On the last leg of the journey . . .

117 days. That's all that's left on my life here at Candler . . . before I graduate on May 9. . . before I turn the tassel . . . walk the stage . . . and into a different life . . . as somebody's preacher/teacher and hopefully pastor. As a theological scholar. Today marks my last semester here at Candler. When I started on this journey three years ago, the end seemed a lifetime away. Now that I'm in the home stretch, it seems as though the end has come quickly. But it hasn't been without the heart- and headaches and uncomfortableness that accompanies any body in transition and metamorphosis. The growing pains have been great. The temper tantrums have been many. And God has been relentless in God's quest for me. Yes, this is what this journey has been about . . . a metamorphosis. I can clearly see I'm not the same young woman who entered Candler unsure, doubtful of my intellect in this setting . . . at this age. I'm not the same woman who came in without clarity of her identity . . . her skill . . . .her purpose. I'm not the same woman who fought against God's plan and put my hands over my ears trying to drown out the sound of the voice that continues to call me toward some new adventure I didn't seem equipped to take. . . or even wanted to take.

I admit there is some anxiety about what is in the unknown, but there is also peace these days that it will come together. I used to fret over how I would remember all the stuff that has been dumped into my head over these last three years. I used to fret over whether I would be able to adequately explain the Trinity or engage in conversations with my parishioners about why evil exists and where did it originate from. I used to beat up myself for not paying more attention in Old and New Testament and doing all the required readings and often cried over whether I would be able to adequately lead and care tenderly for the souls that will be in my care.

But now, what I'm beginning to learn is that what I need will come back to my remembrance at the right time and all that I don't know, I can simply look it up. Candler has taught me how to research. All that I didn't read, I can finish reading. The answers to certain questions are no longer elusive to me nor are the questions themselves a frustration. While I would love for things to happen in my time and the way I want, I know that will not be case. Change has been in the air for many years now and it will continue to be whether I like it or not. But what I do know is it will come together. . . that even as God led me here, God will lead me from here . . . even through the darkness of the unknown.

In an interview with Holly Robinson Pete on The Talk, Oprah Winfrey shared how she had read in a Vaniety Fair article Michael Jackson's continual quest to recreate "Thriller", a feat that he was never able to do. Oprah shared that in the moment she read that, she realized she too was afraid to move forward following her decision to end the show after 25 years. She too struggled with how she would create another Oprah Winfrey Show . . . how she could recreate these moments of her past. "Then I thought, I don't want to go the rest of my life saying Oh, I wish it was the Oprah Winfrey Show," she said, "cause it won't be. I have to let that time be. Now let's move on to this moment. Let's not try to hold onto that moment."

When I came to seminary, I began to shed my identity of journalist. Like Oprah, I toiled over how I would be able to recreate the success I had as a writer and editor and expert in my field. And like Oprah, over these last few years, I've begun to learn that those moments will never be again. I must create new moments. I must be willing as Jay-Z said, to "climb to the next mountain." Afterall that is what re-inventing one's self is all about. It's about answering the call of God to move when God says move. It's about having the courage to become who I really am.

For some time now, the Divine has been saying that I'm one of the chosen as God's mouthpieces. For some time now, God has been preparing me to become a greater self than the self that previously existed. And today, I choose to no longer fight it.

Taking a break . . . kinda

So today officially ends my Spring Break! And before you ask the same question that everybody asks, "How was your break?", let me quickly clarify something -- it wasn't really a break, not in the real sense of the word or at least not what I envisioned. I didn't go anywhere special, do anything special or even dream about doing anything special. I kind of feel like I didn't have an option to do any of that. I mean how can one plan when there's a mid-term exam to finish (which I just finished up at 11:20 p.m. I had 90 minutes to take it.), and papers to write, a debate to prepare for and assignments to read -- some of which require multiple readings in order to understand it. I haven't even started on those yet. But nonetheless, you can probably understand my disappointment. A Spring Break just doesn't seem like such a break if you can't take a break from the work you were hoping to break away from.

I was actually feeling that way about an hour ago. And in the midst of all of my complaining I didn't realize that maybe this time actually did afford me a break from the norm. Again, it wasn't like I would have envisioned. But a call from a friend a few moments ago put my week into perspective. My classmate was sharing details about her quiet retreat experience. Candler made it possible for a few students to get away on a silent prayer retreat. (Of course you know that I wasn't doing that!) Now my classmate didn't actually follow all the rules. She had her DVD's and computer in tow -- distractions which weren't really encouraged on the retreat -- after all it was meant to be a time of prayer and reflection. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to take my things," she said. "I didn't even know we weren't supposed to talk, but I had my own room, so I could sit up in my bed and watch movies and paint my toes."

She said it was great! Just the break from her hectic schedule was enough to rejuvenate her.
I thought about that. This time off hadn't been all bad. I had somewhat of a quiet prayer retreat of my own. This past week, I slept past 5:15 a.m. sometimes to almost 10 a.m., didn't leave the house if I didn't want to, although I had dinner out Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday -- I was invited to a birthday party at this swanky chic restaurant that's become my new favorite place -- http://www.twourbanlicks.com/ and on Thursday I had a girlfriend's brunch at my other favorite spot, The Flying Biscuit Cafe.

