Some Things Can’t Be Taught In Bible College
There are some things you learn in ministry that no Bible college, seminary, leadership course, or pastoral conference can prepare you for.
For example, nobody ever sat us down and said, “Now, Sandra and Peter, here’s what you should do when someone walks into church, announces that they’re a prophet, or wipes the dust off their shoes.”
Or, “Here’s the proper pastoral response when two women suddenly start fighting in the church auditorium.”
Or perhaps, “Here’s what to do when you discover you have a stalker.”
And then there were the cobras, bed bugs, sand fleas, 46-degree heat, beds that felt like they were made of concrete, and the unfortunate incident involving a pair of pants in India that simply could not withstand the demands of ministry.
After working with thousands of people from every imaginable walk of life, we’ve accumulated quite a collection of stories. Some are funny. Some are bizarre. Some were genuinely frightening. And some still make us look at each other years later and say, “I can’t believe that actually happened.”
But it did.
The next several blogs are a collection of some of the wildest stories from our years in ministry, missions, travel and just generally finding ourselves in situations we never expected to be in.
And believe me, there could be many more.
Some stories will stay between Peter, me and God because they involve people and circumstances that are simply too sensitive to share. Others… well, let’s just say they’re probably best told with a cup of coffee in hand and a little time to explain how we got ourselves into the situation in the first place.
So, over the next several blogs, we’ll share some of the stories we can tell.
There will be laughter, a few moments of “you’ve got to be kidding,” some stories that were anything but funny at the time, and hopefully a reminder that behind the sermons, services, ministry and missions are real people living very real, very unpredictable lives.
Because after all these years, we’ve learned one thing for sure:
You can plan the service. You can prepare the sermon. You can organize the team.
But you can’t plan for people.
And that’s where the stories begin.
There are some ministry moments that are sacred. There are some that are heartbreaking. And then there are the ones where you’re trying very hard to remain dignified while secretly wondering how you’re going to explain what just happened. This story is definitely one of those.
My Pants Couldn’t Withstand the Demands of Ministry
I was visiting Kolkata, India, and had the opportunity to go with a missionary into some of the brothels to meet with women who were working there. I had been involved in ministry to women in the sex industry for an few years by then, so I knew we weren’t going there simply to have a conversation and leave. We were going to listen, build relationships, share Jesus and remind these women that their circumstances did not define their worth.
There are all kinds of brothels around the world. These were very different from what most Canadians would probably picture. The women lived and worked in tiny cement block rooms, often about the size of a small Canadian bedroom. This same room was their home, their kitchen and their place of work. There would be a bed, a small table with whatever cooking supplies they had, a sink, and bins or bags containing their clothes and belongings.
And sometimes there was a child or baby living there too. Some of the rooms had windows covered by a curtain. It was a stark reminder that behind the word “brothel” were real women living complicated and often incredibly difficult lives.
We knocked on one woman’s door. From inside came a voice, “Give me five minutes. I’m with a customer.”
So we waited.
A few minutes later, the man came out, and we went inside. At the time, she was charging each customer the equivalent of a dollar. We sat with her and talked for a while. We listened to her story, did a short Bible study, sang and prayed together. There definitely wasn’t anything glamorous about the setting, but there was something beautiful about sitting in that little room and reminding someone that she was seen, known and loved by God.
I also had another concern that day. I wanted to be respectful of the culture and not stand out like the obvious foreigner who had wandered into the neighbourhood. So I bought a cheap salwar kameez (Indian shirt and pants) to wear. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The pants, however, were not impressed with my decision.
They were itchy. Scratchy. And felt less like clothing and more like I had wrapped myself in a very thin, rough burlap bag. But I was determined to fit in. So I sat there, shifted my weight back and forth a couple of times, and carried on with the conversation. Then I heard it.
RRRIIIIP.
I froze.
“Oh no.”
I looked down. My pants had split.
Not a tiny little tear that could be discreetly ignored. No. They had decided, right there in the middle of a brothel in Kolkata, that they had done enough work for one day.
I looked at the missionary.
“I have a small problem,” I whispered.
She looked at me. I looked at her. And then, thankfully, I remembered something that is almost never in my purse. I had thread. She had a needle. We explained to the woman what had happened. She burst out laughing.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It happens all the time.”
I’m not entirely sure whether she meant the pants or the situation, and I decided it was probably best not to ask. Of course, there’s only one way to repair a completely torn pair of pants. So there I was, sitting in a tiny cement brothel in Kolkata, in my underwear, sewing up my pants while continuing to talk and pray with this woman.
A Moment Of Connection
It was certainly not the ministry moment I had envisioned when I got dressed that morning.
But somehow, it was also incredibly human.
We laughed together. And for a few minutes, the barriers between us seemed to disappear. She wasn’t “a woman from a brothel.” I wasn’t “the Canadian missionary.” We were simply two women sitting in a room, one of us sharing her story and the other trying desperately to repair her pants.
And maybe that’s one of the things I’ve learned over the years of ministry.
People don’t need us to come into their lives pretending we have everything together. They need us to come with humility, compassion and a willingness to sit with them right where they are.
Jesus was remarkably good at that. He wasn’t afraid to enter uncomfortable places. He wasn’t afraid to sit with people others avoided. He saw the person before he saw the label.
And sometimes ministry is exactly that simple. Sit down. Listen. Love. Pray. Remind someone of their dignity.
And if your pants happen to split in the process, well, make sure you have a needle and thread in your purse.
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