Called...to keep our mouths shut?

Down in North Carolina, there is a man named Chad Holtz who used to be a student pastor at a United Methodist Church in Henderson, NC.  What happened to Chad is very unclear at the moment; we do not know if his departure from the church he pastored was forced or voluntary, how or whether the conference to which the church belonged participated in the dialogue that led to his current state of unemployment, or the role that his blog post about the new Rob Bell book "Love Wins" may have had in all the hullaballoo.  Given that the list of what we don't know about the situation far outruns the available facts, I'm not even going to attempt to address the quagmire unfolding in North Carolina, beyond saying that Rob Bell probably doesn't need any more publicity than he already gets.  What I'd like to talk about is a post that Holtz put up on his website, http://chadholtz.net/ addressing the role he believes his blogging played in his departure from the church.  The following is a verbatim reprint:

"Pastors and Shepherds, here are some helpful tips if you wish to remain employed.    Disregard at your own risk.1.  Don’t blog or Facebook.2.  If you ignore #1, at least do so anonymously.3.  If you ignore #1 and #2, be sure your stuff is fluff.  Write about daisies, the weather, your kids t-ball game, vacation plans, car repairs, and dinner recipes.4.  If you ignore #1, 2, and 3 and choose instead to write about matters of faith, be sure your ideas, thoughts, opinions and questions match the ideas, thoughts, opinions and questions of your congregation.5. If you ignore #1, 2, 3, and 4 you can join me in a job hunt.   And, if you are not completely disillusioned, help me plant a church where advice like this will not only be unnecessary, but absurd."

Now, it goes without saying that Holtz is speaking from a place of pain and anger, and his advice may be well-intentioned, if emotionally tinged.  However, I also believe it's flat-out wrong - except for one crucial piece.

For those few of you who don't know me personally, I am what might be politely termed a blabbermouth.  Far too often my temper and my mouth outstrip my brain, and more than once I have been held to account for something I have said or done which has not been spiritually strengthening to those I serve, or to myself.  Sometimes those conversations were constructive, sometimes they were painful, and sometimes they were just downright silly - but each one has provided me with insights about the way I communicate and how I can better serve myself and my God when interacting with others.  And that is my call - to serve God and the community to which I have been sent.  Do we have a call to speak truth to power?  Absolutely.  But does that call involve saying whatever the heck we think and then justifying the results in the name of prophecy or even just honesty?  No.

Restraining my mouth - or in the case of the Internet, my fingers - is the single hardest part of my everyday life in ministry.  At first, I tried to make it easier by putting on a "professional mask", if you will - following Holtz's advice about anonymous blogging and Facebooking, and revealing as little of my personal life to my congregation as possible.  I was keenly aware that now my livelihood depended on pleasing the people in the pews, and I thought I could accomplish that by becoming a sort of ministry mechanic - a largely nameless and faceless behind-the-scenes worker who ensures that everything moves along as it should.  However, it didn't take me long to discover that people rarely turn to their mechanics for spiritual guidance, and that I could not be an effective leader unless I allowed the people around me to see me for who I was.  Those people, in turn, had to adjust their expectations of me, which took time and a number of tense conversations as we truly got to know one another for the first time and I learned the boundaries of where honesty moved from being a ministry tool and natural expression of self to a sledghammer that tore down the very ministry I was trying to build.  But a year and a bit into my ministry at this church, I think my youth, my volunteer leaders and I can all agree that we are a better and stronger team for that struggle, and that our ministry is more effective when we are able to share openly with one another.

That's where we get to the piece of advice Holtz offers that I do endorse: #4 on his list, with a caveat.  As the spiritual leader of your congregation, you should be engaging the same issues of faith that your congregation is, and sometimes it is essential that you disagree with them.  However, there is a difference between leading your congregation toward a different viewpoint and broadsiding them with thoughts, opinions and ideas you haven't prepared them for, or simply ignoring the congregation altogether as your pursue your own theological quandaries down the proverbial rabbit hole.  That difference is essential, crucial, life-giving or life-taking in your ministry - as Holtz has discovered, to his cost.

We are not called to be silent - in fact, ours is a ministry of words, without which we cannot hope to reach out to one another or to God.  But we are called to subjugate ourselves - our words, our deeds, our lives - to the call of leadership, that our words might be always and everywhere honoring to God.

Dress Up

After being an "official" pastor for about a year now, I finally relented on Saturday, and allowed my parents to buy me my Christmas present early--an alb.

Part of the reason I resisted was theological--the alb used to be a symbol of a servant and was everyday street-wear. But now, no one walks around in a white gown with a rope cinture at the waist unless they are going to a toga party on a college campus. For me, the same symbolism could be acheived by actually wearing street clothes so that I can come out of the congregation to preach/lead worship--I am one of the people and not above them.

