It is an ordinary summer day here. Eve is mowing the lawn, and her sister, Audrey, is helping me weed flower beds. Eve is unconvinced about her task. With sunglasses, gloves, and sunscreen donned, she declares, “I can’t do this.” I know she can. She is a healthy, strong ten year old. I know she can push a lawnmower safely. I demonstrate what she is to do and hand off the mower to her. I watch closely from the flower beds as Audrey and I pull weeds. Three stripes in, Eve stops the mower and screeches; “I don’t want to do this.” Now we are closer to her central complaint. She and I discuss how we are part of a family, and we all help out. With resistance still intact and ill-will radiating from her person, she mows the rest of the lawn. We celebrate her success with wild, happy dances in the front yard. She is all smiles, whether due to her success or because she can now shut off the mower, I do not know. I look over the freshly mowed yard and see tufts of grass standing proudly next to its shorn neighbors. I decide we are grass mohawk kind of people and praise Eve for her perseverance.

Sweaty, cranky, and tired, we retire to the swing set over which I have installed a flexible water sprinkler. We turn the water on, swing, laugh, and get soaked. As we cool off, the girls start chanting, “Best day ever. Best day ever.” I am amused by their glee. Both worked hard and neither particularly enjoyed the tasks. However, a hose spraying water over them makes this the best day ever.

I think “best day ever” expresses for the girls how good it feels to contribute to the family. Their work gave them a purpose and their success gave them confidence. And it is delightful to balance the labor with some sheer fun in the sprinkler. A balance of work and play makes most days better.

While the day was an ordinary summer day, my efforts are intentional. I am teaching my girls that working together creates a better community and play has its place in the everyday. Mowing grass and playing in the sprinkler are ordinary events, but the way we view them can make them extraordinary. Bob and Michael Benson say it aptly. In Disciplines for the Inner Life, they write, “So much of my life seems to be devoid of events that can be labeled important. Its content and quality will more likely be determined by my responses to the ordinary.”

Often, summer feels ordinary. Students are on summer break, and not all days are spent on vacation. Our churches have liturgically moved into Ordinary Time, which is devoid of the celebrations of Christmas and Easter and of the concentrated piety of Lent. We live in the common, everyday time. If we are not careful we fall into the summer slump of being bored with our faith. Ordinary time, however, is an opportunity to see the commonplace as the place where Jesus walks, the place where a cup of water means great service. The ordinary is where most of our life is lived. Let us not mistake the ordinary for the not important.

Tammy Abee Blom is an ordained Baptist minister, regular contributor to BWIM’s blog, mother of two amazing daughters, teacher for children’s Sunday School, and lives in Columbia, South Carolina.

The “seasoned” seminary alums encouraged and affirmed each new graduate, speaking from unique perspectives imbued with the wisdom of experience:

•  “Assemble a group of peers in ministry.  Support one another.”
•  “Women are notorious caretakers.  Never stop seeking to move toward the impossible balance.  Take good care of yourself.”
•  “Love the people in the communities you serve. Love them well. Everything else is secondary.”
•  “Set aside time for family and friendships and activities to rejuvenate you. Create time for fun.”

The graduating women were encouraged to move forward with confidence in pursuit of their vocational calling, especially when the authenticity of their calling might fall under suspicion, challenge, or the ridicule of others.  Along with the encouragement never to capitulate under these kinds of stresses, a dear sister offered the solemn challenge: “If you choose not to act on your calling, you hurt me, you hurt your sisters, you hurt all of God’s people who need to experience your unique, God-given gifts.”

With very few exceptions, formations of human communities across time were organized with males at the center of, and in control of the sacred mythologies, the sacred spaces, and the ways that each was interpreted and celebrated. The women have been at best, marginal to, at worst, excluded from the ways the divine in community is understood, celebrated, and remembered.

Central’s president, Molly T.  Marshall, explained that our gathering was not designed to exclude men, but to create a space in which women bless women because in ministry, “men are often blessed in ways that women are not.” Correspondingly, women face particular struggles in ministry that men do not. Creating a space to talk about the influential, meaningful, and essential presence of women in ministry is important as is acknowledging the obstructions and frustrations that we often encounter in our work, simply because we are women. We are not alone in the joys and challenges of being women in leadership. We have a sisterhood. We are blessed.

