Do You serve?

“Do you serve a church?” A question asked when I was trying to get out of the hospital parking garage. A question that I had not been asked the dozens upon dozens of times that I have been there previously.

 But let’s back up. 

The hospital in my town has a fascinating story. It has evolved over the year from two separate campuses to one building under a new name. As many changes that have taken place with the structure of the building itself, there have been equal number of changes regarding every single detail - including parking passes.

 When I first began ministry in 2010 all clergy in the area could be given a parking pass. Why do you need a parking pass? Because when the hospital switched leadership they began to charge for parking. But the hospital-employed chaplains did not get a pass. Over time, instead of simply giving both groups passes, the chaplains received a parking pass and the clergy were directed to go to the security office for parking validation papers.

Every.single.time.you.visit.

For someone like me that can quickly become two to three times a week, with an older congregation rotating in and out of hospital beds. 

While it was certainly extra time to have to navigate to the security office before leaving, I didn’t think much of it, until I ended up in the building on a Saturday afternoon. All of a sudden, the people who recognized me were gone and in their place were new faces. New faces who had apparently been given a new set of rules - check the clergy before you give them a parking validation ticket. 

Before we get to the next part of our story, lets just sit with the fact that the minimum parking amount is two dollars and the maximum amount is six dollars. 

But for some reason it had been drilled into the new security office staff that they had to ask anyone they didn’t think looked like a clergy where they served. 

Only I completely missed the question. 

Yes, I do not look like clergy typical for my area, where older men predominantly serve. But when the security officer asked me, a petite, young, female, if I really served a church, I somehow translated it in my head to and what do you do and I said I was there to visit. 

It wasn’t until I left the building that it clicked what had happened. 

I wanted to go back and ask the security officer if they asked all of the men if they really serve a church. Or if they thought that I was in the building on a beautiful Saturday afternoon because I wanted my two dollars in parking validation. But once the snark got out of my system, I was left sad.
 
 This security officer, who was a young female, was not accustomed to seeing young female pastors. 

 What we do matters but so does the fact that it is us in these bodies who are doing it.

My sister-in-law recently sent me a picture of my nieces playing “church” with their dolls one Sunday afternoon and everyone leading the service was female. It wasn’t until this past year that they came to discover that boys can be pastors to. They were used to seeing female clergy in leadership.

But that wasn’t the case at the hospital that day. 

If given the chance to be asked again, I would proudly share that yes, I am a pastor of a local congregation and that I am here because I love my people and love my job. I am here, on a Saturday afternoon, to share scripture and prayer together and to be the living embodiment of the church to some of those who need it the most. 

 Do I serve a church? Yes. Yes, I do.