My Call to Ministry

So for some reason I think I've actually blogged about this at some point, but since a quick glance at my blog titles doesn't indicate to me when I might have done so, below is my response to an oft-asked question...how did you hear a call to ministry? In fact, the account below is what I wrote today when asked by someone entering the lay speaker process...apparently there are several questions they have to ask a pastor or two, and this is one of them (I've been asked the same by lay-speakers-in-training before).

Let me first say that as a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers, I think we are all called to ministry. So really, this is my answer to the question, "What on earth gave you the idea to be a United Methodist pastor?" I've had to relate this many different times, and I tell it in somewhat different ways each time, but here is basically the story...

I received my call to ministry while a junior and senior in high school. Prior to that, and really, even at the time, I had been very active in student government and local government. I served as a student member on the Baltimore City School Board, and an officer in the Baltimore City Student Government association, as well as a legislative coordinator for the MD state student government (following and testifying at state hearings related to public education). I was one of two finalists elected as nominee to the Governor for student member on the state school board—that this happened at a time when there was great discord between the state schools folks and the Baltimore City Schools folks didn’t help my chances, and at any rate, the other candidate was chosen. I was also involved in various local campaigns.

About this time, not only was I experiencing some challenges in my roles in government (I also served as student body president at my high school) but I was realizing that politics did not bring out the best in me. I don’t mean that it is that way for everyone, but the whole system of it can just take you over, and I did not like who it was making me be, and the more I thought about it, and the more politicians I was around, the more disillusioned I became. About this time, I started asking myself if this was really what I wanted to spend my life doing—knowing that if I do anything I do it full bore, at the end of my life, would this be (and would it make me) something I was content with, even proud of. The more I thought of it, the more I had to admit that my answer was no.

Meanwhile, I was continuing to serve in leadership at my church. My father served as pastor at Brooklyn United Methodist Church (South Baltimore), and I, by that time, was the teacher for the 3-5 Sunday School class (much to my sister’s frustration!). I was involved in many different ways at church, and had always been a student of my father’s ministry, from which I had originally taken cues for my political leadership opportunities. I would also, from time to time, serve as the teacher for the older adults Sunday School class—they had a rotating schedule of teachers. One day, after teaching that class (God only knows what possessed them to invite a high school junior to teach them! What a gift!) one of the older women of the church, knowing my political involvement, said, “It’s such a shame you’re not going to be a pastor like your father.”

Such an option had honestly never occurred to me. Not for any good reason, mind you, other than that since my father had always been my pastor (and the one time he’d served on a church staff his senior pastor was a man) I had never actually SEEN a female pastor. I knew female pastors, I just hadn’t ever experienced one as a pastor. This is not at all due to any prejudices on my family’s part, indeed, my father and grandfather have long been (long before I ever heard a call to ministry) ardent supporters of women in ministry. Having come out of the United Brethren Church, my grandfather is very proud of that church’s ordination of women having begun in 1889 (it stopped a bit later after their merge with the Evangelical Assn, but they always were a old fashioned bunch—which is saying something coming from an UB!). In fact, I have heard from several older clergywomen in our annual conference who not only appreciated having my grandfather as DS, having found him supportive, but at least one clergywoman who actually transferred TO THIS CONFERENCE because of my grandfather’s support and encouragement. My father likewise has long been supportive of women in ministry. I have thus been quite blessed that though I had never thought of being a pastor, there was no gender-bias in my family nor in my church at that time. It was only later that I came to realize how  remarkable it was to receive such words of support from that elderly woman—she too had never experienced a woman as pastor, but I truly believe it was through her that God called me.

After that comment from that women, I began to think and pray about the call. I shared it with my parents. My father took to giving me opportunities to “try out” ministry, including the gift of being able to preach (pastors are often very stingy with their pulpits, but Dad let me preach a couple times a year at least, and the congregation was gracious and constructive in their reception and feedback). My mother, meanwhile, was concerned that I not simply choose to do something my father was doing (for various reasons more complicated than can be described briefly, and owing in large part to the dynamics of our family at that time) and she asked that I wait a year before beginning the candidacy process. I did so, and then officially began the process my senior year in high school. In the end, that year wait was a very good thing, because it not only allowed me to reflect more, but also allowed me to gain more input from others (like my high school principal) and the constant positive responses I received were vital, I think, to keeping me going in the years ahead.

So, I would say I heard my call my junior year in high school, began to embrace it my senior year, then in college, under the wonderful tutelage of Dr. Charles (Buz) Myers and his ability to help me think through the Biblical passages about women in church leadership (it was important to me that I wasn’t disregarding parts of scripture I didn’t like, but he was able to help me place those passages in context and help me understand God’s call to ministry in women’s lives) I was able, I think, to finally fully embrace my call. I graduated from Gettysburg College with a double-major in history and religion (I may have had some minors, I don’t remember) and then went straight to Duke Divinity School (the seminary my father attended, which was nice, but moreso they offered me a full scholarship which made it an easy call!). Duke was a perfect fit for me, though seminary is, I think, always quite a growing experienced and I certainly experienced some growing pains. I was a certified candidate for ministry by the time I graduated from college, and was commissioned the year I graduated from Duke, and ordained after the requisite three year probationary period (required by our conference at the time).

People often ask me if I was called to ministry because my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were (plus I’ve got a great-great-great grandfather who was a licensed Methodist preacher—my great-great grandfather was a founding member of Grace UB (now UMC) in Hagerstown). In a lot of ways, as I mentioned, that actually was a hindrance at first. But getting past that, it certainly was a blessing to have such a legacy. At a time when many young people can’t really imagine what life as a pastor would be like, I never had illusions about what lie ahead, and the option of being a pastor was always quite real (as in I could imagine what it would be like, it wasn’t very distant). I was also able to learn a great deal from my father and grandfather that allowed me to start the candidacy process ahead of the game than others in terms of my understanding of it and my comfort level with the people and pastors I can in contact with during the process. Along with that, however, comes not only the good but also the bad. Being the child of someone in the same industry (because I suspect this is the same in a lot of venues) also means you bear the hard feelings and tensions of your forbearers. So it can never be assumed to be a universally good thing, but I have been very blessed by the legacy of my father, grandfather and great-grandfather.