 Day Lane graduated from Central Seminary in 2002 with a Master of Divinity degree and is currently a Ph.D.  student in the Religious Studies Program of University of Missouri-Kansas City.  She recently participated in a tradition begun by Central’s president, Molly T.  Marshall and the women in ministry student group at Central Seminary. The tradition has expanded in recent years to include alumnae of Central and women trustees of the seminary.

In the fall of 2014 Central Baptist Theological Seminary will welcome 10 women for a Master of Divinity track that will specialize in leadership development for women. In addition to traditional areas such as biblical and theological studies, homiletics and pastoral care, and the practice of ministry, this track will offer specialized coaching in leadership, financial management, and spiritual creativity.

Please contact President Molly T.  Marshall directly at mtmarshall@cbts.edu to recommend a qualified woman you know who is called to ministry. Central wants to build a remarkable cohort of women for this new horizon in theological education. Candidates will receive a full tuition scholarship, a global immersion experience in Myanmar, and personal coaching from women leaders who have pierced the stained glass ceiling.

When I was in elementary school, I slept under a patchwork quilt sewn by my maternal grandmother. One day I was telling my mom how pretty the quilt was, and she said, “Oh honey, that’s a scrap quilt. All the pieces of fabric came from outgrown clothes or old curtains. Every piece in there is a scrap of something it used to be.” I assured her that even if it was made of scraps, I thought it was beautiful.

My friend, a fellow woman in ministry, and I were recently chatting on the phone. I was telling her about my day.  I told her that I had written a blog for BWIM, worked on a Sunday school lesson, and called a friend who had recently had a baby. With laughter I exclaimed, “I am a patchwork minister. I do not have one ministry role that  defines what I do. I do pieces of this and pieces of that, and somehow it works. Ironically, many of my former ministries are evidenced in current ones.”

My first ministry position after seminary involved creating sensory motor worship experiences for preschoolers. I combined my knowledge of Christian education, worship, and recruitment of volunteers to create a weekly worship experience. Today I use all three of those skills teaching first and second graders in Sunday school.

My second ministry position was serving on church staff as minister of education and youth. Not only did I create educational and social opportunities for teenagers, I also learned about developing a network of support for a ministry. I developed the skills for identifying people who are passionate about a ministry and then working together to make that ministry thrive. Today I serve on ministry teams and get to use those skills frequently.

And most recently, I wrote a series of Sunday school lessons for Smyth and Helwys. When I was contacted to write, I was asked to work with the theme of spiritual disciplines, particularly Lectio Divina. I chuckled because when I worked with Tennessee Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, I was given the opportunity to take several classes on spiritual disciplines at Stillpoint in Nashville.  In constructing the Sunday school lessons, I did my best to convey what I have learned along the way, and I pray diligently that my experience connects with the learners.

There are days when I want to be more like a patchwork quilt constructed of new fabric and pieced into an elaborate recognizable pattern and less like a patchwork quilt made of scraps of fabric from other places and times. However, I remember my grandmother’s quilt. I never thought it was less beautiful or less warm than one of the fancier pieced quilts. Today I hope to relax into the many different pieces that have lead to the ministry role I have currently.

Tammy Abee Blom is an ordained Baptist minister, regular contributor to BWIM’s blog, mother of two amazing daughters, teacher for children’s Sunday School, and lives in Columbia, South Carolina.

Every time I have to preach, it never fails; negative thoughts flood my mind.

“Who are you? You’re an impostor! You have no experience. You have nothing to say. You have no authority! You are one-dimensional. Every sermon sounds the same. No one takes you seriously. No one believes you. You’re not smart enough; you’re not talented enough; you’re not called to this. You don’t know what you’re doing. Who are you?”

Last week was no different. Weighed down by the oppressive force of my doubts and insecurities, I finished my sermon later than ever because I was too intimidated to start writing in the first place. So I didn’t finish it until Saturday, leaving me less than 24 hours to review my manuscript.

