This particular day is a slightly unusual one. Tonight, my colleague Karen and I are due to be licensed as ‘probationers for the Christian ministry’ – aka, we’ve just completed three brilliant years of formal training at Union Theological College, alongside placement in various churches,1 and now are accredited in our home church to go and serve in our new one as assistants.
This month has been full of them, and we’re the last out of the gate. It’s also a little unusual (these days) because both of us have come from the same church, where we were (at the moment of writing, still technically are) elders, so double the fun.
Like most of the services of this kind, it is mostly other people doing things: except in the middle, where we are licensed – we come up and answer a series of questions publicly to affirm we understand and commit to our profession of faith and working within the Presbyterian system. This week – even though I’ve heard them several times recently – I was looking back over the questions we will be asked,2 and I stuck a little on the second one:
‘So far as you know in your own heart, have you been induced to seek the office of ministry from love to God and from a sincere desire to win souls to Christ and to promote God’s glory?’
I paused a little to examine myself. Is this the reason I have gone through all this? Or could it be for less altruistic reasons? Job security? A certain type of status? The opportunity to badger a captive audience? And so on…
One of the motivators in my life to ultimately pursue ministry was the slow, dawning realisation that, like most professions, those whose serve the church as pastors and teachers do not (or should not) feel any more like an expert than the rest of us. Each are talented in different ways. Some are great explainers of things. Others are talented personal evangelists. Some are natural entertainers. Others are more cerebral. And actually, within a local presbytery – group of ministers and elders – it is most useful to have a healthy range of these things.
During weeks like this one, where I have felt fairly inadequate, this is always an encouragement.
The Night Song is a lesser known collaboration between CityAlight and legendary (in a particular niche!) singer-songwriter, Colin Buchanan. The first time I tried playing it through for our littlest kids, it completely threw me emotionally, but we soldiered on. It is a quiet little song, a lullaby really, but psalmic in its lyricism as it reminds us that God will keep us, no matter the circumstances.
For the first few years of parenthood, I always felt a little silly singing to our kids, despite (as long-term readers will know) taking far too much pride in my relatively short and completely insignificant time as a gigging musician. Yet once I got over the hump, it is a great source of learning and of enjoyment. Little songs like this allow even someone who feels shy about it – like me – to teach some simple truths that people might carry for the rest of their lives. Because they so often do.
On occasions, when I have been privileged to sit beside someone coming towards the end of their life in a care setting, these types of songs are the ones that come to mind. People do not often find comfort singing elaborate worship pieces. They sing, Jesus loves me, this I know. They sing, The Lord is my shepherd. I suspect, in a few decades, some may sing, Jesus says when I am lost, I should come to him… or maybe even something like The Night Song. And it is a most holy thing to be with them, and even to join in, when they do.
So I will attempt to sincerely answer the question above, as worded, when we are licensed later, with memories like this in mind. Of sitting beside our youngest, tapping away on the piano and singing to her that God will hold her through the night. Of sitting beside an older person as she began whispering to herself, I to the hills will lift mine eyes. Of preparing to speak this Sunday evening on the gift of faith, freely given, to all who will place their trust in something outside of themselves. Does this qualify as winning souls and promoting God’s glory? Perhaps it does – one quiet, holy moment at a time.3
- Shoutout to the heroes of First Dromara, Ballysillian, Dundonald, and our current home at Hill Street. ↩︎
- Paragraph 291.1.3 if you’re interested! ↩︎
- 1 Kings 19:11–13 (NIV) – The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” ↩︎