Heeding the Call

A few weeks ago, our very hip, highly educated and really down-to-earth minister called me on my cell phone. Granted, we no longer have a land-line so my cell phone is my only phone but still, it was a calling.

He called because, though we’ve only belonged to his robust and growing church for a few short years, he wanted me to consider being on the Board of Deacons. I was simultaneously flattered and  flummoxed. Immediately, I riddled myself with questions:

• What is a Deacon?
• What does it mean to serve on the Diaconate?
• Don’t you have to be a model Christian to serve?
• Is it OK if you still pledge allegiance to a different denomination?
• Did he have the wrong number?

In the most simple terms, a Deacon is an extension of a church’s ministry. Deacons are ordained church members but not clergy.

In my limited experience with and opinion of our church’s deacons, they always appear to be pillars of the church; people who really know and understand the happenings both within and around our church. People who can explain what the UCC represents, are familiar with the history of our congregation and who know a considerable number of members within it. They are often long-time members, who have served on myriad committees, have made major time and financial commitments to the church and understand how it functions and operates. I suspect a number of them probably tithe. Inotherwords, not me.

I don’t qualify in any of these categories: I haven’t served on any committees; I barely give my family the time it deserves, let alone my church; I don’t tithe; and I have very little idea how our church functions, what roles it plays in our community, the history of the UCC nor much of what happened behind stained-glass more than three-years prior.

And what would it mean to serve on the diaconate? I know duties include: pastoral care, serving communion, leading prayer groups, organizing and hosting memorial gatherings, visiting those unable to make it to church and delivering flowers to members in celebration or in mourning.

I know that deacons fill the church’s mission of serving the physical and spiritual needs of both church members and people outside of the church. But, what kind of time commitment would that require?

And as far as being a role model, I’m hardly a model Christian. Like many, I strayed from church in college, rebelled against it and turned up my nose at anything resembling conformity. Sure, there were things that I worshiped but they were wholly unorthodox and not things I’d care to blog about. It wasn’t until I was truly and thoroughly lost that I wandered back. So am I really worthy to serve?

And then there’s my allegiance. It’s faulty; I’m a cradle Episcopalian and would still be one today if we had found an Episcopal church within a ten-mile radius that resonated with us as much as our current church. As much as I love our church, still, on most Sundays, for about 75% of the service, I miss the Episcopal church. I miss the liturgy, I miss the music, I miss the polity and, OK, I admit it, I miss the sherry!

In the Episcopal church, Communion is a weekly sacrament and I looked forward to it every Sunday. It involves going up by order of  the pews, waiting in line surrounded by fellow church goers, listening to joyous music, sipping from the sherry chalice and receiving the communion host.

Communion in the UCC church, however, is a simultaneous event. Once a month, trays of cubed-bread are passed around, followed by trays of silver-thimbled grape juice. On cue, the congregation partakes of each and the affair ends with the tinkling symphony of hundreds of miniature cups being placed in wooden holders.  It sounds beautiful but is somewhat anticlimactic.

So here I sit, and all of this rambling, this analysis of thought, this digestion of “being called,” makes me feel wholly inadequate, terrifically ill-prepared and downright unenlightened.

There are sure to be many trials ahead, frequent bumps in the road, days–nay weeks–of feeling overwhelmed. No doubt I’ll often question why I was called in the first place but isn’t that really what being a believer is all about? It’s about doubting, questioning, seeking and heeding.

I answered my phone, it’s time to heed the call.

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