everything I need to know about ministry I learned at MVP

One question I've had to answer many times since I started seminary comes in a form somewhere along the lines of "So, how did you decide to study to be a minister?" I always start the narrative by saying, "Well there is this place called Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church". You know how many characters in the Bible have their location or item that is significant with their call story? Moses and the burning bush. Jesus and Bethlehem. David and Jerusalem. It seems that every person in the Bible who was called by God in one or another fashion have a starting point; either a place or a significant moment. In regards to my call, it is a place. It is a white marble church that sits in the heart of downtown Washington, D.C. A location where for myself time appeared to stand still because my four and half months within its doors feel like a lifetime. Time in that place was irrelevant. Whenever I am struggling with my call, I close my eyes and picture MVP. I picture the people within its doors who I got know. I picture the sanctuary, and can still hear the music from the Sundays I worshiped there. I can picture the glass classroom in the middle of the third floor where I attended the numerous small group/bible studies. I take a deep breathe and fill the Holy Spirit come within my soul as I remember. It is like recharging for me.

Everything I need to know about ministry, I learned at MVP.

It has been two years since I've been there. Yet, I still feel it's presence within my heart, within  my soul. That connection has become deeper as I completed my first semester of seminary. I found my mind retreating frequently to my days during that Fall of 2014 that were spent at that place on Massachusetts Ave. Maybe that's why I've been missing my Mecca a little extra these past few months; because I've had to return to my memory vault time and again to the lessons I learned there. I'll think of specific lessons or moments during a class lecture. Or when I'm studying. Or when I'm walking around campus. Or when I'm in a pastoral moment with a woman at Arrendale State Prison, or when I pass a homeless person on the streets of Atlanta. MVP helped me be my best self - spiritually, physically (from all the weight lost walking to its doors from the metro stop), and mentally.

I'm not sure what this post is exactly about. A wave of nostalgia I suppose that I want to put to the computer. Next week I return to my second semester of seminary. It has me longing even more for MVP. For that spiritual fulfillment it gave me. For how God was present there.

All people need to find their MVP. The place where they meet God most. I am beyond grateful for mine.

MVP I'm coming for you in 2017.

it's all about the people

Yesterday was my last day for the semester at Arrendale State Prison. We spent time reflecting as a group a the end of the day of what we pulled from the semester, what we want to improvement upon next semester, etc. In the back of my mind, all I could think of was a conversation I had had with Marmee over the weekend in regards to minister. What popped in my mind was a saying she shared with me that I had not heard of before....

"Love God. Love people. Noting else matters." 

I wish I could say I had a prophetic effect on the women in the prison, but the truth of the matter is, they had a prophetic effect on me. I have learned what I want to be as a minister in my relationship with the women, and how I have seen them in relationship with each other. Particularly, my relationship with one of the women. For privacy reasons, I'll call her Mrs. Doe.

Mrs. Doe and I met the first day I was at Arrendale. In a long story short, she and I became very close over the course of the semester. I saw her for the first time in a few weeks yesterday, and as my partner and I were waiting to be escorted onto the rows by the officer, we saw each other through the window. She and I both were practically jumping waving at each other. "I'm about to come up!" I mouthed to her. She threw up a thumbs up. When we got to her row, we embraced each other in a big hug. As the morning progressed, my partner and I sat in conversation with Mrs. Doe and another inmate. During a hard conversation, I saw Mrs. Doe minister to the other inmate. She reached her on a understanding level that I hadn't even. As she spoke, the other inmate looked at her with a face of gratitude through tear filled eyes. They hugged, they related, Mrs. Doe ministered to her because she simply was present. The other inmates feelings were validated by Mrs. Doe, but she advised her to move forward, forgive, and move forward. No bitterness or resentment, but freeing grace as only purely demonstrated by God and Jesus Christ. I stared at Mrs. Doe during this encounter because I was in awe of this woman sitting beside me. The same woman I chalk up to a reason why I survived this first semester of seminary because she reminded me of why I was called. Again, she taught me a lesson in ministry. A lesson that relates to my conversation with Marmee....it's all about the people.

