"If you like to talk to tomatoes, if a squash can make you smile..."

When I was in high school, I was introduced to two influential and gifted Biblical teachers: Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber.  These two fruits, along with their supporting cast of various vegetables, have a unique way of bringing the Bible to life.  Their Biblically-sound interpretations of tales of Old Testament woe, such as "Rack, Shack, & Benny" (Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being thrown in the fiery furnace by King Nebuchadnezzar), entertain and educate the masses about the truth of God's promises.  They have very catchy songs, too.  

In case you don't get a chance to watch this cinematic masterpiece, Mr. Nezzar is obsessed with chocolate bunnies.  He wants everyone to eat  and worship chocolate bunnies.  He even owns the factory that makes the bunnies.  Rack, Shack, and Benny are workers who refuse to eat or worship the bunnies because, well, they're bunnies.  God gave some pretty specific instructions on the whole object of worship thing.  So, Mr. Nezzar throws them in the oven.  Vegetables and ovens don't mix too well.  Yet, despite the heat of the furnace, the men are unharmed, and an angel even comes to hang out with them in the oven.  It's a great story.  

My favorite work by Tomato and Cucumber is "Josh and the Big Wall".  The actual story is found in Joshua 6 in the Old Testament.  In Joshua 6, the Lord speaks to Joshua through a messenger and tells him that he will deliver Jericho into the hands of the Israelites.  Jericho is a fortified city.  There are high walls with secure gates.  No one is being let into the city, and no one is allowed to leave.  In the Oscar-worthy performance of "Josh and the Big Wall", Jericho is surrounded by walls and guarded by French-accented peas wearing Roman Centurion helmets armed with grape slushies.  It's as amazing as it sounds.  Anyway, the Lord tells Joshua that he is to take the army of Israel and march around the city walls once a day for six days.  No words, no threats, no demands; they are simply to walk.  On the seventh day, they are to walk around the city seven times while the priests blow their horns.  After the seventh lap, they are to stop and shout.  This, the Lord tells Joshua, is when the walls of the city will fall down and Jericho will be theirs.  

I think about how the Israelites would have reacted to this proclamation.  On the one hand, they had been wandering in the desert for 40 years, being fed daily by manna, with quail on Saturdays.  They were the direct descendants of the Israelites who passed through the Red Sea on dry ground, and watched the Egyptian army drown in that exact location only moments later.  They were told the stories of rocks flowing with water and bushes spontaneously erupting into flames.  I mean, God had already done some pretty incredibly amazing things for them.  What's one more?  Then, there is the practical, more pragmatic side of me that thinks about how outrageous it all sounds.  Walk.  Walk around a city.  Do it once a day for six days, like it's penicillin.  On the seventh day, walk seven times, but throw in some horns.  Loud horns.  When you are done, give your best Vikings touchdown shout.  A giant, fortified wall will crumble at your feet.  I'm sorry...what?

"Josh and the Big Wall" features the, in my opinion, best song in the entire Veggie Tales catalog: "Keep Walking".  It's been running through my head the entire time I have been typing, and I am just smiling.  Such a great song.  Remember, it is being sung by two French-accented peas wearing Roman Centurion helmets.  The peas' names are Philippe and Jean Claude.

"What are you doing?
We are going to knock your wall down
By walking around in circles?  Yes
Oh, that's a great idea, you go ahead and keep walking

Keep walking, but you won't knock down our wall
Keep walking, but she isn't going to fall!
It's plain to see that your brains are very small
To think walking, will be knocking down our wall"

The Old Testament is really long.  There are parts of it that are really dry (I'm looking at you, Numbers...).  But my favorite thing about the Old Testament are the stories of when God tells people what he is going to do, and then he does it in the most incredible way.  Even when the person receiving this amazing news of what God is going to do doesn't believe him or understand him (I'm looking at you, the entire Nation of Israel...), God still shows up and proves, once again, that he is incredible on so many levels.

Nearly 25 years ago, God gave me a calling.  I was sixteen years into my career as a pastor's kid (PK), and all I wanted was to walk into a church and be anonymous.  I was a good kid, a really good kid.  I got straight A's, I was very involved in the cross country and track teams, I brought my teammates to youth group with me so there would be more girls my age, I even started the recycling program at our high school.  I didn't really get into much trouble.  Sure, I t-p'd my share of houses, but we never got caught.  Remember, we were the cross country team.  No one could catch us.  Yet, despite my valiant efforts at being unimpeachable, I still felt the glare of the fishbowl.  My words, my actions, my behavior; all of it was being watched.  Which PK personality would I fall in to?  Would I be the rebellious hellion or the perfect one? (Anyone care to hazard a guess which camp I fell into?)  At 16 years old, God gave me a call to ministry.  It had to be the most ironic call possible.  A PK who just wants to be an anonymous church member, who can trace significant moments of pain, loneliness, and angst directly to the very institution where I am now being called to minister?  Not to mention the fact that I am female, and Baptists in the 90s weren't too keen on females being in ministry.  I wrestled with this call.  I felt it and considered it, but I wrestled.  In the end, I decided to pursue education in the public schools.  I've always been passionate about education.  The schools would be my mission field.

