{"id":883,"date":"2013-01-10T05:20:01","date_gmt":"2013-01-10T01:20:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/kimberlyknight\/?p=883"},"modified":"2017-10-30T15:53:38","modified_gmt":"2017-10-30T11:53:38","slug":"how-we-are-called-to-serve","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/kimberlyknight\/2013\/01\/how-we-are-called-to-serve\/","title":{"rendered":"Called to serve"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

$\"\"$ <\/a>And then there are the nights when I toss and turn, worried\u00a0that I\u2019m wasting my time, passion and faith scribbling notes in cyberspace when I could just shut the hell up and earn some blisters serving a sick, poor, oppressed, imprisoned, widowed, orphaned, abused, raped, exhausted world. Every so often I am nagged by the conviction that I\u2019m merely playing with a worn out set of theological tinker toys while others (like local folks at the Open Door in Atlanta, or down on Koinonia Farm, or in our church\u2019s very own soup kitchen, or a constellation of saints past and present around the globe) are doing the heavy lifting of living<\/strong> the Gospel in radically tangible ways.<\/p>\n

Then the morning comes and I can hardly breathe until I\u2019ve written something. \u00a0I listen to the booming whisper of a voice inside and outside of me \u00a0that beckons to share my yearning for justice, my longing for love and my palpable prayers for peace. \u00a0I awake to the ever simmering need to connect with someone, anyone who maybe, just maybe, needs to hear what I longed to hear when I was \u00a0in my darkest days, poisoned by the persuasion of \u201cgood Christians\u201d who convicted me of a violent, angry, hateful God. \u00a0Or the days slick with a self-loathing swallowed in a loving spoonful of cherry-picked, for-your-own-good \u201ctheology\u201d rammed down my throat by manipulative, self-serving \u201cleaders\u201d. So I listen to the still, small voice. \u00a0And I write. \u00a0I serve in the way I\u00a0understand\u00a0I have been called to serve.<\/p>\n

We all have our parts to play in kingdom building, my tools just happen to be monkey-barrel brimming with anxiety, a nearly balanced scale of love & anger, an almost naive sense of idealism, a generous helping of prayin\u2019,\u00a0dark coffee, light toast, a dozen or so notepads, pencils, screens and keyboards.<\/p>\n

Eventually we have to shut up, stand up, turn off the damn computer and get our hands and hearts dirty in the world.<\/p>\n

So this last Sunday while at church, we were bringing our gifts to share for Epiphany Sunday. \u00a0Although my first thoughts were to offer a social justice Bible study, an LGBT spiritual book club, theology on tap, or some such \u201cthoughts and feelings\u201d gift I decided at the last minute to not<\/strong> bring what I wanted<\/strong><\/em> to give but be open to what is needed. \u00a0After we took communion we could leave on the alter a note-card with our gift or take a slip of paper with a gift. \u00a0As I dipped my hand in the bowl with the gifts to take, for a split second I still hoped for something easy, something that I wanted to give rather than what the community needed, what God needed. \u00a0Damn ego. \u00a0But in the surrender I pulled out the slip that read \u201cservice.\u201d And my heart knew at once the type of service\u2026the kind that would require me to be\u00a0inconvenienced, maybe\u00a0be a little uncomfortable, shut up, stand up and get to work. \u00a0Thanks be to God.<\/p>\n