March 8th, 2011
In The King’s Speech, King George VI struggles, stutters, and stammers his way through speaking of any kind. With the help of a speech coach, Lionel Logue, the king slowly begins to find confidence in his ability to speak without a stammer. In one of the most powerful scenes of the movie, as the king is becoming increasingly irritated in an exchange between the two men, Logue says matter-of-factly, “Why should anyone listen to you?” And the king responds defiantly, “Because I have a voice!”
Much of my story thus far has been about learning to find my unique voice, and then, trust the voice I find. While taking a preaching class during my last semester of seminary, I developed a familiar cadence in my voice. After finishing a sermon preached for my class, my professor said, “You sound like Barack Obama.” I looked at him with a half-grin, ready to say “thank you,” when I realized there was more to what he was saying. Then he said slowly, as if to let each word linger in the air, “I wonder what Allison’s voice sounds like.” His simple comment ushered me into a new understanding of what it means to speak with my voice, to know my voice, and to use my voice.
Similar to the seminary class experience, I recently had opportunity to explore again the call of God on my life and the voice unique to who I am becoming. In January I participated in the Second Annual National Festival of Young Preachers hosted by the Academy of Preachers. In Louisville, Kentucky, 126 young preachers (ranging in age from 14 to 29) gathered for a festival of encouragement, inspiration, affirmation, and ecumenism. The festival was opportunity to speak with my own unique voice and also to hear the many tones, sounds, and volumes of the work and word of God among us as young people called to gospel preaching. From the festival and from my peers, I gained further confidence in the timbre of my own voice and affirmation of the call of God on my life as a young Baptist woman called to preach. It was truly a celebration of voice and calling!
At the festival, we were all different—with different backgrounds, in different places in life, from different parts of the country, growing in different callings, using different voices, but we all had a voice. We were all united in the call to gospel preaching and all united by a God whose diversity was alive among us during the festival.
Wherever we find ourselves today, may we all be open to the ways in which God speaks in and through us as we lend the timbre of our voice to the proclamation of God’s good news.
Allison M. Hicks is associate pastor at First Baptist Church, Middlesboro, Kentucky, and a reserve chaplain in the United States Air Force.
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May 25th, 2010
“What’s your name?” barked the military training officer.
“Hicks.”
With minor irritation in his raspy voice, “Is that how you’re going to say it???”
As if I wasn’t already nervous enough, a look of bewilderment spread over my face as I answered with a hesitation unbecoming of a military officer, “Allison . . . Hicks . . . ” I trailed off.
Now with major irritation in his voice, “Is that how you’re going to say it???”
Long pause, sudden light bulb, and finally, the brain stops misfiring as I offer the correct response, “Sir, Hicks.”
And so began my first military conversation as I reported for officer training.
For a few years now, I have had this unexplainable, often seemingly irrational interest in military chaplaincy. I have never been sure how I came upon this interest; it just became a part of me somewhere along the way. After working past the initial and recurrent internal battles of its feasibility in my own life and ministry, I began training as a chaplain candidate and found myself reporting for officer training. My military training has absolutely been one of the most challenging experiences of my life. I remember the first training week . . . with every loud command to me, came the internal dialogue within me, “Don’t these people know I just want to be a chaplain?! I just want to love people. I’m just here to help.” During the first week of officer training, I kept asking myself over and over, “What are YOU doing here?” The rigors of officer training forced me to engage my calling in a way I never imagined.
This past February, in the church where I serve as associate pastor, my parents pinned my new 1st Lieutenant rank on my shoulders and a chaplain mentor presented me with my chaplain badge. Having completed two summers of chaplain candidate training and having received my chaplain badge months ago, I reported for duty last week to my home base as a new reserve chaplain. After all this time preparing for military chaplaincy, I’m not sure I understood the role of a military chaplain until this past week. As I walked into the hospital room of a young airman, something happened within and around me. A place was made for me in that hospital room because of the military uniform I wore. There was a connection made immediately because of our common bond of service. Even in all of our differences, our lives merged in those moments by the simple, visible connection we found with one another. I didn’t have to find a place, or earn one, I was accepted as a fellow airman and as her chaplain.
Wherever we find ourselves in ministry today, may we be reminded: ministry happens where lives intersect. May we be open to the unique opportunities we stumble upon as we journey. May our lives speak the good news of life redeemed and renewed to all those we encounter.
Allison M. Hicks is associate pastor at First Baptist Church, Middlesboro, Kentucky, and a reserve chaplain in the United States Air Force.
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