When God Called and I Didn’t Want to Answer

For the last decade or so, I’ve helped organize my church’s annual Christmas Tea.

I’m involved with ticket sales, table decorating and other logistical details, but one of my favorite responsibilities has always been finding someone to give the morning devotional.

Past speakers include a woman whose first husband died unexpectedly, a young mom who lived in Qatar for a few years while her husband was completing an overseas work assignment and a friend of mine who went back to school at age 47 to fulfill her dream of becoming a teacher.

When I think about who to ask each year, I’m drawn to women who have a compelling story and a heart for encouragement. Some say yes right away, some agree after a bit of prayer and thought, and some graciously decline.

I start praying about this process many months in advance, and when people have said no—usually because they prefer not to speak in public—God has always brought along someone else.

Another of my favorite duties is coming up with the theme for the morning. Last year, for example, my mom’s transition to a skilled nursing facility sent my thoughts in a decidedly nostalgic direction, prompting the theme of “Home for Christmas.”

In early September, I asked a friend whose home exudes warmth and coziness if she would speak. She’s declined in the past, but this year, she said she would pray about it.

I took that as a hopeful sign.

Around mid month, she told me didn’t have a clear answer one way or another. She wasn’t ready to rule it out, but she didn’t have the peace that comes when she knows God wants her to do something either.

I told her to give it a few more weeks, but I had a back-up plan. If she said no, I knew exactly who I would ask next.

The last Sunday in September, I decided to check with my friend one last time, even though I was fairly certain what her answer would be. I was pondering my next step in the shower before church when that still, small Voice interrupted my thoughts.

YOU need to speak this year.

Maybe you can imagine my response.

What? No, no, no. That is NOT what I had in mind. How could I ask myself to speak? I have no energy for this. My life is stressful enough as it is right now. I don’t want people to think I’m trying to steal the limelight. Ugh.

Despite my inner protestations, I was pretty sure where this was going to end up. As odd as it might sound, my reluctance actually served as confirmation for my conflicted heart. I know myself pretty well, and if I had been jumping at the chance to take the microphone, I would have had good reason to question my motives.

My friend said no, just as I expected. And the other members of the tea committee—dear women who are very familiar with my parents’ situation—agreed that I needed to speak.

My backup plan went back on the shelf, and I started thinking about how to approach the theme in my talk. It had been easy to imagine my friend talking about seasonal nostalgia and the joy of opening our homes around the holidays, but I sensed I needed to dig deeper.

Memories of Christmas at home led to thoughts of my mom, which led to thoughts about our relationship. It didn’t relate much to the season—at least not on the surface—but I soon realized that God was prompting me to talk about how my relationship with my mom had changed in the last few years.

This was a vulnerable topic for me, one that would showcase some of my deepest regrets. But there was no getting away from it.

If I had any doubts about the direction I was going, they were allayed by how I felt in the weeks leading up to the tea. At times, I felt like I was engaged in spiritual battle. Emotional struggles from years past reared their ugly heads and hit me square in the face. I found myself dragging around from one thing to another—tired and worn.

More than once I wished I could just tell the women’s ministry director I couldn’t do it and forget the whole thing. But I couldn’t leave my own tea committee in that kind of a bind, so I pushed forward.

Strengthened by the support of praying friends, I finalized my talk about a week before the tea. When I practiced my words out loud, even the parts that were supposed to be funny made me cry. When I presented it to Randy, I had to stop several times to compose myself and blow my nose.

I figured I would be a complete mess up there behind the podium, but I took this as a good sign. If my words were affecting me this way, I couldn’t help but think they might resonate with someone else.

• • •

Next Tuesday, I’ll share the first of two blog posts that I’ve adapted from my tea talk. I’d love for you to join me!

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Fresh Market Friday, #TellHisStory, Coffee for Your Heart, Recharge Wednesday, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.