Posted in Church God Faith
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And no, I am not really complaining. I am not using figurative language. What I mean is, real life stinks. Real ministry literally stinks. Dealing with humans, reaching out with the love of Christ stinks. It means hugging a kid who hasn't had a bath in weeks and probably hasn't had a hug in even longer. It means letting the homeless guy sleep on your couch when it is 22 outside, even though you know it will take a week and a bottle of Febreeze to get it back to normal. It means you don't get a nap on Sunday afternoon because you take the family to lunch whose mom just got saved. And then it's time for choir before you catch your breath. It means you gag when you tell the shepherds and wise men to take off the shoes for the Christmas play, because then you smell feet for the next hour or three. It means you are on the bus for 2 hours with teenage boys who love nothing better then to pass gas and then spend hours talking about it. Ministry really stinks. You know what stinks to God? Not unbathed kids, or homeless men or flatulent teenagers. Me. Self-righteous, hypocritical , pharisaical me. I am so aware of my own self-righteous stench because I am trying to love these people. Because it doesn't come naturally. Because I have to sometimes work really hard at it. And because I see my own inadequacies so clearly. I can't do this in my own strength. I fail miserable when I try.
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