Although I have led in several ministry spaces, this summer has been the first time I’ve been given a robe and stole to wear on Sundays.
David and I walked around the church house one day during my first week and sifted through the stash of old donated ones. After finding many that were too long, we landed on Rev. Ron Rice’s old robe because it was short enough for me to walk in. I promptly bought a pack of earrings on Amazon to ensure I’d be able to express a little tinge of my outfit choices throughout the summer, even though they’d be hidden.
Of course, Carolyn Matthews took a cheesy picture of me on my first Sunday. Then, just as we were about to process down the aisle, Emily whispered, “That robe looks good on you!”
I smiled as I carefully walked up the steps, trying not to trip over my new uniform.
Then, I sat on the front row where Zack Jackson used to sit. Because that’s where people in robes go, right?
To be honest, I felt weird wearing it for about a month into my internship. It felt really official, and the sleeves were so big I had to push them up each time I held my worship guide or reached my hands out to pass the peace. But weird as it seemed, each time I zipped up the robe and adjusted my stole, I did feel like I was practicing something sacred. There was something about cloaking myself in a former minister’s uniform to go explore what my own calling to ministry looked like …
This calling, I will admit, has been difficult for me to pin down.
I shared this struggle with a few of you who agreed to mentor me in a lay group this summer. I described how my Enneagram 1 personality (the perfectionist who loves order and predictability and doing things the “right” way) often doesn’t bode well in making sense of the (imaginative and unpredictable) nature of God’s call. Yet, here I find myself in Divinity School because teenage Mallory felt God’s beckoning and decided to say “yes” to whatever that might be.
And like a good Enneagram 1, she went to school to try and learn about it.
But as I settled into the robe this summer — wrestling with how my passion for journalism and justice, affinity for youth ministry, desire to learn about missions and curiosity for preaching all squished together — I found things often worked out best when I stopped worrying about doing things “wrong.”
I stopped asking “Is this how calling is supposed to work?” or “What if I mess this up?” and began wondering, “How can I be present to the work of the Spirit in this space?”
Many times, I found the call to be something that, in a moment, just clicked. An abounding sense of “yes,” “no” or “ah, I see.”
Here at the end of my internship, I had one of those moments while talking with Paul McCraw on the phone about the history of missions at First on Fifth. “Rev. Ron Rice was one of the key people. You need to know about him,” Paul told me and explained how his work had lasting impacts in our congregation and community. I peeked over at my robe hanging on the wall and said a silent “thank you” to Rev. Rice for helping occupy the space I was learning to take up in response to God’s call, all the way in 2024.
And while I could recall many more sweet memories from this summer, I fear I have already exceeded my word count. So, here are just a few highlights of moments when the Spirit, in all her imaginative unpredictability, blessed the space between me, Rev. Rice and all you beloved people this summer:
- Writing cards with our care-notes group
- Acquiring the nickname, “Chipmunk” (IYKYK)
- Learning hymns I’d never sung before at the older adult hymn sing
- David’s crash-course worship lesson, so I could write liturgy while he was on vacation
- Gathering in the hallway to hear Kyle and Ash play music at Passport during free time
Blessings to you all, and to the next intern who leans into the weird sacredness of wearing the robe!
Mallory Challis