Callings -- Part 1 of 2

“Go and tell no one,” Jesus warned onlookers when he performed unexplainable acts.  Some say it was because “his time had not yet come.” I think it is because he knew people would think they were crazy! It was a long time before I summoned the courage to tell anyone what happened to me.  Was it a vision? A dream?  I don’t know.  I can’t explain it. All I know is that Jesus stood beside my chair moved to put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Now, I want you to consider the priesthood." Even I thought maybe I had slipped over the edge.   

As bizarre as it sounds, I was more concerned about what “now” meant than thinking I had just seen Jesus.  What did he mean “now?” Had I missed something? Had something been going on all along that I hadn’t noticed? And why did he seem almost apologetic, even sympathetic, like “Sorry about this, but here’s the deal. . .” Maybe he knew there were only two possible outcomes.  I would become a priest or I wouldn’t, and either way, the road would be rocky.  I told myself I had imagined it.

There is a reason callings are called “hounds of heaven.” Once they sink their teeth in, they don’t turn loose. I tried to ignore persistent thoughts of going to seminary, hoping if I didn’t feed the notion, it would go away.  It wouldn’t. I devised a plan. I would tell my husband Sam. He would insist I get a grip on reality, and that would be the end of it. My last excuse for resistance fell when Sam offered his full support. I entered the discernment process for the priesthood, began to work with an assigned mentor, and offered myself in service of the Lord.  

Discernment is a tricky word.  It implies decisions that are free to go either way, a non-emotional process intended only to determine the proper course of action and to listen for the will of God. By the time I struggled through the difficult inner work to say “yes,” my heart and soul could do nothing other than be a priest. I began to live into my call. 

The road was long. The way was not easy. It was especially difficult to see how seminary could be an appropriate path when Sam was diagnosed with cancer.  Many times during Sam’s grueling, but successful, treatment for cancer, I was tempted to turn back.  But I couldn’t.  Jesus had told me he wanted me to be a priest.  He apparently forgot to tell the Bishop.    

 

A letter from the bishop arrived, saying he had discerned I should stay in lay ministry. I didn’t see that coming. After years of my own discernment,  I questioned how our mutual prayer around the same subject could yield such different results. The road had taken a disastrous turn. Confusion spiraled deeper into doubt until I sank into a dark place where I wondered, “If I was wrong about my call to ordained ministry, what else have I been wrong about?”  I didn’t see that coming either.

I agonized, "Perhaps all is delusion. Maybe even the entire concept of God is no more than my overly active imagination." I was angry--angry at God--if there even was a God. I fell into a full-fledged crisis of faith.  The foundation had shifted. I felt as if my soul had been pushed from a 30-story building to shatter on the pavement below. I couldn’t function.  I couldn’t focus.  I couldn’t continue living my daily life.  All I could do was cry. 

In hopes the sisters could help me pick up the pieces and perhaps help me find a definitive answer to the question, “Am I supposed to be a priest?,” I presented myself on the doorstep of Sacred Heart Benedictine Monastery. The good sisters welcomed me. They didn’t seem at all rattled by my pitiful condition.  I guess they had seen it all before.

I always thought the worst day of my life would be if I lost one of my children.  It is true that when my daughter Tara died, the pain losing her was almost unbearable. But, when I recall the darkest, most desperate moment of my life, it wasn’t the day I lost Tara, it was the day I lost God.  

 . . .to be continued


Reflections:
Psalm 22:l  "My God, my God.  Why have you forsaken me?"


Mark 9:24 "Lord, I believe. Help me in my unbelief."


"Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother."~Kahlil Gibran


"Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith."~Paul Tillich


--What have been the greatest challenges in my spiritual journey?  What story would I tell?
--Do I believe that doubt is "one element of faith?" Why? Why not?