Continuing the Great Adventure to Holy Orders - Two years into training

The actors training alongside me at drama school used to say that their experience of their time there was akin to being broken into small pieces then reassembled bit by bit. I've got to say, my experience of theological college has been very similar.

In my BAP paperwork, I said my hope was that “my formation will be an anvil to God’s blacksmith”, but it’s more like my formation is the workshop for God’s mechanic. I’m up on the axle stand, and I am being sort of taken apart in an act that is actually creative rather than destructive. Some parts are taken out of the whole and worked on separately, or replaced entirely. Some parts are being serviced, renewed and polished, revealing the potential that was already there. Enhancements are being added, new buttons put into the dashboard to access new features, but the essence of the car is not changed. Same colour, same design, same history, same owner, but renewed purpose and updated manual.

Hopefully, this is a similar process to the one described in Colossians 3, that we have "stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator". Only time will tell.

I'm coming to the end of my second year as an ordinand, and I have one more academic year to go. I have started conversations with London diocese about curacy, but I have yet to be told if I will be released or not. I have another jam-packed summer ahead of me, including 4 weeks in a parish, and hopefully some placements with military chaplains, but also I've scheduled some actual 'holiday' time, which is better than last year, as well as personal spiritual retreat. Next year, I will write a dissertation, and finish my BA degree, as well as prepare to move and start curacy.

It is so weird to still be here, in Durham, at Cranmer Hall. Not that I mean I'm surprised I haven't been kicked out, but it's just unusual for me to be in the same place with the same people for so long. And even though the community make-up has changed, and it'll change again come October, life is all still basically the same, and that is very unfamiliar territory for me. I might be talking about curacy, but it's still a whole year away; the future has never been so far. Suddenly I'm the one radically changing, not my circumstances. Since coming to Durham, I have gotten two tattoos and a motorcycle licence, and that's just scratching the surface. 

I have delved into the Bible in a way completely unknown to me; I have settled into my relationship with God in a manner unfathomable before; I have realised a passion for writing prayers and preaching which has astonished me; I have fought against more biphobia than I have ever experienced in my life; and I have truly picked up the mantle of my future and set it on my shoulders.

But I'm still up on the axle stand, I still feel like I'm in pieces; my capacity to love is growing, my pastoral ability is being enhanced, my vocabulary has been almost replaced it's so different, my commitment to being a Church of England Anglican has been renewed, my potential as a leader has been revealed, and new features include obscure biblical references and unlikely friendships have been added. But at the moment I do not feel like a cohesive whole, and parts of my life and my self sit around me, only strung together by the barest of threads.

The same as this time last year, my mental health has not be so good, making this lack of cohesion harder to bear, but I've made it to the end of term, and now I have a series of interesting projects and trips over the summer to recharge me to get through the last three terms of my degree. And God is constant through it all.

I've still got a year to go, and details of my future to confirm, so I have hope and faith that I will be made ready in time, and I'll set down off the stand ready to hit the throttle into curacy, to warm up the tyres and get to grips with the upgrades, so that I can journey well in the rest of my life in ministry. I am in pieces but not in despair, and I am being held by the Spirit, the college, my friends and my family.

Video: Eighth visit to the rector

One of the things that I didn't mention in the video was at one point in our walk, I said something about God being a river that flows in my life, which was an idea I hadn't hit before, so I wanted to explore it a little

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Excuse me a moment as I indulge in my love of Disney classics. There are two lines about rivers I want to reference from the film Pocahontas

Chief Powhatan sings to his daughter "As the river cuts his path, though the river's proud and strong, He will choose the smoothest course - that's why rivers live so long. They're steady, as the steady beating drum."

Proud and strong

Pocahontas, after he has left, says "He wants me to be steady like the river. But it's not steady at all!" then she sings "What I love most about rivers is you can't step in the river twice; the waters always changing, always flowing."

You can't step into the same river twice

And as much as it's one of Disney's heavy-handed metaphors, both lines are useful to me in describing a little of God's role in my life. God operates as both types of river, the strong, steady one that knows the best course, and the water that is never the same, bringing renewal and surprises just around the river bend.

Rapids of being caught up in divine intervention

The metaphor can go further. God as water is a common Christian theme - life giving, cleansing, pure, necessary, naturally occurring trinity (solid, liquid, gas), precious, etc. As a river specifically, there are lots of tributaries within my soul that run into and join God at the centre; sometimes God is a still pool within me and I can float on the surface, reveling in being surrounded and held up by God; sometimes God's a ferocious rapid that whips me off my feet and carries me off on a bumpy ride where I can only catch glimpses of the direction/destination when I manage to break the surface for air before being sucked under again.

