Leading Others to Ministry, Sharing Our Call, and Honoring the Call of Others

Leading Others to Ministry, Sharing Our Call, and Honoring the Call of Others

St. Augustine Episcopal Church, Illinois

“You anoint my head with oil;

 my cup overflows.

 Surely  goodness and mercy shall follow me

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD

my whole life long.” Psalm 23: 5b-6. NRSV

Recently, I was at a meeting where I was asked to lead a healing service. Usually, I can handle almost all the parts and readings in the service, but I have been having difficulty with my voice after a long illness marked by a deep cough and hoarseness that damaged my vocal cords.

I am in speech therapy. My voice is improving, but it’s still not as strong as I’d like. I knew I had to ask others for help. In the end, I only participated in the short homily and assisted with the laying on of hands and anointing. There were two other deacons and a priest present, and I asked them to help with the anointing.

The service was beautiful, especially as we heard many other voices. After the service, the two deacons and the priest approached me and said they could not express how meaningful the anointing was. One was almost in tears. I was moved by how passionately each person spoke about how being involved in this sacramental rite of laying on hands and unction brought healing to them and to those they prayed for. 

Suddenly, I knew I was being called to do what deacons are supposed to do, namely to lead and then hand ministries over to others. This is a significant part of the deacon’s ministry. We help others become involved in a ministry and then hand it over to them.

 I am not giving up my call, but I am sharing it with others now. It is more than delegation. It sacramentally invites others to participate in a ministry to which they are now called. This is true in outreach and parish life ministries. In fact, it is a principal part of every aspect of ministry. We encourage, mentor, and lead others to become the person God created them to be.

Joanna Seibert https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Sacred Spaces Always Welcome Us Back Even In Our Memories

 Sacred Spaces Welcome Us Back

“The sea is his, and he made.”—Psalm 95:5.

 I am reliving the moment we returned to our sacred space on the Gulf after being away for months.

As I sip my morning tea, a huge welcoming party awaits us. A cool breeze keeps us from overheating. The wind carries the salty scent of the sea. Hundreds of fishing boats leave the pass early in the morning to say hello. A pelican silently flies by our balcony and tips her wings. Another comes so close that it takes our breath away. 

Gulls circle the water in front of us but decide not to stay. Their loud squawk tells us they would only stay if we fed them. The clouds above make funny little faces to make us laugh. The lone blue heron flies by but does not land. He must be visiting new friends down the beach. Dolphins have not arrived, but they may extend the welcome later in the day. I hear the Blue Angels but cannot see them. A sparrow patiently waits on our balcony for any breakfast crumbs.

I think of the men, women, and children in the fishing boats. What will they catch today? They cast their lines deep beneath the surface, sometimes to great depths. Some venture far from land in search of the unknown. The fishermen travel with guides who know where to go because they have been there before. 

It is another metaphor for our spiritual journey, in which we search beneath the surface of our lives to reach a deeper place of memories, dreams, and reflections. We go with spiritual guides who have been there before and know the territory. We share the joy of what we have found within community. We bring back into our bodies the nourishment we had forgotten and share it.

There is so much more in store for us in the deeper waters than what is found by the lone fisherman casting his line from the shore. However, this fisherman meditates while waiting for the infrequent nibbles from the sea. He also has the opportunity to go deeper into his mind. He also shares his poles with young children, teaching them the new art form. Another stands by with a cell phone to make a permanent memory of the event.

God is there, reaching out to us no matter how we search. The finding is always in the searching.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

50 Years of Being Welcomed

50 Years of Being Welcomed

 “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.”—Matthew 10:40-42.

How do we see God working in our lives? I rarely know how God is guiding my life in the present moment, but I always find answers when I look backward.

Fifty years ago, on July 4th, 1976, the bicentennial year marking the 200th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, my husband and I, with two toddlers and an infant, crossed the Mississippi and then the Arkansas River, beginning a new adventure in Little Rock. Since that time, the Fourth of July has always been an important holiday, marking another year of nostalgic memories. Our call was to be on the ground floor of a developing Children’s Hospital. Our careers were demanding. Our support staff was grandparents in Memphis who helped us out at a moment’s notice, along with a live-in young nanny named Judy, who took a leap of faith to come with us from Iowa. They were both very needed.

We also had pediatric residents and nurses who wanted to spend time with well children, who took our children to ball games, swimming, and movies. We had a lot of help! We were welcomed by so many people.

My husband and I had been involved in the church when we were growing up, and when we were married, but when we journeyed to that “foreign” land named Iowa for graduate residencies, there was no time. There was no time here, either, but somehow it was important for our children to experience a religious life as we had before, even though it was no longer important to us.

Well, this is how God works. If you do not want to pay attention to the hound of heaven, God works through your children. We picked St. Mark’s because it was close to our home and we liked their annual antique show. We were drawn in and welcomed by the clergy, Gordon Swope, Charles Chatham, and Truman Welch. Something drew me to a Bible Study, so I met with a small group studying the Sunday lectionary in homes each week. Right away, we were welcomed by Barbara and Hap Hoffman, who became lifelong friends and welcomed us to a Cursillo weekend. Then there was no holding back. We were hooked. We later left with the Hoffmans to help start St. Margaret’s. There, I heard the call to the diaconate. Later, we were welcomed by three other churches where I served: Trinity Cathedral, St. Luke’s North Little Rock, and now back at St. Mark’s. Along the way, I also realized that alcohol was interfering with my life. A therapist sent me to one of her neighbors, who became my first sponsor, taking me to meetings every day for 3 months. In November, I will have been with that welcoming recovery group for 36 years. God keeps inviting us, welcoming us through God’s messengers. And as a sidebar, also saving our lives. There were many more stories and welcomings that Time won’t allow.

We have a God of love, always welcoming, caring, guiding, loving, saving. We think we know the path God chooses, but we don’t have a clue. It is like walking a labyrinth. WE think we came to Little Rock to care for sick children, which we did, but God led us to people here at St. Mark’s to care for our souls. I went to a therapist, not to be sidetracked to AA, but that is what happened.

And here we are back at St. Mark’s, right where we started. We haven’t really moved off the chessboard, but we are such different people because of the people who welcomed us along the way to a life with Christ.

Does this remind you of a universal theme well expressed in poetry by T.S. Eliot in the closing lines of “Little Gidding” part of Four Quartets:

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.”                        Joanna Seibert