I know the world is hungry for good ministry.
It's not just being called to the ministry that counts.
Even more important than what we do, then, is who we are.
As long as I loved and served Christ I could be anything I wanted to be.
I began to pray those same fervent prayers, lying in bed at night, hoping to see a scroll unrolled from the ceiling with a message from God just for me.
Washington is a great international city and in the congregation we have people who are rich and poor, black and white, and from every part of the world.
While I am the one who made the choice to enter the ministry, there was a choice before that one, the choice God made in calling me to be his in the first place.
I dropped out of school for a semester, transferred to another college, switched to an art major, graduated, got married, and for a while worked as a graphic designer.
I have to confess that there have been some times when I was less than glad to be a minister, and some Sundays still when I tremble under the weight of trying to speak a word for God.
My father was a Presbyterian minister, working among the poor in West Virginia. He had taken what amounted to a vow of poverty when he accepted that call and so we never had much money.