Grace and mercy following me

There is something to be said about grace and mercy. I truly give it credit for helping me through my first semester. Cause it really wasn't me! I'm glad to say I ended it -- a week ago -- with two A's and a B- (you know this had to be Old Testament! There was that time I went on that reading strike, remember? Never really did quite recover. When you lose ground here, it's almost impossible to regain your footing. You just pick up from where you are.)

Just four short months ago, I was wondering if I would even make it through. My head was dizzy from trying to remember the two accounts of the creation and flood stories and how they relate to the Ancient Near Eastern accounts, the make up of the Holiness Code, the Sinai and Davidic covenants and which Biblical scholar said what about Joshua and the battle of Jericho and whether the walls of the city really did come tumbling down. The teachings of Martin Luther King, Jr., Ghandi, Walter Wink and his perspective on the Powers and their place within the Domination System fought for space in my brain as I struggled with doubt, battled insecurities about my intellect, my writing ability (if you can believe it) and waivered in my faith.

I sat in classes not knowing what the hell people were saying, barely slept at night and produced papers, almost consistently, at the 11th hour. And even now, I wonder if anything really stuck. Some say it'll make sense by my third year. Let's hope so!

In the midst of all of that, I've attempted to make sense of where my new found ministry -- the homeless and destitute -- will lead me. I question how my experience there will manifest itself in my overall ministry. I wonder if I should already be designing some sort of ministry. And I battle with feelings of angst and disappointment at the current systems which seems to perpetuate what I see rather than offer solid solutions. The encounters prompt me to want to act. Maybe because I've come to realize they could be me. Maybe because I realize they -- at some point in their life -- was someone like me. They just fell on hard times. In seminary we recognize these calls to action as an epiphany of recruitment -- the point at which you feel compelled to respond to a need of humanity. And lately, my sensitivity meter has been so keen that it's had me nearly crying in Publix at the site of deli workers tossing hours old Rotisserie chicken in the trash.

Now that I think about it, maybe that's what part of me being here is all about -- learning how to recognize the voice of the world calling for help and me being prepared to respond. Maybe it's not really all about which stories in the Bible are fables, sages or short stories, a narrative or whether the event happened in the postexilic or exilic period. Maybe all of this is really about the overall ministry experience, a preparation for what is to come. I used to think I knew where God was leading me, now I'm not so sure. But after what I witnessed this semester, I know at least grace and mercy will be on the heels of my tennis shoes.

I'm counting on it to be there when I stand in that pulpit on January 4 in the Bahamas. Cause at this point, only God knows what I'm going to say.

Breezing through the night . . .

People think when you're in school you have time on your hands. You really don't, but I took some time last night to do something out of the ordinary -- at least for me. In the late night hour, around 10:30 p.m. (after I left work) I took off on a motorscooter with one of my seminary friends flying . . . or riding high through the streets of downtown Atlanta and it felt GREAT!!! There I was in the cold of the night making my way, rounding curves down Ponce de Leon when I thought to myself, "I am actually riding on the back of this thing on my way to I have no idea where." For a moment, I thought about the reading assignment I had to complete for my 9:30 a.m. class and the radio interview I needed to listen to. I thought about how this had to be one of the craziest things I've done. And in the next moment, the thoughts vanished. This ride, which was supposed to last 45 minutes turned into a 2 1/2 hour adventure. We stopped by a place to watch the rest of the Cleveland Browns football game and the Portland basketball game. We later drove to Barley's to shoot two games of pool (I'm pissed that I lost!) before jumping back on our bike to ride out again.

It was a freedom I haven't experienced in a while since being here. For just those few hours, I forgot about the responsibilities, the obligations, the late night hour and even the cold breeze of the dark night and just lived. For just a few hours, as James Baldwin suggested in his novel Fire Next Time, I took notice of what everybody else was doing and went in the opposite direction.

And it felt sooooo good!

Obama win means . . .

Here is what I know for sure now that Obama is President:

That today, I ceased to be invisible because when the world looks at Barak and Michelle Obama, they will see me.

That today, I ceased to be irrelevant.

That today, my voice is no longer inaudible.

Just another day in midterm hell . . .

It's October. It's mid-term season. I've had even less sleep than I was getting -- so you know I'm worn down and a little cranky. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning to write a 5-8 page paper for my Unlearning Violence, Learning Non-Violence Class. I had to critique a movie that had elements of violence and write a lesson plan from the movie that I could use with youth. I chose Save the Last Dance. Although I have seen it probably more than 20 times, watching it for critque is different. I found myself falling asleep on it last night, hence the decision to get a few hours of sleep and wake up at 3:30 to get the work done.

And that's what I did. Turned in the paper, via email by 9 a.m. It was due at 9:30 a.m. I didn't make the class, but probably wouldn't have stayed awake through it anyway. I did drive all the way to the campus to hand over the hard copy only to realize it didn't save to my thumb drive.
Thanks to the inventors of email!

My mid-term Old Testament test is behind me and I'm still wondering what were all of those questions and essays were on that exam! Let's just say, I've been praying seriously for God's grace and mercy. Not sure if my explaination of the Holiness Code will hold up. (Hey Lord, it's me down here, don't forget to look out for a sister!)

Now, it's on to paper #2, the 8-10 page literature critical essay. Still got to finish the second book for that one. But that won't be happening tonight. I'm going to sleep.