Another reason I resisted was practical...I had no clue what I would want. I knew that I would need an alb for commissioning and ordination...but what type? There are a variety of styles and shapes. I had my own list of requirements: 2 pockets--not just slits, because my skirts don't have pockets like men's pants; a feminine shape--I am a woman after all; large enough that it could hide a pregnant belly, if and when it were needed; and wrinkle reistant--my ironing skills leave A LOT to be desired! These decisions were important to me, because an alb is a considerable investment, and hopefully mine will be with me for the next 50 years of ministry!

But the last reason I resisted was because somehow, having an alb, the "uniform" of UMC clergy in my area, makes everything more "official" and legitimate. It gives me a status and identity marker. It's an identity, that despite my strong feeling of call, downright terrifies me. I've been teetering on the edge of the cliff for the past year--taking on the identity of a pastor when it's helpful to do so--visiting in a hospital, explaining what I do, etc.--and leaving the identity of a pastor behind when I feel like it...which is most of the time. I don't want to be known as "pastor" first. I am me...a Child of God...being a pastor is what I DO, but not who I AM. For me, the alb became the symbol that there was "no turning back." And I was scared.

On Saturday, when I went to get fitted for the alb--mine has to be custom-made because my proportions are too wacky for a "ready-made" one--I couldn't help but feel like I was playing "dress up." As a child, I would wear my mother's old dresses and high heals, carry an old purse, throw a fake boa around my neck, and prance around the house as a "fancy" lady. I felt a little like that on Saturday. There I was in my jeans and t-shirt, with a pair of dress shoes in my hand, having a measuring tape wrapped around every conceivable part of my body and imagining myself prancing around in the alb. I was scared, and it showed.

On a side note...for all those ladies out there...if you are looking for an alb, there are about 20 different choices for the guys...and we have one basic choice--same style, with lace or without lace? Two brands carry the same alb--one comes with no pockets, the other with two. So your choices are pockets and lace. Nothing to choose from style-wise. The gender discrimination is still present...but that's another rant for another day.

For me, all of my lingering uncertainties about my calling, my effectiveness (or potential effectiveness) in ministry, my acute awareness of my age, gender, medical issues and speech issues were all wrapped up in the image of the alb. Somehow, if I could delay getting an alb, I could keep pretending that I was living in a dream-world, and that I would wake up one day. I could back out of ministry if needed. But now...now it's official. And I'm scared. What if I'm not good enough? What if I fail? What if...? Am I really just playing "dress up" in a white gown and looking like I'm going to a toga party on a college campus? Or am I really a pastor? What is my identity? Who am I? Who has God called me to be?

Now I have the alb...well, actually, it's being made and shipped to me...I should have it in 2 months or so...probably before Christmas. But only time will tell if the alb is simply "dress up" or an affirmation of me and my calling. Sometimes we all have to take off our "masks" and dress up clothes to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. That's scary...but I know that God is always right there by my side...guiding and leading me. And God never has to play "dress up" because God is true...and the same, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. God doesn't change, even if how we perceive God changes. And I am grateful that no matter how much I "dress up," God can see through that, and knows me for who I am.

God's Waiting Room

Whew. I feel like I just finished a marathon! Last time I posted, I was in the midst of Holy Week. It's been a rollercoaster ride to the "finish" line...perhaps a more appropriate title would be "pit stop." I've finished the semester of seminary, successfully officiated at 2 funerals, am planning my Sundays off for the summer, and have been asked to guest preach and/or lecture at 2 churches! I am honored to be asked, but I also feel a little guilty by it all...it means I'm away from "my" 2 churches and then have to find someone to fill in for me...NOT an easy task. Few people want to preach to 25 people, twice, in little country churches a million miles from anywhere. Oh the dilemmas.

Sooo...I'm done classes, but I have not yet received my grades. Some days, I could care less...I prefer the not knowing to having to deal with the outcomes. Other days, I am anxiously checking the online system to see if anything has been posted (yeah, right). I feel caught in the limbo stages. Or in math-y terms, the liminal stages. Or in theological terms, the "already, but not yet."

In a way, this waiting time is a lot like my call and my ministry. I have already been certified as a candidate for ordination, and already pastor 2 churches...but I have not yet been commissioned or ordained. The wait can be beautiful and agonizing at the same time. On the one hand, this is providing me with excellent time and space to mature and grow as both a person (I am "just" 23) and as a pastor/theologian. This is a blessing because I feel that I need this time, this holy time. But at the same time, it is frustrating. I have some authority as a DS Hire Student Pastor, but not a lot. I can "do" communion for my congregations...sort of. I have to have it preconsecrated (blessed) before I can serve it. But that is a tangent for another day. I have the authority to do a lot, but not everything.

