The word ministry can still make me squirm. In the modern parlance of trauma-informed language, I find the word triggering, even as I am about to be ordained an “interfaith minister” in October of this year.
When given the choice, I chose the title interfaith “chaplain” instead of interfaith “minister” in how I will be listed in the program for my ordination service. That is how much my Evangelical past has traditionally colored the word “ministry” for me.
Despite knowing better—that minister simply means servant and ministry is service—the word’s problematic associations still dance around my brain and my heart. As I came of age, ministry automatically meant evangelization and promoting a certain style of Christianity above all others. I also associated the word with mega-church pastors who live in opulent homes and fly on private jets, all the while calling their business a ministry.
Even though the previous eighteen months I’ve spent in seminary preparing for my ordination have helped me to make a great deal of peace with the word ministry, it wasn’t until Wild Goose Festival this year that a simple exchange helped me laugh into the true meaning of the word.
I was standing in line at the Sugar Shack, one of the festival’s popular food vendors, waiting for the ever-yummy Veggie Thing to be prepared. A person who had just been served their Veggie Thing stood beside me, their body draped with bags and other things that made maneuvering the condiments difficult.
This lovely human asked if I would hold their Veggie Thing while they added some salt and sauce. I obliged. “A blessing on your ministry,” they said to me as a thank you. My smile widened before joyful laughter overcame me as I recognized the beauty in this blessing.
And it reminded me that, at its most basic level, ministry is service. And we can all practice acts of service for each other.
No ordination is required. No status is required. No formalized business plan is required.
The Wild Goose Festival this year saw plenty of examples of ministry in action through these simple acts of service.
To the friends who helped me set up my tent in this, the first year that I camped at the festival: I thank you for your ministry.
To the countless volunteers and staff members who scrambled to keep us safe during a vicious storm: I thank you for your ministry.
To the co-creators and venue curators who offer so much on a volunteer basis in order to bring the gift that is inclusive, affirming Christianity to others: I thank you for your ministry.
If the word ministry is still a sticking point for you, what might happen if you replaced every use of the word ministry with the word service? That shift, like many language shifts I’ve needed to make during my deconstruction and reconstruction experiences, has helped me a great deal.
And I can’t help but wonder whether, if we truly see ministry as leadership through service, even greater shifts would be possible in how we share spiritual care with each other.
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Dr. Marich is the founder of the Institute for Creative Mindfulness. A clinical trauma specialist and educator, she is the author of over a dozen books and manuals on trauma and addiction recovery. She is the author of, You Lied to Me About God: A Memoir,