When I was 10.5 years old it came to me that I was to be a minister/priest/whatever.
I KNEW that I was completely unworthy, that this wasn't a thing one could be worthy of. But, with that incisive innerleck for which I am so justly famous (along with my renowned humility), I also knew that it is fatal, as I put it, to confuse the salesman with the product.
"What went ye out into the desert (or down to the local ecclesiastical assembly place) to see? A reed shaken by the wind?"
"No, Lord. I went out in hopes that the wind which shook that reed might shake me as well, might lift me up and bear me away. I went, not even for the shaking, but for the wind, because in that wind is the only life worth having."
So you, also having some sense (in spite of your self), a sense given by the Spirit, you also know that the Lord is one thing, and the servant is quite another, and that, even for the Lord, it's hard to find good help these (or any) days.
True. true.
Still, for all our . . . presumed . . . ‘shallowness’ re Communion, many Proddys treat it rather sacredly, none-the-less. And the idea of receiving Communion from a Deacon or Pastor who was known to be involved in say adultery would be far too offensive for many to follow through on. It’s probably one of the more intense “purity” moments in a Proddy’s religious observances.
imho.