Passing the Plate

I guess you could say I'm afraid of commitment. Or at least, I was. Choosing a church to settle down in can be daunting for any free-spirited college student. I mean, who knows where your room mate will be going next month? You don't want to get tied down if nobody else is.

My room mate Gail and I made a step towards commitment last week -- we became greeters at our local church. We haven't reached the point of getting gold, beveled name tags, but we are to the point of handing out bulletins, opening doors for mothers carrying babies and even counting the offering in the plate.

It's such a small move. I'm just shaking hands and passing around a bucket. But there's a 180-degree shift from me sitting in the pew, wondering why the thermostat is set so low or why the microphones are giving feedback, and me standing at the door, wondering how I can make that new couple feel less like awkward newbies, or when I should open the door so that mom and her crying baby can retreat from the service quickly.

It's so much more fun thinking about others than worrying about my own comfort. This whole commitment thing isn't half as bad as I thought it would be.