The Priesthood of all Believers

Been struggling with this concept of late. In this, my self-imposed exile from regular church attendance, intentional effort to listen and hear where God is leading, here in the quiet. There are a few passages in scripture that speak to the responsibility of all believers to take up the mantle of priesthood -- a holy nation-- a royal priesthood-- chosen -- living stones rejected by men (humans) but chosen by God and on and on and on. Somehow, though, this has not been the way the church structure is built. We talk about it. We promote it. We study it in scripture and we preach about it, but we build up organizational structures that are antithetical to these precepts. I'm as guilty as any having bought into the structure. Granted, I had help.

On my second "attempt" toward ordination, though I was a part of the ministry team, where I was on the preaching rotation, I preached, I taught, I prayed etc., but during communion, I was forbidden to stand in a certain place, or to assist with serving the elements of bread and wine because I was not ordained. On my third "attempt" toward ordination (different denomination this time) I served in any manner I was called on, preaching, teaching, praying etc., including assisting with serving the elements. Actually, upon reflection, I was doing all of that before I attempted the third attempt. The one thing that was really considered above my pay grade was the "blessing of the elements", which for you non-churchy types, is the prayer that is said over the bread and wine which consecrates it and makes it .... holy. Pretty sure, after typing that, that I don't have the correct level of reverence for this as I should. Probably why my "third attempt" at ordination failed-- because I lack the proper amount of reverence. But that's for another posting. And yeah, I realize there's some snark in there.

In the last month, I've been asked to preside over a memorial service; I've been asked if I would preside over a wedding, I've been asked to deliver the prayer, because "you're a minister, right?" I froze, sort of like that proverbial deer in headlights. I didn't know what to say. While noting that my heart was pounding, I explained that I was not ordained, but that I would be happy to -- help--pray--assist-- in whatever manner needed. My heart pounds still while recalling these moments.

So, circling back to the title of this post, and the reason actually for this blog--- hearing God's voice, following where God leads, discerning the fullness of this journey I've been on for the past 16 years. I believed, because I was taught to believe that the way to serve God in an "official" capacity was to become ordained. On that journey there have been three definitive attempts to do just that. The first attempt was halted because of a life change that resulted in a move from one state to another. The second attempt was halted due to a supernatural intervention -- can't call it anything else, the third attempt was halted via committee. Because I'm a total believer in a supernatural God, I have to now know that this experience, taken in total, is purposeful for what God is calling me to. For whatever reason, these experiences were necessary for me to come to the end of all that I know, or thought I knew, and for me to now lean on the Holy Spirit to lead, guide, reveal, enlighten and ..... dispatch.

Speak Lord. Your servant is listening.

Pentecost

Although I have absented myself from traditional church routine these past months, I find that I am a bit hardwired to the "church year". There are days that I can move throughout life without giving church a second thought. That is not to say that I am not thinking about God or praying on some level, indeed, God is like an under the skin, constantly active underlying hum of my awareness most of the time. Probably all of the time. I say most of the time because there are times that I experience "the hum" as more back burner than others. I think that is how God's Spirit, the Holy Spirit, works in us. A constant feed that we can consciously tap into or simply open to. So, today is one of those high holy Christian church observances, Pentecost, which is typically recognized as the birth of the Christian church. I haven't always known this. I've attended church most of my life. Around age 6 I began attending a Pentecostal church with our neighbors, the family of my playmates. I was Sunday schooled for years in that tradition, but I don't think I learned about Pentecost. I moved on from that tradition to a Baptist tradition -- American, missionary and southern-- where I was Sunday schooled and bible studied and sermoned at -- but do not recall learning the significance of Pentecost. It was only during my journey through Methodism -- several different flavors of Methodism-- and my seminary studies that the full import of Pentecost pierced the veil of my understanding. And it is only during this Sabbath rest from church participation that I get the irony.

It is curious to me that we (we the church) observe this holy hush period of reflection called Advent leading up to the traditional observance of the birth of Jesus. Then there is this six weeks of reflection on sacrifice leading up to the traditional observance of Jesus' death and Resurrection. Now we are at the traditional observance of the post resurrection experience called Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit, the promised comforter, teacher, truth revealer, power giving, spirit of God descended on Jesus' followers who were waiting, as instructed, huddled together in fear of the Roman and Jewish authorities, in the upper room. Waiting.  Praying.  Waiting. Praying.  Waiting.  Praying. Tradition says, for about fifty days. The book of Acts chronicles the final descending of the Holy Spirit into that upper room as a rather violent, windy, fire like experience that left those in that room forever changed. So changed that not only did their language change, but their understanding of other languages changed. They waited. They prayed. Until their change came through a Holy visitation.

Such a beautiful thing to me is church tradition. The irony to me is that for all the acknowledgements of the day, the many days, the meaning of them, the hope of them, seems ........ lost in the observation. It is also ironic that only during this self-imposed exile, during which I am compelled to wait and pray, that I get this.