"Les, you seem so restless these days. What’s up?”
This question from the chairman of the board of Deacons came at the end of another long meeting. Since I’d been a deacon from the age of 23, I was used to being frustrated by the slow progress made in church meetings. But lately I’d been feeling more frustrated than usual. It seemed as if we never got to anything really meaningful. Or if we did, it was always at the end of the evening when everyone was tired and anxious to get home. I didn’t really know how to answer.
I simply said, “I don’t know. It just seems there must be more to it.”
A puzzled look appeared on Alan’s face.
I tried to explain. “More to being a Christian, I mean. I’m so tired of meetings where nothing ever seems to be accomplished. Nothing that matters, at least.”
“I guess I don’t understand,” Alan replied. “I think we’re doing great. We’ve got a new building. The church is growing. Great people. Good services. The church is sure meeting my needs.”
I went home that night more frustrated than ever. I’d been a Christian since the age of three, an active layman since I was 18. I was now forty-two. Was this part of the mid-life crisis they talked about? Did I have needs the church wasn’t meeting, or was there something wrong with me?
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