Today was Local Preachers' Sunday which meant that Brentwood had a Local Preacher from another circuit in the district. I wondered whether to go this morning, as I thought the service might be quite long, but decided I would as I was hoping for some bank statements from the treasurer. I arrived at about 9:15 - to find the preacher and two friends, but no stewards - whose job it is to be welcoming and all. So, I apologised and tried to be friendly. Apparently one of the stewards had been there - this poor lady is increasingly taking on far too much of the work in the church - and had gone off to do something. Soon after the other steward arrived - and explained that I would be doing communion as well. Didn't anyone tell me? Um, no.
It was interesting to observe the visitors - they are obviously used to a more formal service than we have, but they adapted well. I haven't seen a manel/ frock coat for a while. His dress reminded me of Grahamstown. And made me aware that Brentwood is quite different as an African congregation.
There was a meal afterwards and then I needed to give our visitors a lift - via Howick Methodist where their colleague was preaching. I was home by 1.30 which wasn't too bad.
But it is sometimes hard to see if God is really at work in situations. It was not an easy morning for me (although I wouldn't call it hard!) Did my role help people know Jesus better? Probably I impressed the visitors (white person at a black service) - but I'm not out to score noddy points for myself. It somehow has to come back to Jesus.
Trust. I have to trust him, even when I can't see it for myself.