I was doing slides at church today for the first time in a
while. And they’ve adjusted the
position so much from when I first started doing it. I’m probably the most senior member of the slides crew, I
remember the days when we had to build the slides presentation from
scratch. On a church-owned laptop,
that would be passed around from slide person to slide person like a nuclear
suitcase, so the next person could build that week’s presentation.
But the church has grown, and the church’s budget has grown,
and someone somewhere decided it was more efficient to have a paid staff member
build the presentation, but still have a volunteer be the one to punch the
buttons to make the slides go during the service. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they completely eliminate
my position within the next year, and have a paid staff person punch the
button. It’s not any skin off my
nose, I was a volunteer. If they
eliminate my position, I guess I’ll go direct cars in the parking lot or
something.
Regardless, the past two weeks have been super exhausting,
as I have been working on projects that MIGHT have schedules, that POSSIBLY
have contracts, and WHISPERS of payments, and yes, I am indeed couching those things
in vague vague Maybe Someday language, so as to not jinx the goings on.
But things are going on.
Unless they’re not.
STAY AWAY JINXIES, STAY AWAY!
Ahem.
So I’m tired beyond tired, and I’m sitting behind the
computer. The band leader has
assured me that he didn’t know I was going to be doing slides today, and that
the worship song selection of “Open The Eyes Of My Heart” in no way reflects
the band leader teasing me, because the band leader knows (because I’ve told
him several times) that is my most hated worship song. I hate that song. I HATE THAT SONG. It’s like the most pedestrians, most
banal worship songs ever. And I
have to punch the buttons that make the lyrics slide go and the band leader is
grinning at me from the stage and I’m just tired.
“At least we got rid of Lord I Lift Your Name On High” the
Stage Manager cracks. Small
comfort.
So I’m doing alright through the first service, haven’t
biffed anything major, and then I hit the wall during the second service. I’ve already sat through the sermon,
I’ve already taken notes. It’s not
an especially taxing slide presentation, and so in order to keep myself awake,
I’m going back through my sermon notebook and adding to my table of contacts and
my eyes are growing heavy so I’m just going to close them for a moment.
And then I miss a cue.
The audience doesn’t suspect a thing, the pastor isn’t really thrown,
because he’s really into delivering the message. And in truth, the cue that I’ve missed is not a terrible
thing, it’s not like nothing makes sense without the map of Phrygia up, it’s
not like Colossae exists today anyway, since an earthquake allegedly took it
out in 60 AD (see? I told you I
was taking notes.)
Anyhow, the Phrygia map is not up when it’s supposed to be
and right as I figure it out, the Stage Manager, sitting next to me, gently
stretches his arm over and hits the button so the map comes up on screen. And there’s no glare, no frown. Just a gentle stretched arm over, and a
tap of the mouse. And the Stage
Manager smiles at me warmly. Maybe
he knows I’m tired. Maybe he can
sense that I’m under stress from maybe schedules, or possible deadlines or
wispy promises of payments. Or
maybe he can’t. Maybe he thinks
I’m new and that’s why I missed the cue.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s just another metaphor to me about what God is
like. I am me, the tired exhausted
slide operator who’s barely hanging on to consciousness during the second
service of the day and God is the gentle Stage Manager who helps me stay on
track.
It’s not a perfect metaphor, but it’s all I’ve got right
now.
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