COMMMITMENT 2 - Jan 2011
By Kären Rasmussen, Intern MinisterIt’s a verb, the word “commit.” This small, unassuming verb can raise shudders within as we wonder, “Really, can we commit?”
We even try to put categories on the very word commitment by asking, “Is it the Big C or the little c?”
As if the “little c” is really all that less of a commitment. I like to look up words in the dictionary. I like to see if the words really mean what I think they mean. I guess that means I make a “commitment” to actually use the word correctly. Here are a few definitions of commit: –Verb (used with object) 1. To give in trust or charge; consign. 2. To consign for preservation: to commit ideas to writing; to commit a poem to memory. 3. To pledge (oneself) to a position on an issue or question; express (one's intention, feeling, etc.): "Asked if he was a candidate, he refused to commit himself." 4. To bind or obligate, as by pledge or assurance; pledge: to commit oneself to a promise; to be committed to a course of action. 5. To entrust, esp. for safekeeping; commend: to commit one's soul to god.
It may sound funny to you that I struggle with commitment. I served in the Navy for 20 years, I have been partnered for 25 years and I have committed myself with my whole heart to the call to ministry. But still I struggle.
Some people assume that pulpit preaching is the desire of every minister. That every minister loves all that researching and writing for hours, the digging deep into the recesses of our souls to be ready on Sunday for that moment---that magic moment--- to let our hard work and souls be bared for all to hear. I struggle with that weekly commitment to preach. The vulnerability of it, the knowing that yet again there is a stack of books needing to be investigated, and the blank pages yearning to be filled with words. It can seem like that emotional commitment to the art of sermon writing is such a high price to pay. There is such responsibility there. There are so many other parts of ministry that seem so much more inviting! When preparing a sermon, I can feel like the kid who is stuck inside writing at the kitchen table on a summer day…. when everyone else is outside playing. I can hear them outside, when the window is open. And I sigh.
But I am like a moth to the flame. I wrestle with my desire to live up to my potential at the pulpit and the emotional commitment to try. Will I be smart enough, deep enough, and real enough? Will I be able to bring my authentic self to the table each week to write? And then, after all the hours of writing and practicing are done, I get up from my chair in that expectant silence during worship, take a breath, and commit to the wonderful roller coaster of preaching.
As if the “little c” is really all that less of a commitment. I like to look up words in the dictionary. I like to see if the words really mean what I think they mean. I guess that means I make a “commitment” to actually use the word correctly. Here are a few definitions of commit: –Verb (used with object) 1. To give in trust or charge; consign. 2. To consign for preservation: to commit ideas to writing; to commit a poem to memory. 3. To pledge (oneself) to a position on an issue or question; express (one's intention, feeling, etc.): "Asked if he was a candidate, he refused to commit himself." 4. To bind or obligate, as by pledge or assurance; pledge: to commit oneself to a promise; to be committed to a course of action. 5. To entrust, esp. for safekeeping; commend: to commit one's soul to god.
It may sound funny to you that I struggle with commitment. I served in the Navy for 20 years, I have been partnered for 25 years and I have committed myself with my whole heart to the call to ministry. But still I struggle.
Some people assume that pulpit preaching is the desire of every minister. That every minister loves all that researching and writing for hours, the digging deep into the recesses of our souls to be ready on Sunday for that moment---that magic moment--- to let our hard work and souls be bared for all to hear. I struggle with that weekly commitment to preach. The vulnerability of it, the knowing that yet again there is a stack of books needing to be investigated, and the blank pages yearning to be filled with words. It can seem like that emotional commitment to the art of sermon writing is such a high price to pay. There is such responsibility there. There are so many other parts of ministry that seem so much more inviting! When preparing a sermon, I can feel like the kid who is stuck inside writing at the kitchen table on a summer day…. when everyone else is outside playing. I can hear them outside, when the window is open. And I sigh.
But I am like a moth to the flame. I wrestle with my desire to live up to my potential at the pulpit and the emotional commitment to try. Will I be smart enough, deep enough, and real enough? Will I be able to bring my authentic self to the table each week to write? And then, after all the hours of writing and practicing are done, I get up from my chair in that expectant silence during worship, take a breath, and commit to the wonderful roller coaster of preaching.
