t was 11:00 p.m. Friday night. After getting all the props for re-creating a storm at sea together and packed, I was just starting on my 3 x 5 card of notes about the Sabbath school lesson. We were studying Paul, and my teaching week was about the shipwreck everyone survived.
I made sure to include recitation of the memory verse in my notes—oh, and prayer after the lesson. After completing the notes I did a dry run, speaking to the empty family room with an eye on the clock. Finally, I carted the toy boat, plastic basin, and blue food coloring to the car. Then I headed to bed. It was 12:30 a.m., but after a hectic week at least I was prepared for the next morning.
Atypical Is Typical
I’d like to say this scenario was atypical, as it probably should be. But being a married mom with young children and a full-time job means that volunteering and preparing for weekend church activities always contains time-crunched, pressured rushing. The expected rarely happens—you could say that atypical becomes typical.
Take my most recent experience, for example. For two weeks I had been thinking about how I was going to teach the class. Every evening for a week I attempted to read the lesson plan but something always came up: allergy attacks, a freelance editing project, issues with getting children to go to sleep at night, my husband’s knee surgery (I was at the hospital until midnight one day), or plain forgetfulness. I managed to skim the stuff Thursday evening after telling about 100 bedtime stories, and I gathered my materials Friday afternoon.
Once everyone was tucked in Friday night, I got to work.
As mentioned, I’d like to say this particular week was an aberration, but it wasn’t. If it wasn’t tending a bed-bound husband, it would have been something else. Anything else. And I admit, it does make me wonder if I should even volunteer. After all, church shouldn’t feel like work, should it? My involvement—teaching a class once a month—didn’t seem like much, but had I overcommitted myself?
Taking the Time
When I take the time to look at my life and my commitments, it’s pretty obvious to me that I’m not doing too much at church. I think my current involvement, given my current situation, is entirely appropriate.
Teaching my oldest child’s class once a month is a mixed blessing. Even though at times I feel haggard and harried with adding church activities into a busy schedule, I enjoy being involved at church. This is especially true now that I have children. And I hope I’m setting a good example for them by participating. I can’t help it if Satan inserts himself into the scenario, but God can—and by His grace I’ve been able to balance my commitments, albeit precariously at times.
I believe every church member, young and old, should be involved in church life. We need each other: Christianity must be a community of believers who do things for and with others and each other. The key is to figure out how to stay involved but not overcommitted. How to find your calling in your local faith community and how to strike a balance between that involvement and the other aspects of your life.
Where is God leading you? To a praise team? To a soup kitchen? To teach a children’s class? To organize the youth in social gospel programs? To serve as part-time janitor? Church clerk? Bulletin preparer? Greeter? Fellowship dinner food preparer? Photographer? Someone who remembers to take particular notice of Saturday morning church visitors? What about clothes gatherer for a shelter or community service program? Sound technician? Disaster response team member? VBS volunteer? Blog moderator?
Talk to church members, especially those already in leadership positions (such as elders, deaconesses, clerks, etc.). Find out in what ways you might be able to contribute without burning your candle from both ends. Be realistic with “jobs” you might volunteer for. Be excited; find opportunities you can be passionate about. Learn what your church is already doing (if you don’t already know), and if you have an idea for something new, share the idea with members and leaders.
There are so many ways to be involved, and if you’re prayerful and careful you can find something that fits your life. If it stretches you just a bit, good. Christianity isn’t supposed to be comfortable.
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Kimberly Luste Maran is an assistant editor of the Adventist Review.