Everyone has a title these days—something to give them a little feeling of self-worth!
Maybe it’s to compensate for the lack of a fair wage, too many hours as a salaried employee, or too much time away from their family. Perhaps they have a boring but essential position. No matter the reason, it seems like most people have some kind of title they can call themselves.
Most often I choose my own titles based on where my life is at the moment. For a time I was “Condiment Queen,” as I mistakenly thought condiments (mustard, salad dressings, sauces, and pickle relish) were a major food group. Another time I crowned myself “Chief Candy Fiend” because it seems I was addicted to corn syrup.
Of course, God sees us as kids of a King. He probably had a hand in the next title I gave myself.
I was part of a group of people taking our church to another community. In the lingo of Christianity, we were “planting a new church,” or just adding a church where there wasn’t one. In my experience, this process consists of a pastor and ministry team. Although we each had our jobs, no one had a title except the pastor. For whatever reason, I was frustrated I lacked a title. I thought long and hard about it but was totally unsuccessful at giving myself a title which described my responsibilities. Other people clearly were unconcerned with the idea of having a name to describe what they did.
Early one Sunday morning I was driving up the interstate, enjoying the quiet beauty of the prairie. It was cool. The sun had just come up. My 46-mile drive meant I would see more antelope, deer, and cattle than people. Suddenly a hot air balloon popped into view on the horizon. The road was so quiet I could have just shut off my van right there in my lane. Instead, I pulled over, shutting off the van for a while to enjoy the balloon. Then, realizing I would soon be late, I got back on the road.
Just then, a little red pickup truck roared past me in the left lane. The bed of the truck was loaded with a gondola (a hot air balloon basket) and other supplies. I caught a glimpse of the sign on the tailgate, which screamed in bright bold letters “LAUNCH SUPPORT.” I realized this was my title for the current season of my life.
Like the beautiful balloon in the air, our new church was visible to the entire community. But to keep the church up and running in a community, to have outreach ministries and missions work, we needed people behind the scene in “launch support.” It is a permanent position. Finally, I really felt part of something vital. (And for a long time after that, I thought about kicking my old van over a cliff and getting a zippy little red truck like the balloon team had!)
What’s your title? Does it matter to you if you have one or not? Gather with your ministry team and discuss this article, keeping in mind that sometimes having a title or even a role description helps people understand their value in your ministry. You might end up having fun inventing creative titles—and it might help your volunteers and team members feel more vital to your ministry.