Love, actually

When I left Tennessee to begin seminary, I made a Goodbye mix for friends and family. I popped my copy of this mix into my cd player this week and was struck by track one, a rather unique folk sound coming from Panic at the Disco!, cleverly named "Folkin' Around."

"If I've forgotten how to sing
Before I sung this song
I'll write it all across this wall
Before my job is done
And I'll even have the courtesy
Of admitting I was wrong
As the final words before I'm dead and gone

You've never been so divine
In accepting your defeat
And I've never been more scared to be alone
If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep
Then I'm putting out the lantern
Find your own way back home"

And when I am re-exploring my call to ministry from the ground up, instead of trying to fit myself into being a certain kind of pastor, I'm thinking about that concept of love and what it means for me. If it's not enough, then I'm putting out the lantern and quitting ministry. Does this sound harsh? For me, it feels freeing. I'm going to do the thing I know how to do - love people. If it's not enough and I get a negative review on my evaluations or a postponed or denied approval come senior year, then I'll quit.

But this is all I know how to do. I don't know how to sing all the hymns that people believe I should. I don't know how to speak slowly enough or loudly enough so that all the elders can understand me. I don't know how to be energized around ministry when most of what I'm doing feels draining to me. I don't have a polished answer of what type of ministry I want to do. It's not what I'm doing on internship. And I'm finally at a place where I can say that.

So I'll start at the commandment to love and build a life and a ministry from there.