In Luke 10:27, Jesus says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength, and love your neighbor about yourself." Perhaps that's what I've been missing this whole semester. In my lofty plans for both my future ministry and my current works of ministry in the prison, school, even in the church, I was failing. I was failing because I had the wrong focus. Rather than focusing on those I was serving, I was focusing on how I looked. Where would I succeed in this divine call during my first semester of seminary? How would I show Christ to these women, these people, in bible studies or in conversation. I felt a bit entitled to ordained ministry because of a call on my life. A call I realize I've been taking for granted. Seminary I've been taking for granted. It is more than what I'm learning in the classroom, but what I'm learning in the classroom that I'm applying to my ministry work with people. Mrs. Doe demonstrated better pastoral care yesterday than myself. She wasn't worried about herself, but her fellow sister in Christ sitting beside her. Sitting beside her in prison none the less, and I see Jesus more there than most placing in this world. In many ways more than I see even in my own seminary.

I have a lot to learn as I move forward in this call, and in my seminary experience. My focus needs to shift from myself, and to God and the people. Seminary is an experience. It's beyond what I'm learning academically about spirituality, but how I'm living out my own spirituality. How I'm being in relationship with God's people spiritually. As Mrs. Doe showed me by example....it's all about the people. I may not know a lot of details about my future ministry yet. I have so many questions unanswered, a lot of self doubt in my own capabilities, but right now that doesn't seem to matter as much. I love God's people, and love being in relationship with them. It's been what has been my favorite part of the semester, spending time with the women at Arrendale for my contextual education. That is what matter though, right?

there is still work to be done in the kingdom.

No words I put here will be the right ones. I do not have the answers. I do not know it all. I do not claim to even have an inkling of what is the fully right answer or fully wrong answer for our nation, for our world, at the present moment. That is a disclaimer I am putting forth now. Simply, I am sharing my opinion. Which is just that, an opinion. A wise woman told me that one way she looks at things is that she has her opinions and she believes them to be right; yet she could always be wrong. Is that not the human condition though? We all have the ability to be wrong.

I am looking at this election season, and now presidential results through a different lens by viewing it as a seminary student. My mindset is constantly on looking at it from the faith perspective. That is the amusing part of seminary that no one warned me of. Seminary makes you question everything about faith. I mean EVERYTHING. It's empowering though. Seminary is making me not only check my theological beliefs, but my moral values as a human being. Why do I believe what I do? In fact, the first question I am finding myself answer is: What the heck is it that I actually believe??

I am in the midst of answering that first question right now. Filling in those blanks of where I stand theologically with Scripture, and how that unfolds socially, politically, and in my day to day life. There is no rush for me to answer these questions. Simply, I am trying to bask in the experience and learn about myself as a child of God, and my fellow (ALL MY FELLOW) brothers and sisters of Christ as the children of God they are.

Therefore, am I happy with the results of the elections? No. Would I have been happy if the tides had turned and we were celebrating our first female president of the United States? No. I knew going into this election that no matter the polling results, I would not be satisfied with the election results.

Why?


Well, because there is still work to be done in the kingdom. Even though Trump won, there is still work to be done in the kingdom. I still passed two homeless people standing on the side of the road asking for money on my way into work this morning. I still have parish sitting in the Arendale State Prison that are hurting because they want to go home. They mourn lost time sitting behind bars. They long to begin again.

On Monday, I had a particular conversation with a woman about her hope for the future. The master narrative of the penal system was telling her that her future was over. She asked me if that was true. She had found Christ in prison. Her world had been changed because she hit a literal rock bottom and wanted to have a different future. Her steps are attempting that. Yet, she feared not being able to begin again. With big eyes she asked me if her past forever defined her. My answer - honey absolutely not. Your hope resides in Christ. Through Christ, hard work, and some help you can begin again. 

