Becoming who you never meant to be

Have you ever realized you’ve become something you never wanted to be?

Growing up, I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I knew I was not going to be a teacher because school, while I didn’t hate it, already seemed to be taking an entire lifetime. Why would I go back when it was finally over? I wanted to help people. That was always the answer. I loved kids and I loved having fun with kids so I tried to make a career of those things and ended up with social work. Helping kids. Excellent.

Fast forward through a story for another day, I realized social work was not for me. Everything I did screamed kindergarten teacher. For example, my freshman year of college I made monthly, personalized door decor for the girls on my dorm floor. Not because I was the RA, just because I wanted to. I nannied for a few families and created the most epic summers for them. And one day I just felt God tell me, “you were never meant to be a social worker. I know you didn’t ask to be a teacher, but you are one.” He was clear and I listened. Ok, I’m a teacher. I changed my major and even applied for a new program that offered extended student teaching. Instead of the typical 9 week placement, I was in a select group of girls who student taught for our entire senior year. I was assigned to 2 classrooms that I rotated each quarter so I got to learn from multiple teachers and learn to operate in varying environments under different sets of expectations. I got to work with twice as many students and gain experience with different ages. And I had a team of girls around me, learning from and alongside them as well, as we shared and tackled each other’s challenges together. We took classes and wrote papers and read the textbooks but anyone who’s ever been through a college program knows, you don’t learn in the classroom. You learn by doing.

Even into my first few years of having my own classroom and my own students, I was still learning as I went. Figuring out what worked and what worked better. How to love my students and grow them as people while also inputting the academic knowledge they’d need as a foundation for their futures. I found teaching blogs then created my own. I started incorporating new methods and challenging old systems that didn’t seem to work anymore. Why couldn’t kids earn their green smiles back after they’d made a mistake and lost it? I don’t know. Because that’s how it had always been done. That’s how I learned it and I didn’t ask questions.

Until I did. And when I began to dig in, I found new systems that worked even better. When I couldn’t find a solution, I’d create one myself because I couldn’t settle for not offering the best that was possible to these kids. MY kids. I dove headfirst into teaching because I felt the call in my soul. I knew it was what I was meant to do and I loved it with everything in me. The hard days, the painful moments, the mistakes I made...I loved it all because these were the people God had entrusted to me. They were His. I just got the honor of loving them.

All the while, I was loving Jesus. In elementary school (when I was wondering if I’d really see graduation before I was a senior citizen), I was inviting my friends for sleepovers so they could come to youth group or lock-ins with me. In junior and high school, I was wearing my Christian t-shirts to school and spending my free time listening to the Newsboys, planning our next youth group trip. In college, even while I was immersed in the student teaching intensive program, I was planting and launching a new church on campus. I was inviting people in my classes - and those I didn’t even know - to come to church services and events and small groups with me. When I had my own classroom and had become the teacher I never intended to be, I was once again launching a new church. Then serving it, supporting it and inviting everyone I knew to come with me again.

In 2017 I was asked to come on staff with that church, to be the pastor for a new campus we were launching. My quick “NO” could not have come sooner. I love Jesus and I’ve never hidden it but the word pastor had so much weight, I knew I was not going to be a pastor. I wanted to love God and serve people. That was always the answer. So I convinced my pastors to create a career out of those things and ended up with campus director. Loving Jesus and helping people. Excellent.

I built a team, dug back a decade to my past church planting experiences and planned our new campus. We patched walls, redid bathrooms and painted til we couldn’t move our arms. We laid carpet and did carpentry work and purchased everything you’d need to host people in an old, empty building. We created lists and invited the city and prayed over every detail until our brains almost lost all functioning. With the most amazing group of volunteers, we launched Mosaic Metro on Easter of 2018. We set up every Sunday morning, held service for literally anyone who wanted to join us, then tore it all down every Sunday afternoon. Come what may, be it power outages, flooded closets or visits from the fire department. Week in and week out. New faces and old. And one day I felt God tell me, “You were never meant to be a campus director. I know you didn’t ask to be a pastor, but you are one.” He was clear and I listened. Ok, I’m a pastor. I changed my heart and He changed me.

