I have struggled for years to find God's plan for my life. What should I be? Worship Leader? Youth Pastor? Children's Pastor? Missionary? Associate Pastor? Senior Pastor? Author? Record Producer?
I have come to the realization that my calling in life is servant. That is as specific as I can get. I currently serve as a Youth Pastor. I am not limited to that, as a matter of fact, if God called me to be a Missionary, I would move tomorrow. I am open to the curvature of God's will.
I have served as a Youth Pastor for almost a year now, and to be quite honest, I have experienced some things I would have never dreamed of. Some things I have been immensely blessed, and some things I would not wish on my worst enemy.
Recently I have become acquainted with a very captivating young man, I will not mention his name, but I will say, I have never met anyone like him. He comes to our Youth service high strung and ready to party. It seems to be the hi-light of his week. The first few weeks he started coming, it was culture shock for me. He had never been to a youth service before, and did not know how to act. In the middle of my lesson, he would blurt out "When are you gonna be done?" I knew he would be one of those kids. I grew tired of being interrupted, losing my train of thought, and answering thousands of questions. I had a hard time showing him love. He was out of control.
One day, unexpectedly, one of my leaders had admitted to having a bad attitude about this young man. He began to tell me a story about him. He had given this kid a ride home one Sunday after church, annoyed the whole trip. Finally they reach his home, a single-wide trailer. As the boy hopped out of his truck, the boy asked him "You got anything to drink?" "No" He replied, frustrated that he was constantly asking for something. The boy reached into his pocket, pulled out a bottle of water, tossed it in his lap and said "here ya go, thanks for the ride!"
We later discovered that he was living in this trailer with his single, unemployed, chain-smoking mother. Every other week he had a different father figure. It was clear that the boy just needed love. He had never seen it before. He had never been to church. He had never had someone to truly call his friend, or family. He is only 13.
A few weeks later, he came in with his guitar. Actually It was more of a sad excuse for what might have at one time been a guitar. It was busted up, missing frets, the nut, the bridge was ripping off, the neck was cracking away from the body. It was unplayable. He begged me to repair it, I assured him that it was impossible. He persisted. So, to set him to ease, I told him that I would look into getting him a different guitar.
I ended up finding a really nice guy who was willing to donate a guitar to the young man. It was a black electric guitar and amp. I knew he would be thrilled. I could not wait to give it to him. I was so excited. This would make his day, his month, his year! He would be so excited that he would never put it down. He was so obsessed with getting a guitar, he would play it all the time! One day he would become famous, and credit all of his success to his first youth pastor! (It is not wrong to be optimistic!)
The day came, I was bringing him the guitar. It was a sunday morning. I waited for him, but he never showed up. So, after church, I decided to deliver the guitar to him myself. So, I pulled up to his house, grabbed the new guitar and amp and marched up to his door with a smile on my face. I knocked on the door, after a few minutes, he came to the door, opened it, looked at me, looked at the guitar, looked at me, looked at the guitar, looked at me and said "Is that my guitar?" "Yes!" I exclaimed! He grabs the guitar and amp, and goes back inside, without saying a word. Moments later, I heard his mom yell "What do you say?" He opened the door, and said "oh... thanks." and shut the door.
I couldn't believe it. No reaction, nothing. He didn't even say thank you on his own. He acted as though it was already his, as if he was entitled to it. I got hustled! I did all this work to help this kid out, and nothing happened. What a rip off! I went back to the car, completely disappointed. Who does that? This is something that he could have never afforded, and I went out of my way to ensure that he would get it. He wasn't even a good kid. He was the most difficult kid I had. He didn't deserve it, he didn't appreciate it, and he completely took advantage of me.
I got hustled.
But then I realized something.
I could not be upset with him. How often are we just like him?
God gifts us with his grace, and how frequently to we thank Him? We aren't even good people. We are difficult, sinful, eccentric, crazy people. We could never afford this grace if it were not a gift to us. We do not deserve it. And yet, we act as though we are entitled to this grace, as if it is not a gift, as if we deserve it.
Thank you God for your grace.
I do not deserve it.
I am sinful.
I am wrong.
I am poor.
I am difficult.
I could never earn your grace.
If it were not a gift, I could never attain it.
Thank you for investing in me.
Thank you for giving me your name.
May I never take it for granted.
I am sorry for all the times I forgot to thank you.
I am nothing without you.
Love,
-Dillon
"As they had their pasture, they became satisfied, and being satisfied, their heart became proud; Therefore they forgot about Me."
Hosea 13:6