Do you still wait for me, dream giver,
 just around the river bend/?

What I was thinking of as I strolled through the park with the rector and her dog was that God is a continual current running under me as I sit in the boat of my life. God catches my eye occasionally with a dazzling sparkle, or sends me down the unexpected fork, or just suddenly becomes a waterfall. But even though I sometimes lose sight of the river, and am deluded that the boat is all there is to reality, it doesn't matter because God is still holding me up, guiding me down if not the smoothest course, then at least the one of God's choosing, steady in the sense that God is always there, immovable and relentless.

More and more unexpected waterfalls

I think my problem is sometimes I take God for granted. The fact that I can trust in ending up on the
right course doesn't mean I don't have a responsibility to maintain and improve that boat in response to the river's design. It's a smoother ride when God nudges me towards a different fork if I change my sails to line up with that, and even paddle in support of the new direction. I've learnt a lot of that submission in the last year as I've become more aware of the need to 'listen' to the river on my life that is God, the need to expand my knowledge so, like a theological Bear Grylls, I can read the workings of God around me, in me, and through me, and respond to work in tandem with that river, not against it.

Video: Finally visiting the rector again!

First of all, I will apologise both for the sunglasses, and the wobbly camera action near the end.

Something I didn't talk about in this video is the continuing theme of my discernment which is going against expectations. My own expectations to be precise. Apparently my pre-existing ideas about myself need to be knocked out of me one by one, until I'm pretty sure anything that I think is going to happen in the future isn't likely to work out the way I currently think it will; and certainly the person that I currently imagine I am going to be will probably never actually exist. Instead, slowly but surely God's will is being done, and my end of the bargain is to the respond, accept, and put the leg work in.

This pastoral assistant job for example. As I said, a few months ago I decided it wasn't going to be for me. A few months ago, had I read a job description that involved a heck of a lot of youth and children's ministry, I would have laughed in the face of anyone idiotic enough to suggest I might do it. But now, it's the right time for this opportunity to come to me, so I didn't reject it out of hand, I didn't sneer and grimace at the thought of running the creche and confirmation classes. It clicked, right into place, for that is how I and the universe are built at this moment in time.

This is not to say that I actually have the job yet, nor that I think it's a certainty that I will. I still have to get to the know the community and enterprise by going to some services and 'pre-production research' as I would normally call it in theatre; and then the Big Interview, going up against two other candidates. This is so unlike my usual mode in job hunting, it scares the bejeesus out of me. So I'm not saying this is *dramatic voice* MY DESTINY or any tosh like that. But it's the direction I've been turned in, and in faith and trust (and imaginary pixie dust) I will step out and do my best.

What my experience as a stage manager can bring to being a priest

This is a helpful little exercise I've decided to set myself as I'm vaguely aware that there are a lot of transferable skills and experiences, but I've never done a thorough run down. It's certainly from a secular angle, tackling the part of being a priest that is actually 'a job'. So here goes:

The big one is Relationships. Reading the Summary of Criteria 'relationships' section is very similar to reading a realistic job description for a stage manager. In SM, you're biggest responsibility is your relationships, and being the central force to establish and sustain cohesive working relationships, creating boundaries, and maintaining a professional standard, whilst also being the department that provides the pastoral care. Stage managers are the ones company members come to with any problem, and that often can include things not related to the show. It becomes habit - "I have a problem: I'll go to the stage manager." The ability to be inclusive within diversity is paramount as well, as the theatre is full of more varied selection of people than outsiders might think - a stage manager cannot reject any of them, even the really annoying ones, or the ones who can't do their jobs (as much as we would sometimes like to).

The next biggest one is Stress or Pressure. The responsibility of a stage manager is broad and deep,

with little things and big things of wildly different sorts all coming under their remit - the prop pencils on the set desk have to be arranged just so, and also the company time sheets have to be cataloged; make the coffee, and also coordinate the timetable to accommodate every single department's needs. Often needing to be in three places at once, doing a lot of running around the building/city, coming in first and leaving last, being expected to be in charge of facilitating everyone else's ideas in time, to budget, often without much help. All with the other expectation that you are the cheery one, the calm one, the one that knows everything that's going on even (though no one seems to bother to tell you anything), the one everyone can rely to put in the extra effort, and achieve miracles out of nothing.