Fast forward to June, 2019.  I had been teaching in middle school for 16 years.  I was a mom to two wonderfully chaotic children, who, at the time, were almost 2 and almost 4.  I was married to a man I deeply loved, but who was fighting his own heavy battles.  Something had to give.  I felt like I was being led away from the school I had taught in for 15 years.  I went on something like 7 interviews.  Nothing.  Not even a call to let me know they were heading in another direction.  Crickets.  Two days before the end of the school year, I go on an interview at an elementary school in a different district.  Less than 24 hours later, I get a job offer.  As I hung up the phone after requesting 24 hours to speak with my husband before making a decision, I audibly heard the voice of God.  I was sitting in Room 218, my classroom "home", at my desk, looking out the window.  I head the voice of God audibly say to me, "How much do you trust me?"  Even now, I have chills.  

Those of you who have followed my journey know how the story continues.  Approximately 10 months later, I was on a ladder in my kitchen.  I was on a Leave of Absence from my job after the traumatic sudden death of my husband almost six months before.  I was a 38-year-old widow with a 2- and 4-year-old at home, and the entire world was shut down due to a pandemic.  I was doing the only thing one could do at such a time: I was washing my kitchen walls.  I was up on a ladder, scrub sponge in hand, bucket of Lysol on the ladder, and I was scrubbing walls.  While I scrubbed walls, I had a one-on-one with God.  I talked, I cried, I yelled, I scrubbed in silence.  Perched on my ladder, scrubbing the entryway between the kitchen and the dining room, I heard the voice of God, again.  He said to me, "This story is going to become your ministry."  Excuse me?  My ministry?  We put that call to bed years ago.  PK?  Widow?  Solo mom?  Broken woman hoping to remain anonymous?  Any of these ring a bell, God?  Ministry?  You have got to be kidding me.

See, here's the thing with callings from God: he isn't kidding.  While I continued my work of grief and processing my new life, ministry was always in the back of my mind.  But God, I am a solo parent.  I am very literally my children's only source of financial and parental support.  I can't go into ministry.  I would lose my house.  Look God, I hear you.  You are renewing that call you gave me all those years ago.  But I'm still female.  I'm still a widow.  I'm still untrained.  And you and I both know, God, that I am not going to jump into something without the proper training.  That's not how you made me.  Ok, fine.  I looked into seminary.  It's really expensive, God.  And it takes a lot of time.  Where am I going to get this time?  Where am I going to get the money?  You do remember that ministry is not exactly known for its bountiful compensation packages, right?  I can't just quit my job and go to seminary.  These children you blessed me with, God, they kind of expect to eat a few times a day.  I can't teach full-time and go to school.  Yes, I did it a few times when I was in my 20s, but I didn't have children.  I could sleep all day Saturday if I wanted to.  These wonderful children, God, they don't let me sleep.  Yes, you are the God of miracles, but, this is just not the right time.  Like, if I had to pick the most inopportune time for a renewal of this call...this would pretty much be it.  Seriously, God?  

For over two years, God and I had this ongoing conversation.  I accepted that God has called me to ministry.  However, accepting what God is calling you to, and seeing how he is leading you there are two very different things.  I could not see a way for me to transition into full-time ministry.  My right here, right now call and responsibility was to my children, and helping them process and heal from their grief and trauma, as well as my own.  God, if you are calling me into ministry, you are going to need to pull out one of those "Josh and the Big Wall" type of moments.  I'll keep walking, but you're going to have to knock down this wall.

When S and I first started dating, we got on the topic of ministry, and I casually mentioned that I have felt God's call to ministry.  It was obviously not the right time, I told him, but I have felt it.  Maybe I'm meant to do short-term missions work.  I can do that during my summers, once the kids get older.  Once again, ministry moves to the back of my brain.  There's plenty there already to keep me occupied.  It isn't like I am working full-time, during an ongoing pandemic, raising two small children by myself, and attempting to date, again.

