"Be dressed for service, and keep your lamps burning." - Luke 12:35. It's funny, because when I read this, I immediately thought Jesus meant to dress in your best. Lately there has been some emphasis in our church about wearing our best clothes to church (with some ambiguity as to what exactly that means... apparently, my most prized pair of jeans doesn't count), especially if you are going to serve in any ministry. I was wondering at the time whether I needed to wear a suit for translation... the pastors and the other translators wore suits, but they are all men. So I read on, hoping Jesus would tell me whether to wear my suit or a normal jacket.
There was some confusion before I realised Jesus meant to dress like a servant. It does not solve my immediate problem of to-suit-or-not-to-suit, but it did remind me that, in reality, it is trivial. I needed to put aside my proud notions of looking good or seeming intelligent before everyone, and instead take on the heart of a servant. The attitude of servitude, so to speak. Pride is such an easy trap to fall into. (By the way, I didn't wear the suit, but I wore a denim blazer that looked like a suit anyway.)
Today was the big day, where I stood up at the podium with the pastor, and interpreted his words into English. The sermon lasted about an hour, but for me it seemed like at least 2 hours. If I were to evaluate my performance, I would have to say I sucked. I didn't know what St Augustine was in Chinese (I guessed, but by the time I realised it was too late), and interpreted some parts in a really strange way. My Chinese simply isn't good enough, I think. On the other hand, after the service nearly everyone in the church approached me to tell me I did well. Being a self-critical type of person, I take these praises with a grain of salt, but I also refuse to let me put me down. The experience had my sympathetic nervous system firing on all cylinders, and I had the tremors toward the end of the service. I've now come down from my high, and am confronted with a massive headache and an unquenchable thirst. Kids, don't try this at home.
Now that I've had some time to think about it, it really is a blessed thing to be interpreting at church. If God's message is spoken through the pastor, then the interpreter also is an outlet of God's word, a channel through which God's word flows. It is the next best thing to being the pastor himself - the privilege of being an outlet for the word of God, without the toil of seminary training.
As for the chocolate... it is the other thing I'm craving, aside from water and sleep. I don't think there is any proper chocolate in the house, and I can't be bothered going out to get some. I'm sure that if I look hard enough, I will find a chocolate biscuit. It's out there, somewhere, I know it.
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