Discerning what comes next

Reflections on the spiritual discipline of discernment (and not strategic planning) helps me remain open-hearted for the future

The process of becoming ordained in the Episcopal Church has taught me a lot about the meaning of discernment, the value in refraining from certainty, and the wisdom of trusting the process (if the process itself is trustworthy, and I believe mine has been).

Ordination in the Episcopal Church begins with discernment. It begins with discernment committees. First, you meet with a committee of people appointed with the support of your rector from your own home congregation. It is normal for people to meet at regular intervals for 12-18 months to engage the question of whether or not a person is called to ordination. This discernment is never meant to be done in isolation; rather it relies on the wisdom found in community when a group of people listen for the Holy Spirit together.

After that initial process, if a call toward ordination is discerned, the person meets with a discernment committee from a different Episcopal congregation. Do people unknown to them sense the same call?

My own discernment committee helped me listen for how my call might take shape in the Episcopal tradition. I was incredibly fortunate to join a congregation with a rector who recognized my call to ministry right away and helped me begin the process from a place of belief and trust in my past discernment. We didn’t start with the question of whether I was called — we started with the who, what, where, when, and how. What would an expression of ordained ministry look like here compared to there? My committee gave me space to practice thinking out loud about the parts of my story that led me to the room where we sat talking together.

The process itself was meaningful, gratifying, and encouraging. I appreciate how they were willing to push me to flesh out ideas further and help me see where I needed more formation and education. One reflection in particular resonates with me still. Bill, a person who has since become a dear friend, said some version of this to me: “Janette, you talk a lot about why you left what you were and what you’re leaving behind. You need to tell your story from a different perspective. What are you walking toward? What are you taking on?”

That invitation marked a salient shift for me in my formation process and my grief process. His words felt like permission to finally let go of what I felt hurt by and instead embrace the warmth of the people in front of me who celebrated my call to ministry and committed to helping me find my way in my new tradition.

Fast forward three or so years, and I’m less than two months away from my scheduled ordination to the priesthood. My Bishop sent me her letter of intent to ordain me a couple of weeks ago, following the consent of the standing committee of the diocese. I remember sitting in those discernment meetings thinking three years sounded awfully far away. Turns out my rector was right; time passed much quicker than I feared.

I learned early on that one should never say “I will be ordained.” That is not a level of certainty afforded to me, nor is it the process of the church to assert such things. Instead, we are encouraged to say things like, “God willing and people consenting, I will be ordained next year,” or “I hope to be ordained,” or “I’m a postulant/candidate for ordination.”

I learned this year that perhaps I shouldn’t say I will be ordained on a certain date because it might be postponed because of snow. Sigh.

I think the more important reason is that ultimately, my ordination does not rely on my own will, work, certainty, or discernment. It is the work of the church to continually discern that with me and to consent to the Bishop granting me any sort of authority in the church. And it is ultimately God’s own purposes for my life that will see me through to my ordination date.

This practice of releasing certainty has helped me accept that things take the time they take. I’ve also grown in my ability to approach other aspects of my life with similarly open hands. What might this next thing hold for me? For my family? For the church?

Now, like many college graduates, I’m routinely asked, “What comes next? What are you going to do after ordination?”

I usually say that I have no intention to leave the community where I’m the chaplain. I don’t plan to begin discerning a call to a parish right away (though I would like to eventually) or to upset the apple cart, as it were. A year ago I might have said that. I might have said that I’m strategically planning for the future. These days I’m getting better at leaving my heart open to the possibilities of staying grounded here as much as I’m open to the changes that our lives may require in the next year.

Mostly, I am eager to be a priest in this place where people have entrusted their spiritual care to me for almost three years. I joke that I do “lower case b” blessings instead of the Blessings priests provide. I have yet to celebrate the sacraments (though I used to do this in the Church of the Nazarene and have missed it deeply in the years since relinquishing my ordination credentials). I am excited to see how my own sense of my vocation changes within myself and how that becomes externalized. And I especially do not want these residents to feel like they were a stepping stone on my journey to something flashier. Being a chaplain here suits me well, and there’s so much good ahead for me to discover as my vocation evolves. And, it is also true, I continue discerning when and where God might lead my family next. Two things are true.

So while I can’t say “I will be ordained on August 29th,” I am filled with hope that God willing, the time is drawing near to when my call toward the priesthood will be realized. I give thanks for the many people who have discerned this with me and who name the gifts and graces they see within me.

I pray for God’s continual grace to love and serve the people God has placed in my life, both now and in the days to come.

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