...or you can let it come to you.

[This is the second of two posts that center around my recent vocational discernment. If you haven't read part one, jump over here first!]

Then, in January, I started this work in Admissions. This work that involves entering data into a difficult-to-navigate database, learning an endless stream of acronyms, and plenty of paper cuts.

This work that involves walking with others as they discern God's call in their lives, matching prospective students with current students who are eager to share their experiences, and being surrounded by an incredibly gifted team every day.

And then, less than three weeks after this dream-job interview, I became sure that God can call us to more than one thing.

So, until May 2013, I will live into this new knowledge by serving as the Associate Director of Admissions right here, at the seminary that has helped me understand the breadth and depth of serving God. It's funny: I have been so eagerly anticipating the end of my life as a full-time student, all the while dreading the thought of leaving this community. God so fully, fully provides.

At my endorsement interview last April, the pastor who was then serving as an Assistant to the Bishop (who is, in a delightful twist of fate, my new boss) recommended that I consider the possibility of serving in campus ministry at some point in my career. I was overjoyed at this suggestion, because at its heart, campus ministry entails walking alongside young adults as they figure out what it means to follow God's leading, to fully live into the vocations to which they have been called, and that aspect of ministry has always excited me. During the next chapter of my life, I will get to do exactly that, but with young adults, "regular" adults (whatever that means!), and even much older adults, all of whom are God's beloved children. In a roundabout way, this is precisely what I have always felt God calling me to do, it just looks a little different than I imagined. And it, too, feels like home.

I feel incredibly privileged to be able to serve in this capacity for the next two years. This call will afford me the opportunity to travel around the country to engage in conversation about discernment and hear the different and beautiful ways in which God calls God's people to public ministry. And when I return from these excursions, I will settle back into life on the Ridge and remember why I came here in the first place: because I so clearly see God at work here, and that, my friends, gives me great hope.

NB: The titles for this post and the one before it come from Sometimes a Beggar by Caedmon's Call, off of their latest album, Raising Up The Dead. Good stuff.

And you can search for what to say...

[This is the first of two posts that center around my recent vocational discernment. For part two, check here!]


Back in November, I started a blog post and never finished it. Here it is, in all its glory:

And that's as far as I got.

This was on November 18th, 2010. Two months and twenty-seven days ago. It wasn't the first time I felt that way, and it was far from the last. I was in the midst of an identity crisis (no, really), and it was terrifying. The post I started on that day has evolved a bit, and now has an ending that I truly could not have imagined just a few months ago.

I've found that every academic year carries a theme for me. Often, it stems from something that I've been thinking about on my own, but then pops up frequently in class, or becomes the subject of Refectory conversation. I've found that I can't force a theme, or every mention of it will feel artificial. When it naturally emerges, it's a welcome surprise and a constant reminder to listen to God's voice.

The theme that emerged around the beginning of this year was whether or not God can call us to more than one thing. It came up nominally in class, but predominantly in my personal life. That aforementioned identity crisis revolved around whether or not I was following God's call to be an Associate in Ministry, or if I was ignoring God's call to be an ordained pastor.

I spent a good bit of time, that week in mid-November, in an office in the North Wing of our academic building. One of the people I trust the most guided me through the painful process of looking inward and asking myself if I was being truly faithful to who God is calling me to be. I felt hopeless and, for the first time in my life, completely unsure of where I was going next.

I thought about going on internship. About taking a year to spend more time discerning. I thought about just switching to another program, as if it were a safety net, just in case it's what I was supposed to be doing. But I kept coming back to this program, to this roster, and it felt like home.

In the end (with the surprising help of TinkerBell, which is another blog post entirely), I discerned that I am doing what God has called me to do. Had I switched to another program or another roster, I still think I would be doing what God has called me to do. Because I really, truly believe that God can call us to more than one thing. I believe that God gives us a host of gifts that can be used in different ways, and it is simply a matter of being faithful in the moment. And being faithful in that moment, for me, meant pursuing a call to congregational youth and young adult ministry.

Well, that's what I thought at the end of November.

I pushed through the rest of the semester, and wound up with an interview at the end of December, thanks to a dear friend's recommendation. It was perfect. The congregation is exactly the kind I've dreamed of working in for years. The pastor and I got along quite nicely, and I think we would work well together in ministry. They want to get creative with young adult ministry. Like I said: perfect.

Leaving the interview, I told myself not to get too attached. I wasn't sure if they would be able to wait until May for a youth worker, and even if they were, another candidate might be a much better fit for the position. No expectations, no crushed dreams. Simple. But deep down, I felt like that job, that congregation, that call, was home. I was absolutely convinced that was where I would be post-graduation.

And, well, that was at the end of December.

Endorsed & Edified

Recently, I wrote about processing the process. At the time, I was struggling with penning my endorsement essay (endorsement being the next step towards rostered leadership in the ELCA). At the time, it seemed overwhelming and scary and I wasn't sure I could jump that hurdle. Luckily, I finished the essay the next day, giving me time to sit with it, have colleagues read over it, make the necessary revisions and submit it to my synod. Then, I began the waiting game; for two weeks, I went about my schoolwork, trying not to be nervous about the interview that loomed in the near future.

