As I approach my ordination council and the service itself, I've been reflecting on the journey. Always, as part of your ordination, you get to tell your story, and talk about your call. Givens. So, last night, I pulled out the Bible that I bought in New Zealand and was so crucial to the next 4 years of my life.
You
see, when I moved to NZ, I didn't take a Bible with me. I was so far gone that
I thought God could never love me again, and there was no reason for God to.
Early on, though, a pastor (ironically named Steve) preached a sermon that
shook me to my core and caused to me to cry at the altar for a good long time.
And not just a little cry, but the really deep, really hard, ugly cry. I had many revelations that night but the largest one just destroyed the wall
that was standing between me and God. The next day I bought this little Bible
on the way to the station to meet some friends for a trip we were going on that
weekend. I was done-for. Over. Out. Life. changed. So that Bible holds MANY
stories. Stories of street preaching in Sydney. Stories of me re-discovering
the grace of God that I had forgotten in my own heart. Stories of me preaching
with no notice in India. Stories of me struggling. Stories of me reaching out
time after time. Stories of people reaching out to me…
The
Bible has been on the shelf throughout DivSchool. Put down so I could read the
Oxford Annotated NRSV for school, and compare the original Greek and Hebrew
languages to different translations to find the meaning in and between the words. Put
down so I could learn the technicalities of faith…
Until
last night when I picked it up, thinking about my journey to ordination and the
people that have meant so much to me.
That's
the beauty of ordination: It's a landmark - one of those times that culminates
and begins all at once. It is a journey to that moment and it is a journey
after that moment. It is liminal. Suspended time. A time when, whether
physically present or not, people gather to affirm the call God has placed on a life.
I am blessed
to sit and think about those who have meant so much to my journey, to
invite them to participate. To know that those who can't be here are here in
spirit. I am blessed because there are so many on this journey that I will
never see again, and that's okay because it does not change anything.
My
Bible is held together with a rubber band because there is just too much stuff
in it, and that's okay. Each thing in there holds special meaning to me: a
fossilized leaf from the rain forest in Hari Hari, New Zealand, photo strips of
Hawke's Bay, notes from dear friends, a band-aid, Tibbs' business
card, the cards from the funerals of people important to me, quotes that mean a
lot to me…. It's written in, it's used, and it's well-loved.
So much
of my journey is wrapped up in that little Bible that I put on a shelf. And
when I pick it up, I am overwhelmed by the journey. Joyful to be affirmed by
everything that book symbolizes. Joyful to be loved and affirmed by the people around me. Joyful for the family that has been by me through thick and thin. Joyful for friends from birth, to new friends, to friends I will only spend time with on the internet. Joyful for the men and women who stepped up to fill significant roles in my life. Joyful for the kids who keep my heart young. Joyful for animals that have loved me and taught me. Joyful for those who have stretched me. Joyful for those who have held me. Joyful for those who make me laugh. Joyful for those who challenge. Joyful for those who teach. Joyful for those who critique. Joyful for those who have gone before me to pave the way. Joyful for those that don't even know how much they meant to me.
So much joy in this time that I can't even explain. And it's ironic that tonight I was doing some more cleaning and found letters I wrote 7 years ago to people that have meant a lot to me. I could write so many more today. I could write so many words and it still would not be enough.
So this is for you. This entry is for you. Because my journey is nothing without you. Each and every one of you have left a mark on me and I hope you know how closely I hold you in my heart. And even if we don't talk so much anymore, and even if you can't be here for my ordination, you are here, because I am here.