I feel like I am always waiting....for something. I'm not always sure what though. In many ways, I sympathize with the disciples in Luke and Acts (same story, told twice in two different ways) during the ascention of Christ. The Church observes Ascension Day on Thursday of this week, and Ascension Sunday (for those of us who don't do an "extra" mid-week service) this coming Sunday. The disciples were wondering and waiting for Jerusalem to be restored. They were wondering and waiting for the return of Jesus Christ--whose return they thought was imminent. They were wondering and waiting for what would become of them and the other followers now that Jesus was "gone." They were wondering and waiting for the "advocate," the "helper" the Holy Spirit that Jesus promised them...it would not come for a little while longer. The disciples were living in this "limbo-liminal-already/but not yet" state.

This state is a common theme in Paul's letters in the New Testament...we see it in Galatians and Hebrews (among other places). I even saw some of it in Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible! Check out these books for on this...I can't do them justice by telling you about them.

Sooo...while frustrated in this "limbo-liminal-already/but not yet" state, I can appreciate it as holy time...holy waiting...it's God's timing and God's waiting room for me. And that is a blessing...because there is no one better to have on your side than God! I know that God will care for me, and I rest assured in that. Now...gonna go check grades one more time...oh wait! This is God's waiting room...

My Call Story (more or less)

(Admin's Note: On behalf of our team here at Bring Back The Burning Bush, please allow me to apologize in advance for the dearth of posting over the next week.  We have entered that time of spiritual and literal testing known as finals week, and we will all be too busy praying for grace to post until after it's over.  To tide you over, I've reposted a blog I wrote on my personal site for the UMC Young Clergy last August - I considered updating some of the references since nearly a year has passed, but I thought it might be more informative in its original state.  See you on the other side! - Kate)

My name is Kate Mackereth, and I am a certified candidate for ordination in the Baltimore-Washington Conference of the UMC. I am 22 years old, white, female, and belong to Christ United Methodist Church. Christ UMC is a contemporary, multiracial, theologically conservative congregation just outside the city limits of Frederick, MD. For 20 of the 22 years this congregation has been in operation, we worshipped at Ballenger Creek Middle School, next door to our current property. While attending Messiah College, I worshipped at First United Methodist Church in Mechanicsburg, PA, an 1800-member liturgical congregation. While at First, I served for 18 months as Service Director for their (at that time) new evening contemporary service, U-Turn. At CUMC, I have been active most recently as a worship leader and youth leader.

There were, as I can recall, two important events in my discernment process, which began seven years ago. The first was my decision to attend, and later to join the leadership team, at First UMC in Mechanicsburg. It was a congregation different in almost every way from my home church, including the presence on staff of associate pastor Lucretia Hurley-Browning. My home church would not receive its first woman pastor for another year, and the transition could charitably be described as rocky. However, Lucretia had been on staff at First for five years, and I was able to witness for the first time a woman pastor ministering to a congregation successfully, something I was unsure I would be able to do at that time. Lucretia’s example and guidance over the 2 years I attended First Church was invaluable in helping me to accept not only God’s call for my life, but also His call to ordination. I also received great support and encouragement from the entire U-Turn leadership team, including Rev. Mike Minnix, Ed Geiger, Charlie Renner, Lorette DeWalt, Allison Ometz and their families. The good people of First Church gave me my first real responsibilities in leadership and were always supportive of me in anything I chose to do. That support gave me the freedom to really test the limits of my event-planning, worship-leading and organizational skills, and I discovered that I had a talent for administration.

The second event which confirmed my call to ministry was my visit to Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC. I grew up near DC and had always loved the city, but I had no real intention of going to graduate school so close to home and no definite plans to attend graduate school at all when I visited the seminary. But from the moment I arrived on campus, I knew that not only was I going to go to graduate school, but I would be a student at Wesley. The class I sat in on held my attention in a way that no lecture class has ever done; the stories I heard from other students at lunch convinced me that this would be a place where I could explore my call and my beliefs publicly without the censure I had earned for doing so with others in the past. I move to WTS in just a few days, and I am so excited to begin the next part of this insane journey to ordination.

