BUT EVERYTHING WENT WRONG!!!!!
Just when I hit my cruise-control groove on the highway, the road was attacked by construction signs which forced me off my little path of familiar safety and into the dark, winding road of detour (dahn dahn dahhhhn). I had to drive very slowly (behind a garbage truck, mind you) and almost missed several detour signs, despite my vigilance. And then....actually, that's about it for driving drama. (I may have exaggerated a tiny bit when I said that everything went wrong)
I spent most of the hour practicing my offertory prayer and arrived at the church just before 8:00am. Since the service didn't start 'til 8:30, I has plenty of time to blush and mascara my face.
Aglow with the triumphant elation of punctuality, I hopped out of the car, buckled my cute little brown shoes and sashayed into the church. My face clearly said: "Heck yeah I'm the intern! Observe and be awed."
...And I don't mean awe as in cute. (Bitch please, I'm professional!)*
Anyways, the senior grad breakfast was this morning, so I asked the youth pastor if he needed anything.
(He did)
(...so I did it.) (see marked parenthetical)*
But I wanted to talk through mic and movement details for the service, so when 8:20 rolled around and the pastor still wasn't in his office, I started asking around. The conversation went like this:
Me: "Where's Pastor?
Person-in-office: "He's probably in the service."
Person-in-office: "He's probably in the service."
Me: "Wait...what? When does the service start?"
PIO: "8:15"
Me: "Not 8:30??"
PIO: *awkward silence*
Round-house kick of humility to the face!!!!!
I tried to sneak into the service and slink my way towards the front of the sanctuary, but the head pastor caught my eye and motioned me to join them on the platform. In front of the entire congregation, I walked up the stairs (my face now screaming "I'm late! I'm late! I'm the irresponsible intern who's late!") only to have the associate send me back down the aisle for a mic. It was like retrieving my own scarlet letter during the academy awards. By the time I returned, the hymn was over and the congregation was seated. Trying to look purposeful and casual, I again trudged up the stairs in front of everyone and tried to smile like everything had happened for a purpose.
To crown the morning's glories, the offeratory prayer ended up being after the offering instead of before, so I had to spontaneously revamp my practiced prayer and account for unexpected movement. I took the collection awkwardly from the expectant ushers and held the plates as high as I deemed safe (one in each hand because I didn't think to stack them). While mumbling something into the mic about 'participation in the kingdom now' I was praying feverishly in my heart that (1) I wouldn't drop the plates and (2) the congregation wouldn't notice that my arms were badly shaking.
The shock took a while to wear off and all through the pastoral prayer and the gospel reading, my tremoring legs threatened to overthrow the rest of my body. Standing there, (trying to decide if locking or flexing my knees made the shaking less noticable) I was reminded of Nadab and Abihu in Lev 10 who were killed for bringing the wrong offering into the tabernacle. I remember Dr. APY saying, "God's presence is dangerous. Holiness is dangerous."
It helped that Pastor's sermon this morning was about grace, but the congregation was incredibly forgiving. No one said anything about my late entrance. It's crazy that despite all the stupid things I've done (do), God still calls me to stand before and pray on behalf of God's people. I've decided that leading worship is simultaneously an honor, a terror, and a humbling reminder of how far God is willing to go in order to prove the sufficiency and all-reaching power of grace. I'm not sure that I've ever physically trembled in fear before God, but I hope it's not the last.
P.S.I might need to start lifting weights. Those offering plates are heavy!
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