I Need Resurrection

My heart is somewhere lying limp on the sand of Nordhoek Beach as the waves crash over it everyday giving it life, but only for a moment. I need to fetch it. I need to see the faces of the babies in Masiphumelele and hear the authentic music coming from broken hearts. I need resurrection. I need to go back to Cape Town.

ICatch Myself

I catch myself daydreaming

A LOT
I used to think it was some sort of disorder
You know one of those WebMD disorders
The ones that you Google
In a matter of seconds you become a ticking time bomb
You become a ball of cancer
you have a tumor
The small freckle on your face becomes skin cancer
The cough you’ve had for 2 days becomes lupus
The anxiety becomes a brain tumor
WebMD
WebMD grows a technologically dependent
Group of people who believe they have everything in the book
A common cold is surely nothing short of
PNEUMONIA
A sprained ankle is definitely
BROKEN
The anxiety begins
Your mind instantly plays worst case scenario
Palms sweat
Your mind races
You can’t concentrate from the fear
So you look up another disorder
This time you have an autoimmune disorder on top of
SKIN CANCER
BRAIN TUMOR
PNEUMONIA
And
BROKEN ANKLE
A doctor visit causes you to take a day off of work and
The verdict is
HYPOCHONDRIAC


(just kidding)

The Present

The clock makes the same sound
Second after second
Minute after minute
Hour after hour
Tick
Tock
The days pass by
The weeks scurry on
I wonder what the future looks like
My OPD kicks in (over planning disorder)
The anxiety hits, palms sweating
I wonder
I wonder what the future holds
I can’t sleep, the anxiety cripples
The future holds me in its grip
And then I realize that it doesn’t have to
I realize that the present is silently calling my name
The sound is so quiet, it makes no noise.
It passes me by with only a whisper.
The people come and go like passengers at a train station
Faces change, places change, stories change.
Liberation
Liberation comes when we choose to live in the present
Freedom comes for the captive that watches the sun rise and set
The weeks scurry on
The days pass by
Tock
Tick
Hour after hour
Minute after minute
Second after second
The clock makes the same sound

Call Story

          People ask me on a regular basis what my ‘call story’ looks like. As I listen to other people share about their call story I sometimes become frustrated because I don’t have a succinct story that is in any sort of orderly fashion. I don’t have one of those stories that make people go, “aww” when I am finished talking. I don’t have one of those stories where people cry tears of joy. I don’t have one of those stories where people are moved because I fell away from God’s calling and then fell back onto the right track. I’m just ME. My story is one where God asked me to join the journey and I said, “sure, that sounds alright.”

          I’ve known since high school that God was, “calling me to ministry,” but I was never quite sure what that was going to look like. I went through a time period when I thought I was going to be a missionary in Africa, there was a point in time where I wanted to be a youth minister, for a brief second, I even thought about learning how to play the piano and become some sort of church musician-- I quickly realized though that the keys on the piano don't just turn into a beautiful melody overnight. The thought of being a school teacher and a lay minister tickled my imagination for some time, being the chair of deacons was an idea, or even a medical missionary… you name it and I probably thought about becoming it. There was something in the back of my mind all along though that I should become a pastor, but that notion never made it to my lips until much later because the idea of standing in front of a group of people on a weekly basis terrified me. Sometimes even now I become a bit afraid when people ask me what my future plans are and I have to physically say the words, "I'm going to be a pastor."

          Thankfully, my pastor at my home church in Madison Heights Virginia, Derik Hamby knew that God was going to do something incredible with my life and therefore pushed me to try new things in worship services such as leading children’s sermons, teaching adult Sunday school classes here or there, and praying pastoral prayers. Derik allowed me to go on hospital visits and to see shut-ins with him. There were times when he would ask me to do things and say something along the lines of, “you’ll need to know this one day when you become a pastor.” I would shrug my shoulder, laugh, deny that I was going to be a pastor, and complete the task that was laid before me. Looking back, I am very thankful for the leadership of my pastor who gave me and continues to give me opportunities to serve the church so that I could accept the gifts that God has given me.

          My calling became quite embedded in concrete as I sat in the Ashe-Henderson lecture series my freshmen year about this time of year at Carson-Newman and heard Rev. Julie Pennington-Russell deliver a series of beautiful sermons that made my heart dance with joy for the first time in a long time. It was then, through hearing a female preach for one of the first times in my life that I knew God was calling me to pastor a church. It was in those moments of seeing with my own eyes a woman preach that I knew it was all going to fall into place. It was in those moments that I was able to break off the chains of fear and start falling into my calling to become a pastor. As I sat in the audience, I took in every word. I sat in awe even after the services were over because it was as if fog had been lifted from my soul and finally I could see and feel the presence of God in my call to preach.

