David’s First Accident

We interrupt this journey to ordination for a word from Real Life.

After two-plus years of really safe driving, including thousands of miles all alone in West Virginia last summer, David had his first accident last week.

The bottom line: He’s fine. The other guy (in the huge delivery truck) was absolutely fine. But as you can see, the nearly 12-year-old minivan has had better days.

He was turning right, out of a parking lot, and the left lane was blocked by a truck or something, so he couldn’t see. So he nosed out a little to see if it was clear, and wham, the truck tore the front bumper off before he could get to the brake.

It’s funny, we had just had the van in for its 165,000 mile service, and Chrissy told us the front end suspension was shot…the tires were beginning to go bad because of it…and (gulp) it’d be at least $3200 to redo the suspension. This is on a van that’s maybe worth $2000 at trade-in, if all the stars and planets aligned and the estimator was drunk that day. We were in the midst of discussing what to do about it, because we’d really like to get another year or two out of it for David, when oops. That decision kinda got made for us now. We’re in the process of donating the van, because it’s just not worth it to fix up or to do anything else with it. But it did point up some lessons.

One, David was really calm and handled himself very well. The truck driver didn’t want to exchange insurance information with David and called the police, who came and took everyone’s information; David didn’t get a ticket, but the officer did comment on how calmly he was handling everything. So I’m proud of him for dealing with the ugliness of the whole incident without losing it.

Two, it really did remind us that our treasure isn’t in our cars or in our stuff. I reminded David of what I had told him years ago when he first started driving: accidents where metal gets bent but nobody gets hurt are lessons. Learn them the first time and you’ll be fine. And I think he’ll approach every blind corner a whole lot more carefully now, for the rest of his life, and he’ll be telling his kids about this when he’s teaching them to drive someday.

Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be. (Matthew 6:20-22)

He’s back at college now (stories about that another time), and car-less for the time being. Fortunately his roommate has a car; fortunately or unfortunately, that car’s a standard, and David has yet to learn on a stick. (Maybe Nathan will take him for a lesson.) But life does go on, even without the bumper attached.

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Another Master’s?!?

So the path towards ordination has begun. And with it, the need for a second Master’s degree, the Master of Divinity (M.Div).

In the spring I was accepted at Asbury Theological Seminary, in Wilmore, Kentucky. No, it does not mean we’re moving to Lexington. One of the reasons I chose Asbury is because of its robust online program, which will allow me a lot of flexibility. Unfortunately, the Virginia Annual Conference has some rules that are more restrictive than other conferences: I can earn only a third of my credits from classes that are purely online. Fortunately, Asbury has ways to deal with that too: they have classes known as “intensives,” in which the student does all the reading ahead of time, then comes on campus for one solid week, Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 each day, for all the lectures and classwork and projects and etc., and then the class is over. There are also “hybrid” classes, which are a blend of online work with two to three days of on-campus lecture work. Fortunately, Virginia considers both of those models to count as “on-campus” learning–so for the cost of two to three weeks of vacation a year, I can still make it work.

I did my first intensive, MS 501 Missional Formation: The Church in a Global Era, in late June. We were, literally, the only class on campus that week, so I had the chance to walk around and explore. To call Wilmore a one-stoplight town is to disrespect the second one, but you get the idea of how small a town it is. However, I felt completely at home. The class was fairly small, only about a dozen of us, and initially I felt a little intimidated: there are Real Live Pastors taking the class, ones who are already in service! But I quickly learned I fit right in, and enjoyed getting to know all the other students.

There was even a special chapel service they put on for us Wednesday at noon. One of our classmates sang, and the sermon was on Genesis 12:3–the second or third time I’d heard that message (“…be a blessing to all the nations…”) lately. The closing song even featured the line, “He is calling you,” repeatedly. OK, yes, I get it. I’m supposed to be here.

My other class this term (TH 501 Basic Christian Doctrine) is an online one, and it’ll wrap up next Thursday (when the final paper is due). Then I have a couple of weeks off until the next term starts up, with OT 520 Intro to Old Testament, and CD 501 Vocation of Ministry–itself another opportunity to be attentive to my call, as I go through mentoring back in Virginia. They’re both hybrids, so I’ll be on campus the last week in October. With more students around this time!