My theological standpoints have changed radically in the year since I formally entered the ordination process. Where I would have self-identified before as a mainstream, middle-of-the-theological road Christian, I now identify myself with pride as a liberal Christian feminist (much to the chagrin of some of my former fellow-congregants at CUMC). The discernment and ordination processes have been difficult, but also freeing for me because they have allowed me to break out of what my ordination mentor calls “the box of theological origin” to discover a set of beliefs that I can finally own as mine, rather than preserve as a hand-me-down heirloom of my predecessors. I have recognized and come to appreciate the place and role of doubt in a vital and evolving faith life – doubt is the room in which God works in our minds and hearts to bring us in tune with Him. Most importantly, I’ve embraced the fact that God’s call on my life is NOT the same yesterday, today and forever – it’s as fluid and changing as my faith in Him, but always imbued with His love for me.

If I have any advice to give to those who are in the midst of or just starting out on this journey, it would be to become dumb. Forget everything you know about yourself and your beliefs, forget everything you think you know about what a good pastor or missionary or whatever looks like. Your preconceived notions about what you have been, who you want to be and what God wants you to be are going to be your biggest stumbling blocks on the road to actually figuring out all that stuff. Don’t let anyone tell you what to think, but don’t think you know what to think either – just let it all go and start fresh, with God as your goal, your desire and your guide. Good luck!

In-between

I've been told this feeling is normal. I've been told that sometime during your seminary "life" you will have thoughts, questions and concerns about your future, your faith and God. I think I have entered this period.
To be honest, my relationship with God has been rocky for a while. Since my brother died it has been hard to fully worship the God I love, and who I know loves me unconditionally. It's that last part that hurts the most. If God loves me unconditionally, then why did my brother die. This is something I wrestle with each time I pray.
I know I am suppose to be in seminary, through all the work, pain and paper writing I know (one hundred percent) there isn't any other place I want to be, or should be. However, sometimes, well more than sometimes, I wonder what God has in store for me. You see my coming to seminary was based on faith that God will not leave me, nor forsake me. The one Bible verse I've clung to since my brother's death (I have it printed out and hanging on my wall) is:

The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:8

To be honest, I've had this post as a draft for months now. I kept thinking about this in-between space I find myself in at seminary. During these months though I've made and followed through with a major decision. I have officially switched from an M. Div. to an M.A. I have made an official switch that will prevent me from being ordained an Elder in the UMC, which is, for me, wonderful. My call is not to the sacraments. I could never image myself baptizing an infant, or preaching each week, or anything like that. My call is to work with middle school and high schoolers, and possibly Christian Education.
Another significant decision I've made during this time, when this blog entry was listed as a draft, is that I have an internship at a local church. As part of my seminary education I'm required to have a small internship for one year at a local church. This is both exciting and worrisome. So, I continue to dwell in this in-between space. But I find comfort in the following passage from Jeremiah. Instead of extracting simply the one verse so many people enjoy, I have included the verses around it. Exile, captivity, has to happen, but God has a plan: before, during and after.

"For thus says the Lord: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfil to you my promise and bring you back to this place. For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile." Jeremiah 29: 10-15 (NRSV)

God’s Calling and Denial

I would not say that my discernment process, at least the formal portion of it that was monitored by the church hierarchy, was a positive experience. In fact, I complained about it so incessantly that, as soon as I was ordained elder, I was tapped to serve as a candidacy mentor and to serve on the DCOM. (God has a sense of humor, and so does the United Methodist Church.)

I have numerous complaints about the way our denomination handles the candidacy process:

First: We’re terrified by the knowledge that pastors sometimes “break.” When they do, they tend to do so in spectacular ways. Unfortunately, our denomination has never found a way to deal with at-risk pastors in a constructive way. Rather than intervening mid-career, we’re attempting to find unbreakable pastors by making the screening process difficult. There are no unbreakable pastors. If you push us hard enough (and they keep pushing harder) we’re all capable of “going Jim Jones” on some poor congregation.

Second: Our process attempts to weed out people with questionable callings, psychological problems, inappropriate theological orientations, and a host of other issues. It does not succeed at any of these things. It does succeed at weeding out people who cannot handle extremely high levels of stress. The result is that we’re hand-picking the most tightly-wound, paranoid, pressure cookers on the face of the planet. I’m proud to count myself among their number!

I hope to use this series of articles to cast a vision for a better path.

In my last post, I wrote that being called into the ministry is like being diagnosed with a fatal disease because, in order to accept the calling, we must first grieve. Every time we start down a path, at some level, we must grieve the loss of the paths not taken. The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression/fear, and finally (hopefully) acceptance/peace. In this article, I want to talk about the first stage most of us deal with: Denial… the refusal to believe the truth.

There was a movie in the 1950s titled, “A Man Called Peter.” It was not about St. Peter, but about the Rev. Peter Marshall, a famous Scottish-American preacher of that era. According the film, when Peter Marshall first heard the voice of God calling him to the ministry as a young boy, he rushed home to tell his family. They were overjoyed that one of their own had been blessed with such an honor.