As things often do in a transient city, unexpected things happen and staff move away and changes were made at Mosaic. While I was still mainly the campus director, I took on more responsibility at both campuses. I increased my hours and went full time. Now, instead of one group of people, I was responsible for two groups of people that really represented one large community. I got to learn from multiple pastors on my staff and learn to lead in varying roles under different sets of expectations. I got to work with twice as many people and gain experience with different stages of life. And I had a team of people around me, learning from and alongside them as well, as we shared and tackled each other’s challenges together. I was on a staff that grew me up and discipled me and poured into me and loved me and challenged me while supporting what God was doing within me.

Personally, even into my first few years of running a campus and having my own people to care for, I was still learning as I went. Not just in the job but as a person, as a leader, as a Christian. That was the hardest one - taking a look at the God I thought I’d always known, the faith foundations I’d built my beliefs on, the church as a system that wasn’t as safe or clear as I thought it always had been. So I dug in, figuring out what worked and what worked better. How to love my people and grow them as people while also inputting the faith knowledge they’d need as a foundation for owning their individual relationships with God. I found new voices in podcasts and books then started my own research. I started incorporating new methods and challenging old systems that didn’t seem to work anymore. Why couldn’t the church have people who were gay? I don’t know. Because that’s how it had always been done. That’s how I learned it and I didn’t ask questions.

Until I did. And when I began to dig in, I found new beliefs that worked better than the old rules. When I couldn’t find an answer, I taught myself to be comfortable with not having one. Because providing a safe space was more important than the system and I couldn’t settle for not offering the best that was possible to these people. MY people. I dove headfirst into leading in whatever capacity the job required of me each day because I felt the call in my soul. I knew it was what I was meant to do and I loved it with everything in me. The hard days, the painful moments, the mistakes I made...I loved it all because these were the people God had entrusted to me. They were His. I just got the honor of loving them.

Then it was time to make it official. Along with a few other staff members, I started a pastoral track through a sister church. We had zoom classes and enormous textbooks and wrote papers and had discussions around everything from our own personal theologies to how to effectively run a funeral to the history of the church. But then a pandemic happened and they tragically lost a staff member and life got in the way, as it does. We put our program on pause indefinitely. In the meantime, I kept pastoring. I counseled couples and listened to heartbreak. I walked my community through loneliness in isolation and prayed for them over Zoom calls, FaceTimes and MarcoPolo. I carried out funerals and officiated weddings. I led small groups to foster connection and did devotions on social media for anyone who needed some encouragement. I navigated leading through racial injustice, mental health, homosexuality and other issues I had always had the privilege of turning a blind eye to. I preached messages some Sunday mornings and helped write content for others. I listened over coffee and saw tears fall behind masks as people wrestled through thoughts and emotions and real life issues that the pandemic had forced them to face. I did my best to guide people who didn’t want to be lost but all of a sudden were and questioned everything they’d ever believed. I fought for the big-C church while feeling the heartbreak of the darkness present in it. I helped some people. I’m not sure about others. But I poured myself out fully every time, asking God to be the voice while I was the mouthpiece. The classes and papers and textbooks stopped but my own reading and research and learning grew. As anyone who’s ever been through an education program knows, you don’t learn in the classroom. You learn by doing.

I never wanted to be a teacher. But then I was and everything in me knew it’s what I was meant to do in those years. I loved it and I was good at it and I truly believe I made a difference in the lives of the kids I was given.

I never wanted to be a pastor. But then I was - and I am - and everything in me knows it’s what I’m meant to do now. I love it, I can finally say without hesitation that I’m good at it and I truly believe God is using me to make a difference in the lives of the people He’s entrusted to me.

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”
Romans 10:14-15

On Sunday, I will be ordained as a pastor and it will be “official.” While I am excited and it is a significant deal and still does carry a lot of weight, this isn’t the beginning. It has already happened. God has already called me. I have already answered. We are already in this ministry together and while the formality is nice, my true validation is from Him and I’ve already got it.

If you want to celebrate ceremonially with me, you’re more than welcome to join us online at 7pm Eastern for, as my girls are calling it, my coronation day.

To sum it up, I am grateful.

For Sunday. For my staff. For my church. For the opportunity.
For the glass ceilings that will break.
For my daughters to see what’s possible in their own lives.
For my daughters to see what it looks like to answer God’s call.
For the women I can pull up behind me.
For the work God has been - and will continue doing - in and through my life.
For the people He has already entrusted to me.
For the pastoring He has already allowed me to do.