on spiritual gifts

some ruins at Corinth

A few days ago I got to talk with an old friend for quite a while. Ever since Kyle got married and moved hours away, we haven’t talked that often; but I like how we can talk as if no time has passed at all. He landed a job far north working at a church, but he says that may not be lasting too much longer. “The church just can’t handle me,” he said, “or I can’t handle the church. One of the two.” He asked me if I was doing anything in a church, and I told him I wasn’t. He was sad to hear I wasn’t teaching, because I’m an “excellent teacher” (his words). I told him about how I tried applying for churches for about a year or two, had dozens of interviews, preached at several places, but nothing ever came of it: “Turns out church folk don’t want a young looking guy preaching or an unmarried young looking guy doing youth ministry.” His advice was keen: “Screw ‘em. It’s part of the effed-up mindset of the church.” 

Just the other day I did one of those “Spiritual Gift” tests online. They’re so much quicker and convenient on the IPhone. My top rating was that of Teacher, no surprise. Kyle’s was that of an apostle, equally not a surprise. Long ago we dabbled in the idea of starting our own low-key house church, him doing the evangelistic stuff, me being the cultivator through teaching within the church. 

Jessie, in town for a bit from Illinois, came over to my place with Brittany at her side, and we grabbed IHOP for dinner and then nestled in the living room talking about all sorts of things, and “spiritual gifts” came up. As we talked, I couldn’t help but think of the Corinthian church and modern-day parallels. The Corinthians esteemed some gifts above others; in their gatherings, speaking in tongues became a litmus test for one’s devotion for God. Paul railed against this, and sadly 2000 years of church history hasn’t changed the landscape. To this day we are apt to vault some spiritual gifts above others; those spiritual gifts which find themselves in the lime-light, such as evangelism, teaching, or preaching, are seen as those “gifts” in which a person’s devotion to God is paramount. I can’t tell you the number of people I met in college, much like myself, who pursued vocational ministry not out of love for God but out of an ambition to prove their devotion. Spiritual gifts operating in the shadows are sidelined so that those who are gifted with, say, compassion, mercy, or intercession are seen as “less spiritual,” somehow a cut below those whose devotion and loyalty to God is evident under the spotlight. 

The reality is that the person whose heart burns for the lost and carves a living in the front line trenches is no more or less a woman of God than the quiet introvert whose heart yearns to provide sustenance and encouragement to the troops several miles behind the front lines. As with the army, so it is with the church: some are called to vocational evangelism, others to be teachers, others to be caretakers of the flock. Making any gift or role superior to another is to fall victim to the same skewed vision of the Corinthians, and such a perception gives birth to pride in those who happen to be called to the “front lines” and insecurity in those who find themselves more at home “behind the scenes.”