It’s a long journey: 27 classes, 91 credits, and will take about six years at my current pace (two in the summer, two in the fall, one in the spring). And I’m sure there will be struggles. But it’s off to a pretty decent start.

I got an A in MS 501…

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Here I Am, Lord. Send Me.

Here I am, Lord / Is it I, Lord? / I have heard you calling in the night / I will go, Lord / Where you lead me / I will hold your people in my heart.

Starting almost a year ago, I’ve been on a path of discernment. I’ve been trying to figure out what God is calling me to in the next chapter of my life, with an eye towards whether I am being called into a path towards ordination in the United Methodist Church. In this blog I’ve talked about discernment, about finding the breadcrumbs here and there and everywhere along the trail, about the times the Holy Spirit pokes me to get my attention, or gives me experiences of affirmation, and even the first steps along the path towards ordination.

This past weekend I took another. Publicly, I have declared myself to be a candidate for ordination as an Elder in the UMC.

If after about 15 months of signals I’m still feeling led in this direction, I think it’s time to make a decision and say, Yep, that’s probably right. In fact, I’ve spent prayer time over the past couple of months reflecting on all the green lights I’ve been seeing, and asking Jesus instead for disconfirming evidence: if this isn’t right, show me now! (And then crickets chirped, and tumbleweeds drifted through…nothing happened.)

In the spring, I was accepted into Asbury Theological Seminary–another piece of doors being opened for me, in fact. Asbury requires four reference letters; one of my four letter-writers told me he was slammed at work and couldn’t get to it for a couple of weeks. But then days later, I got the email saying I had been accepted. I assumed he had found the time and sent it in–but no, come to find out, he hadn’t…Asbury accepted me with only three letters, and apparently, a big enough nudge from the Spirit. I am humbled by that.

My brother Glenn had sage advice, as always: “Go take a class. You’ll know soon enough if you’re supposed to be doing this.” In May I started my first two seminary classes, one online, and one “intensive” in-person class that met at the end of June. I met some wonderful people and had a great experience, including more affirmation…I texted Glenn, “I hate it when you’re right.”

In early July I attended a discernment weekend sponsored by the Virginia Conference. At one point in the weekend we reflected on Matthew 4. We did a lectio divina exercise, in which we read the scripture several times, pausing to listen for what word or phrase God draws to us, or what else we hear. On reading the story of Jesus calling his disciples to go and become fishers of men, what I heard was, “Let’s go fishing.”

On Saturday, I transmitted my Statement of Call to our congregation’s Staff-Parish Relations Committee, which is the first time all this has been public within the church. On Sunday, as the 11am service was wrapping up, Pastor Don called me up front and announced that I had put my name forward…so yeah, it’s a thing now.

I’ve begun to be more public in telling people about this, and almost unanimously, the reaction has been some form of, “Yeah? That doesn’t surprise me. What took you so long?” Why am I always the last to figure things out??

To be perfectly honest I’m a little…nervous? Scared? Intimidated by the prospect of all that’s ahead of me? And I was certainly a little bit of that standing with Don Sunday morning. Oddly enough, the people called “Methodists” have a very methodical process that this will entail. This is a long road ahead: on my current pace, it’ll be about six years to get my M.Div. But I’m also taking steps to make myself available if called sooner: I’ve completed my first interview with the local Alexandria District Committee on Ministry, and they passed me on to the next stage, mentoring with another pastor. In seeking our church’s SPRC recommendation, I put myself in a position to be approved at the charge conference next month, and in line to become a certified candidate this winter…and eligible for assignment as a part-time student pastor thereafter. Yes, while working full-time. Yes, while taking five graduate courses a year.

Pray for me. But all the more, pray for Mary: she’s entering into this wonderfully supportively, but also (like me) with very, very little idea of what we’re getting into. This really is a step in faith for us both. 

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good, and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.  (Jeremiah 29:11)