My experience was nothing like that.

I didn’t tell anyone for a very long time. In fact, God and I had a lot of arguments over it. I had other plans. My dad thought I’d make a great lawyer, and so did I. (I like to argue with people.) Lawyers are people who get stuff done. (This was the ‘80s, and the legal profession had not yet fallen from grace.) I watched “L.A. Law” and everything else on TV that made the legal profession look glamorous. People were proud to have lawyers in the family. But the preachers depicted on TV were comic relief at best and psychopaths at worst. I had ambivalent feelings about my own pastor at that time. I belonged to an independent church. It had many strengths, but the pastor treated it like his own personal property.

When I finally realized that God was not going to drop the subject, I told my parents. They tried to talk me out of it. They loved going to church, but they didn’t want me to be a pastor. They wanted what was “best for me.” When people asked me what professions I was looking at, my parents would cringe and stutter when I said ministry. My friends begged me not to throw away my life. Even the pastors I spoke to would sigh and say, “Well… you still have plenty of time to change your mind.” These pastors clearly were not enjoying their work. That’s too bad… I think this job is all kinds of fun… when done properly.

In short, I didn’t get much positive affirmation. Actually, I got none. Notice that none of the objections I faced had anything to do with real questions of call. They all had to do with societal expectations, stereotypes, and misguided notions about the American Dream. To make matters worse, in that era, many pastors and DCOMs had a strong bias in favor of older candidates. I was told that someone my age simply couldn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. My response: “What do my wants have to do with this? I wanted to be a lawyer.”

Is it any wonder that so many people say no to God? Virtually every pastor I know who entered the ministry mid-career will confess that they actually heard the calling when they were teenagers. They succumbed to societal pressure.

I feel very strongly that young candidates need to be affirmed at this stage. Testing the call of someone dealing with denial is harmful, and yet we keep doing it. Thankfully, we do seem to have gotten better at this. We now make a point of affirming that all people are called by God to ministry of some sort. But we still seem to default to the assumption that most candidates are, in fact, called to something else. Balderdash!

If you’re reading this, and you’re in denial, take heart! You’re not crazy. God is calling you, or you would not have made it to the end of this far-too-long post. The good thing about denial is this: It doesn’t last forever. No one can deny the truth indefinitely.

Recall, Relearn

Returning to moments in my life is generally very unpleasant. I have committed enough errors, sins, and mistakes to accumulate the necessary amount of guilt to want to forget my past entirely. Sometimes it's a blessing. Because I'm so averse to remembering my life, I can listen more intently to others when they tell me a story from their lives without interrupting and distracting with that far too common blurt out, "Oh, yeah, me too!" or something horribly similar. Mostly, though, it's not a blessing at all, because I don't even want to recall the happy moments in my life. Too often I find that even those happy moments can have guilt inserted in somehow. Maybe I recall a particularly good family vacation, but then I remember I never told anyone in my family I loved them on the trip and lost a perfectly good opportunity to bring our family closer together. Also, I might have the rare ability to love better in the present because I'm not hampered by the past, but then again, I am too weighed down by the future because I don't look to the past in my life often enough to find inspiration for the things to come.

My bad habit of never looking back creates spiritual problems, too. When I start doubting God's existence or God's love, I doubt with some serious intensity but never look back. I don't look back to my confirmation, when my pastor asked us confirmands (I swear that's a word) to stand in front of the congregation and close our eyes, putting our hands out to feel the wind of the Holy Spirit. I did it just because I was young enough that I did everything I was told. I was completely taken by surprise when I actually did feel a wind on my hands. Suspecting foul play, I looked around for a fan--nothing, no fans anywhere. Then I thought, "Well, the doors of the church are open because it's so hot and humid out, the air is probably moving around some." That settled me a down a bit... until I realized that it was, indeed, very humid out in the middle of June, and the air wasn't moving one bit. I swore then to God that I would never forget that moment because I felt that He was calling me to witness to His presence in our lives.

Unfortunately, I feel as if every action I've performed in life has been evidence of my forgetting that moment. I never look back and say to God, "You know, God, I may be struggling right now but I know I've felt your presence before, so give me the strength to get through this because I know you can." Instead, I always say, to myself, "What the frick, man... I feel so terrible I just want to get out of this."

Similarly, I never think about my "call" moment. The moment when I sat in a church one day, very frustrated with the lack of passion in the pastor and the congregation, and heard a voice tell me "I called you here for a reason, to know that you could do better and stand up there." Once I was called, I was called. I listened to the voice that I believed to be God's and never looked back. Some might say that's a good thing. I heard the call and never questioned God's judgment, I just listened, got on the path and went on my way--God's way.

