To the "Non-Ordained"

To the customer service representative--the waiter/waitress, sales clerk, bartender and barista--who stands behind the granite counter, most of the time with grace, sometimes with grit and listens, holds, and attends carefully to the widowed, to the childless, to the gender confused, to the recipients of DACA, to the homesick student, to the privileged white man, to the homeless who need something warm to drink, to the new parents, to the newly weds, to the almost dying, to the racially marginalized. You don’t know they abide by these labels or identify as such, but slowly they let you in. Slowly they find a safe space in your zone of presence whether that is behind a register, at a clothing rack, pulling shots at an espresso machine or a bar, or wiping off their tables. You provide a daily sanctuary to the hurting and loss, whether that is in a smile or a listening ear. Your service matters because you encounter and are let in on pieces of peoples’ lives that you  might not expect to know so intimately. You put in hours of labor and hard work and it often has little reward. You put joy on people's faces by your latte art and extra customer care. You are told to abide by the standard “the customer is ALWAYS right.” Even when they most certainly are not. You are the heroes of retail, the angels of every day and the ministers who are INTENSELY undervalued.

To the accountant, marketing director, the receptionist, director of finance, landlord, bank teller who crunch numbers and manage social media; who handle our time, our money, our living spaces and resources-- something human beings are so obsessive and possessive about. You grant freedom and you grant space, you think intentionally about how words are presented and how someone’s income may be able to provide or not provide for their needs. You do the hard work of mailing NOTICES and have strict lines you  must follow for the safety, freedom, and fairness of all of your people. You provide structure and boundaries and encourage the rest of us to tap into resiliency and figure things out. You minister in your tough love, your heart for logic and your analytical perspective. Your smile is needed when people walk into your office. You provide hospitality to the marginalized and a place to rejuvenate as people come to your desk to grab a piece of candy--to kick the afternoon slump. Your patience is highly needed in your professions. You patience is highly needed in the lives of your congregation, the people you help.

To the student affairs professional, the campus safety officer, the biology professor, the dining hall worker, the student adviser, the career counselor, the resident director. You see a range of student experiences, student life. You encounter the fresh adults who might be on their own for the VERY first time. Who have never made their own doctor appointment, or filled their own prescription, or who’ve never had to live in close quarters with anyone else. You are required to show up to the students, faculty and staff in ways that no one would expect. You are called at 3 AM to be with a student who just survived a sexual assault, you sit with students in the pain of loss, abuse, tragedy and some of life’s biggest transitions. They watch you closely to see how you react when they try to push your buttons, and when they are arguing with a hall mate, and when someone makes a microaggression. They watch you to see how you will respond. They soak in your actions, your words, your wisdom and share them with their friends and family. They are invited into your life, they come into your home and use your space, your kitchen, your cozy blankets. You see them at their best, and their worst. You see them sober and drunk. You see them when they move in for the first time and when they graduate with a Bachelor’s degree. You grant some of them kindness and grace for the first time EVER. You tell them they have leadership capacities. They ask you questions about politics, about relationships, about how to find references for a job application and ask you to read their resume. You minister in your presence, you minister in your words and actions, and they minister to you.

This is for all the “non-ordained” in this world. May this be a gift to you to feel empowered and called. May you feel like the Spirit is just as much a part of your work as it is those who receive official ordination.

As I experience life beyond seminary, I am noticing in myself the tension of deep gratitude alongside of anger and a bit of sadness. I did some internal digging (#selfawareness #breakingthemoldofaclassicenneagram2) and realized that I am unsure of how much my seminary education actually prepared and equipped me for life’s ministry. I also recalled moments in seminary and in life where I wished that I could receive a call to ministry that wasn’t simply reserved for those in pursuit of an M.Div or ordination. Empowering women in ministry is rare enough but I found myself feeling alienated when individuals would give a charge to women seeking ordained ministry, which was to empower and support them yet I did not feel freedom to accept that charge myself. I did not feel like my degree, my vocational interests were of “chargeable” value. I did not feel like as woman in seminary who was seeking ministry in an alternative route other than pastoral care, like I could feel empowered in my degree or in my life as a woman who loves the Lord and desires to minister outside of being a pastor.

Yet, I was in seminary. Yet, I desired so badly to be told that what I am choosing to do matters. But now I am realizing and claiming for myself the inherent value of my work, and God's presence within the scope and span of my non-ordained ministry.

Yet. I feel an incredible charge to ministry now, as I am outside of the seminary walls getting my hands dirty in the muck, mud, and beauty that is working with human beings, working with college-aged women, and working with the marginalized and high need individuals that walk up to my desk, every day. I am grateful to have worked in customer service for many years and see the high need for caring and faithful lovers of the Lord to love on the people that come into the coffee shops, the stores, the bars, the offices, and the apartment complexes that we all inhabit. There is a high need for ministers of spoken and living word, for ministers of presence and ministers of the listening ear and ministers who celebrate and mourn and see the best and worst parts of people.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do see and value those who train and feel called to be ordained ministers. 

We need you, especially you women. 

But maybe in conversations around seminary and theological communities our conversations about what “type” of vocation is valued, celebrated and given a charge can change. Maybe we can invite those whose passions do not exactly lie in pastoral ministry, but are somewhere on the outskirts. Maybe we can find better ways to empower the non-ordained seminarians, and the non-ordained ministers. Maybe we can find a better system to let non-pastors feel like the work they are choosing to do matters in the Kingdom of God just as much as those seeking ordination. Maybe we need to find a better system to let all people feel as if the work they are choosing to do matters. Maybe we need to find a better system to let all people feel like they matter. Period.

What would this look like?

To all the non-ordained. You matter. Your voice, your presence, your ministry is a gift to the human beings that interact with you. You minister on the battlegrounds of life. 

May the Spirit grant you a special kind of anointing, a specific wisdom and charge that empowers, fuels and restores you in a new and a Kingdom-oriented kind of way.