Sorting

 

Every time I see a job that needs doing, I develop an enthusiasm for it based on the ideas I have for moving it along, making it happen, and in the process helping to lift the world (to quote my son Benjamin).  The church is my fishing hole.  After spending my life watching real good fishermen and women work here and having decades of my own experience, and having a few gifts to begin with, I know where the big ones lie up on a hot afternoon.  I know what kind of bait works.  I know how long to let them chew on the hook before a twitch sets it (I don’t fish anymore but the metaphor seems appropriate).  So when someone wants to make a job happen in the church, I automatically begin planning the excursion.  I have a good idea how to come home with dinner. 

There’s a problem with this.  Though I can make things work, it takes energy, intelligence, imagination, and love to do so.  And the question rises, is this what I am called to do?  I can do it, but is this where I should be spending my energy?  Then the guilts set in.  Who am I to determine that? 

I’m beginning to think that I am supposed to have something to say in that determination.  I’m beginning to see that the gifts that I’ve been given are in my keeping and I am to be a steward of those gifts, a manager.  If I’m taking on all comers until I run out of time, steam, and resources, am I being a good steward?

I hate to say this but I think I have to sort the possibilities and that includes saying no to some things that I know I can do. 

It’s an interesting place to be in life.  I think I’ll climb the willow next to the pond and consider the options.