There is still work to be done in the kingdom my friends. Now that the results are in, there is still work to be done in the kingdom. There are still people in prison, there are still poor people, there are still broken people. Get out there and get to work. Do not place all your trust in a human being or human constructed system. Put your trust in God and Christ and get to work.

Hillary Clinton delivered a beautiful concession speech. She called for us to accept what is and move forward. She said that there was still work to be done. As she quoted from Scripture, we do not lose hope those of us that persevere in faith. It is why I wept while she spoke.

Go do something. There is still hurt out there. I stand with those that hurt. No matter how that might look. Go stand with people. Less we continue to stand against one another. If we do that, then hope in the future is not as bright. Yet what we do with these election results will define our future. Trump will be president. Deal with those facts and move forward. What good can still be done? What good is within your power? We cannot control anyone else but ourselves. So what will you do with it?

I'm going to keep working at defining my faith. I'm going to keep working at loving other people, no matter our difference of race, gender, sexual orientation, class, nationality or political affiliation. I pray for soon to be President Donald Trump. I pray we give him a chance to surprise us all. I pray we unite as one nation, one body of Christ and fight towards the rights of all. I pray for Hillary Clinton. I pray for everyone. I pray.

Those are the musing of this church mouse on the day after the 2016 presidential election.

my first month of seminary

Time is such an odd mechanism. While it has been a month (plus a number of days) since I first began seminary, it feels like a lifetime. Perhaps it is because I feel like I'm entering a whole new chapter of my life in ways I did not truly understand prior to getting here, and actually living it. One reason is because of my amazing community of friends I have built. Never before in my life have I connected, and bonded, with a group of friends within a matter of weeks where we all still hang out on a daily basis. My peers I have included into this Candler squad of mine are some of my dearest, even though I have only known them a short time. However, I have come to understand that is not length, but depth that define relationships.

Seminary has been trying as well. There are nights where the reading before me seems so daunting, I might as well be hiking a physical mountain for how exhausted I am by the end. Yet, those moments of understanding a new concept or connecting what I learn in the classroom to my work as a youth director I am realizing are making the struggles worth it. I will not lie to say that it is easy, far from it. The most accurate metaphor to voice my emotions during these weeks is that of a roller coaster; up, down, side, upside down, all around...tumultuous.

Yesterday, however, I had the most meaningful moment thus far of my Candler experience. God used a woman in the site I am working at Lee Arendale Correctional Facility to provide a moment of spiritual clarity of not only why God placed me at Candler, but a very much needed reminder of why I am called to ministry. While I will not delve into how because of privacy, I will simply say that this woman ministered as much to me, as I did to her (hopefully).

Here is why: our pastoral encounter as prison chaplain intern and parishioner was God tapping me on the shoulder saying, "Rebecca, remember, THIS is why I called you."

God called me to ministry to be a voice for the voiceless. God called me to love God's people through service. As a tested off the charts extrovert, I thrive within the community of people, no matter if they are friends or strangers. God intertwines this into my ministry call with my spiritual gift of relating to people, people of all ages, background, etc. Ironically, on this same day that God used one of my parishioners to remind me that I am called to be voice for the voiceless, I had a message from the woman who first inspired me in journalism pursuits of being that voice for the voice. God is funny. In conversation with Ann Curry yesterday, and the parishioner, I had conversation with God through the people.

That is how God has used my first month of seminary. God has spoken to me through the people. God is teaching me about my future career in ministry through the people - women at the prison, my friends, my work, etc. For the first time yesterday, I was reminded to be grateful for struggle. Once, Kitty preached about the verse of turning struggle into perseverance in faith...that is what God is doing. That is what I needed to be reminded of. Also, that at the end of the day I am not alone in this seminary journey. I'm surrounded by a community of love - whether they are physically here or those on the other end of that text/call a few hours away...or the One who has called me to this that is all around me, ever present. It is up to me to embrace that love and blaze ahead in this messy, but beautiful chapter of my odd and wondrous calling.

