Drawn not dragged. A reflection on ministry

A Friend of the Altar

Recently a parishioner visited one of our elderly members. For decades she served faithfully in the Altar Guild
The linens were always prepared. The vessels were in place. The candles were attended to.
If something was crooked, missing, or out of order, she noticed.
After over 50 years of such service, the habits remain.
Though now in her eighties and recovering from a painful back fracture, she still notices if a table is not properly set.

Some gifts become so deeply woven into a person that age cannot easily remove them.
What surprised her visitor was not that she needed help.
It was that she was still so clearly herself.
There had been concern about memory and confusion.
Yet after adjustments to medications and recovery from a period of delirium,
there she was: conversing, laughing, looking forward, speaking about church, longing to return to the liturgy.

Her body had become frail. Her desire for God had not.
Watching this unfold, I found myself reflecting on an uncomfortable truth.
Most of us spend our lives learning how to serve.
Far fewer of us learn how to receive.

When we are young and strong, ministry often means activity.
We organize. We visit. We teach. We build. We carry. We fix. We prepare.
We become accustomed to being needed.
Then age arrives with its unwelcome lessons.
The hands become less steady. The legs less reliable. The memory less certain.
The body begins to insist upon limits we never imagined.
And for many faithful followers of Christ, the hardest lesson is not pain.
It is dependence.

The one who cared for others now requires care.
The one who drove now receives rides.
The one who prepared the altar now needs help getting to church.
Yet perhaps this, too, is part of discipleship!
The Psalmist (116:12) asks: What shall I give back to the Lord for all that He has given me?”

One answer as the decades pass may be: Today I shall receive.
Receive help. Receive kindness. Receive prayers.
Receive love. Receive the ministry of others.
For those who have spent a lifetime serving, this may be among the most difficult offerings of all.

The Life in Christ begins with receiving. We receive life. We receive grace. We receive mercy. We receive Christ.
Perhaps it should not surprise us that many of us end our pilgrimage in much the same way.
Not dragged into dependence.  Drawn into trust.
Not accomplishing great things for God.
Resting in the God who has accomplished great things for us.

And so a woman who spent scores of years preparing the Lord’s Table now longs simply to return and receive.
There is a deep beautiful reality in that.
Perhaps ministry was never only what she did.
Perhaps ministry had slowly become who she is.
And that gift remains.

Prayer: Father, thank You for all the good gifts You have given,
are giving, and will yet give through Your boundless mercy and love.
Open the windows of heaven and bless us, that we may continue to follow Christ faithfully,
strengthened and empowered by the Holy Spirit, as our Saviour has taught us. Amen.