Your Passion Cannot Be My Burden

     One of the great things about my calling as a pastor is I get to meet lots of folks. I have the privilege of walking with them through the joys and pains of life. Ministry is founded on relationships.

     A complex aspect of my calling is many people I come into contact with desire something from me. Now, that is not bad. God has given us gifts, talents, and resources to help others with. Where things go awry is when people expect me to take up their cause or passion.

     I have limitless opportunities to help people each week in my community and even around the world. There is no shortage of causes, concerns, or ministries to devote time and resources to. 

     I believe many people forget one important spiritual principle: your passion cannot be my burden. 

     What I mean is that God has given each of us certain assignments here on earth. Your passion is a key to that assignment. But not everyone has that same passion. Our job is to find those with like-minded passions and join together to fulfill that assignment. But one thing we have to keep in mind is that not everyone we come across will have that same passion.

      God has given me a certain assignment. While your passion may be good and kingdom-centered, if it does not align with my passion and calling, I am doing you and me a disservice if I try to take that on. It won't work. And it will lead to frustration and burnout.

     So, don't be offended when others pass on your passion. It is not personal, and it doesn't mean your cause or ministry isn't worthwhile. What it does mean is that person simply is not called to it. 

     Keep pursuing. Keep casting your vision. Those God has placed a similar calling on will come alongside you. And those are the people you want anyway. 

A Letter to My Sister

A Letter to My Sister

Dear Lesley,

I wanted to take a few minutes and tell you all the things I tried to express over our lives together. Over the past couple of days I have tried to process your death and sort through the many emotions I am struggling with right now. I pray in some way you will know how I feel and perhaps it will bring you some comfort.

You were almost five years older than me. For all of our lives, you would always refer to me as, “my little brother.” Growing up, I know you tolerated me as a big sister. Mom made you take me with you places, and although you acted like it cramped your style, I know you really didn’t mind.

I remember the Halloween parties at our house, with all your friends coming over, and me falling over myself trying to impress your pretty friends. I was the cute little mascot; all your friends doting over me with my fantasies of being able to date some of the prettiest girls in school.

My favorite memory is you taking me to a KISS concert at the old Greenville Memorial Auditorium for my thirteenth birthday. I got to bring along my friend Tony, which meant his older sister and your best friend Melissa came. She was my first crush. An absolutely stunning girl with a great personality; she saw me as another little brother like Tony.

We had an awesome time. We left the concert had realized your car got towed so we had to walk to the police station and pool all our money together to get it out. On the way home, Melissa sat in my lap because there wasn’t enough room. I could have died and gone to heaven. We were all young and full of potential. You were one of the prettiest girls in school and popular. I was the nerd. But your coolness gave me a little cred as a freshman in high school.

That was before the drugs took control of you.

I had to watch you destroy your life because you never could shake your demons. The garbage our parents put us through took a toll on all of us. But it hit you the hardest. I saw you turn to pain killers, then meth to sooth the tremendous pain inside.

When I walked home from my job at Ingles at midnight to our apartment on the bad side of town, I swore at sixteen I would escape. And I did. But it killed me I could not take you with me.

I know you turned to men to try and find the love and acceptance our dad never gave you. I watched men use you only to discard you like a piece of trash. I observed helplessly as drugs took everything from you and it broke my heart.

So many times I tried to help you over the years. Even when you stole from me to buy drugs I knew that wasn’t really you. I talked to you about Jesus and tried to get you in church, but you never felt good enough. I understand. Sometimes, church can be the cruelest place on earth. Many good churchgoers want everything in a nice, sanitized package. But we know better. We know how dirty life can be in the gutter, trying to claw your way out with no hope in sight.

The thing that kills me is that I don’t know where your soul is at. I know God does not change His standard for anyone. I wish you could have allowed Jesus to sooth your pain. I haven’t slept well since you passed and I’m not sure I ever will. I can’t stand the thought of you being separated from Christ for eternity.

I pray you somehow were able to make peace with Jesus. I am going to choose to remember you like you were on my thirteenth birthday. Full of life and promise before things got so bad. I am so sorry Lesley I was not able to get you out.

Love,

Your Little Brother