But what the frick is God's way? I have no idea, because I never once looked back in reflection upon that moment, that day. Until one day, when my candidacy mentor started asking me questions about my call moment. At first, all I could say was, "Well, I just know that I'm called to be a pastor because I heard this voice." But then, with more and more questioning and with good pastoral care on the part of my mentor, saying things like, "Well, what I'm getting from your experience is this..." I learned a great deal about my call story that I had previously not known. I had previously not known because I never took the time to know. Upon recalling my memory of my call and, simultaneously, God's presence, I learned more about where my life is supposed to go and relearned what it means to be called by God to a life of ministry.

I won't go into the details, mostly because it's a long story and my fingers would grow tired, but what I want to get out of this post is this: continually recalling your call moment or moments, or maybe recalling those moments that you think God was directly present in your life or you think God was calling you, and discussing those moments with other caring individuals can help you learn a whole lot about the nature of God and the nature of God in your life. Hearing the call is always a continual learning experience. We must always keep an eye open for God's voice, by reflecting on our lives with God Himself and with those loving individuals we come across.

The Signs and Such

I'll start by saying that I've never read Scripture very much... which is weird, considering I'm very much a Scripture first and everything in the Bible is true (though I struggle with it) type of person. So when my pastor from home (hopefully I won't be using my normal, distracting amount of parentheses here, but I just have to say that I'm from near Boston, which should matter to you because Massachusetts is the greatest state of all time and Boston is, in some ways, a city on a hill to me) asked me about a year into trying to follow my call into ministry whose call in the Bible I related to most, I was stuck.



I couldn't think of anyone but Moses and the "oh Lord I'm not worthy, choose someone else" attitude. To me, that seemed rather generic. Who in their right mind ever responds to God's call by saying, "Heck yeah! Geez, God, I didn't think you'd ever ask, what took you so long????" And then I quickly thought back to when I was thirteen or fourteen, when I told my friends I thought I'd be a pastor when I grew up, a sentiment that I quickly forgot and pushed aside as a young person's dumb dream. I concluded, then, that as generic as Moses' story might be, and thought I didn't know of anyone else's story, I related to Moses. The second I started telling my pastor that, however, something in my gut told me I was lying.



I've always been a gut-oriented, "go with the flow" type of person. I don't mean go with the flow in the sense that I'm laid back and relaxed. I stress out. A lot. Part of the reason I stress out is that I respect and put a lot of focus on my mind and my (our) glorious ability to think and reason. How does any of that fit with being a gut-oriented, "go with the flow" person? Well, I'll tell you.



As much as I don't read Scripture and stress out and put emphasis on my ability to reason, I very thoroughly believe in God's working in the world RIGHT NOW. Miracles, signs, bright lights, voices from above... all of it still happens as we live and breathe. In fact, when I sit down and really think about my life, the fact that I'm alive and breathing and able to ponder the divine and feel pleasure (and, unfortunately, think about regrets, feel and dish out pain) is simply amazing and I become very short of breath because I'm very scared of not breathing and living and the only thing sustaining me is God's love. If you get bored of my blog but you've read this far, I hope and pray you get one thing out of it: don't take your breath for granted, thank God every day. But yes, God's love equals daily miracles. So when odd things happen, I jot them down as God's talking to me and leading me.



I'm a big football fan. When the Patriots won their first superbowl in the 2001 season, it didn't surprise me. After 9/11, what the country needed was to come together and together live out God's love. God reminded us of that when the Patriots won, being the first team in superbowl history to run onto the field as a team. It also didn't surprise me when the New Orleans Saints had their first good season in a long time the same year the Superdome reopened after Hurricane Katrina. Not only did the people of New Orleans need something to boost their spirits, but we all needed to be reminded that the saints always come marching home.



You might think I'm silly. God doesn't talk through football. Maybe not always, but I do believe He does. I believe God talks to us in whatever way we will listen. If you really love music, He's going to have the song just for you playing when you turn on the radio. That's just an example. And I believe that if you're following God's plan, everything in your life will start falling into place and you'll think, "Man am I lucky!!!" but you're not lucky because you're doing exactly as you're supposed to. And vice versa. If you are ignoring God's plan, your life will start falling apart. I'm not a prosperity theology type guy, but I do believe that when we're on the path we have a safe place to tread, and when we veer off the path the thorn bushes scratch us up.



