Ministry is a privilege. It’s a hugely high call. And whether we’re full time and paid, or volunteering a few hours within the local church, we can all know we have a part to play in the greatest mission the world has ever known.
It’s wonderful to help people come to Christ and grow in their faith, in all the circumstances of life. The process of pointing people to Jesus can be a joy. The relational depth, a delight. When we glimpse the fruit God is bringing into people’s lives, we can be stirred to praise. But, just between you and me, that’s not how we always feel, is it?
The bitter path
Sometimes we have a different response to our call to serve. Sometimes we have darker feelings about the people we serve. In the quiet corners of our heart, a simmering discontent can build. When it comes to ministry, sometimes we just don’t want to do it anymore.
It’s not the kind of thing we say out loud. Not publicly, at least. But deep inside, the emotions can grow. We can feel wrung out, resentful – reeling from the pain that has been hurled in our direction, exhausted by the relentlessness of serving others and raging at our God above. Often such feelings come with a large dose of shame. After all, we follow a Saviour who sacrificed everything for us – we know He deserves our all. But we don’t feel it. We don’t want the life He has given. Rather than singing God’s praises, we echo Asaph in Psalm 73 when he notes how jealous he was of those who didn’t follow God and yet seemed to have a life of way more ease.
Each of us will have a different story of how we got to that place. All of us, if we don’t take action, will see our hearts gradually turn to stone – and, most likely, will see our personal godliness take a hit as we seek comfort in all kinds of wrong places. It’s just this type of disillusionment that has nudged many a Christian towards addiction, adultery, or angry entitlement in their dealings with the people around.
The better path
Hard though it is, there is hope. The Lord who was willing to suffer and die on the cross, does not abandon His children when they’re brought low. Little by little, He enables us to be honest with Him – and a select few others – about the darkness that is creeping in. He invites us to lament – to pour out our hearts to Him, in honesty and trust.
In His word He offers us comfort and hope: He is the One whose everlasting arms will never fail, whose wing continues to protect. Specifically, Asaph reflects on four things that helped him come back from the brink. He reminds himself – and us – of the presence of God (v.23); the leading of God (v.24); the sufficiency of God (v.25) and the provision of God (v.26). And, in so doing, he raises our eyes to see that the pain we are experiencing is all framed by a God who is generous and kind.
Other parts of Scripture remind us that there will be justice for the hurts we have received. That we will be welcomed home with open arms as we repent of our accusations and assumptions, and return again to knowing how much we are loved. There is perfection ahead.
Such things help us hold in tension two important truths: ministry is way more painful than we would like; God is way more wonderful than we can imagine. He really is that good and kind. And, as we hold those things in tension, we find the humility to trust and the strength to persevere – and we are able to begin to recapture Asaph’s concluding words (v.28): ‘as for me, it is good to be near God’.