Piggy in the middle AKA the SM department

I like to call one of the traits of stage management Translation, and I think this applies to being a priest as well. It means being a radial point from which vastly different spokes connect for the one interconnecting reason or goal, and therefore needing to know exactly what each spoke wants, how it operates, what it needs out of the other spokes, how to get that, and most importantly, how to translate the one's needs into the other's language so they can coordinate.

Linked that idea is involvement in Negotiation/Conflict. Your spokes, even with you translating, can push against each other, and as the radial point, it is your job to put the reason/goal for working together first, often reminding them of it - the stage manager is the person who puts the show and the humanity of the people involved first, helping everyone compromise to achieve their shared goal (once they've remembered what that was) and do what is best for that goal and each other, rather than letting ulterior motives, or petty issues of pride dictate the company's choices.

A little bit of blasphemy...

How does one achieve that? Change and Flexibility. Being able to speak the language includes adapting to each spoke's needs. But also on different shows, the lighting spoke on this show might be very different to the lighting spoke on the last show eg style, people, resources. The stage manager has to still hit all the criteria, but that can look very different when you have more direct people, less people, no money, rather than people who 'play the game', loads of people, and a bit more money (it is never enough money...). How I interact with my line manager or my director has looked vastly different show-to-show, based on the sort of people they are and the show we're doing.

It comes down to Facilitating, Collaborating, and Communicating.

At least on the outside...

So what sort of characteristics does a stage manager need? I'm going to copy and paste from the Criteria again. Mature and Stable - there are enough egos, motivations, dreams, emotions and mental states to deal with and manage, without the person who's supposed to coordinate them adding to the complicated mix. Stage managers are relied upon, by dint of being stage management, to keep calm. It is the stage management department that in practical terms, has 'being the grown ups' as part of the job description. That also means having an exterior support network that you can rely on when you need time to be your own person, so as not to lose you humanity. You have dreams and emotions and the rest of it too, so it's important to have people in your life you can express those to, when most of your time is spent putting them aside for the sake of others.

Another thing that a company will rely on is the Integrity, the Trustworthy-ness of its stage management. It's that putting the humanity of people first thing again, and going back to the acceptance of all, rejection of none motif. If you go to your stage manager with a problem, as part of their role as problem solvers, the importance of trusting their judgement, and also knowing that you won't be judged yourself, is paramount for that vulnerable relationship to function.

This links in with the element of Leadership. SMs have 'manager' in their titles, even the assistants. I find this one quite challenging, as I've never been a person people naturally follow. Enough words have been written on the characteristics of leadership without me adding much to them, but for an SM, or a priest, it is a leadership through serving, ultimately. You make decisions, give advice, lay down the law occasionally, but when you get down to it, we are doing all we can to improve the lives of the flocks we have committed to minister to with everything we have in us, and bring about a creation, a world where all are happy, their dreams have come true, and (S)He's purpose for us all has been brought about. (People in my life have realised that I may tell an anecdote and mention someone known only as 'He' or 'She', and they've worked out that the only person it can be is the director of whatever show I am currently working on, as often, making them happy becomes the centre of my life, and their pronouns are therefore capitalised).

And of course you want to be the cool guy that everyone likes.






The last parallel I'll draw is the element of Lifestyle and Vocation. Okay, so no one gets a 'calling' to be a stage manager, but it is still a vocation in the secular sense. You're not just taking on a job, it's a whole life. You're schedule is precarious, often overloaded and changed last minute. Don't even try and have a sleep pattern. And the diet goes out the window. It sounds like priests often have a similar diet to stage managers on those days when a 'lunch break' or 'dinner' are basically out of the question - microwave meals, a quick sandwich in between or even during meetings, and phrases like "I haven't eaten since breakfast" lose their drama when echoed more than 3 days in every 7. There's an unwritten, unspoken expectation of 24/7 service, and as much as we know we should carve out private lives and personal time, and even rest once in a while, we often find ourselves checking the email, taking the call, or agreeing to do just a little more, because that's not just what we do; it's who we are.

Exploring my doubts

Doubt is not something I want to put words to. Admitting that I have doubts about my calling is quite painful. But doubt is an important part of faith. I don't think a lot of people really realise that. I know for example I've had an argument with my boyfriend about the nature of faith - he thought is was something you feel and not based on evidence. I countered that he was describing blind faith, and I did not recognise his definition as the faith I have.