Now that I'm done with my long background stuff, I'll tell you that I've tried following the signs and the little miracles all my life. That's what I mean by gut-oriented, "go with the flow" type person. When I believe God has spoken, I listen. It's hard knowing when something is a sign from God, but trust me, when someone buys you a pair of bunny slippers saying, "You're a guy so I have no idea why you'd want bunny slippers, but when I walked by them something told me I should get them for you anyway, so I did, please please please tell me you like them," you know God has done something miraculous (p.s. I love bunnies!!!!). Following those gut feelings and little crazy moments that occur occasionally can make you feel great, because it's all from God. It can also be really difficult, because if you really want to go out with friends some night but your keys somehow without reason defy the possible and fall into the ridiculously narrow slit between your front door and your front porch and it takes you hours to get them out, it can really stink, but those hours were just enough time for your friends to call to tell you, "Sorry, we're not hanging out anymore. We decided to get drunk and so-and-so is in the hospital now," you know your keys fell for a reason.

Anyway, I've always felt incredibly lucky. Whether I have been lucky or undeservedly blessed or if I've just been following the path is up to you to decide, but I believe the latter. It seemed like my professors were always assigning exams to give me plenty of time to study in between, whereas other students had 3 or 4 on the same day. I took it as a sign that I was taking all the classes God wanted me to. Everything in my life was going just great right on up through sophomore year of college.

Around then I was feeling very depressed and without direction. One day, though, I went to a church I wouldn't normally go to (actually, I hadn't been going to church on a regular basis at that time... actually, I've never really gone to church on a regular basis, except for two years at undergrad when I went to my school's Catholic church... I'm not Catholic). While I was sitting in the church during the service, I could tell the congregation wasn't exactly feeling the "church thang" which was ok with me because I was just there to be there, something in me had told me to go that day (doesn't sound all that crazy but it was, because my girlfriend at the time was going to do a class assignment that day by going to a church not of her denomination. The last thing I wanted was to have my faith mocked by her and I knew she would... we weren't exactly best buds). As I was thinking about why I was even there, I thought back to a time in my high school days when, again, I wasn't going to church regularly, hadn't gone to church for months, but one day I woke up and something was telling me to go to church to receive Communion. I didn't know the Communion schedule at the time, but I knew we didn't have it that often so I tried arguing with myself that the chances of even having Communion that day were slim to none, but I couldn't get over the desperate urge I felt to go to church and have Communion. So I went, and wouldn't you know it, we had Communion that day. Snap back to the present, I heard something in me say, "You're here for a reason, like always... you can do great things for this congregation if you were standing up front instead of this pastor."

That was it. That's my call story. I took those words, that feeling, as words from God. I dropped everything I had plans for to become a pastor, just like I believe I was told to do. It's been three years since then, and I've been focused on nothing else but following through. So, I can't say I was a lot like Moses. Sure, I believe I had a burning bush moment (I believe I had another seeing that Kate labeled this blog "Bring back the Burning Bush," because that's the story I talked about when I first officially talked about my call) and I most definitely don't feel worthy, but I didn't argue with God. It had been years since a young John first said he was going to be a pastor, and I figured even if I ran away from the call again it wouldn't do me much good. Besides, since accepting God's call, I've never felt more alive in my life, more free to be myself and more open to new adventures, all because I willingly submitted myself to what I believe God is calling me to do.

Of course, it's also nice (and another sign, to me) to hear the first pastor I told about what I believe God calling me to do say to me, "You know, I had recently been thinking to ask you if you had ever given thought to being a pastor. You'd be really good." And it's also definitely nice, and amazing, when a complete stranger, a nun in this case, walks up to me and asks me, "Are you going into ministry?" because, apparently, she could tell that was God's plan for me.

I say these things are nice because I am slightly insecure. When it comes to doing God's will, I think it's easy to become insecure. Am I actually doing what God wants? I don't know!!!!!!! <--- That's a common attitude, one I experience often. Even though I believe God talks to me in miraculous ways, I can still miss things. In fact, there are times that I know for sure God is telling me something and I just don't want to listen. It's hard holding conversations and listening clearly to a being who is all present but also invisible, who talks on a plain far above this earthly realm. But I do believe God still sends all of us burning bushes and signs and miracles of all sorts to guide us. I'm still keeping my eyes open, and I hope and pray you can join me in trying to open our eyes and ears and hearts to the voice of God in our world today.