Sunday happened to be Trinity Sunday. Coincidentally, I had told my husband, Lyle, precisely one year ago, as we were leaving a Trinity Sunday service at First Baptist Church, Austin, “Wow. That was an impressive sermon! I find the Trinity one of the hardest doctrines to try and explain. I would hate to have to preach on it.”

So here I am, one year later, with this sermon I’ve written. I felt like I didn’t give it the time it deserved. I felt like I was going in with a first rough draft. I felt like I didn’t say what I was really trying to say. I felt like it was fragmented and incoherent. I felt like I didn’t really give a thorough explanation of the Trinity or stick to the text enough. I moaned and groaned (yes this is all very self-absorbed), and I dreaded having to deliver my sermon, exposing my incompetence. I complained to Lyle, and called a preacher friend the night before begging for her advice. Finally, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to deliver it; it was simply too late now to make any changes. But oh! How I didn’t want to share what I had written.

So I prayed. GOD. Please. Can this impact just one person? Just one person outside of myself?

 And I went, and I preached. I gave what I had to give. It wasn’t a great sermon, but it was what I had to offer. And then this happened:

One person. One hug. One teary eyed “Thank you” and even a “I’ve been waiting to hear this sermon for years”. One “I’m so relieved; so grateful to have found this place”. All from one person. One person who was spoken to, affirmed, and encouraged.

As a preacher, to strongly impact just one individual, to help one person on their journey, to be included in even a small part of their story, to encourage growth in their faith is more than I could ever hope for. What a wonderful, undeserved gift.

I’m not sure how or why I ended up here, preaching, ministering; on the road towards ordination. I struggle often with whatever this calling is. But God is teaching me an abundance of lessons. I’m learning that I can’t write sermons for everyone, every time. All I can do is stay true to the text, write a thorough exegesis and pray God gives me the best word he has for me. Even if that word only speaks to one person, it is valuable. I am learning to trust that what he gives is not just enough, it is just right.

The great Joel Gregory, my preaching professor who saw something of a preacher in me, once reminded his class, “Don’t try and write a great sermon every week. Just try and write a helpful sermon, and every once in a while, you’ll end up with a great one, too.”

On this particular week, I was honored to have written a helpful sermon. I pray God will continue to help me, guide me and speak to me in this very important task of sermon writing and preaching. To God be the glory. Amen.

Aurelia Pratt is spiritual formation pastor and teaching pastor at Grace Baptist Church, Round Rock, Texas.

I’ll never forget the words scribbled at the end of my divinity school theology paper.  “Your words met a need in my own life.  I look forward to your future ministry.”

Future ministry?  I hadn’t even imagined that far ahead!  It is amazing how a word of encouragement, an affirmation that you are on the right track, can propel you into God’s future with passion and possibility.

Churches need encouragement that God is up to something in our midst.  Pastors need affirmation that they don’t walk this road alone.  We all need friends on the journey who notice the Spirit at work, who sharpen our thinking and stretch our imagination in ministry and in life.

That is the premise on which Hopeful Imagination was born in 2009.  As a staff at First Baptist Church in Wilmington, North Carolina, we felt God calling us to speak a word of hope and encouragement to pastors and to churches who were discouraged or stuck or just seeking a fresh wind for their sails to move into God’s future for their churches  So we decided to invite anyone who wanted to come to join us at our place to listen to stories of what God had been doing at our place.  We had no ‘models for ministry’ to share, only stories of transformation and hope; testimonies to what God can do if we give him room.

We partnered with Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of North Carolina, the Columbia Partnership, and the Center for Congregational Health, and in October 2010, we held the Hopeful Imagination conference–“encouraging traditional churches seeking God’s direction in a changing world.”  If seventy-five to one hundred folks had showed up, we would have been overjoyed.  Nearly 350 people from forty-five churches in five states made their way to Wilmington.  Why?  Because the church is hungry for words of Hope and in need of one another to spark creativity and imagination.

Today, Hopeful Imagination continues as a ministry to local churches and pastors.  Most recently we have added a spiritual formation page to our website, providing a space where folks involved in spiritual formation can find and share ministry ideas, spiritual practices and Christian education resources.  Each week the site is updated with a new idea, article or resource.