Fast forward to February, 2022. Our pastor was giving a sermon series on idols.  It was a really good series.  You can find it here.  The final week of the series was on the idol of safety.  As humans, we tend to gravitate toward the "safe" route.  We make decisions based on the "safety" of that decision.  For example, being called to do something for the Lord, but we shy away because we don't want to sacrifice our security and safety.  Hmmm...ouch.  Sitting in that service, being convicted more and more with every passing minute, I saw my own idol of safety.  My career is safe.  I am a tenured teacher with nearly 20 years of experience.  I know where my next paycheck is coming.  I know what I am going to do next year, and the year after that.  It allows me to provide for my family, stay in our house, and take care of our needs.  It's safe.  Yet, God doesn't call us to be safe, he calls us to have faith and through that faith, be bold.  Ouch.  Jeepers God, it's like you stuck the knife in my heart and now you're twisting it.  At the end of the sermon, while S and I were waiting for the crowd to exit, I turned to him and the words flew out of my mouth: "What if I went half-time at work next year and started seminary?"  What. Did. I. Just. Say?????  To top it off, my fiance looks at me and says, "Let's keep talking about it, but I think you need to be bold."  Was not expecting that one.

S and I kept talking about it.  We talked about it a lot.  Do I go half time, or should I quit my job altogether?  It was foolish to quit altogether.  We needed the income, and I'm only doing seminary part-time.  I can teach in the morning and do my school work before the kids get home from school.  Yes, this was the plan that made sense.  I had already done the sudden two-income to one-income thing, and it wasn't fun.  Let's do at least a year of one-and-a-half incomes, see how this seminary thing shakes out, and then evaluate.  We were being so adult. 

At the end of March, driving in S's car on the way back to his house after church, S threw me a curveball.  He told me that he just really felt like I needed to quit my job.  I needed to be bold, quit my job, and start seminary.  It makes no logical sense, he said, but I think we need to do it.  We need to act in faith and just do it.  Funny, I said, I had started to feel the same way.  After the three years my little family had lived through, with a new marriage, and moving to a new area with new schools, I had been really feeling, for the first time in my entire life, like I needed to be home.  I needed to be mom.  I needed to be wife.  Not mom and teacher and wife and and and...  No, my family is going to need me to be more singularly focused.  With no idea how it was all going to work out, but, we made the decision.  I was going to quit my teaching career, and I was going to transition to full-time ministry, starting with seminary.

The next day, and I mean, the very next day, I am crafting my letter of resignation when I receive a phone call from Human Resources.  My application for a reduction in teaching load, which I had submitted weeks earlier, was denied.  The district and the school would not consent to me working part time.  Well, God, you made that pretty clear.  There are still so many unknowns, but, it is clear this is the road you want us to take.  That afternoon, I resigned my teaching position effective the end of the school year.  I will be leaving my profession of 19 years, and following the call first given to me as a sixteen year old.  I will be attending Bethel Seminary this fall, studying for a Masters of Ministry.  My focus will be on small groups, single mothers and blended family ministry, and spiritual formation.  My life and experiences over the last 25 years have been God's preparation to fulfill this call.  It's surreal.  It's breathtaking.  It's terrifying.  It's overwhelming.  I feel so incredibly honored and blessed to have been chosen to walk this road with others; to share the story of my mountain, and how God brought me to the other side.

In true God fashion, he wasn't finished yet.  S and I made bold decisions, and stepped out in faith.  One of our biggest tests of faith has been how we would support a family of 4 and pay for seminary on one salary.  And not just any salary: a public school employee salary.  Yup, S works in the schools, too.  By now I should be familiar with the fact that God has everything worked out according to his will and plan, and I'm just the last to find out.  Last Saturday, my house went on the market.  Saturday night, we got an offer.  My realtor asked me what would make me happy in terms of an offer.  I said if we could get close to asking, that would make me very happy.  Well, my realtor said, God's just showing off now.  The offer was over asking price; enough to pay for my seminary education in full.  

When the Israelites walked for those seven days, the people inside the wall watched in amusement.  They're walking.  Again.  And again.  Oh, now they're walking more times around, and with horns.  To the outside world it made absolutely zero sense.  Let's be real; it probably made very little sense to the Israelites, either.  God said to walk, so they walked.  God said to play the horns, so they played the horns of worship.  God said to shout, and they shouted.  God said the wall would fall down, and it did. God gave me a call, and told me to walk by faith.  And I've walked.  I've walked a lot down the road of faith, and many of those days, I couldn't see two feet in front of me.  But I kept walking.  This road of faith makes very little sense to the outside world.  I know it does.  I know the decision that S and I have made to quit my job and go to seminary doesn't make a lot of practical sense.  As my kids would say, "It seems a bit sus."  If I have learned anything in my relationship with God, it's that my job isn't to ask about the who, what, when, where, why or how (even though I still do...all the time).  My job is to keep walking, and he'll knock down that wall.