I woke up this morning expecting a fairly predictable Friday. At least, as predictable as Fridays can be for someone who lives between church ministry, construction sites, mentorship conversations, and the occasional all-night prayer meeting. Nothing too hard for the captain right?
In my mind, the plan was simple. Finish the day by around 2:00 p.m., head home, get some rest, and prepare for the night ahead. Friday nights are rarely quiet. If we are not hosting a night vigil at our own church, there is usually another congregation somewhere that has invited us for fellowship, ministry, or simply to join believers in prayer. Sleep, therefore, is often a strategic activity rather than a luxury.
The day began at church. Before the construction boots went on, and before the dust of the worksite found its way onto my clothes, there were reports to complete and office work to finish. I spent the first part of the morning in the church office catching up on paperwork and tying up loose ends before heading out. From there, it was straight to site.
For the better part of this week, our van has been doubling up as a mobile warehouse. We have been working on an epoxy flooring installation, and the room where we would ordinarily store our tools and materials happened to be the same room receiving the new floor finish. As a result, everything had to travel with us. Every grinder, trowel, chemical container, paint bucket, and flooring accessory found a temporary home inside the vehicle. By the end of the week, the van smelled less like a means of transport and more like a chemistry laboratory on wheels. Industrial area on wheels I tell you.
We began the morning by stopping at the store to offload some of the materials before heading to the project site. Today’s task was relatively straightforward. We completed the line markings and presented the client with samples for the wheel stops that would eventually be installed.
There is something deeply satisfying about reaching the final stages of a project. The frantic pace begins to settle. The heavy lifting is mostly done. What remains are the finishing touches. These are the details that transform a construction site into a completed space. Once that was done, I moved on to another site visit before making a quick stop to have my vehicle tires checked. Somehow, between construction schedules, church responsibilities, and life itself, vehicle maintenance always seems to appear as an unplanned item on the day’s agenda. Especially whatever is in the middle of a scheduled maintenance check.
By God’s grace, I made it back just in time for the lunch-hour service. The service itself was powerful. Throughout the week we had been reflecting on God’s instruction to Israel in Deuteronomy. The message centered around the moment when God essentially told His people that they had remained at Mount Horeb long enough and that it was time to move forward. It is a challenging thought because many of us become comfortable in places that were only ever meant to be temporary. Some seasons are blessings. Others are classrooms. But neither was intended to become a permanent residence. Someone say “Amen”!
After the service, there was the usual fellowship, the conversations in the aisles, the catching up with congregants, the laughter, the stories, and the small moments that often mean more than the sermon itself. Then there was a brief wrestling match with the office printer. This thing! It occupies that strange category of machinery that appears determined to prove it possesses intelligence. It refuses to do exactly what we need it to do while convincing us that the problem is probably our fault. To be fair, it probably was our fault.
Eventually, however, the most significant part of my day arrived completely unscheduled. For a long time, one of the burdens I have carried as a youth pastor has been figuring out how to genuinely reach the young people God has entrusted to our care. Tried organizing games. Tried inviting them for coffee. I have tried creating hangouts. I have tried special events. Sometimes they come. Most times they don’t. If I am being completely honest, there have been moments when it has felt like every carefully planned strategy has fallen flat.
Yet today, without a formal program, without an agenda, and without a scheduled event, I found myself spending time with a young man, someone I have wanted to connect with for a very long time. There was no pressure. No microphone. No stage. No sermon notes. Just conversation. We talked about life. We talked about challenges. We talked about questions. We talked about faith. We talked about the realities of growing up and navigating the world as a young believer.
And somewhere within that ordinary conversation, ministry happened. Not the dramatic kind that gets posted online. Not the kind that we cut into clips for our TikTok audiences. Not the kind that fills auditoriums. Just one person sharing life with another. As I sit here now at the end of the day, resting and reflecting, I find myself smiling at how God works.
I have spent enormous amounts of energy trying to create opportunities that only God can orchestrate. I schedule, I plan, I strategise… We build entire systems to reach. And… and… the systems are not bad. Then, in His wisdom, God accomplishes in a random afternoon what months of planning could not achieve. The truth is that people are rarely discipled in crowds alone. Sermons can inspire. Teachings, can instruct. A conference can challenge. But life transformation often happens across a table, during a walk, inside a car ride, or through an unplanned conversation that nobody else ever sees.
Today reminded me of that. It also reminded me why I am grateful for the unusual path God has given me. There are days when I move between construction sites and church offices, from epoxy floors to Bible studies, from project reports to prayer meetings. The transitions can feel almost absurd at times. In one hour I am discussing floor finishes and line markings; in the next I am answering questions about faith, purpose, and the will of God.
Yet… Somehow God uses all of it. The ministry was never meant to be confined to a pulpit. Pastoring – shepherding, is often found in the interruptions. It lives in the unexpected moments. It thrives in the spaces we did not plan for.
As I grow older I became convinced that effective ministry requires less control than I once imagined. It requires sensitivity. Sensitivity to the Holy Spirit for starters. It requires availability. It requires the willingness to abandon our carefully constructed agendas whenever God presents a better one.
Today was supposed to end at 2:00 p.m. It didn’t. And I am grateful it didn’t. Because somewhere in the beautiful randomness of another ordinary Friday, God quietly reminded me that His plans are usually better than mine. They always have been. And they always will be.
Grace and peace.