I was approved for ordination today. For those of you not in the know regarding the minutia of this process in the UCC, today was the culmination of 2 and a half years of ongoing work - writing, mentoring, gathering with the committee on ministry and my support team, a 6 hour psych evaluation, and a seminary-level course. It has been up and down. My insecurities and imposter syndrome, my defensiveness whenever I feel pressured to “land” theologically, my need for belonging. All of it made an appearance in the last 2 and a half years. Today was the last hurdle before I get an ordainable gig and plan a service to make it official.
What unexpectedly touched me this morning as I was getting ready, was that today was an affirmation of God’s work in my life since I was 14. I’m 42. When I saw the 50+ faces on the Zoom screen today from 20 something churches in my region of the US, gathered to discuss my 21-page (single-spaced!) final paper, the tears just started falling. Because in 28 years, this was the first time where I was standing before a community of people who were there to witness the work of God in me. I am not a threat to the work of God. I am, in fact, a participant. Of course, that has always been true (and is true of many others). When I was a teen, I received covert help over the years when ministers hoped the elders wouldn’t notice. The years in worship ministry, youth ministry, campus ministry, women’s ministry, children’s ministry, overseas mission work, and now chaplaincy just started scrolling behind my eyes. What a time I have had.
I thought about how much a part of my early connection with my former spouse was about ministry. It was something that brought us together. For a time. We made these beautiful daughters. At some point, he no longer shared that vision. The community agreed with him. I felt left behind. Because my access to use my gifts in ministry were tied to his calling before. Much later, we got divorced. But I wasn’t left behind. Our paths diverged. I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t deconstructed that tidy world I lived in then. Huh.
And now. Somehow. I’m going to be able to feed my little girls with money I make. In ministry. As their mom.
I don’t know if it is quantifiable how much having my gender be a determining factor in my qualifications for ministry has harmed me over a lifetime. The scars are there. I have done the grief work and can remain connected to those roots without having them continue to tell me what’s possible.
The faces of all my CPE colleagues - the people who took the time to call me out, to be with me as a grew and cried and integrated so much for so long, were all there. The supervisors. The educators. The patients. The colleagues. The security officers. My professors. My seminary cohort. The friend who gave me my first opportunity to preach. With all of this in my heart, and a feeling of awe in how many people continue to gather around for prayer and witness of God’s continuing work in me, I stepped into the spotlight today.
Wildly, someone from the church of Christ was there. Someone who also sojourned to the UCC. He private messaged me at the beginning - “do I know you? Are you so and so’s wife?” What a small world, y’all. The irony was not lost on me.
I am no one’s wife. But I am a reverend.
