You deceived me, Lord, and I was deceived;
you overpowered me and prevailed.
I am ridiculed all day long;
everyone mocks me.
Whenever I speak, I cry out proclaiming violence and destruction.
So the word of the Lord has brought me insult and reproach all day long.
But if I say, "I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,"
his word is in my heart like a fire,
a fire shut up in my bones.
I am weary of holding it in;
indeed, I cannot.
This is one of the most poignant descriptions that I have heard, articulating what it feels like to try to ignore a calling from God.
It's an apt description of something I've been mulling over for a while--a sneaking suspicion that I have that something about the fifteen years which I spent navigating a sense of call to ministry within a church denomination that still has not fully come to terms with the giftedness of women for pastoral ministry has only served to strengthen my own deep conviction that it is pastoral ministry to which I am called.
Because in the years of 'not mentioning his word or speaking anymore in his name,' the fire shut up in my bones would not let me rest. There is a pain in not being able to respond to God's call that only serves to deepen the inner sense that God is indeed the One doing the calling.
Then there's today. This morning, it was my turn to preach. And as I stood at the pulpit and looked at the faces in front of me, and as I interacted with people in the foyer before and after worship, I was deeply aware of how grateful I am to be serving in this place, among these people.
The fire is not the same--the burning within my bones, the urgency, the painful dissonance is gone. In its place, a deep sense of contentment, a deep gratitude to be where I am, doing what I am, among the people I am. I've said this before, but from my very earliest days here, I have felt like my skin fits, at last.
I am so grateful for this congregation, but even more for a church body that bravely and boldly states that God gives ministry gifts without regard for gender, and that discrimination on the basis of gender is wrong. Full stop. I'm grateful that they were willing to open their arms to me, and to make space for me among them. And I'm grateful on behalf of all of the other women who have and will come here because of a fire that burns in their hearts and deep in their bones.
I share this because I am acutely aware that there are still those who are experiencing this unique pain that Jeremiah articulated so clearly. I hope that, if any of them read this, they will know that they are not alone. I hope that, in sharing my story, someone might someday think twice about their beliefs about whom God gifts for pastoral ministry. I hope that as we hear the stories of actual, real human beings, we will begin to recognize our parts in the systems that are contributing to asking people to make impossible choices like suppressing the gifts God has given.
I hope that the day will come when my story won't be so common, when it seems normal to have both men and women serving in all of the ways for which God has gifted them.
When the fire of the Spirit can be free to burn bright and clear, and needn't be held in anymore.
I wonder sometimes about women who had this fire in their bones before there was ever any thought of women standing before a pulpit. Where did they go with this fire burning within them? The Catholics at least had their saints and nuns, but what about Mennonite women? I think of my grandmother, who in this day and age would most likely have become a pastor because of the gifts she had, but she herself would probably have considered it sinful to even aspire to a position like that.
ReplyDeleteI'm so often grateful for the women who would never have considered pastoral ministry, but whose use of their gifts in a multitude of ways, often quiet, created a trajectory that has led us to the point where I can freely do this work!
DeleteYour words speak to, and resonate deeply with me Kathy.
ReplyDelete