I've picked up rock climbing in this new chapter. Now, I have never been one who is athletic or enjoys working out. Yet, I like the adrenaline and way one feels after. Due to my heart for hiking and the mountains (that connect so to my understanding of God), I wanted to try rock climbing. To say the least I love it. It allows me to focus on climbing, that has meaning for me metaphorically in the chaos of this new chapter with busyness of work, school, relationships, etc. It allows me to workout without wiping myself out. I smile when I am done or climbed super high to the top of the wall, looking down without being afraid. Rock climbing is an activity that I'm doing with my friends that allows me to enjoy their company outside the school environment.

Which is a poignant metaphor for this new chapter as well. If I focus on one day or rock at a time, I move up, forward, over the obstacles...yet I can only focus well on one at a time. If I look down, I slip, such as if I spend too much time looking back in life, I slip up by missing out on the presentt. God is funny isn't God.

finding my church ten minutes into orientation

Yes, I need to write more than I have. Here I am really going to try again. My hope is that having so many incredible things happening at Candler will push me to tap into this portion of me that longs to write. Here is a start....

I kept telling myself a lie leading up to the weeks prior to my moving to Atlanta. I was apprehensive all through summer that I wouldn't find people when I first came to the city, when I first began at Candler. It was most likely due to the fact that all was so unknown of what this community would look right. Judging what your classmates will look like in undergraduate is pretty easy - young, eighteen years old leaving home for the first time. A tangible reality to prepare for. My controlling personality was longing to know exactly what was ahead so I could begin to prepare accordingly. Yet, God was keeping the secret joy of my coming community at Candler at bay, and I was going insane. Therefore, I was stubborn and scoffed "I am not worried about it, because I'm not going to seminary to make friends. I am there to get my degree. I have my people here at home."

LIE. Well, sort of. I do have an incredible community at home of friends, family, and loved ones. The lie though was the idea that my soul didn't want any new friends. Deep down I knew it was vital for my success in seminary to have a community. In the past, that has always been the church. It has also been where I found many of those awesome people in my community of people. Church in seminary would look differently though. I would be working for the church, not a congregation member. I would be preparing to serve the church as a future clergy, not as a volunteer or congregation member. Those days had sailed. My understanding even then was my church would have to be those that understood my call, and could provide the church for me outside the walls of the typical brick and mortar church building.

God is sneaky, and I have found that ten minutes into my time here at Candler. My church I have found in a sweet group of peers that with each passing day here in Atlanta, we are growing closer. I met up with Lucas in the parking garage upon my arrival to Candler. I was in a frenzy because I couldn't find the right one, I was running late, and my anxiety was through the roof. We walked in together with my heart in my throat. On the second floor of the Rita Anne Rollins Building, there was a buzz. All the new students for Candler School of Theology were standing around eating, signing in, making small talk, and second/third year students and Candler staff were present as well mingling. It was very overwhelming.

Then - boom. I found my church. Lucas recognized a young woman who was from his conference. I recognized Kristen's husband from Exploration in Orlando last Nov. as one of the students working the Candler table. We struck up easy conversation. Along the way Michelle and Anne joined our group because they all knew each other from Leadership Candler. As we chatted, we realized we had a great deal in common. The biggest thing was that same fear I had - having no friends right away. Haley later joined in the group, too whenever we moved into the activities of the day.

Yet here we were - all freshly undergraduate graduates. Four of us Elder candidates in the United Methodist Church. All lovers of hiking. All fearing the unknown.

We stuck together all of orientation, and since our friendships are only growing. In the midst of chaos of new beginnings, we are finding support when tough decisions need to be made. Or whenever a tender moment of inner conflict needs to be shared because something at orientation taps into that tender portion of our soul. My Candler Squad has become my church. Already we are finding those that allow us to be who we are. Shoulders to cry on; ears to mull over life decisions together; ears for unpacking all the craziness that will be seminary life; and people to share in the joys of life with.

