School of Hard Knocks

Yesterday was Easter. We had a beautiful service at church. Shelly sang a beautiful song on a concept I never thought of before. My mom sang the song I have been listening to her practice all week. The pastor gave an exceptional gospel invitation. And how did I feel? As nervous as a fat guy on a tight rope. You see, I have a pastoral polity class that required me to observe a communion service. I hate the word observe. My pastor knew that, so he let me officiate half of it. I knew the words I had to say, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I went up front when it was time for invitation. I am leading the singing during the month of April so it is my job to lead us all in two verses of "Just as I am." The easy part of leading singing is that I get to be on stage, towering over everyone else. It's easy to be in front of people when you get to look down at them.

Well when communion started, I had to get down off the stage. I have been going to the same church for nineteen years, and I never noticed the elevation shift from the back to the front of the church. The back of the church is higher than the front. I was standing in the front. So now, everyone was looking down at me. If I wasn't nervous enough before, I was definitely nervous enough now.

I had a simple job. Read verses from 1 Corinthians 11 and pray to God I don't mess up. My next job was to ask Eric to pray for the bread. When I asked him, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to ask him to bless the bread, thank God for it, or what. So my question came out, "Eric, would you mmslll rrrgggnnn."

With the smirks of everyone who was trying to listen, my humility grew.

Afterward, when I was assessing my failure, I realized that I was thankful for the experience. I was thankful that my pastor doesn't mind sharing the spotlight for a student. I'd rather mess up now as an intern than later as a pastor. The last thing I need is a lesson from the school of hard knocks.