Hopeful Imagination is about churches encouraging churches. There are many great things happening in our congregations worthy to be shared and many more that could happen with some fresh ideas and a word of hope.

Baptist women in ministry–individually and collectively–thank you for the encouragement that you are to me and to the body of Christ.  “You have met a need in my own life.  I look forward to your future ministry.”

Grace,

Jayne Davis

Jayne Davis is the minister of spiritual formation at First Baptist Church, Wilmington, North Carolina.

Always, I am surprised when someone speaks rudely. Most of the time, people speak either kindly, or at least neutrally. Rudeness catches me off guard.

Back before everyone had cell phones, I had to drive to visit a parishioner who lived way out in the country. I had only driven on the main road through the area where she lived, so after several turns, I was lost. I started looking for a place to ask for directions and saw a gas station, where several men were gathered around the front door. I assumed they were from the area and would know how to get me back to the main road. As soon as I asked, “How do I get back to 74?” one of the men gave a quick series of directions involving big trees, large rocks, lefts, and rights. Frantically I dug in my purse for a note pad on which to write. He finished his spat of directions and looked blankly at me. Now with notepad in hand, I asked, “I didn’t get all that. Could you tell me again?” He tilted his head and asked, “What do you need a map? I already told you.” I saw the other men were amused by my predicament so I made a hasty exit. Once in the car I could not shake my surprise at what had happened. I had not expected the rude words.

Recently, I was working on a ministry project with someone with whom I had only worked once or twice before. Together, we laid out the plan for the project, and then, I noted a discrepancy and commented, “Why don’t we re-think this part?” With head down, she snapped, “I don’t think so.” I thought that maybe I could clarify my concern, so I made my suggestion again. She looked me in the eye and said, “This is the way I do it.” Her tone and finality were clear.  I thought we were working together, and I was there to offer ideas. I did not know that she had already decided how it was going to be done and that my opinion was unnecessary. I was surprised by her rude words.

I fretted about this encounter for several days. I wondered how I missed the clues that my role was not what was stated.  I wondered what I could have done differently. Then I remembered the sage advice of my field education supervisor at Mercer Medical Center. He told me, “When you enter a hospital room, offer your gifts. If the person refuses, or clearly does not want your gifts, then wrap them back up and take them to the next room.” He taught me that not everyone can receive the gifts you offer, and when rejection is encountered, it is not a reflection of your gifts. Rejection is a reflection of the other person’s inability in this time and place to receive your gifts. I had forgotten his advice and had fretted over my gifts being rejected. Even though I was hurt by the rude words, I was glad to be reminded that my gifts fit in some places and not others, and that is okay.

I imagine rude words will always surprise me, but I hope to remember the words are not reflections of me but reflections of the person who offered them. 

Tammy Abee Blom is an ordained Baptist minister, regular contributor to BWIM’s blog, mother of two amazing daughters, teacher for children’s Sunday School, and lives in Columbia, South Carolina.

Hi Pam,

I wanted to let you know that I was ordained to ministry this past Sunday, April 28, by Tomahawk Baptist Church  in Richmond, Virginia.  It was a most sacred and wonderful experience and I personally wanted to say THANK YOU to BWIM for the incredibly helpful worship and ordination planning resources you provided on your website. I used them and read the book you recommended, Ordination, as I prepared for my ordination council and the service itself.  It was a most incredible experience.

I want to thank you for the support of Baptist Women in Ministry, for without your encouragement (although I doubt you knew it!) I would not have had the courage to pursue my calling into vocational ministry.  Thankfully, I was permitted to serve my seminary internship under the incredible leadership of a most gifted senior pastor, Rev. Mary Richerson Mann, who not only exemplified a model of what a woman preacher can be, but her grace, leadership, and gentle spirit have truly inspired me to be a faith-filled servant of God as I follow my own calling into ministry.  Thank you for the support of BWIM.

As I anticipate graduation this May 2013 from Baptist Theological Seminary in Richmond, I am reminded that I am going into ministry not on my own, but I am sustained by the network of prayers and encouragement from women across the country who have been serving faithfully and providing examples and encouragement to me over these past five years that I have been in school.  All this is to say that I appreciate BWIM and what we as women in ministry stand for, the good works that we do, and the resources and encouragement that we can give to support and sustain one another along the journey.