This past week was particularly stressful. I had a comprehensive exam on Monday, a book to be read and a paper to be written by Tuesday, and on Thursday, I handed in a huge exegetical paper that kept me in the library until 3:35 a.m. I was exhausted by the time Thursday night rolled around, and try as I might, I could not fall asleep for hours. Chalk it up to nerves or the copious amount of coffee I consumed on Thursday, but while I lay awake, all I could think about was my pending interview. I had no idea what to expect and was terrified that I would give an incorrect answer or make an unintentionally heretical theological statement.

Friday came soon enough, and after reading through my essay several times and receiving the affirmations of classmates and professors, I walked confidently to the location of my interview and was delighted to see the two members of my committee with whom I am most comfortable. After talking amongst themselves for a few minutes, I sat down with the members of my committee and a faculty member, and we engaged in one of the most life-giving conversations I've ever had. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to post what they asked, so we'll play it safe and just say that we talked about the various areas in which I have grown over the past year, and how my theological education has impacted my understanding of youth ministry. I realized new things about myself during the interview, and it has given me a renewed understanding of my own call to ministry. My personal victory? I didn't cry once. If you know me, you understand the significance!

Going into the interview, as I said, I was scared and overwhelmed. I came out on the other side refreshed and excited. The exact opposite of what I expected to happen. This says something about not letting our expectations dictate our experiences, and I think it was an important lesson to learn. But even more, I think I finally realized the core benefit of the Candidacy process. Certainly, it is in place to evaluate our qualifications to be rostered leaders and track our progress during theological education, but I think it's much deeper than that. The process can edify us. It can point to our baptism and remind us of how deeply it is connected to what we are doing now, and what we will do in the future.

Maybe I have a fantasy-like picture of how endorsement should go, but I can only speak from my own experience. My advice, for what it's worth, is to go into these interviews with an open mind and a willingness to learn new things about yourself, all while being true to who you are. Trust the process and seek the support of the great cloud of witnesses who are praying for you to have a positive experience. Breathe in, breathe out, and remember that you are a child of God.

Oh, and the results of my interview? I was recommended for endorsement by the members of my committee, and they will take their decision back to the full committee, who will vote on it in the near future. God is so faithful :]

Let me get out my liberal theological soapbox

Yesterday, I was headed over to York for my teaching parish (field education, whatever you want to call it) on US-30, also known as the Lincoln Highway. As I got to the outskirts of Gettysburg (doesn't that sound sketchy?), I happened upon a Rescue Mission. This Christian organization helps out the poor, homeless and needy, giving them a place to stay and food to eat, among other things. Awesome, right? I'm a pretty big fan of all of those things. What I'm not a big fan of? Terrible church signs, like this place was sporting.

In order to give you a better idea of the church sign, I've created a rendering of it on the church sign maker (ps, that can provide a lot of entertainment on a rainy afternoon...)

Of course, this did not come from Zion Pentecostal Tabernacle Church, but you get the idea. GOOD WITHOUT GOD IS O. I have some strong opinions about that sign, to be honest with you.

First of all, I don't understand what "O" is. I mean, I know it's a letter, but I can't quite figure out the implications of such a letter when related to "good" and "God." I mean, maybe they're saying that good without God is a big donut? I can't be sure, but I can only assume that they are playing on the visual similarities to the number "0." In which case, I have some even bigger concerns.

What this sign says to me, and I'm sure to the others who drive past it, is that, unless you have God, any good you do is worthless. Maybe it's just my steadily-increasing liberal mindset (more about this another day), but I'm pretty sure people who don't believe in God do good every day. If you're talking on a large scale, Brad Pitt has participated in some huge humanitarian efforts, and he says outright that he doesn't believe in God. On a smaller scale, I have plenty of friends who volunteer in soup kitchens or donate money and time to other charities aiding those in need who don't do it in the name of God.

Do I think that all Christians should be doing things for the poor and homeless like the Rescue Mission? Absolutely. But do I think that all those who do good things need to do them in the name of God? Absolutely not. If we start taking all of the things done solely out of the compassion someone has for others, not having anything to do with God, our world would be in a sad state of affairs (well, more than it already is). If anything, I think Christians need to be doing more than we are, and working with those who have great models for service, almost regardless of motivation.

It concerns me that this organization would immediately alienate so many people. There are homeless and hungry people who don't believe in God; would they feel welcome in this place? There are people who probably have time and money they would like to give to such a worthy cause, but why would they help an organization that assumes their good works are worthless? I'm also concerned about putting a label on things done in the name of God as being inherently good. Look at how many wars were started in the name of God, how many people were killed and had their land stolen from them because Christians thought they had a right to the land. If we start making blanket statements about what is good and what is not good, Christians are going to have a lot to answer for in the end.

One thing I'm learning about myself is that I have an extremely negative reaction to generalizations. I really dislike when things are lumped into one category because of a seemingly common thread among them. This one sign spawned a lot of thinking for me yesterday, because I was so offended by the generalization that all things good are done because of God; not because people of all beliefs care about other people or want to improve the world we live in. So my message to you all is this: if you are doing good things, keep doing them. If you attribute them to God, awesome. But if you don't...keep doing good things. Some Christians sure could use an example like you.