Spurgeon goes on to identify four ways by which we may assess whether we are called to ministry. First is ‘an intense, all-absorbing desire for the work’. It is in this context that Spurgeon (followed by Lloyd-Jones in the next century) urged that you should not enter the ministry if you could be content doing anything else. This is a burden which cannot be escaped—not a mere passing feeling, but a thoughtful and enduring desire. Second is an ability to teach, and other aptitudes required in ministry. It is not to be expected that a man will preach well on his first attempt, but is there growing evidence of gifts and abilities which may be developed? Thirdly, Spurgeon asks is there any ‘conversion work’ in the ministry of this man? This test needs to be understood in the context of the extraordinary fruitful days of Spurgeon’s ministry, and it is interesting that this test is not mentioned by John Newton in the letter quoted in this lecture. Finally, if someone is called to ministry their preaching ‘should be acceptable to the people of God’.

The only qualification for entry to the London Seminary Pastoral Training course is a credible call to ministry. But what does that mean? There is a sense, of course, in which all believers are called to ministry as servants of the Lord and of one another. But the term is generally used of a particular call for evangelists, pastors and teachers.
External and Internal Call?
A call to ministry is understood in two parts: the external and internal call. The external call may include the encouragement of others to consider vocational Christian ministry. A local church may give opportunities for service, and encourage towards appropriate training. Ultimately an external call is a church calling someone to be their pastor; this may look slightly different in Baptist/ congregational and Presbyterian circles, but essentially it is the affirmation that a man is called to ministry.
The internal call is more controversial. In recent times the internal call has been downplayed or even disregarded. One pastor said to me: ‘The only call I received was a telephone call’ (from church leadership inviting him to take up the pastorate). While historically the internal call was treated seriously, now it is questioned. One turning point was the publication of a book on guidance: Decision Making and the Will of God.[1] The author emphasised the importance of moving away from a mystical understanding of God’s will towards more rational decision making based on biblical principles. The book is very valuable, and helped many who were struggling to find God’s will for their lives based on feelings or circumstances. However, the pendulum then swung to the opposite extreme, and the idea of internal call tended to be discarded altogether.
We can all understand the challenges and problems associated with an ‘internal call’. We don’t want to be governed by our feelings or subjective impressions of what the Lord might or might not be directing us to do; our feelings are not a reliable guide. Sometimes we don’t make good judgements about our own gifts, and strengths and weaknesses. We might believe that we are great preachers, but we should heed godly believers in the congregation who tell us that our sermons are uninspiring or unhelpful. We might dream that we have leadership potential, but if we find that no-one is willing to follow us, we may be mistaken. Our own convictions have to be tempered by the counsel and advice of trusted brothers and sisters in the Lord, and especially by our church leaders.
On the other hand, we might be very reluctant to go forward into ministry and we need the encouragement and spur of others who recognise our gifts and calling and advise that we are allowing our natural reticence to quench the Lord’s call. Some of the great prophets of the Old Testament, including Moses and Jeremiah, were reluctant because of their own sense of inadequacy and unworthiness. An historical example is John Calvin who had no inclination to take up ministry in Geneva and had to be very severely rebuked by Guillaume Farel.
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God created us as embodied beings comprised of both bodies and souls, nourishing our physical hunger through eating naturally nourishes our minds and hearts. As we engage in rich conversation, we draw closer and grow in intimacy with each other. Our souls are in turn nourished by this communion we achieve with others during the meal. Since our minds, bodies, and souls are in union with each other, when one is nourished, they are all nourished. It is in this act of dining that we can harness the true communal potential of shared meals that our Creator intended them to be.

