talking (myself) down from a ledge

Photo: Hugh Kretchmer

When I was a young girl, I remember telling my mom I wanted to be a pastor. She looked at me, perplexed. "But women can't be pastors of churches, Joni," she said. Undaunted, I said, "Oh, no, that's ok, I don't want to be a church pastor.  I want to be a pastor out there."

If someone would have told me two years ago that I was going to go to seminary, to become a pastor of sorts, to respond to a call to the ministry, I would have laughed and told them they were crazy. Nothing was further from my mind than pursuing a call to ministry. To me, that meant being a pastor in a church, trying to hide my imperfect life with a perfect facade.  My version of "full-time ministry" was created entirely on disillusion, disappointment, and fear.

One of my application essays to seminary was "Explain your call to the ministry." It took me aback. My call to the ministry? No, that's not what I was doing. I was just wanting to get my Masters in Divinity so I can be a real Chaplain and help people spiritually as well as emotionally! Call to ministry seems like strong language to use for my goals!


My undergrad is in Human Services Leadership and Management. The irony is not lost on me that my Masters will technically be in Leading and Serving Humans.  As I was praying and considering, I read a book by a Chaplain (that I ordered "by accident" on Amazon) and I realized: this thing I have been doing my whole life? Hearing people's stories, being present when there was crisis, counseling and listening, connecting people to each other and to God? This was the ministry of a Chaplain. There was a name for my perfect career, and I never realized it!

In true Joni form, I immersed myself in Chaplaincy, determined to know everything there is to know about it in 4.3 days. What I discovered was that Chaplains should be Board Certified. In order to be a BCC (Board Certified Chaplain), you must complete a Masters. (No problem, I thought, I was going to do that anyway). In Divinity. (oh dear, now THATS a problem). For those of you who don't know, an MDiv is ONLY available through a seminary. Seminary was not in my master plan.

The truth is, I'm terrified by the term "call to the ministry." I've been working for the past 5 years to become authentically ME, and to lose that would be catastrophic. Not only that, I was afraid of what people would think - mostly that they would laugh and say I'm not good enough. Because I'm not.


Maryanne Williamson's words ring in my head. She writes:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be [called to the ministry]?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Connecting people with each other and with a loving God who created them for relationship is what I was made for. It's all over my writing, it's all over my relationships - it's who I am.

Last week, a local pastor (who shall remain nameless) posted a horrifying phrase on his church sign (again). It reeked of judgment and intolerance. It made me angry. This pastor has continually shown an ugly, judgmental spirit to the people in our community. It angers me, but more than that it hurts me. That he is misrepresenting Christ and the God I love - to our community. That when some people hear "Christian", his face is what pops into their head. That disturbs me. He is reinforcing the stereotype that we Christians are all hypocritical, intolerant, judgmental, graceless creatures. It makes me sad. And it made me consider whether I truly wanted to join his ranks in pastoral care.

Then, today, I received an email from a Chaplain I admire deeply in the short time I've known him. He was encouraging when I talked to him about my call, hesitatingly at first then more boldly as it grew on me. I donated to his ministry because I believe in him. He encouraged my passion, and asked me to speak to a group of Chaplains about Christian counseling. I loved it. He wanted me to continue teaching courses, and I was thrilled with the partnership.Then the email:

Something came up on one of your Facebook posts regarding lent that cause me some concern. I have been thinking about it and have decided to just put [our partnership] on the back burner for now.

Those of you who know me well know that I'm authentically me. I put it all out there. I tell people what I think and who I am, and I invite them into my life. I try to live openly and truly. Which is why I didn't hesitate to post that I'm giving up cursing for Lent to all my facebook friends.

That said, his email stopped me cold. "What am I doing?" I thought. I can't go into the ministry! I can't be a Chaplain or a Pastor! I'm INSANE for even considering this! I'll never have my life together enough to be a Christian leader in public!

Crying, I sat in church, silently berating God for tricking me into this decision. It wasn't too late to back out and put in applications at other grad schools. Clearly, I couldn't do this, I told God. God sat there. He didn't actually say anything. Then I had the words run through my head: "Jesus was kind of a shocking radical, too, you know. He did things all the time that pissed people off." I dug my heels in. I cried some more. Then I listened to the pastor's sermon about Becoming who God meant for you to be. Well, Chaplain isn't it, I informed God.

After the service, I went forward for prayer. A female pastor I respect was on the altar ministry team and I made a beeline for her, but she kept walking all the way to the other side of the sanctuary! So, I just picked the guy on the end. I was crying when I reached him.

"I think I have a call on my life... to ministry... I just... I just don't think I can do this. I don't think I'm good enough to do it. I'm not PERFECT." I wept.
"What kind of ministry?" he asked
"I think I'm - I want to be a Chaplain." I sniffed.
He stared at me. "My wife is a Chaplain," he said.
I stared back.
There aren't that many chaplains in the world, you know. And certainly not many that go to my particular church to that particular service. He shook his head.
"You could have had anyone pray for you, but you came to me. I have a Chaplain for a wife. She makes mistakes and has to apologize. She's not perfect. You'll never be perfect. But never doubt your call."

Point taken, God.

After church, I went home and called the only pastor I have on speed dial - who happens to be a woman: Dawn, at Whosoever Dallas. I unloaded my stuff. I cried about not being good enough, not being perfect. I told her I never WANTED to be "in the ministry." She said, "Joni, everyone is called to ministry. I don't care who you are or what your job is, all of us are called to connect to other people and connect other people to God. All of us."


I know, but - -

I wanted to list my reasons, I wanted to tell her why. (Actually, I DID tell her why I'm not good enough, among the reasons being: curses enough to make it a viable Lenten sacrifice, drinks wine regularly, sometimes yells at my kids, not married in a church, harbors resentment against various people who I deem unjust or intolerant...)

She laughed and said I set the comparison bar too low.

Confused, I asked what she meant.

Well, she said, you're comparing yourself to what you see as the perfect Christian person. But you should be comparing yourself to Jesus, and trying to meet HIS standards, not theirs.

Good point. Thanks again, Dawn for your insight and wisdom. <3
And as for me? Who am I NOT to be called? I am a child of God, after all.