          This calling then continued and as the name defines itself, God kept speaking to me and giving me opportunities to live out what I have been gifted to do. I’m excited about this adventure. I’m excited about the next stop on the journey after my time at Carson-Newman is finished. I can't wait to see what is next with seminary and job opportunities.

           Over the past year or so I have seen the slogan,“This is What a Preacher Looks Like,”  quite a bit from seeing my female minister friends wearing the T-Shirt to the book published by Baptist Women in Ministry. Over the past year I have made many wonderful preacher friends. As I look back on the past year, I am reminded that it was only a little over a year ago that I preached my first sermon. It was a little over a year ago that Randolph Memorial Baptist Church asked me to be their Martha Stearns Marshall preacher. On February 5, 2012 I stepped into the pulpit for the first time and it was then, in that moment that God's calling was confirmed. God is calling me to share the gospel and through that share the love of Jesus with everyone I come in contact with.

          As I stood in the pulpit for the first time, I didn’t realize that over the next year I would have the opportunity to preach 5 more times. During those moments of standing in front of the congregation I did not realize that this was going to be something that was going to be a part of me for the rest of my life. I did not know that I was going to have the opportunity to meet so many Baptist Women in Ministry. Over the past year I have had so many beautiful conversations with other women ministers and it brings me great joy to have the ability to learn from them and to grow and be challenged by them. Thank You! Thank You Julie Pennington-Russell, Christine Jones, Pam Durso, Molly Brummett, Nenette Measels, Kali Freels, Rhonda Blevins, Katrina Brooks, Julie Gaines, Kristen Koger, Lauren McDuffie, Molly Shoulta, Meagan Smith, Sara Robb, Ruth Perkins-Lee, Marilee Betz, and so many others who are preaching the Gospel of Love to a broken world. Preach on Sisters.

          As I think of all of these beautiful women though, I can’t help but think of the men who have been there to support and affirm me and so many others. Thank You Derik Hamby, Dave McNeely, Ross Brummett, Todd Blake, Adam Tyler, Grant Carter, Mark Beck, Chad Hartsock, Gene Wilder, and the many others who do not just affirm women in ministry through words but more importantly through their actions. Their actions speak so much louder than words written on a page or spoken.
         
          This past week, I had the privilege to be a part of The Academy of Young Preachers festival in Atlanta, Georgia.  It was such a wonderful week. During the week I heard numerous powerful and authentic sermons from some young Baptist Women like myself who represented Baptist Women in Ministry well. I'm thankful to be a part of a community of faith that affirms women in ministry. There were so many talented young women and men at this festival which gives me great hope for the present and future of the church. I can't wait to see the new life that will be brought into congregations very soon.

           Martha Stearns Marshall month is in February. It’s not too late to ask a female minister to step into the pulpit to deliver her first sermon or her 100th sermon. It’s not too late to inspire the children of your church by asking a woman to preach so they can see and truly know that they can do anything that God calls them to.

          Have a blessed week! =)

The Fog of Life

Recenlty, my church family has experienced a lot of pain and a lot of heartache over some negative decisions of our youth directors. As I sit here and type this, my heart is literally shattered into a million pieces. I feel like my view of church has been jaded by this situation and I just want normality back in the midst of what seems like complete chaos. I just want love to fill the crevices of hatred. I just want joy to wrap the sadness in its arms. Last night, one of my best friends from home sent me a prayer that she had wrote out and messaged it to me saying, "I didn't know what to do with this, so I sent it to you" So now I'm going to share her beautiful words with you and pray that they find you in need of some comfort.



I can cover up the pain and hurt all day long with friends and fun activities but when I stop to think its like I'm standing in the rain but can't feel the cold wetness dripping down my face.

This is all a blur because I know that if I let it become clear it will hurt me so much that I won't be able to handle this alone.

I don't know where God is in this situation. If I was not able see my friends and family also looking for him, I would have given up the search already. I hope that he will reveal his plan soon because the pain will only get worse before it can possibly get better.

What are you doing, Father? The last time I felt this hurt was accompanied by one of the best hours of my life. I'm sorry that I am questioning and doubting your abilities. I'm imperfect and scared. Help me. Here I am. Change me to be better for you

There's such truth in what she is saying there.. God of love, show yourselves to us and our congregation during this time of confusion.

