start praying for me and try to schedule an intervention over coffee or 2-) start cheering me on because you know...you can be spiritual without going to church, I ask that  you hear me out. This confession is one so faceted and complex (at least it is to me) and is not a conclusion I came to on a whim or after a bad experience, but rather a state of being after years of living, loving, thinking, and experiencing different aspects of what "church" means and who God is in my life.

Let's start with the first part of my statement: I don't always go to church. That is 100% true. No, I don't always make it on Sundays. I haven't been to a Wednesday night event or study in months. Am I proud of this? No. Am I ashamed of this? Nope. It just is what it is right now. It's what's right for me in this moment in time. Let me rewind a few years...ok, maybe several years. Let me give you a glimpse of what attending church meant to me, what it represented to me. 

I grew up in a religion where not attending church on Sunday was a sin. It was engrained, instilled, and pounded into my mind as a child. It was the type of sin that according to religion, would condemn me to hell. Scary huh? Imagine that in the mind of a child who already had the tendency to overanalyze things like I did. My family didn't always make it to church. I would obsess over the fact that we would go to hell and I had no control of getting there. So when I grew up and became an adult church attendance became sort of like a New Year's resolution. Actually, it made my list of resolutions on more than one occasion. 

In all fairness, I did not know the Lord back then. I knew of Him. I prayed (sporadically and misguided but I prayed) and knew I had "someone" watching over me. But I didn't get it. When I came to know Jesus as my Lord and Savior something inside me changed. It clicked. I realized for the first time that I didn't have to "go to church" every Sunday. Guess what though? I WANTED TO! My heart yearned for Sundays. I did not miss one, not because I "had to" but because I wanted to. I loved it so much, I would go and serve in youth group on Tuesdays, and small groups on Wednesday. I was busy, I was always driving to and from church, and I LOVED IT!

Now before you start thinking, oh poor Cristina she's fallen off the church wagon or is being led astray, I need you to know how I got to where I am now and how I love this time in my life too. I'll start by saying that I don't love Jesus any less than I did back then. I love Him more and more each day. This journey, this statement has nothing to do with my views on Jesus or the condition of my heart towards him but rather on what the word "church" means to me. My definition of church was based on the the typical definition: n. 1. a building used for public Christian worship. 2. a particular Christian organization, typically one with its own clergy, buildings, and distinctive doctrines. 3.the hierarchy of clergy of a Christian organization, especially the Roman Catholic Church or the Church of England.4. institutionalized religion as a political or social force.

Some synonyms for church are: place of worship, house of God, house of worship, denomination, ecclesial community. But what if I told you church is so much more than that? Would you believe me? What if I told you that the word Jesus that was translated as "church" in the Bible meant originally a collection of people - a meeting, a gathering or community? Would you understand where I am going? Would you understand where I've been?

The church Jesus talked about was not a building with scheduled services, a kid's club and a rocking worship band. It was not filled with pews, have a steeple, and an organ so massive that it seems to touch the sky. It was not about conferences, classes, and community service. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with any of that. I love that communities have a place where people can easily identify a community of believers. Where outsiders can look towards and know (hopefully) that when they are ready they can cross the doors and be welcomed into a family faith. All of that is an amazing testament to God's Church but it isn't The Church.

The Church is you and me. It's out there not in here. Wherever believers are gathered, is a representation of the living, breathing Church. It's that dinner with your friends when you reminisce of God's goodness. It's the coffee you have when your friend's heart is broken and she just needs you to listen. It's when you pay forward that random act of kindness at the Chick-fil-A or Starbucks not because you have to but because love flows from you. When you take that extra moment to smile at the cashier at Walmart. The Church is more than a noun, it's a verb. It is love because Jesus is love.

Now back to why I don't feel guilty about not always attending church. Little "c" church is great, it's more than that. It's important and necessary but what it is not is God. church is not God. It doesn't substitute God or a relationship with God. And though I loved going to church and serving and everything about it, in many ways it became my little "g" God. The performance driven side of me thrived on all the "good" I was doing. Don't get me wrong, I was doing good. I truly worshipped and prayed while I was there. While all of that was true, as time went by and I grew closer to the Lord, I realized I didn't "need" church to feel close to God. I didn't need to attend to serve Him or worship Him or prove my worth to Him. I had nothing to prove. He loved me exactly and perfectly. It finally clicked.

There's no reason to feel guilty for not attending a church service. Really there's not, I promise. Am I advocating not to go to church to prove this? No! Not at all. That's the beauty of true relationship with the Lord, it's unique and personal. I know many of you reading this love your church community, and that's a beautiful and awesome thing. Keep going, keep serving, keep loving, and just keep doing what it is God is calling you to do. My prayer is that you continue to thrive and pour out your love there as long as the Lord leads you.

I know there are others who maybe don't go to church, either by choice or by circumstance. Maybe you don't know how to go back, or maybe you've never been, and that's ok too. Maybe your the person that has been hurt by the church, and you just can't buy the, "church is filled with imperfect people" spiel that people want to sell you, I get that too. I've been there, at that place where you feel suffocated as you walk in the door because of the hurt and pain caused. My prayer for you as that you don't let that pull you away from Jesus, that your relationship with a church never reflect the relationship you have with your Savior.

Do I have all the answers? No. I think I've rambled on long enough for tonight. If you've read this far there's one thing I'd love for you to leave with and it's this: Jesus loves you. The Church is living and active and if you proclaim Jesus as your Lord and Savior you are a part of it, whether you like it or not. Don't let your attendance record or membership status become a badge of honor or weapon of condemnation. It is what it is, it's not who you are.

Much love,
Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**