Leaving the fishes

About a year and a half ago, I felt a call to ministry. I wasn’t sure exactly what that ministry would look like, but I was pretty sure that it involved seminary. So I started looking into seminary programs. But in the process of that decision to go back to school, one of the things that I had to work through was whether I was going for the right reasons.  

The timing could not have been worse. We have a kid in college which is costing a significant amount of money, with another one not too far behind. After many years of being self-employed with a somewhat flexible schedule, I was working a full time job with very limited flexibility. I mean, really the timing for this kind of new commitment could not have been worse.

But then I found this school that just felt right to me, with a program that seemed to be designed just for me, and they not only thought I would fit in well there and let me in, but they made me a financial aid offer I would have been crazy to refuse. So I thought okay, clearly this is happening in part right now so that I realize that this is God’s plan rather than mine, because clearly the timing is not one I would have chosen, which must mean that it is God’s.

I mean seriously, it would have been far more convenient and made much more sense for God to have done this before I took the job I had at the DA’s office, representing CPS, because it would have been much more natural timing and less disruptive of my life, but obviously it was God’s timing now and not then. And that’s where I left that thought really. I began seminary, and I loved it, and I realized quickly that if I truly followed the call to full time ministry that there would come a time when I wouldn’t be able to continue to work the job I had on a full time basis and go to school the way that I wanted and needed to. I verbalized that to my boss, to my people at work, to Mike. And then I kind of left that thought too, because although I knew without doubt that this part of my career and life was wrapping up, I didn’t like I was being called to make a change too quickly.

And then about a month into seminary, I was listening to my pastor’s sermon. She talked about Peter and his first encounter with Jesus. She told of the massive catch that they had brought in, and how this was likely the culmination of a lifetime of work, the best work day of his life, the pinnacle of his career if you will, and he walked away from it to follow Jesus. 

I had heard that story countless times in my life. But until that morning I never identified it with myself and my circumstances. I realized that the timing of seminary right then wasn’t just so that I would realize this was God’s plan rather than my own. I mean I would have struggled more with that question if this had come up before I took the job I had. For probably 5-10 years before taking that position, I would have a meltdown a minimum of twice a year, telling Mike I just couldn’t do this work anymore. It was too hard, too lonely, too stressful, too much. If I had been given the calling and the opportunity then to go to seminary and change careers, I would have jumped on that opportunity without hesitation, if for no other reason than to go a different direction. And I would have questioned whether it was God’s plan or mine because I was so desperate to try something new.

And then I took the job with the Grayson County DA’s office as the CPS attorney. And it has given me so much. It has given me the opportunity to finish the job I started 25 years ago but ended up leaving sooner than I wanted for personal reasons. It gave me closure that I desperately needed but didn’t think I would ever have. It gave me confidence in my abilities and my worth as an attorney, which I had lost somewhere along the way.

I really like my job. And honestly, I am really good at it. People in the DA’s office, in my CPS office, and in the courts, like me. And I love them. I feel I am making a very positive difference in the way in which the child welfare system works in Grayson County. I am filling a very definite need, and I am doing it very well.

And yet, despite all that, I realized when I heard that sermon about Peter that I was ready to walk away from all of it. Like with Peter, you could say that this was the culmination of what I had worked for my entire career. To be successful, to be loved, and to be valued and of value. It doesn’t get much better than this. And I was ready to drop my nets, leave all my fishes, and follow Jesus.

I didn’t know how it was going to work or when it was going to work, but I did not doubt that it would work. And I realized that God’s timing for this call to ministry wasn’t just so that I would know for sure that this was from God rather than from me, but it was so that God would know whether I was truly all in, truly willing to walk away from everything to follow God’s call. And I realized that in the process of placing that call on me at the time that God did, God had first chosen to change me and grow me and develop me and give me the confidence I would need to walk this next journey. And at the same time, God allowed me to finish things I started so many years ago. 

God had allowed me to overcome bad decisions, shame, and pain, to grow into just the person that I needed to be to follow the call that had been placed inside me. 

And as I followed that call through seminary, my mind expanded and my eyes opened more widely and my heart, as did with the Grinch, grew about three sizes. 

As my heart opened wider to others, as I began to see more clearly the value in others, I also began to see the value in myself, not for what I could do for others, but in who God made me to be.

As I learned my value, I grew more strong. 

As I grew more strong, I grew more gentle. 

As I grew more gentle, I began seeing the worth in people who do not always see it in themselves because society or the church or their inner demons or past trauma have told them it’s not there. 

And that changed everything about how I practiced law, how I did my job. How I looked at people. How I treated people. 

And I thought, well God is just showing me how to see people through the eyes of a pastor rather than through the eyes of a lawyer.  

And in the midst of this, in the midst of figuring out where this ministry call might lead me, I got a text from an old friend. Someone I have known for many years. First as a fellow church member and then professionally. She told me that a child protection court was being created in my area and I needed to apply for the position of associate judge. My response to her was immediate. I told her I appreciated her thinking of me, but I didn’t think that was God’s plan for me. She told me that she didn’t want to interefere with God’s plan for my life, but she really thought I was perfect for this position. Because I trust this friend’s discernment, I told her that I would keep an open mind, and I would think about it, and I would pray about it, but I didn’t think I would change my mind. And over the next few weeks, I did think and pray about it. And I started to talk to other people about it. People I trusted to tell me the truth. And as I began to think that maybe this was the direction that God was leading me to, I got some very clear and unexpected trail markers that confirmed that.