Such is the life of a seminary student.
Thank goodness mid-terms are almost over.

Ten on Tuesday

1. I've realized something: It's not a good idea to have me or anybody flip the lights in class to watch any documentary of the sort. Why? Cause I'm going to sleep. Never fails these days, lights off = me knocked out. The sleep demon falls on me kinda like it used to in church -- right when the preacher begins to preach and by the time the message is over I'm fully awake. I probably need to have an exorcism!

2. Remember when I said seminary is just a microcosm of the larger world we live in? Well, I just learned how much like the world it is. Can you believe one of my peers popped a brewski during one of his classes and another told me how she would down glasses of Sherry before getting into her theological discussions? Wow! I mean I eat snacks in my class all the time, but I've never thought to bring a Smirnoff to go with them. Hmmmm.

3. I'm off of my reading strike now. For a few weeks there, I just stopped reading. No reason other than I just felt like it! Now this week I'm paying for it. But hey, sometimes you just gotta make a stand.

4. I gave my first speech at Emory last Tuesday and it went extremely well. I almost cried and so did the audience. I even got a possible internship out of it. Seems Harvest UMC in Bradenton is interested in having me intern there this coming summer. I'm praying about it. And in the meantime, I still am hoping to land a spot on this evangelism tour to the Bahamas in January.

5. I ended up getting an "A" on this paper I wrote for Urban Ministries. I didn't think I did that good of an analysis of the book we had to read. But I'm certainly going to take it. Now if I could just land a similar grade on this 8 -10 page critical literary essay due next week.

6. I found my hats!!!!!!! Hallelujah! My hair is a mess and I'm still looking for a hairdresser.

7. I hate I'm missing my homecoming in Charlotte this weekend. Oh well, I guess Morehouse will have to do.

8. Since when did convenience stores sell white tee's, thermal socks and shoes and boots? I remember there was a time you could buy a pair of pantyhose, which was great for the woman who had a run in her stockings on the way to church, but a whole line of shoes is a new phenomenon. And sitting out on display like in a shoe store at that. I went to get gas at the Texaco the other day and noticed this sign on the front door advertising shoes and boots on sale for $19.99. Only in Atlanta. I wonder if this is just in Lithonia.

9. I haven't hit the club scene in a while, but I'm sure dancing it up in chapel these days. I'm performing in the morning and for this dance, I need stamina. Running and steps are part of the routine. Pray for me.

10. Next Tuesday, mid-term exam in Old Testament. What is a suzerainty treaty again?

Pushed to the forefront

I just got one of the biggest compliments Saturday -- a member of the Uhuru Dance Company, here asked me if I would consider joining the dance troupe. Needless to say, I was blown away. I mean, this was my second class and it's not like I was trying to bring attention to myself. I was actually hanging in the back, trying to get back into dancing regularly, be more of an observer than anything. But the invite brought a few things to mind -- that's it's not really neccessary for us to do the work of bringing attention to ourselves or the hard work we do. God, in his own, way, will put us out front and introduce us to the right people at the right time.

That same hanging back I had attempted to do in that dance class was the same thing I have been trying to do at Candler, but to no avail. It seems as though people have been seeking me out to become a participant in this, that or the other. So what I thought would be a year of getting acclimated to being back in school is turning out to be a year of leadership building. I'm now a member of the Sister Circle Coordinating Committee, a member of the Candler Women Coordinating Council, a participant in the chapel's dance ministry, the black student caucus dance ministry and a member of the intercessory prayer team. And this doesn't include the ministry I'm building at M.U.S.T Ministries, the homeless shelter where I minister and council residents every Tuesday. (Whew, that's a lot, particularly when you see it in print!)

My aunt says it's Proverbs 18:16 being fulfilled: "A man's gift makes room for him and will bring him before great men." Maybe. I am speaking at a banquet Tuesday night to members of the committee that gave me my scholarship. I'm told about 100 people -- that I should get to know -- will be there. I am honored that I am among those asked to speak and share the story of my journey to seminary.

Wish me well. They gave me 3-minutes. And anybody who knows me, knows talking for only 3 minutes will definitely be a challenge.

God visited Room 252 today . . .

I just experienced one of the most emotional chapel services today since I've been here. I mean it was one of those services where I just wanted to Shout "JESUS!!!!!" from the top of my lungs and run and jump up and down. The spirit was just that heavy, but I held back. My tears didn't. For a few moments, my eyes were like a running faucet. I just couldn't seem to turn them off. And we weren't even in the chapel today. We were in the lecture hall where I take Old Testament and that was the strange part. I felt God there more than any other time I've been in chapel. (Now, I don't necessarily feel him in Old Testament, but he was hanging out in the room today.)
I felt God through the liturgies, through the confessional prayers recited openly and through the singing -- even those in languages I did not understand, but knew were being shared with the same God I serve.

And the good thing about it was I wasn't the only one feeling what I felt. In talking to my other sisters following the service, they too, expressed their urge to jump and shout and call on the name of Jesus in foreign tongues. They too experienced a deeper, more intimate worship with Jesus today.

I think we all agree we needed it. I know we felt better after it, lighter and less burdened.

I hope that won't be the last of those classroom services! Who knows, next time, I just may break out into a full sprint or at least a shouting dance. Let's hope when I do, I don't scare my Anglo brothers and sisters or worse knock them down and run them over!