Faith is not always blind

Blind faith is 100% convinced, but true faith has real conviction because it constantly doubts. Why have faith in something if you haven't reason to? I have doubted pretty much every part of my faith, including the big ones like do I believe in God. I like going back to the very Jewish idea, which I think Anglicanism embraces very well, of arguing. Arguing with your faith, interrogating your scripture, contemplating other possibilities. Moses (Exodus 4) immediately springs to mind as someone who directly shouted at God, questioned God (Exodus 3), and in the New Testment, the Apostle Peter wavered in faith (Matt 14); even Jesus had moments, eg. at the Mount of Olives (Luke 22), and I considered not even mentioning Doubting Thomas as the obvious choice.

These doubters were all true role models of faith. And so I feel stronger for being able to follow their example, and speak out about my doubts, to face them head on, in the never-ending struggle and journey of faith.

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I have worried that I am deluded. Most of the time it makes so much sense to think that I am 'destined' to be a priest, then I scold myself for being so arrogant, then I worry that not feeling special is a sign that it's not a true calling, but surely modesty is better than self-grandeur...

It gets a little cyclical, and I end up feeling lost and guilty. Okay, so confront it, what if I am deluded? (Forgetting the possibility of being deluded that there is a God, and concentrating on the possibility of being deluded that I feel a calling from God). I have been getting more and more religious, so is thinking there's a calling just part of my very thorough way of doing things and being a priest seems the obvious way of 'doing religion thoroughly', and that's the real reason I'm doing it? Does it feel right because it feels like the way to do that part of my life 'properly'?

Okay, I might have a calling, but what if I'm called to something else? Being ordained and being a full time priest is just one of many callings for Christians. I might be copping out of the hard reality of juggling Christianity and other parts of my life. Many people, most Christians in fact, live out their faith whilst in full time secular employment, why do I feel I have to put my Christianity as not just my religion but my job, and not just that but a community role, a life vocation?

Surely I'm not the right person to represent the Church and lead an example of Christ-like living. I've never been naturally a 'people person', and a lot of people find me too loud, boisterous, direct and intense. I have very liberal attitudes to things like sex and relationships that many in the Church would probably object to, even though I go about my love life with as much care to Love God as much as Love Neighbour as any other part of my life. But part of me worries that I'm just wrong. I think I'm doing good not evil, that I'm living conscientiously, trying to not sin, but what if I'm wrong? I swear, take Christ's name in vain, get drunk, shout at my family, buy nice things, don't give change to beggars. There are people in the world who genuinely think I'm a bad person; there's at least one I can think of who probably actually hates me. That doesn't sound like a priest.

No one seems as enthusiastic about it as me. Is their support just politeness? There's a lot in the literature about other people affirming your calling - nope. One crazy stranger, that's all I've had. Not my priest, my boyfriend, my family, my friends, no one has positively said they think it's a good idea. I'm not trying to criticise them - if that's how they feel, I certainly want them to be honest. So if they are, if I'm in the minority of one that thinks I could be a priest, how likely is it that I'm the one that's right?

I have no issues with my human sexuality

Let's look at the Criteria again (see also previous post) and what I can't do or haven't got.

• Others have not confirmed my inner conviction.
• I have barely any spirituality; I generally never sit in prayer to God apart from reading other people's words. Nor have I done any Bible study. I don't see how the world and others have been affected my practice of prayer, and frankly I have serious issues with the notion of 'the power of prayer'. I've never understood how spiritual practice 'sustains and energises'.
• I've struggled with maintaining appropriateness in professional relationships - I'm a flirt, blunt, emotional. I'm an out bisexual - whoops, Issues of Human Sexuality.
• People don't follow me, my leadership skills leave a lot to be desired. How can I offer an example of faith when I feel culturally compelled to not mention God so as not to make atheists uncomfortable?
• I feel anger and fear about mission, a distinct mistrust and aversion to evangelising.

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So what do I doubt about my calling? I doubt that I'm called at all, I doubt that I'm called specifically to be ordained, I doubt that I'm the right type of person to be ordained, I doubt that I'm right to disagree with my support network, I doubt that I can fit the criteria for being ordained.

And it is terrifying. I hate having doubts. I have so much conviction, assurance and excitement about my calling, it knocks at my core to express doubt. I've used this metaphor before: I have a bedrock of trust in God, on which are pillars of faith, holding up the foundations of my soul, on which the building of my heart sits, in the infusing cloud of my brain. Doubt is lightning spearing from that cloud, and rocking the whole structure. My emotions get knocked about and chaotic, my soul ripples and sends shockwaves through my faith, and my trust is holding firm but not unwobbled.

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If you want to read the positive side of this argument with myself, read the post Reasons I think I'd make a good priest/want to be priest.