The Way Of BlessingChikamu

Performance for Acceptance

It was a normal-looking Prayer Day. Each first Tuesday of the month we meet to worship, pray, encourage each other, share testimony, share the word, and have opportunity for ministry. We don’t advertise it, although it appears on our website, and we never know who might join us. We had got into the habit of asking whether anyone had travelled further than thirty miles to be with us.

A thirty-mile radius is seen as being local in this scattered rural area, and sometimes the odd person had travelled maybe forty miles, and we would clap our hands and welcome them. More recently, people were sometimes travelling 100 miles to join with us, which seemed amazing. But when I asked how far people had come on this particular morning, I was hearing they’d come an impossible one, two, and even three thousand miles!

I asked for more information and learned that we had attendees from North America, Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia and New Zealand. I was stunned and wondered what it might mean. My next thought was to cry out to God and ask him to help me deliver something that was so wonderful that it would justify their time and money in getting to us. I had fallen straight into the trap of performance and expectation that I placed upon myself and it was a heavy burden. We started to worship and contrary to my hopes there was no flow, no sense of life. It was muted, to say the least.

The team was casting anxious looks toward me and I to them. At the lunch break we wondered together what was wrong. We cried out for help and expected that the worship would really flow when we restarted. It didn’t. I didn’t feel that the word I was bringing was equal to the congregation. I wanted something new and really inspired. It didn’t come.

By the time we got to the end, all I could think of was escape. I was embarrassed, angry with God, wondering what was going on. Yet the moment we closed, people started rushing forward, wanting to say how thrilled they were with the worship, the life of which they had never known, and how impacted they were by the word, while some of them testified to being healed of hurts and pain as they listened.

I slipped away in considerable confusion and frustration. As soon as I could, I got alone with the Lord. I asked Him to show me what was going on, and to my surprise He was awaiting me, ready to respond that very moment. I saw a large banqueting table laid out with scores of places prepared and set. Then He explained that I had a choice. If I wanted to determine what the menu should be, the size of portions and so on, I could do so. On the other hand, He knew every person who would be seated there; He knew their needs and capacity and the food and portion that were perfectly suited to each one.

Some could cope with a small cool dish; others were ready for a very large roast meat meal. He could prepare the food and I could be the waiter who carried no weight of responsibility but who simply served what the master chef had prepared. Which role would I prefer? It didn’t take a nanosecond to decide. From that moment all thoughts of performance for acceptance were vanquished. I had been set free.