At 6 months pregnant, I really shouldn’t jump. That’s what the books say.
They also say I shouldn’t start anything new; I have enough new and big changes coming my way.
Over the last several months, however, I’ve felt aimless. There are potentially dozens of reasons for this, but one of the big ones, I’ve come to realize, is that I miss ministry. I miss being a part of a church community that wants to love people, help people, and bring the hope of Christ to those who are hurting.
Before moving to Colorado, I was intimately involved at Ambassador Bible Church. I was a part of the church staff, played drums in the band, started and led the women’s ministry for 8 years, helped start the single’s ministry. . . the list goes on. Ministry became an integral part of my identity, how I thought, and how I functioned. Although I have enjoyed the “break” since last summer (it is nice to not be at church every Sunday morning at 8:30 to set up the drums), I’ve come to realize how James 2:14-26 resonates in my life.
A portion of that passage reads: “ You see that faith was active along with [Abraham's] works, and faith was completed by his works . . . You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. . . . For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead.”
The passage does *not* say that we have to work our way to earn God’s favor, but rather that good deeds and works should be an overflow of our faith. We have gifts and talents for a reason; they are created to bless other people and show them the hope that Christ brings. If we are not putting our faith into action, what good is the faith at all?
Right now, I feel like my faith isn’t doing much. It is chillin’ in its recliner, watching sit-coms, and getting a little pot-belly. I don’t want to go back to “uber-stressed-out-ministry Jenn,” but I do want to to find a niche where I can serve and get some muscle back on this little faith of mine.
All that brings my to my jump.
Nate and I have been attending Colorado Community Church since we moved here, and the more I get to know it, the more I feel like we will make it our home. It’s a larger church than I’m used to, and it has taken a while to meet people, but the heart of the church and the leadership is clear, and I’m on board.
I have been reticent to jump into anything new because, well, I do have a few changes coming soon. But I realized last week–after jamming for all of 3 minutes at Guitar Center–that I sorely miss playing drums. Singing worshipful songs at church is great, but it’s so much more amazing when I can express that worship through hitting things. 
Nah, seriously, playing drums has become a form of worship, and I miss being a part of a talented like-hearted band that plays during services.
So yesterday, I took my jump. I went up to the band leader (an extremely talented man whose voice sounds a lot like James Taylor), introduced myself, and asked if I could come hang out at a practice some time.
I’m going next week. (eek!)
Why does this feel like such a huge jump? I’ve clearly taken bigger leaps of faith in my life. Playing drums should be easy right?
Nope. I think that every time there’s something new God wants me to try, there’s at least a bit of nervousness, apprehension, and a good dose of insecurity. If those weren’t there, then I wouldn’t need to rely on God at all; I wouldn’t pray, and I wouldn’t see him work through those insecurities. It wouldn’t require faith.
So, I’m calling this the “hop of faith,” for a couple reasons:
1) It’s a relatively small jump compared to past leaps.
2) My faith’s little leg muscles need to work up to “jumping” again.
3) I shouldn’t jump. I’m pregnant.
