I’ve gotten several DUI’s this week. This is hard for me to admit. Getting a DUI—a “Don’t Understand It”—is humbling.
How hard? I just bought a case of anti-perspirant.
Sunday worship may look easy to lead. We don’t really think about it unless something goes wrong. But that doesn’t happen very often because our worship staff is very skilled.
I am not skilled. I am just a bit, well, terrified.
What do I say before this prayer? Where do I stand? And how can I stop the childhood lyrics from playing in my head:
“From all that dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator’s pies all rise;”
Well, I won’t finish that and just hope that no one names their child Luya.
I’ve been in the ministry for thirty years, but leading worship is not my domain. On your death bed? Get me in there. Want to discuss death with dignity? Call me! Been doing CPR for thirty minutes and the patient died? Let’s talk.
Just don’t ask me where the candle-lighting kid sits. Or who holds the basket of gluten-free bread. Or when we stop the passing of the peace.
So I have to admit my ignorance, ask questions, take notes. It’s uncomfortable at first—a lot like working out with weights. You have to start small. So I’m building my DUI muscles with lighter topics so that I can be strong enough to ask DUI questions about heavier topics.
“You want to criminalize abortion? You think being a sex worker is a good job? You don’t like immigrants? Can you help me understand?”
This is the big challenge: How do we respond to the DUIs in our lives? Do we pretend to understand? Do we avoid discussing it all? Do we simply write off those with whom we disagree? None of these are good options.
My DUI muscles are getting stronger. But I’m not getting rid of that anti-perspirant.