it was built around the turn of the century as a post office, but when i walked inside for the first time last week, it was a museum dedicated to the history of the city.
i sat in her office, with every intention of asking and hopefully securing the internship that took place down in the archives. i wanted to learn what you could do with history outside traditional education, and i thought this would be my opportunity.
instead she steered me toward another internship, one that had also been recommended by the university liaison for me. the museum owns two houses illustrating the socioeconomic divide in the city around the 1870s, and persons with disabilities are unable to climb the stairs to see the second floor. in the case of the smaller house, the stairs are so steep, few are allowed up at all.
“we want a binder, or something,” she said, “so that people who are unable to see the second floor for themselves are still able to get a really good feel for it.”
and with that, i, the experienced teacher and writer, took the internship that was based on, um, teaching and writing.
i’ve since come to the realization that God does not give you a gift He does not intend you to use.
what’s your gift?
if your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.
are you using your gift in the way you should?
are you using it at all?
one of my gifts is writing – or really, anything to do with words. the minute i start running from that, the minute i start trying to shirk that responsibility, if only in small ways, is not the minute i start taking a break from writing.
it’s the minute i start sinning.
if nineveh is the work we do, tarshish is where we flee. maybe fear drives you there. maybe, like jonah, dislike for what you’re being called to do, or among whom you’re called to do it. maybe, like me, you just want to do something different.
it doesn’t matter why we go to tarshish. what matters is that when God shows up along the way and strongly urges us to change direction, we go to nineveh. what matters is that we let the excuses of inability or fear or boredom drop from our hands onto the ground we ought not to have walked.
what matters is that when God calls us, we listen. that when God calls me, I listen.
because we weren’t meant to squander the gift.
we were meant to change the world.