I know God has me in ministry not because of my gifts or talents or even willingness, but because I need ministry. For me to be closer to Him, I need a daily responsibility that keeps me working and diligent. It is a let down in a way. I wish He knew I could work secularly and still be a charming Christian. But the job makes the man here. I am a better person because I am called to be. Not better than anyone else- better than I would be. Make no mistake.
Even that these words are somehow coming out like I needed and wanted them to are words that God is giving me to better help me express myself and help me be more clear minded. I am telling you, without Him, I am a mess. He supplies everything. The ideas, the craftiness the desire even. He puts that in me everyday- I go to Him for a "quick fix" in making phone calls mostly, that is truly my hardest feat as a minister, how ridiculous. I love words and expression is so important to me but when I am on a phone without a face- I am lost and fumble and my heart isn't displayed well because my mind gets all in the way. I am the one that leaves the ridiculous phone messages and I am the one that somehow suddenly can't make small talk to save her life.
God makes up for our shortcomings. Thankfully- the job doesn't necessarily require a lot of phone calls. And thankfully it does require someone who knows they really aren't much without the Father. I still can't take the pressure of those three in that picture. The relationship is easy, to love them is a breeze but to teach them what all they need to know?! I find myself leaning in on the Father again feeling as helpless as ever. One day at a time. One phone call at a time. One decision at a time. Thankfully one child entering jr. high- at a time. One prayer for wisdom at a time.
2 comments:
I love you, Gena Killen! I love you and your heart and I think you are such an amazing blessing! You're children are so blessed to have you for their mom and I am so blessed to have you for a friend!!!
ugh...I wrote YOU'RE children, instead of YOUR children. Sorry...pet peeve.
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