All my life, I wanted to do something special. My heart
ached with hunger for some reason to beat. I dreamed of success that led to
peace. It’s probably why I went into ministry. Besides the religious expectation
that anyone showing a serious interest in Christianity must be destined to be a
pastor, I wanted meaning. The problem was that once I had a meaningful calling,
I started asking myself if it was meaningful enough.
I wondered if I were being spiritual enough. (I wasn’t.) If
I were studying enough. (I wasn’t.) If I were witnessing enough. (I wasn’t.) If
I was doing everything the congregation expected of me. (I definitely wasn’t.)
So then, even smack-dab in the center of my personal world’s most important
vocation, I wasn’t satisfied. I was letting myself, my congregation, and—most importantly—God,
down.