Thank you for being a part of my formation!

Krista Manuel

Two years ago on May 7, 2011, folks gathered 

One dear friend wrote these words, “You clearly, more than anyone I know, understand popular culture as a vehicle for spiritual truth and understanding, and I know that your instinct for making God relevant will continue to bless many lives throughout your ministry.” When I re-read those words this week, I felt all the emotion within me well up behind my eyes. It is an incredible gift to have another person recognize our deepest passions, and name where they meet the world’s needs – what Buechner, of course, calls ‘vocation.’

My friend and colleague offered the “Charge to the Candidate” on the afternoon of my ordination. His words are one of the moments from that day that are etched, razor-sharp in my memory. He named the beauty of a calling to ministry – the ways that we are privileged to walk alongside people, to help others see the world, themselves, their faith in new ways. He affirmed, as well, my desire to engage culture, and discover what it means to be made in the image of God, through scripture, art, music, film. He also reminded me, and others gathered that day, the loneliness of our vocation – the loneliness of worry, of disappointment, and of feeling isolated in such an “odd and wondrous calling.” But what has seared into my brain is the sequence of verbs he offered as challenge. He affirmed: “What got you to this place are the same things that will take you to the ends of the earth proclaiming the love of God.” The same could be said for any of us – who God created us to be, does not change – it is through who we are, and who we are becoming, that God works; it is in who we already are that we find our calling.  He challenged me to continue to do these things: Cook. Read. Listen. Laugh. Speak. Run.

How incredibly powerful to re-discover these words and feel called all over again, and to remember how deeply known I am.  The same words of calling I heard two years ago I continue to need to hear, to remember that who I am is a beloved child of God, and I am first, and only, called to be God’s child.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of calling, specifically into the office of ordained ministry. I shirk off any understanding of ordination that requires me to be different from, or better than other people. I most certainly know that I am not. And yet, we do recognize ministers as set apart in some way. There’s something tenuous in calling ordinary, broken people “Reverend.”

Barbara Brown Taylor (of course) brings into focus this troubling distinction. She outlines a difference between our ‘vocation’ and our ‘office’: “Our offices are the ‘texts’ of our lives, to use a dramatic term, but the ‘subtext’ is the common vocation to which we are all called at baptism. Whatever our individual offices in the world, our mutual vocation is to serve God through them. … My office, then, is the church. That is where I do what I do, and what I do makes me different from those among whom I serve. But my vocation is to be God’s person in the world, and that makes me the same as those among whom I serve.” As she writes, all of us, in baptism, are ordained to ministry.  Which is what many Protestant churches say – all are ministers of the church of Jesus Christ. Why, then, ministry? Why ordain? She writes this: “The ordained consent to be visible in a way that the baptized do not. They agree to let people look at them as they struggle with their own baptismal vows: to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to resist evil, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to strive for justice and peace among all people.”*

And yet, still. Why ordination? In many ways I echoed Taylor in what I wrote to my ordination committee in my statement. I wasn’t seeking ordination because I had been already called to a specific church or position. Rather, it felt like a kairos thing – at that time in my life, at that place, among those people.  This is what I wrote:

This particular moment in my life is marked by great transition, perhaps even greater than I am able to admit. My days of being defined as a student are quickly coming to a close. These past months I have been in the process of discerning the ‘next steps,’ and it is the first time that I’m not looking at further degree requirements.  I am seeking ordination, and I believe ordination is an important step, because it symbolizes the blessing of a church community for continued ministry of the church through the gifts of individuals. I do not believe that ordination is about me, or any given individual. It is a moment when a church community calls out persons, responding to God’s call to develop particular gifts for ministry, yes; more importantly it signifies the call of God to continue the work of the church.  Ordination is a promise that the work of God through both individuals and churches will continue to operate towards hope and new life.

More and more I feel called to speak on behalf of the church. I see ordination, in concert with my formal theological education, as a choice to take on the mantle of the church and to accept the great honor and responsibility to speak for the church in and to the world—to be a voice of hope and courage in a world that so desperately needs and wants the church to work for justice, peace, and reconciliation.

