Last Sunday, I was ordained into the PC(USA). As a good friend put it, “it’s about time.” Or as a high school friend said, “Wow, it is awesome that you have been able to pursue your dreams.”

Being able to go back to Atlanta in order to celebrate (er…worship) was an awesome experience. As I kneeled on the floor in front of the communion table of FPC-Atlanta, I was taken back to my Junior year of high school when I knelt on the same floor. The tile was just as uncomfortable then as it was now.

I recalled standing behind the pulpit by Senior of year of high school to preach my first sermon…about Peter getting out of the boat and taking a risk by walking on water.

As my father and mother came forward to present me with the robe and stole (yes, I have been called to place where robes are required, God has a good sense of humor), I was thinking about how much I loathed sitting on the front row of the balcony. As much as I laugh about my lack of involvement in the church growing up, I realized that this place had a tremendous impact on my faith. I was baptized there (though at 8 years old), I attended Sunday School (though only on the Sundays I had to bring Donuts and juice), I was involved with the youth fellowship and multiple mission trips. My freshman year I was invited by a blonde sophmore girl to help serve the homeless breakfast…how could I say no.

To then be able to stand before these people in order to express my calling into the ministry was a tremendous blessing. It was much more a recognition of how these people had prepared the way for me.