The Worst

Ministers are wusses. That's my opinion.

Most of the time, we whine about the difficulties of our jobs with little thought for those whose jobs are just as difficult. I grow tired of hearing clergy discussing the huge burden and weight of ministry. When my father and brother are outside in sub-freezing weather on a ladder perched against a telephone pole, working on a live transformer that could kill them, I recognize that my life in a cushy-office is pretty great.

But there are days where it comes full circle; the kind of days when I truly feel a burden.

I'm conducting a funeral tomorrow afternoon for a young woman who took her own life. Her family and friends are devastated. It's been years since I've seen her and I'm grieved. I'm called to offer words of comfort to them (words they're likely not ready to hear), while focusing our thoughts towards the Creator of Life. I need to help them make sense of a senseless tragedy. Even though I want them to celebrate the beauty of her life, I need for them to see the Lord who weeps with them.

As much as I cherish the opportunity to help these people tomorrow, I'd rather be up on that ladder.