Tea and Crumpets

   I was pastor of one of the up and coming congregations in the presbytery.  Numerical growth, focused mission, willing to get its hands dirty, active adult education, lots of energy.  The nominating committee had put me on a couple of committees that made big dents in the life of the churches.  I was chair of one and up for reelection.  I was a big cheese. 

   I took some continuing education that included taking a test to determine spiritual gifts.  I was eager to find out the results.  I wanted to move along in harmony with what God had given me.  I was an arrogant young man.

   The sheet of paper listed my highest scores.  At the top was a surprise, a puzzle, and a disappointment.  I wanted to put on armor and slay dragons.  I wanted to lead.  I wanted to discern the will of God for the lost sheep and carry them home.  This score must be wrong.  I put up my hand and asked what if we disagreed with our scores.  The facilitator smiled sadly and inserted a burr under my saddle.  “We often try to run away from God’s calling, ignoring the still small voice that is offering us a new way to go.  Sometimes we’d rather listen to the voices of the world or our own agendas.  I find quiet prayer to be the best response to a sense of dissonance in what we hear.”  I felt handled.  ‘…a sense of dissonance…?’  This was nuts.  I was ready to put up with anything, but HOSPITALITY?  What was I supposed to do with that?  Maybe take cooking lessons?  Or should I study interior decorating? 

   I’ve discovered something about myself.  When I hear something about myself I’m not satisfied with, I get defensive.  I find justifications about the inaccuracy of the judgment and other good reasons to discount what I don’t want to hear.  And here I was again, denying what I didn’t want to hear.

   In this culture, we tend to discount ‘homemakers.’  We don’t consider helping people feel cared about and cared for to be as valuable as producing, overcoming, and winning.  And the list goes on.  The virus had infected me.  And now this crazy test had the audacity to remind me that I had the less valuable gifts, at least valuable in the accounting of the world.  It took me a while to process this experience.  And when I did, I went in to the presbytery executive and talked to him about creating a hospitality committee.  I offered sound theological and organizational justifications and I volunteered to form the bunch, and we’d let them pick a chair. 

   We became known as the Tea and Crumpets Committee.  We organized retreats, dinners, parties, talent shows, and support groups.  We ended up publishing a cook book.   We developed a reputation for having the most fun of any committee in the history of the presbytery and having the most interesting reports.  And we managed to do almost all of it without spending presbytery money.  Obviously, we weren’t important people.  We were just trying to listen to our call.  Who said cucumber sandwiches never accomplished anything?