And so I made the decision to apply, and have recently been appointed to the position.

It turns out that during this time that I thought God was teaching me to see people through the eyes of a pastor rather than through the eyes of a lawyer, what was actually happening was that God was teaching me to see them instead through the eyes of God rather than humans. And that is a perspective that I think I will need very much in this new position. Because the truth is, the people that come before me, not just the children, but the parents with all they have done, need to have someone see them as God does. As people who may be broken and damaged, but who are worthy. And who have the potential to be so much more than life has made them. And they need someone to help them see that in themselves. 

So it is with great sadness that I turned in my resignation today for the position that has given so much to me these past three years. But it is with great excitement and honor that I prepare to step into this new one.

God is good. All the time, God is Good.

Where did I see God?

Where did I see God today?

This is something I have asked myself each day of this trip. The answer has been different each day. Sometimes it has been in several ways. Sometimes only one. 

The second question I ask is what one thing will I remember from this day. That usually involves something meaningful someone said, as opposed to where I saw God, which typically has to do with something that I felt. 

And truthfully, for the most part, what I have taken from this trip prior to today was some feeling, but mostly head knowledge. Lots and lots of head knowledge. Things to process. Things that I have had difficulty wrapping my brain around. Difficult things that I never knew and can’t believe I did not. But head knowledge.

Today, it hit me in the heart.

We went to a Methodist church which for the past 3 years has been the main church host home for many persons facing hearings to determine if their pleas for asylum will be met or whether they will be deported back to the countries that they risked so much to flee, because the life they had there was worse than the risk they took to escape.

The first tears came when the young pastor spoke of the start of this program, initiated by a letter from ICE to the area bishop, seeking help from area churches to care for people because ICE had run out of space to house them. He spoke of how the first refugees, primarily mothers and children, released from detention while the fathers were held, came at the beginning of the Advent season, and how the timing was not lost on him in its spiritual meaning and implications. How the expectation of the church volunteers was that the primary thing that the refugees would want was food. But how they soon realized the children just wanted the chance to run and play, as is true of all children everywhere. And the mothers just wanted to sleep, after having been on foot and on guard for more hours than the volunteers knew. He told of volunteers who spent hours holding babies they had only just met, handed to them by mothers so relieved to have a faith community to care for them that they were finally able to rest. 

He told of the fellowship enjoyed between the refugees and the parishioners before and after church services, in sharing coffee, though they often did not speak each others languages and only awkwardly smiled at each other as strangers sharing common space and experience often do. 

He spoke of the lessons they learned that this wasn’t a situation of people in better situations helping those less fortunate, but an experience of people simply living life together in a very complex world.

He told of the dichotomy on Ash Wednesday of the receiving of the ashes. His parishioners much by rote habit, as if on autopilot. The refugees, he explained, were different. They were trembling, as they came to him to receive the ashes. “I don’t know what their narrative was,” he explained, “if it was that their suffering had made them understand so much more clearly the suffering of Jesus, or if it was just their gratitude at having survived the journey and made it some place safe, but they brought the realness of what it is to die to Christ.”

The church houses the migrants short term until they are able to be on their way to a host home, where they will stay until they have a court hearing to determine whether or not they will be granted asylum or deported back to the country from which they fled. 

From the size of the church, I first assumed it was a pretty large congregation. As the conversation went on, the young pastor told us that their membership is only 189 and they regularly worshipped around 100 on Sunday mornings. And yet, since December 2016 when they first began to house these migrants brought to them by ICE, 12,000 people: men, women, and children, have come through their doors. 

Even as he spoke of the undertaking, you could see the amazement he still felt. That this ministry, that they did not ask for, that they did not go looking for, that was so much bigger than they should have been able to accomplish, has worked. Not because of them, but because God has provided, and they have been obedient to answer this need they should not be able to meet.

And then he took us to where the people were. As we walked in, the parents looked at us in obvious wariness. A group of 13, only four had skin darker than mine. Those in our group who spoke Spanish began to speak to the Latino migrants. I looked to the left and saw two little girls. One maybe five who we learned had fled with her mother and father from Kyrgyzstan. She was playing with a little girl around four from central Mexico. They did not speak the same language, their facial features and skin color were  not the same. And yet in this most unlikely of places, they had become friends. Tears filled my eyes and I had to turn away before they fell. I sat and listened for a time to the young pastor as he answered questions about the ministry. And then something caught my attention. I saw a bulletin board, completely covered with artwork from the children who had come through the shelter. As I stood looking at the pieces, most in a language I did not know, I picked up names of countries. The Spanish word for God. And the tears that had filled my eyes as I watched the two young girls, began to stream down my face. One of the other students, who I have grown close to on this trip, came to stand beside me and look. Unlike my silent tears, her sobs shook her visibly. I put my arm around her shoulder, and we both stood there together and cried. Two privileged white women, their hearts broken by the pain of little children we would never know.

So the thing that I will remember yesterday, and where I saw God? They were the same. As for me? I will never be the same. And for that, I am grateful.