“Add to Your Faith, Goodness” Part 1 [Mth 4-Day 7-Post 32]

There was excitement in the air, a cheery 8 AM, as I began my workday like any other. On that fall morning like many before it, we could feel the anticipation of a new school year about to begin. We had all worked hard throughout the summer preparing for the incoming class and the return of familiar faces eager to learn and grow and mature in mind and spirit. The most interesting part of that day—the reason that day was different—was that I, too, was about to join the ranks of strong-minded, attentive students, aching to make a difference in the world.

In that fall nearly 12 years ago, I was the Faculty Secretary at Andover-Newton Theological School (ANTS) in Newton, Massachusetts, a suburb of Boston. Having left my rural roots and joined the big city bustle after graduating from college the previous year, I was enticed to enroll in the seminary by the undeniable advantage of free tuition. But it was more than that. It felt like…destiny unveiled.

Since I was a young teenager, I had often been encouraged to pursue leadership in ministry within my church and local community. I grew up in the Episcopal Church, where four different bishops personally spoke or corresponded with me regarding such a pursuit. My early faith-concentrated poetry inspired them and many others as I was given a multitude of opportunities to share. Before I even reached college, I had been published in various magazines and anthologies. I could even stroll into the ANTS bookstore to find my name in print.

It seemed natural, eventual, bound to happen one way or another. If I was going to work in full-time ministry, seminary seemed the logical place to start, to gather the knowledge and training I would need to do what was apparently expected of me. For the first time in my life, I really felt like I belonged there. It was almost too easy—how the job just fell in my lap after college, how I had only two different job interviews followed by two job offers, and the salary made this the obvious choice. Now after a year of settling into the position, I was ready…for more…

So I spent that Monday finalizing details, preparing materials for the next day’s New Student Orientation. My orientation. Not that I needed one. I knew the faculty and staff, the classrooms, the library, the grounds, better than most seasoned students. I liked having an inside edge, working behind the scenes, knowing just a little more than the rest. Maybe that’s why I liked being the Faculty Secretary and a student too. Maybe it was a bit of vanity. I certainly wasn’t claiming to be a saint. After all, why go to Theological School if I were already perfect?

That afternoon, my boyfriend at the time (“K”) arrived at my office as I was getting off work at 4:00, ready to whisk me away to a nice dinner and evening of relaxation before time-consuming homework overtook our daily date nights. So we walked across campus to my new studio apartment, into which he had helped me move the previous month. (My 30-second work commute was an undoubtedly great perk of my new status.) There K presented me with a large bouquet of flowers and a Bible in celebration of the start of my next academic venture—the highly anticipated Master of Divinity.

K had actually swiped this particular Bible from my apartment during the move; it was a recent gift from my mother as I prepared to enter seminary. K had taken it to have my name embossed on the cover. When I first received that Bible, the Lord led me to a particular passage in 2 Peter and impressed it upon my heart as a personal commission for this upcoming venture. In 2 Peter 1:5-8 (NIV), the Lord instructs:

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Ineffective and unproductive” were not adjectives I wished to ever have describe me. My heart was ready to do what was necessary to follow through with this seemingly logical stride forward. Step 1, I thought—Add to your faith, goodness. Okay, Lord, lead the way.

The next sunlight welcomed a slight autumn chill that gave way to a crisp, warming September Tuesday. Not a cloud in the beautiful blue sky. It was the day I had been waiting for. My day. My beginning. My destiny. I can’t wait to see what You have in store for me, Lord. I can’t wait.

Instead of walking to my office at 8 AM, I walked to the chapel with my fellow new students, head held high, wide smile lifting my spirit even higher. Time to begin the day.

The day. September the 11^th, 2001.

To be continued.