And I still believe that. I believe that my calling – whether I remain in the church office, or find my way to another ‘office’, as BBT would say, is to speak on behalf of the church and the world, and continually find ways to make both relevant. In essence, to blur the lines between sacred and secular so much that the line ceases to exist.

In the words of Linford Detweiler (Over the Rhine): We’re all broken, and it’s all sacred.

Amen.

Meredith Holladay is associate pastor at First Baptist Church, Lawrence, Kansas. Meredith blogs at Windows Down.

There is something about gathering around the table—when sitting, we are on the same level. We see the eyes and the smiles of friends, and the weight of the daily cares fall away. We can stop our busyness and preparations and enjoy a different rhythm of time. Our senses are engaged as we pass the bowls and smell the meal. Our mouths water in anticipation and laughter fills the space as we talk with one another. Food that is shared always tastes better.

When I think of a feast, the food is central, but it is more than just the eating; it is the act of gathering together, the anticipation of celebrating a day out of the ordinary with friends. Virginia Baptist Women in Ministry’s annual Feast event is a beautiful example of this. On Friday, I attended my third such Feast. Upon arriving at Grace Baptist Church, I was welcomed into the space by friends on VBWIM’s Board. The tables were being set (as “setting the table” was this year’s theme). The perimeter of the room was an art gallery showcasing the work of many hands through photography, needlework, painting, and other arts and crafts. I was struck by the many ways we perceive and share God’s beauty in our world. But even more lovely were the opportunities to connect and reconnect with other women in ministry. Though we are separated geographically and by different ministries, it is always renewing when our paths and stories intersect. We are all bound by our calling and our shared struggles and successes. I was able to talk in person with those I’ve only “known” through Facebook, and even spend more quality time with close friends than our schedules normally allow.

As we gathered around the tables, our hunger was sated by the Word shared through liturgy, song, scripture, and sermons. Judith Bledsoe Bailey, Pam Durso, Betty Pugh Mills, and Mandy England Cole preached messages about the women who had set the table before us so that we could find our places. Through the stories of women, both named and unnamed, we were filled with the important legacy that has been created through their words and acts of service. And we were made aware that we continue to make places for other women at the table, those who will follow us and continue to advance the standing of women in ministry.

I always leave Feast filled . . . with good food, yes, but also with affirmation and support from my sisters in ministry and by the many others who offer their encouragement. It is a time of spiritual renewal, a creative outlet, and an event of unparalleled hospitality where I don’t have to question where I stand, but know that my place has already been lovingly set for me at the table.

Jenny Call is university chaplain at Hollins University, Roanoke, Virginia.

So I drove to Conyers, Georgia, to a Cistercian Monastery, the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. It is located in a quiet, remote area near a lake. And the monks in Conyers dedicate themselves to the worship of God . They live in solitude and silence. I decided it would be a perfect place to spend five or six hours praying alone.

When I arrived at the monastery, I headed to the Abbey church and slipped into one of the wooden pews at the back of the church that are reserved for visitors. This was August, during a lovely heat wave. The building has no air conditioning, so before settling in to pray, I turned on a fan near my pew. And then I began praying–thanking God for the good things of life and for God’s work in and through me. I prayed for my family—my children and my husband, my parents and sisters and nieces and nephews. I prayed for my friends, my students, for women ministers I know. I prayed for Baptist Women in Ministry, for its leaders, for its work and its future. I examined my heart, confessed by sin, prayed for forgiveness. Then I prayed some more. And finally, I was all prayed out. And I looked down at my watch–it had been all of fifteen minutes!

I panicked—how could I possibly spend another five hours at this place. What had I been thinking—going to a place of contemplation and quietness. Should I just give up and go home!?

What you need to know about me is I am a do-er, an organizer, an achiever. All the personality test indicators say that I am scheduled, structured, orderly, planned. I don’t do sitting very well. I don’t do waiting very well. And as much as I appreciate and am so grateful for the monastic tradition within our Christian history and as much as I long to be a contemplative person, I struggle in that area of my spiritual life. I find it very hard to relate to the life choices of monks and nuns, especially those who live isolated lives of silence and contemplation. So I sat in complete panic—in this silent church with only the swooshing sounds of a fan, trying to get comfortable on a hard wooden pew and to stay cool on a hot, hot morning—trying to figure what to do with myself.

