The Bishop is coming! The Bishop is coming! Everybody run! I swear that the man must wear the same shoes that cat burglars wear because he seems to be able to sneak right into my office before I can hide under my desk. I have never seen such stealth exhibited in a fellow so, how should I say this, not stealth like. I mean the man wears an almost magenta colored shirt with a gigantic pectoral cross. Nothing subtle about that outfit.
Sometimes I feel like he shows up right as I am about to melt down. Usually, I am pretty composed. I think that my mental stability is, well, stable. Suddenly, I am swept up in some type of pastoral whirlwind. I become flustered. My hair gets frizzy, and my face breaks out. As if on cue, the purple shirted man walks through the door. He gets to witness me at my very worst. He then just looks at me like I am insane.
I suppose I am a little bit insane, but ministry is insane. Ministry is passionate and ridiculous. Some days are so quiet, and the next day people are screaming or crying or dying. Often working in a church can be tedious, even boring. You pass your time getting coffee, reading for your sermon, sending an e-mail, and then bam! Mrs. Smith’s prize tabby kicks it. The fire alarm goes off for no discernable reason. Newlyweds brandish silver butter knives at each other’s throats. The Bishop comes a calling.
Ministry, like the Bishop, just sneaks up on you. One moment you are having a simple conversation about acolyte robes and then you are consoling a friend having a hard week. You say a little prayer. The next moment you are welcoming an old friend, an unexpected joy, ministry on the fly.
So the Bishop sneaks in and then sneaks out. Quiet descends on the office. I guess I will go get a cup of coffee as soon as I get out from under my desk.