From the Pew, Letter Three
Several years ago, I asked one of my church leaders if I could somehow help out at the church. I thought maybe I could be an usher or a greeter. Soon, I found myself at the end of the aisle on Sundays, helping pass the offering plate, and it was an awesome experience. I remember praying for each aisle, and when I saw an older lady put in a small amount or someone passing the offering on, I would pray that God would bless the lady that had little to give. I would pray for God to work on the hearts of those that the world had hardened. I felt incredibly blessed that despite my failures, the Lord could use me in this way.
Several weeks into my new role, I showed up for Sunday service and found myself being sent to the overflow sanctuary. When I arrived, I was told that I was only to be used as a backup greeter. I felt disappointed and honestly, a little hurt. I started questioning what I had done wrong. A few weeks went by until someone shared that members who had been through a divorce were unable to hold leadership positions in the church. I was stunned and hurt, and I fell back into my old role of quietly listening and leaving. I loved my church and pastor, but from that point forward, I felt embarrassed and somewhat scorned.
Every week, the pastor would open up God’s Word and deliver a powerful sermon from the pulpit. While the sermons always spoke truth, I bought into a terrible lie that God couldn’t fully use me. My proud moment as an usher, praying for each aisle turned into a belief that only the leaders of the church were God's chosen ones. I felt that God had to show extra grace to someone like me. I never held a grudge, but I was hurt. Even my pain felt like a failure. I was the one who failed, so why should I feel hurt when it's my fault? Without a one-on-one relationship with my pastor, I never felt that bringing up my hurt was worth it. So for years, I've held onto this. Yet through this season, I still held a confidence that God wanted to use me. God had done a tremendous work in me and I just wanted to serve Him however I could.
Your pews are filled with broken people; transgressors of the law in all forms and fashion. Look out across your sanctuary this Sunday and you’ll find men and women on the front row who look perfect on the outside but battle with secret sin and failures. You’ll see a sea of sinners; some who do so knowingly and others who strive for holiness but fall short daily. Your pews are full of brokenness. Romans 3:23-24 declares that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.
We need fellowship, not isolation. We may not have gone to seminary or received formal training, but in many ways, our assignment can be as big or even bigger than those who are formally trained. Our boot camp and training may not have been something we asked for, but God saved us and desires to use us to advance His Kingdom. We’ve been washed by the blood of Jesus and we want to be used.
As a pastor, don't be afraid of me because I'm the messy one in the back, just waiting for you to ask me to come up front and help you fight the battle. I'll be the guy who lifts your arms when you get tired. I want to do that for you because you showed me who my Savior is. If you look closely, there’s still dirt under my fingernails but I desire to have clean hands and a pure heart. I’m not a perfect man but I truly want to serve the Church and be used by God.
Thank you, my friend.
Stephen Thomas
