I was sixteen years old at my first job interview. I sat across the table from the McDonald’s manager, awkwardly eating my free meal which I had shamelessly accepted. He struggled to find questions to ask as I stared at him, putting yet another golden French fry in my mouth.
“What’s your work experience?” “One week at a carnival.” “Are you pretty good about showing up on time?” “No, but I think I could be.” “How would your friends describe you? “I play basketball and am a pretty nice guy.”
He hired me on the spot.
I’ve often thought job interviews are mostly pointless. What can I possibly find out about an individual in 30 minutes?
Okay, so what about elder interviews? Are they also pointless? Can I sit down with a man and interview him on 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 and have any clue as to whether or not he’s qualified? If not, how can we be confident that a man makes the cut?
As a local church, we have an advantage McDonald’s didn’t have—we spend time with people. We spend years with them. We watch them. We pray for them. We weep with them. We
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