Briars and Intersections

When I was asked to join in the authorship of this blog, I jumped at the opportunity. I thought it was brilliant...one of the hardest struggles for me in my discernment has been finding resources from a modern young adult, female perspective. Since there are virtually none out there, hopefully my journey and struggles can shed some light (and laughter!) for others who are starting this journey. This is probably going to be my longest post...so I apologize in advance :)

By way of introduction, I too am a first year seminarian, having come directly from undergrad at a "public ivy" college where I double-majored in Anthropology and History and minored in Math. I am the second youngest student at my seminary and I'm also serving as the pastor to two ity-bity churches a couple of hours away from school. I am just beginning this pastorate, having started January 1st...so you'll be able to journey with me as I try to figure out where God is leading me through this grand adventure! I'm also a United Methodist candidate for ordination...I go up for my certification interview in a few weeks. I'm hoping to be ordained as an elder in the UMC, pastor a church for a few years and then go on for a PhD in Methodist History or American Church History so that I can teach and/or work for denominational archives.

So how did all this begin? Well...I generally say that working at a Christian summer camp was the catalyst for my pursing my calling. I had been sensing God's call to me for a few years, but it wasn't until the summer after my freshman year of college that God intervened in a dramatic way. I was pursuing law and politics for a career--I had my eye on a national office--when God took an internship out from under me and placed me at summer camp. This was ironic because growing up I hated being outside...I would sit inside in a beanbag chair reading all day, every day. But God changed my life that summer and made me fall in love with ministry! The kid who came to camp as a bully and left thinking Bible stories were "pretty cool," the high schooler who confided deep, inner secrets, the child who committed their life to Christ, and more, all impacted me. Living in Christian community with the other staff was amazing! The prayer life was the best I had experienced, and I was learning to articulate my faith in ways that mainstream culture makes difficult. It was then I realized that I could be in full-time ministry and wanted to explore my options.

It was then that my path began to fill with briars and obstacles. I tried to talk to several clergy, but each time, they blew me off, thinking I would change my mind, or thinking that I wasn't serious. But I was serious. I never announce my plans to people until I have thought through them and prayed over them. I became very frustrated. The common comment I heard was "if you can do anything besides ministry, do it." This was disheartening because the fact is, most of us can do something else. I could have pursued my other dreams, my new love of anthropology. But I wanted, and was called to pursue ordained ministry. Frederick Buechner said that your calling is where your greatest desire and the world's needs intersect. For two years, I tried to convince a pastor, any pastor, that I was being called. Finally, I sat down with a wonderful, second-career pastor who actually listened to me and said that she could feel a very strong calling in me! That moment changed everything! The two years had been filled with spiritual attacks--including one point where for about 6 months I didn't even know if I believed in God anymore. I was ecstatic!

I didn't do anything for several months, knowing I had to go back to my home church pastor to talk about my calling and ministry options. I was scared. What would happen if he said "no"? Could I face the rejection? I finally emailed my district superintendent, and he was very encouraging...he sent me a guidebook to read and told my home church pastor to meet with me. I spent the next year and a half meeting with this pastor. It was lengthened considerably for me because I went away to school.

To make a long story short, I eventually got through this, went before the District Committee on Ordained Ministry (DCOM) and was assigned a candidacy mentor. The woes of the candidacy process for me are long...perhaps one day I will post about them. But the best advice I can give is to 1) know the process better than any of your mentors--you tell them what you need to do next, 2) keep multiple copies of everything--even emails (print them!), you will need something eventually and will be glad to have it! 3) Stay on top of deadlines--Have a calendar, check it frequently. 4) Every conference in the UMC (and even each district within the same conference) can have different procedures--don't be alarmed if other people are doing things in a different order. Maintain frequent communication with your mentors (official and unofficial) and you'll be fine. 5) Know that you are not alone--it is a yucky process that in any other setting would be considered hazing; but you will survive if you want to, if God is calling you to this ministry (Philippians 4:13).

Now I'm 1/6th of the way through seminary (which was a tough discernment process too...) and pastoring 2 small, rural churches--each with about 20 people. That's a crazy story, and one I invite you to check out on my blog (see my profile). One of the things I've learned through this whole process is that I never stop discerning. It does get a bit easier, because you get used to going to God and listening for God--each person "hears" God in a different way. But it is a continual process. If you ever stop listening for God, then "Houston, we've got a problem!" I'm now working on figuring out what God has in store for me...I had never thought I'd be pastoring 2 churches at this point in my life, journey and seminary career--I never pictured myself as a local church pastor to begin with. I've always wanted to serve in extension ministries. But now, I'm serving this 2 congregations...5 minutes from where I grew up. I kept trying to go away to school, but God kept bringing me back. While I thought my calling began in high school, in retrospect, it began MUCH earlier...God has had God's hand on me for a looong time--I've just been too dense to realize it.

I invite you to journey with me, down the path, through the briars and roadblocks, in the grand adventure of calling and continual discernment...maybe our winding paths will cross one day...to where is God calling you? Where do your greatest joy and the world's needs intersect?