It's taken me over a month to finally write this post. That's not entirely true. I wrote this post months ago as it was happening, it's taken me months to share it.
I'm a long way from that day in 1986. I'm also a long
distance from the place I grew up and as far as the East is to the West from
the beliefs of my Childhood. The God I surrendered to in my teenaged years
became in my mind a god sitting on his throne waiting to condemn me for all my
mistakes. I became afraid of Him. I could hide in Jesus, so I did. I related to
Jesus and called him friend, but he was separate and distinct from God. I
needed him to be in order to hold on to any faith at all.
The Middle part of my story spans decades. It started even
before Part 1 and it continues. The Middle part of my story is ignoring God.
And not ignoring God. Some days are better than others. Some days are easier
than others.
I’m there again, I’m in a different pew, in a different part
of the country, some 25 years later, but I hear the calling again. There is no
ambiguity in His request. I’m being called to once again “Come, Follow Me.”.
And yet I sit. I sit in this pew as the other women are leaving filing out one
by one after their own silent meditation, after they have brought their burdens
to the cross I continue to sit……
The Women and I are on a Walk to Emmaus. I’ve come to the
end of a long exhausting day. It began quite unexpectedly.....
I stood there waiting to be called. The Elizabeth table had
been called and filled. Then the Martha table was also called and filled. And I
stand there, “Hmmmmm God, whatcha doin here?” I think. “My name is Martha
Elisabeth. You do remember that, right? Okay so you’re sticking with the Ruth
theme, alright.” But then the Ruth table is called and filled and there I
stand.
“Mary or Esther? Really? I’m reduced to Mary or Esther?” My
name is finally called, I’m at the Mary table. Mary, perhaps my least favorite
woman mentioned in the Bible. I sit there all day thinking, I don’t feel like a
Mary.
When I got back to my room that night I pulled out my Bible
and read my Mary bible stories. All the Marys. And for the ones mentioned in
the New testament, there’s a common thread. The common thread weaving them
altogether is that they all submitted to God’s will. They all gave to God what
was God’s – Themselves. They all said to God, “Not my will but thine.”
Ouch. Really God? You’re going to go there, just right off
the bat, huh? Now? And that began the active conflict. Me and my will on one
side, God and His on the other.
But that moment, and for the next 18 hours I was in active
combat. I don’t lay down my will easily. I will do what I want to do damn the
consequences. I began fighting with God in every thought, deed and action
actively passively and constantly for the next 18 hours I refused God. I had
every excuse in the book. Every thing you can think of I thought of. And I told
God again and again, “Nope not me, pick someone else.”
But I’d already been fighting God for the past 18 months I
had been passively fighting God’s will for my life. I wasn’t actively
confronting Him, I just was telling Him, I can’t hear you right now, I’m too
busy. I’ve got kids that need to go to their activities, I’ve got a husband who
really can’t deal with this right now, I’ve got responsibilities and
expectations that I must fulfill. I couldn’t even say the question he was
asking out loud.
God was calling, had
been calling and would keep calling me to ministry. Full on Ordained Ministry.
And I was scared lifeless. I was afraid of failing. I was afraid I was too old.
I was afraid I was too broken. I was afraid I was too wrong. But God kept
calling me and I steadfastly refused. And now I sat at the table of Mary and
God was asking for my own submission. Could I?
…. I continued to sit there in that pew and I was transported
back to my childhood. The whole weekend had transported me to another place in
time.
One of my first encounters on my Walk was the room I was assigned. Before
even entering the room, I noticed the woman in the room next to mine had my
maiden name that gave me pause. But when I went in my room, I saw it. The
lampshade I had on my lamp when I was a little girl. Who but God could do this?
That’s the moment I knew God wanted me there. I needed to
have my Walk. I needed a new encounter with God. God was calling me to the
faith I had as a child. But he wasn’t calling me backward he was calling me
forward.
But still I sat. I had the sweaty palms and freezing hands.
My heart was racing, I’m shivering again, I know it’s time. This time however
it’s a walk to the back I need to make. A walk to speak with the Spiritual
Advisers. Not a walk to the front, but before I can make that walk I have to
surrender. I have to submit my will again. I have to give up everything again.
So I’m playing “Let’s make a deal” again. But again God doesn’t want deals He wants
me. All of me. He wants my heart, my soul and my mind. So I start to throw out
my excuses. I’m not minister material. Surely he was aiming for the pious lady
on either side of me and hit me by mistake. I’m no pastor. I use four letter
words. Regularly. In front of my children. I mean really who’s going to look to
me for guidance? Come on God, Pastors don’t say those words.
I’ve got my best friend’s words bouncing around in my head
“You’ll love Seminary” and “God doesn’t care what you’re undergrad is in, just
finish it already.” (My best friend IS a Pastor she might know a thing or two
about these things) Meanwhile, I’m thinking “Brian is going to kill me.” And
I’m working through the conversation in my head.
Him: “So let me get this straight, you left a six-figure
salary job. And now you’re telling me you want to be a Pastor? Are you trying
to kill me? You want to spend 80K to never make that again? Really, no,
Elisabeth, seriously?” (He only calls me Elisabeth at certain times -- this conversation would definitely be one of those times)
And all of that is bouncing around in my head and I’m
continuing to throw out excuses. “But God, I can’t sing. Pastors have to be
able to sing. Oh and God, I can’t move my family. They love their home. And we
need to be where Brian can get to work easily. I can’t just uproot us.” And for
now that’s enough.
I continue to sit there. I continue to think about getting
up and walking to the back and talking to one of the Pastors in the back many
of whom have children and are Moms. I can hear Jesus calling me again. I stand
up, and my heart is in my throat and my knees are wobbly and I look back but I
just can’t. I walk out of the chapel. I pause on the stairs up to my room and I
can still hear Jesus calling and I think I could still go back in and speak to
one of them. But I know once I say it out loud, there’s no going back. Once I say
it, once I talk to someone about it, I’m committed.
And I’m back in my room and I’m ignoring God just like when
I was a child.