God of Inclusion

I recently have been working on a paper on the Fundamentalist Takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention, and this is a little something I wrote as I was doing some work on the subject on my story and why I think this is important to learn about. =)

       As I think of church, one of the first pictures that comes to my mind is this beautiful senior adult woman in my church known as ‘Granny Franklin’ who would ungrasp me from my grandmothers dress and hold me until I stopped crying each and every Sunday with persistence and with love until I realized that I had a place in the three year old Sunday School room. As a child, and even up until my middle school years, I was very well sheltered from business meetings of the church where people argued. I was sheltered from the pain that the Southern Baptist Convention showered onto many congregations. Growing up with Liberty University and Thomas Road Baptist Church right out of my back door I never knew how many people the Southern Baptist Convention hurt. I didn’t realize until my junior year of high school what the Southern Baptist controversy was which made it a harsh reality to face when the God of love, mercy, and inclusion called me to be a pastor. I grew up in a church ten minutes from Liberty University but I luckily had pastors and a congregation that loved everyone for who they were and accepted me and my call to ministry and others in their callings as well.

     Being sheltered from the Southern Baptist conflict hurt as I began to openly share with pastors and others in my community that I was called by God to proclaim the Gospel as a pastor of a church. It wasn’t until I was hurt by many people that I finally realized the impact that the Southern Baptist Convention had on Lynchburg Virginia and many other places. It wasn’t until I shared my calling a number of times to important people in my life and their response was something to the effect of, “you would be a great youth minister,” or “have you ever thought about being a children’s minister” or even, “I think that you would be awesome starting a woman’s ministry around here, you would be great ministering to women in our community” that I finally removed the shade that had been blinding me and finally wanted to know more. I wanted to know why I couldn’t be a pastor. I wanted to know what made women and men different to serve God. I had more questions that I had answers and I had more anger than I had joy. I was mad at God and I was angry at my church for affirming me in something that to so many people seemed morally wrong. I was angry at my loving and caring church family for allowing me space to grow and to use my gifts when I realized in the real world or at least the real world of Lynchburg that my gifts were not valid.

        Thankfully though I was able to come to a beautiful place called Carson-Newman where the pieces began to fall together. I saw the beauty in so many places such as seeing Dr. Christine Jones serve God by being a minister not only at church by teaching but also by being a professor and proclaiming God’s words that are written in the Old Testament. The lights finally began to fully shine as I sat in chapel in complete awe of Rev. Julie Pennington Russell preaching at a chapel service, which was the first time I had ever heard or seen a woman preach a sermon. It was through Dr. Chad Hartsock wrecking my Christmas story, in New Testament Class, that I had always believed, and then through Dr. Ross Brummett putting the pieces back together and allowing me space to think and to feel the love of God through Spiritual Growth and Development that I was able to fully understand that Baptist’s have conflicts but that God calls boys and girls, women and men, and grandmas and grandpas the same. I was able to fully understand that God is not an angry dictator that can’t use women and men equally and that sometimes we may not understand God and what is asked of us. Learning about the Fundamentalist Takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention provides answers to questions and opens many doors for people to serve God no matter who they are because we serve an inclusive God that is full of love. Learning about the Fundamentalist Takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention allows individuals and congregations the ability to take a step back to really realize what we believe about Christianity and God.

Let the Healing Rain Fall

Precious God! I come to you tonight on behalf of my entire congregation of Randolph Memorial Baptist Church and we are broken. I pray that you cradle us in your arms and comfort us like a mother rocking her restless newborn to sleep. Help us find rest in Your arms. Help us to find peace in the midst of this chaos. Help us to cope with the stabbing pains that consume us. Help us to mourn because we have lost something precious to us. Help calm our anxious thoughts as we are reminded that You love us and that You created us. Help us to share with You our deepest hurts. Allows us to cry at Your feet because we do not understand what is going on around us. Help us to ask questions even if they have no answers. Loving Sustainer, help us to stand when all we can do is lie on our faces in tears. God, help us to find community in one another. I pray that our circumstances will not consume us but that the similarity of the pain we all share will bring us closer to one another. As we are blinded by the mist and fog of wounded hearts, give us new visions that we cannot see on our own. Daddy, help us to spend adequate time mourning the loss but during that time, strengthen us to dance to the beat of the new life song of Randolph Memorial Baptist Church. Give us voices to sing praises to You, The Almighty. Don’t let us wallow in our sorrows but rather give us a joy that cannot be taken. Give us words to proclaim Your goodness. Give us new life, shower us with abundant joy. Help our church to regain its health and heal our wounds, O Great Physician. Peacemaker, shine Your light on those who criticize and help them to see that they are wasting beautiful moments of their lives by wreaking havoc on the lives of others. God, do what You do, show us what You have in store. God, we know that You alone bring beauty from ashes and we are looking forward to when that moment comes. Amen