Ever since God uprooted my whole life to move me from Little Rock to Nashville for Divinity School last year, everyone always wants to know what I'm learning, how I'm liking the program, and what I plan on doing once I achieve my Master of Divinity degree. And my answer to all of those inquiries is a resounding "I. Do. Not. Know." Sounds crazy, right? One would think that after completing my first year I should be settled in and picking a concentration area. But that has, by far, not proven to be my particular experience as an up and coming theologian, scholar, and minister. My journey to theological education was a long and protracted one – one which dropped me off at the doorsteps of Vanderbilt University not knowing at all what to expect. So, let me be honest in saying to all of you reading this – Divinity School has been a whole 'lotta hell and holy shedding of tears.
The thing about undertaking theological education is that one must consider every single portion of one's own social location (i.e. race, gender, demographic, upbringing, moral/spiritual formation and beliefs, etc.) and be ready to wrestle with why you believe what you believe, how you came to believe that, and if it is actually YOUR truth rather than a construction of truth fed to you by your parents, teachers, the church, and other guiding agents in your life. Though you may have read through that sentence swiftly, I challenge you to think about that for one moment: how does my background inform or impact the beliefs that I carry and are these beliefs really mine to begin with? If this doesn't seem uncomfortable to you, then great – you can skip the next paragraph. But if you have ever experienced any amount of discomfort or uncertainty relating to this question, then do not pass 'Go' and do not collect $200. Just keep reading.
Whether I was ready or not for answering that question, that is precisely what Vanderbilt Divinity School made me do upon my arrival. Just to be clear, I have used my engineering brain to graphically depict what this past year has been like. You can play along, just replace my labels with descriptions about your own life. For me, as a Black woman, who is now an Engineer and Minister, born and raised in the south, in a traditional Baptist setting, mostly by a single mother– my faith sphere has values and systems that were engrained in me since birth. The way I view family, marriage, identity, sin, love, economy, justice, religion, gender, virtue, and many, many more aspects of human life have everything to do with how I was raised and the journey my upbringing carved out for me.
So, when I accepted my calling to Divinity School, I just knew my well-fortified faith sphere was going to not only keep me sane but also keep me near the cross as I traversed the hallowed hallways of theological education. My, oh my, how I was so sadly misinformed. To my surprise (and dismay) my faith sphere was tugged, pushed, pulled, slapped, spat upon, questioned, squeezed, stirred, boiled, baked, and fried starting on day one. Please do not misunderstand what I am saying. I am not saying that Div School made me "lose my Jesus", which so many of the folk in the traditional Black Church were worried about upon my departure. What I am saying is that I was made to critically survey, deconstruct, and analyze my lens as it relates to my faith. There was no more resting complacently on such flowery and empty statements as: "My Pastor says," or "My Bible tells me," or "God said it, that settles it." Instead, it became questions like: "how do we adjudicate Biblical authority?" and "what are the customs, culture, and context behind this scripture?" and "how has Biblical interpretation been appropriated toward society, either helpfully or harmfully?" I don't know about y'all, but was it not so much easier when all we had to do was sing "Jesus loves me this I know."?
After a year of much writing, reading, researching, praying, picking apart scripture, literary/historical/critical/canonical analysis – I have to be completely transparent in saying that this is what happened to my faith sphere:
It shattered. That's right. Into a million tiny pieces. And, you know what else? It hurt. It still hurts. Yet, as unprepared as I was for this type of faith-altering phenomenon, I can say that it has been the most eye-opening and enlightening experience of my adult life. Yes, it has been painful. And, yes, I have received cuts from the broken glass. But if I could describe the sensation to you, I would say its like breaking through a glass ceiling of limitation that you never even knew existed. Rather than coming to find that my faith had been shattered beyond repair, I have come to see that my faith needed to be wrestled with – handled with brute force and thrown around with reckless abandon.
You see, while I know this journey…rather, this process, is not for everyone – I know God called me here. God, my Potter, would not have brought me to this place if there wasn't some unique assignment for me. And, I believe that is true for everybody, regardless of vocation or location. There are simply times in your life where you have to cast out every single confining and defining convention you have held on to because it is time for God to do a new thing. This is not to say that you need to throw the baby out with the bath water, so-to-speak. But everything God places in you that needs to remain will be restored back into you with more meaning, deeper value, and, perhaps, even stronger faith.
So, while it may seem strange to some that I am basically positioning myself to be the new Christian in Sunday school, I am so humbled and happy to be in this space. I reflect on the words of Isaiah who says "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" In a time such as this, when our churches are looking for leaders who will not be bamboozled into the false faith of traditionalism and our communities are crying out for justice and not just re-heated sermons, I feel the call of the Sovereign God upon my life to remain faithful to the process. Though tears may drench my pillow at night, though family and friends may not understand my journey, though I am uncertain and timid at every turn, I am fully persuaded that God is well-able to do just what was promised and exactly as God wills for me to do.
As for the rest of my time in Div School, I pray to spend it constructively – working out my faith, my call, my passion, with God's heart and Jesus' mission of deliverance and healing. I know it won't be easy and at times it seems like re-piecing and replacing the shards of my faith is impossible. But I truly believe that God enjoys using those of us who are broken in some places. Why? Because. That means there are just more pieces for God to work with. [For any of you on this journey with me, or any of you struggling with allowing God to help you wrestle with your faith/being your most authentic self, check out this book: Daring Greatly by Dr. Brene Brown. It has been an awesome, in-depth look at the power of transparency and vulnerability.]