God is SO good. Marmee always tells me to remember - "God provides".

Well, woah. God provided big in my people. Already I am beyond grateful for their friendship. I am grateful for those old Christian roots we are returning to where the church was a house church of people coming together to live life and worship God. These people are my church.



Somehow because of them, I know that all of this is going to be ok.

Lesson one - you're not alone - Marmee.

There are a number of individuals who have been guiding forces for me in this ministry call within the past two years. Some are ones who were influential for a moment that I needed it, or for a season of my ministry call where they were the person that said/did just the right thing that I needed. However, there have been a select few people who have been by my side, unconditionally, through all the seasons of this ministry call thus far that I know will also be there always. For this lesson one of my ministry call, I want to highlight some of these individuals one at a time. My hope is that my sharing of those dearest to me in this, will also encourage you to recognize those special people in your life that are supporting you or encourage you to go be that for someone. The people who remind you that you are not alone.

First person - Angela Halter Marshall - or "Marmee".

Back story: I've known Angela for almost ten years now. She came to my home church when I was in the sixth grade as the youth director. Even after she left my church, we have stayed in contact. We would get lunch whenever she was in town or whenever I was in Sumter. There were also exchange of texts or following the latest news of each others' lives on social media. (One positive side to social media.)

Yet it wasn't until two years ago that there was new type of life breathed into our relationship. What I like to deem was the Holy Spirit breathing life into it. I'll forever clearly remember that day in Washington, D.C. when I had my moment of realization that I had a call to ministry. It hit me suddenly as if wind had suddenly overcome me, causing the lightbulb to go "ding" and my brain to go "duh!".  As I pondered this new (not so new but finally named) thought of ministry, I knew I need to talk about it, digest it, discuss it, obsess over it...well you get the picture. In other words, I needed a person that I trusted that I knew had also experienced something similar that could help me.

That day I picked up the phone and texted Angela. 

Afterwards, it began a relationship in my life that quickly became one of my biggest advocates and confidantes for my ministry call. It always seemed as if she had "just the right" words or understanding similar experience as myself to help me through all the season of my ministry call. 

From her, I learned that this call to ministry is not an easy road. However, you never give up. She had (has) the greatest poise, strength, and patience as a minister. Whenever I returned home and would go visit her, I witnessed how she interacted with her parish. Her unconditional love and commitment to them was evident, as was her passion for this divine call to service. I stood in awe many times. 

I also learned that I was not alone. No matter how many times I came to her with the same problems repeatedly, or needed to hear the same tough love guidance, she gave it to me. Whenever I had a joyous moment to share or had a crisis I needed help with (many times minor ones of my own over-thinking brain), she was there at the drop of a hat. No matter if I was texting, calling, or running to Sumter - she was ALWAYS there for me. That came to mean the world to me. It was first through her relationship that I learned I was not alone in this journey of ministry.

As time has gone on, we have only grown closer. Now, it is also with just life stuff in general or funny quirks we share. We both over think everything - much as we deemed like the stomach of a cow where we just keep digesting it back and forth, over and over. We both love GIF keyboards, and many of our text conversations are full of those pictures being sent back and forth. We both have a passion for God's people as we serve them in ministry. 

She's an amazing example that God has blessed me with to know and learn from. 

As seen, she's not just "Angela" to me any longer. I told her that calling her Angela just didn't seem deep enough to describe my relationship with her as a mentor, friend, and support. After a lot of brainstorming it finally hit me one day and I was able to deem the perfect nickname - "Marmee". Much from inspiration of the mother from "Little Women" but also from personal factors of our own relationship. I took "Mar" from her last name of "Marshall" and "mee" since she blesses "me" so richly in our relationship. 

