The Weight of the Stole (a.k.a Explaining the Pause)

My "centering station" during ordination interviews. The "goal stole" I purchased in 2013, a Bible, anointing oil (because God was going to do something), a palm cross, a tennis ball (to remind me to "play", a baseball (to remind me to "throw knuckleballs"), and a rock (to remind me of all that God has done). 

For the past few months, and especially for the past few weeks, I have heard the question, "Are you excited about your ordination?"

Over the past week or so, my response has become a little more guarded and a little more thoughtful.

Am I excited? Yes, I am. I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited. Exceedingly grateful. Overwhelmed by God's goodness. A little dumbstruck that, after so much struggle and failure and almost giving up, it's actually happening. Whoa.

However, I'm also realizing the full weight of what ordination means.

Specifically, I'm reflecting on the symbol and significance of wearing a stole. After the Bishop lays hands on me, I will walk across the stage, where the Chair of the Order of Elders will place a red stole (red is the traditional color of the Holy Spirit, and used for Pentecost and ordinations) around my neck.

A stole is symbolic of ordination. To me, it's the equivalent of the exchange of rings in a wedding ceremony. It's an outward and visible sign of a commitment, a grace, a sacred act.

I have looked forward to ordination simply so I can wear a stole. I have a Pinterest board dedicated to stoles.  For the past year, I have longingly admired the nifty stoles that my senior colleague at Haygood has in her possession.

For two years, I have had a stole hanging in my office. At Cheriton, it was above my desk. At Haygood, it was on the wall, near the door. It was my "goal stole"; a way to remind me of what I was working towards. On the Wednesday after my interviews, when I was waiting for The Call, I laid that stole on the altar and gave my future into God's hands...I told a dear friend that if I was not ordained, I would give the stole to her upon her ordination. The day after I found out I was going to be ordained, I took that stole off the wall, put it around my neck, looked in the mirror...and cried tears of joy.

The stole is also called "the yoke of obedience". For someone who classifies herself as a rebel and struggles to obey God, let alone humans, wearing a stole that symbolizes obedience and service to Christ and His church is rather sobering.

It means submitting myself to God's will, and not my own. It means serving others, rather than serving myself. It means going where I might not want to go and doing what I might not want to do in order to further the Gospel.

Simply put, it means dying to self.

My ordination represents the end of one journey...a journey that has lasted from 8-21 years, depending on when you count the "beginning".

But, it's the beginning of another journey, one that I cannot complete on my own. Heck, there was no way that I could have completed this journey on my own. I've only done it by the grace of God and the love, support, and prayers of many people. And...by learning to listen to God and to the wisdom of others.

Hmm...maybe it's a good thing this ordination journey took so long. I had a lot to learn.

So, beneath the joy, the red shoes (I can do a whole blog post on those!), the glittery red fingernails, and the quest for the perfect outfit...lies a woman who is both profoundly grateful and profoundly humbled by the significance of what will occur on June 20.

That's what the pause is about...