Eventually, I did what any self-respecting woman of faith would do—I got up and went to the gift store.  Shopping always helps! Plus I knew that the monks in the gift store would have to talk to me if I bought something! I did buy something, several somethings. I bought a book of prayers and some of the chocolate fudge that the monks make!

After thirty minutes or so I finally worked up the nerve to go back to the Abbey church. I went back to my same pew, sat down with my new book of Catholic prayers and began flipping through and reading some of the prayers. Just a casual reading, thinking more about how these prayers developed and have been used historically by Catholics than thinking about what they actually could teach me.

But when I got to the prayer to the Holy Spirit, I stopped and read and re-read it – over and over again—and one sentence became my prayer that day, I read it out loud. I whispered it to myself. I wrote it in my journal over and over. And it became the prayer of my heart. And I relaxed into that prayer, sitting quietly with it. Breathing it into my spirit. Resting in an awareness that God was there with me—surrounding me, speaking to me.

“Come, Holy Spirit, fill my heart with your holy gifts.”

“Come, Holy Spirit, fill my heart with your holy gifts.”

I breathed those words, sat with them quietly, ran my finger over them on the page, and closed my eyes and rested.

About an hour later the monks began to file into the church, one or two at a time, each taking their place for worship. And I could tell that these men each had their own place, a place to be in that community, a place to stand, a place to worship, a place to pray. They each had their place! Then the noon day service began—soft quiet music, sung in Latin, beautiful sounds of worship.

After ten minutes of singing, a monk stood to read the scripture passage of the morning: 1 Peter 5. In that epistle chapter, the writer offers words of encouragement and advice to the “elders among you” – those serving in the name of Christ as leaders, caregivers, overseers.  In verse 2 of chapter 5, these are the words Peter offered: “Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not because you must but because you are willing, as God wants you to be, not greedy for money but eager to serve, not lording it over those entrusted to you but being examples to the flock.”

“Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care.”

The monks finished their worship and walked quietly out of the church to have lunch together, but I remained, sitting and sweating on my wooden pew, listening to the words that now filled my head and my heart:

“Come, Holy Spirit, fill my heart with your holy gifts.”

“Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care.”

Those words echoed over and over. And I finally began to understand. This day that I sat aside for planning and scheduling was of my own design, my own need for structure. And in the midst of that, God was offering me something more than a well-organized calendar and a strategy for the future. God was offering me assurance and presence.

In that first year with BWIM, I had moments in which I have wondered if this work was indeed what God had called me to do. After all, my training, educational background, and experience is as an academic. I know how to work and live in the academic arena, but this new BWIM role was been about leadership and about caring for and encouraging women ministers. So during that first year, I questioned my new role, wondering if this position was something I had created because of my own needs. I struggled with self-doubt—and frankly, I struggled with embracing myself as a minister leading other ministers, caring for other ministers, supporting and encouraging other ministers.

But there in Conyers, Georgia, God offered me these assurances:

“Come, Holy Spirit, fill my heart with your holy gifts.”

“Be a shepherd of God’s flock that is under your care.”

In the years since that experience, I have pondered these assurances and have embraced the truth that I have gifts—gifts I have never explored, gifts that are developing, gifts that others have recognized and affirmed—holy gifts, given by God. I have also embraced the realization that God has indeed given me flocks to tend over the years. Some of those flocks have been within the church—I have been a shepherd to Sunday School classes and Bible study groups to youth groups to senior adults, but I have also been a shepherd to a good many flocks that are outside the church, flocks that were entrusted to me to love and care for – including my children, my friends, my peers, my students. My present flock is a rather undefined flock, one that is constantly changing and expanding. I have a flock under my care of women who need encouragement, support, guidance—they need me to listen, to offer practical help, to pray with them, to give them words of hope. And every day I am thankful–for words of assurance that came to me on a quiet day in Conyers.

Pam Durso is the executive director of Baptist Women in Ministry, Atlanta, Georgia.