I have a gift this summer prior to entering seminary. My summer has now unexpectedly been graced with an internship at her church, where on a weekly basis I get to spend time with her working in ministry. I am beyond grateful for it. As I prepare to enter a new chapter of my life and ministry call, I am able to prepare with her by my side on a day to day basis. I am witnessing more often this summer how to minister well to your parish from her. I am able to spend quality time with her as well just because. It is filling my heart with such joy and I'm thankful to God for it. 

Recently, we had an impromptu trip to Candler Theological Seminary while in Atlanta. It was quite the Godly moment for both her and myself. As I stepped off the church bus and stood in front of the sign of my future seminary, I looked at the woman standing before me, smiling and getting ready to take a picture. I smiled myself because I was just grateful. Grateful to know her. Grateful to be there with the first person I told that was full circle for me. Grateful to know that I was not alone. 

Go be that someone for another person. Be the one that supports them to remind them that they are not alone.

I love you, Marmee. Thanks for being you.

   

new beginnings....ending of chapters....

It's been a few months since I have written. There have been many times I've pulled up my blog and have gotten as far as pulling up a blank screen for the post, only to delete the draft. I just have not been able to sit down to write. At first I couldn't figure out why. Now, I think I understand it was because my soul needed to digest all that was happening around me.

New beginnings are always beautiful. It is a chance to start fresh. Many times it's when you are starting exciting dreams or fulfilling a long wished for job or forming a new relationship. Yet, there is another side to new beginnings, a darker side that one must first deal with before "beginning". You see for something to begin, something else has to end.

Those are the truly challenging parts - endings.

I'm not good with endings. I'm not a fan of change. I like for things to stay the same or at least control the direction in which the change is happening. This desire for control is where God and I go back and forth the most in my ministry call. When I want to call the shots, God gently guides my circumstances in different directions. All along the way as my ministry call unfolds further, I see the beauty in God's plan that is far better beyond anything I was trying to script. Yet, I still have to work at letting go.

Now, I am actually sitting down to write. At this point I'm a little over a month past graduating from Presbyterian College. It was such a joyous occasion, but also one tainted with sadness. I have had to deal with my heart being broke wide open as I closed the chapter of my life with Broad Street United Methodist Church. Do not get me wrong, I knew it would be hard to say "see you later" to the wonderful people of the congregation who have become family.

However I did not imagine the PAIN I have felt in the closing of this chapter. My heart was truly ripped open wide as I departed from them. In April, I preached a sermon from the pulpit for our college recognition Sunday. I spent the week prior to that Sunday writing my sermon, practicing it, and walking down a road of sweet memories with the people of that place.  You see I could not walk into any room of the church or the sanctuary without being flooded with a memory. I realized how emotionally connected to the church I was.

At one point in the week I had a conversation with Kitty about how odd time felt at Broad Street. From day one I have felt like a part of this congregation, as if I had always been present within its doors. As if I had always known those people. Yet, the four years I spent with them also seemed to have past by in a blur. How was it already time to say goodbye? Kitty explained it well. She said that when one feels that way, it means that you are in fellowship with "a communion of saints" or in other words, in the presence of the Holy Spirit within those relationships you share.

I wept that same Sunday I preached. Truly, truly wept. My heart grieved. I cried for weeks afterwards. Even now over a month later, my heart hurts. The pain has eased some, but the string of saying goodbye has not ended.




Yet as I began there is a bright side to endings - new beginnings. I am in the transition period of a new beginning. In just a short time, I move to Atlanta to begin seminary. It is a dream I would never have imagined possible even a year ago. I would never had suspected that I would begin immediately following graduation. Here we are though. God has consistently had everything fall into place for this journey. Therefore I know it's God's will, and I must follow. No matter how scarily beautiful it may seem.


Therefore I chose to write again. It has been a powerful few months of my ministry journey that I want to share. I shall slowly. As if flipping through the pages of a photo album, I will reveal those cherished memories of events within my ministry call. What I've learned about myself, about God, about those in my life, about my ministry call.


I'm grateful. I'm thankful. I'm in awe that God has called me to a this divine journey of service.