It was not my desire to serve at The Feast. I had just wanted to attend, get spiritually refreshed, listen to talks, join Caring Groups. I never dreamed of writing regularly, I never dreamed of joining a ministry. But when God makes you say “yes,” everything else takes a backseat. I cannot remember how He called me, or how I gave in. I just said yes one night at dinner, after everyone else said yes, months prior to The Feast launch. What I had been thinking that night was that if this service is for God, he will arrange everything favorably.
Well, that’s what I thought. But during the first months of working on the Feast Bulletin, I had been juggling this with my other project deadlines and occasional travels. I had been struggling, too, with writing positively, and in a manner that is God-centered. I was coming from the province of suicidal writers, bitter ruminations, and cold technical reports. What I had written were anything but sunny. The closest I could get to rosy prose was through sarcasm and satire. After my “yes,” it was anything but favorable. That is, until God pulled me gently to a corner: “What can you let go for me?”
Slowly, with His guidance, I began to sift through my projects, retain the most life-affirming, humanitarian ones , and as much as possible, keep my Thursdays free. Since this winnowing of my calendar, I have lost a huge percentage of my income, lessened my travels, and lost my “standing”.
I also thought that this service that I do was for God. But I realize that God does not benefit from my service. My service is but a limp spurt of water that doesn’t hit its aim. God sees it, but he doesn’t need any of it. Who benefits? I do. I have lost much of the world, but I have won greatly as I gained back my faith. That’s saying, I have gained back my identity, and my freedom, and I can never imagine losing these again.
And for every chair I align, for every form of service I give, I feel God giving me a hug— “Oh Kimee, palangga ta gid ka.” That is all I ever need.