You know, it's funny how the simple things bring joy and a measure of freedom. And it's funny how easy it is for us to overlook these moments as just another day, instead of an opportunity to take a breath and enjoy the scenery, enjoy the time. Spending those few hours with friends was just what I needed. Having that time alone during the day was just what I needed. For a moment I was reminded of aspects of my life before the demands of professors and classwork. I was reminded of the times when I just enjoyed being.

And it was a wonderful memory. But more than that, for a few hours during my so-called Spring Break, it was my reality. And I thank God for that!

Back in the news

My blog made the Candler Admissions page! Check me out:

http://candleradmissions.blogspot.com/

God in the details . . .

A funny thing -- funny ironic thing -- happened in Old Testament II class today. I think I got a glimpse of the Holy Spirit hanging out in there. Yes, I said it, the Holy Spirit. This class may turn out not to be so bad after all. The fact that the professor shared tidbits of his faith foundation (giving indication that he believes in God) and we started the class with prayer tells me there is hope for Jesus to show up in class this time. I know for some it may even sound strange that I would write something like this. I mean, I'm in seminary. It would stand to reason that the Holy Ghost would be in every nook and cranny of this place, practically hanging from the ceilings ready to pounce. But sadly, that isn't the case. Like Jesus, the Holy Spirit only comes by invitation. And sometimes I think that even if an invitation were sent out, we might find that the Holy Spirit's address was no longer valid.

It's only the first day -- Introduction Day -- and already I'm thinking . . . hoping . . . praying that this class will actually live out the truism the professor proclaims: that "scripture is he word of life" and that there can't be proper interpretation unless there is empathy and evaluation in dealing with the text. One without the other either lends itself to superficiality or cynicism.

I saw enough of that last semester. And frankly, I wasn't sure I would see too much of anything else. But God always gives us a glimpse of a shining light. This semester his name is Dr. Mark Strawn.

What was I called into?

I struggled earlier this week not so much about whether I was called, but wrestled with what I was called into. And on Monday, I wasn't so sure I could endure this pursuit of my Master's of Divinity degree. Yes, the work, the theological concepts thrown at you and just the transition into this particular graduate program is just that heavy. Or at least it can be, particularly because it is on a much higher level of any graduate program. Here, you're trying to make intellectual sense of one who can not be fully explained within the contexts of the human mind.

I mean, he calls himself, "I am." How do you wrap your brain around that?
You don't!

Of course the thought crossed my mind to maybe leave the program -- but only for a split second. I mean where was I going to go? It's not like I could go back to my old life, lest I lead one of unfulfillment. At the time, I just felt that I had to get the hell up out of here. But like the child running away from home with his little sack thrown behind his back, who only travels as far as the curb in front of his house, I too had no other place to run, save to the curb and stairwells of Candler.

So here I sit, pondering and praying without ceasing for the Lord to bring me through. I'm only about a month in and got three years to do.

But I was reminded last night and today of what it really means to accept this call. First and foremost, it means releasing my will for my life to do a greater work that only God knows I will do. It means availing myself to the journey and what it will reveal. And it is a calling I must submit to daily as I'm subject to waiver back and forth on whether I am willing to go the distance.

Today I am, but there are other days, I'm not so sure. And that's because the burden is so heavy and the responsibility so great. I'm caught in that space as one theologian describes, the confusing nowhere of in-between.

But around Candler they say this is normal.

Sisterhood of the traveling Bible toters

I was glad Saturday finally came. I had been looking forward to it for the past two days. It marked my first sister circle fellowship -- an opportunity to meet some of my other Candler sistahs who have gone through and are going through what I'm about to go through, starting on Tuesday. It was a chance for the new to fellowship with the old and begin friendships that we hope will see us throughout our ministries. And what a beautiful sight to behold -- nine of my black sisters who are on a mission to change the world. I felt honored to be in the circle.

Of course you know women and food go hand-in-hand. That's the way we conversate and relate. And we had some of the best at The Flying Biscuit, this quaint restaurant just outside of "Little Five Points" where lines of patrons waiting to get in are commonplace. Let me tell you, the food is just that good! And the price is right. In fact, it's my new best eatery. (I suggest you order the sweet potato pancakes, although you pretty much can't go wrong with anything on the menu.) And I'll forever remember it as the place where the formation these budding friendships began.

That was really the hope for the meeting. That it would create bonds that would last far beyond our days at seminary. That it would be the formation of that support system that we, especially as black women, need in a ministerial world that can be often racist and sexist and just downright lonely.

Anybody who knows me, know I love my girlfriend fellowships. In Tallahassee, we had girls night and similar to Saturday morning,(although minus the alcohol, or drinkypoo's as my best friend would call them) it was the time when we would let our hair down and talk about the issues of the day, our fears, concerns and successes. And inevitably, the conversation would always go back to a discussion about our faith, lack of it or struggle with it.

And on Saturday the conversation was no different. We giggled, we laughed, shared some of our convictions, educated and encouraged one another and loved on each other. In that space of time, we just were -- not necessarily the sisterhood of traveling Bible toter's, but women. Girlfriends. Sisters.

And it was a beautiful thing!