So, y'all know that I have been working as the Assistant to the Pastor at the Bethesda Baptist Church of New Rochelle four months now. (Time flies!) Well, said position comes with my very own reserved parking space. A parking space. For me. What?!?!?!
At first I was reluctant to pull into the space, like someone was going to come to my car and tell me to move. I wasn't yet ordained and I felt like I hadn't earned the space (as if anyone ever does). Every time I pulled up, I felt like a little girl playing dress up in her momma's heels.
But sometime over the summer, in between services when the church parking lot is poppin', I came to be grateful for the space. It is a good feeling to pull up to the church and know that you know that you know that you have a parking space.
And, if I may tell the truth for a moment, when I pulled into the lot for Wednesday night Bible study, I almost lost my mind when someone was in the spot. Gasp! How dare they? You know good and well that you ain't the Assistant to the Pastor, so why is your beautiful, shiny, luxury car in my space? In an instant, God reminded me that the work I do for Him is not about titles or amenities, but about spreading the good news of Jesus Christ.
But still, I have to admit that more than feelings of inadequacy, ease, and entitlement, the parking space invokes deep laughter within me. Sometimes I crack myself up! No matter how I felt otherwise, somewhere deep down inside, every time (yes, every single time) I pull into the church parking lot, ease into my space, hop out my car, and lock the door, I feel like I am in an episode of Amen. I can hear, "Turn on the Lights from Heaven Lord, Shine on me..." in the background. I can see Sherman Helmsley jumping rope and praising God that he didn't break his hip! Won't you laugh with me...