In 2019, a disheartening survey was released on the eating habits of Americans. It found that only 48 percent of respondents eat at the dining room table, with 47 percent saying they eat on the couch or in their bedrooms instead. Tellingly, 72 percent of respondents also said that they grew up eating in the dining room. This is the latest illustration of a trend that has been happening for quite some time in America. Families and households are putting less of an emphasis on one of the most fundamental pillars of family and communal life—a shared meal.
Social science bears out the central importance that family dinner has on positive outcomes for children, including lower rates of drug abuse, teen pregnancy, depression, obesity, and eating disorders as well as higher grade-point average, self-esteem, and vocabulary. But the benefits of family meals—or any shared meal—go much deeper than what social science can prove. Dining together fills an innate need that all human beings crave: the desire for true communion and fellowship with our Creator and with one another.
The Centrality of the Meal in Scripture
Scripture tells us a great deal about just how fundamental meals are to human flourishing. Moreover, the Bible contains many examples of how the provision of food often served as a means for teaching important spiritual truths. For example, in the Old Testament, God fed the Israelites manna in the desert. Despite their disobedience (which resulted in the people having to wander in the desert for 40 years), He fed them, teaching them to depend and rely on Him for their daily sustenance (Exodus 16). Similarly, throughout the gospels, Jesus chooses a shared meal as the context not only for building relationships but for enacting His salvific plan.
His desire for forming intimate bonds over a shared meal is shown through His dinner with tax collectors and sinners at the home of Levi (Luke 5:29-32), eating at the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36-50), dining at the home of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:25-42), and staying at the home of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10). Strikingly, Jesus also emphasizes communal dining with His disciples in His resurrected body. He sups with two disciples that He meets on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35), with His disciples in Jerusalem (Luke 14:35-48), and again with His disciples on the shores of the Sea of Tiberius, sharing a miraculous catch of fish and bread over a charcoal fire (John 21:1-14).
Indeed, Christ’s plan of salvation is miraculously revealed multiple times in the context of a shared meal. It is at a wedding feast at Cana that Jesus performs His first miracle of turning water into wine, ushering in His public ministry (John 2:1-11). After feeding the souls of 5,000 men (besides women and children, which means the total number may have been as much as 15,000) by teaching them about the kingdom of God, He orchestrates a miraculous, spontaneous dinner for everybody when He multiplies a few loaves and fish to feed the entire throng, so much so that there are 12 wicker baskets left over after everyone has eaten their fill (Matthew 14:13-21, Luke 9:10-36). At the Last Supper, Christ reveals a fundamental aspect of His sacrificial mission through sharing bread and wine with His disciples (Luke 22:14-23).
It’s clear that Christ placed great emphasis on the importance of the meal as a conduit for revealing the depth of His love for His flock. But a natural question arises here—why did Christ do this? What is the true nature and potential of a shared meal?
“From Eating to Dining”
Judging by the survey referenced earlier, for the most part, eating has become a pretty mundane and isolated exercise for many Americans. At the same time, the popularity of cooking shows and eating out prove that even the fragmented nature of everyday life in our culture has not fully tamped down the pleasures of a good meal.
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Aging with quadriplegia may be filled with extra challenges, but it doesn’t demoralize me. With God’s help, I hold everything lightly. I try not to grasp at my fragile life, nor coddle it or minimize my activities at Joni and Friends just because I’m getting older, growing weaker, and dealing with more pain. Rather, I find great comfort and joy in dying to self and living every day to serve the Lord Jesus and others around the world whose disabilities are far more profound than mine.

I sometimes wonder, Who am I, God, that you have brought me this far? Lately, I’ve been whispering that question from 1 Chronicles 17:16: “Then King David [said], “Who am I, O LORD God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?” Who am I to enjoy a platform on national radio for 40 years? Who am I that I should be so blessed in marriage to Ken for 40 years? And how did I ever have the strength to survive 55 years as a quadriplegic in a wheelchair?
The truth is, I don’t have the strength. I still wake up every morning needing God desperately. Like David, I often confess, “I am poor and needy” (Ps. 40:17). Perhaps that’s how God brought me this far. I cannot say, but I do know that “the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him” (2 Chron. 16:9, NIV). God is searching high and low for weak people who love him so that he can pour into them his strength. Maybe that’s my story, but how I arrived here is not for me to say. I just keep praising my sovereign God with every milestone I pass.
It’s the noble cause of Christ to which I’ve dedicated myself for decades, and I can’t think of anything that gives me more joy. Yet as I reach the milestone of 55 years of quadriplegia—not to mention two bouts of cancer, severe breathing issues, COVID-19, and chronic pain—I hold tightly to Acts 20:24 (NIV): “I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.”
And with this anniversary marking 55 years in my wheelchair, I’m reflecting on more than a few milestones through which God has done amazing things. 
Anniversary of the Disabilities Act
When a broken neck upended my life 55 years ago, leaving me depressed and devastated, the last people I wanted to be around were wheelchair users like me. They made me feel awkward, so I basically ignored anyone with a disabling condition. Imagine my amazement when a little over a decade later, God used my own affliction to birth an international disability ministry. Somewhere within that decade, I rose above my fears of the future and my disdain for others with disabilities. God transformed my heart, changed my attitude, and showed me there are more important things in life than walking.
I landed in a wheelchair at a time when there was very little access for people using mobility equipment. Back in the 1970s I would arrive at a restaurant, only to be told to wheel down an alley, past smelly dumpsters, into a side door that led through a crowded, noisy kitchen in order to reach my dining table.
I remember getting stuck in a boutique dressing room while trying on clothes. My wheelchair had become wedged tightly between the swinging door and the wall; the store manager had to come and jerk me free. My wheelchair left scuff marks all over the dressing room. I was terribly embarrassed. That was the way things were in the early 70s, before the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
With each passing year, I racked up more embarrassing incidents of being stranded, getting stuck, and navigating long, winding detours to get into movie theaters, restaurants, churches, and stores. I finally had my fill of embarrassing episodes, so I began to actively advocate for myself and for others with disabilities.
In the late 1980s, I somehow landed a position on the National Council on Disability under President Reagan.
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