The first time I heard a female preacher

It was a Sunday morning in springtime. I entered late and sat on the very back pew. It must have been the Holy Spirit, because I have no other recollection as to why I decided to go to that particular church that day. I remember her opening with a simple prayer, "Lord, may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all of our hearts, be pleasing and acceptable to you, O God our rock and our redeemer, Amen."

I'll never forget her sermon. She preached on the transfiguration, and she talked about the concept of ‘thin places’, places where the veil between this world and the heavenly world is so thin, you don't know which side you're on.

I felt called to ministry at an early age, but it wasn't until that Sunday that I realized the full potential of my call. It felt like all the shades were drawn open that morning as I watched her deliver the word of God so gracefully. I thought, "I am in that thin place she is speaking of; I'm in it right now."

During my ordination process, I was asked to describe the role of the preacher. After some reflection, I responded: “To be a preacher is to be a midwife of the word. We don't create the word, nor do we establish the time of its arrival, but we do get to exclaim with joy at its coming.”

Recently, I preached my first Sunday morning as pastor to the Cox Chapel congregation at Highland Park United Methodist Church. What an incredible privilege. As I stepped into the pulpit to deliver the word, I thought back to that spring morning sitting in the back pew listening to the greatest midwife of the word I'd ever heard, and I found myself, yet again, in a thin place.

As I thanked God, I exhaled and looked up, making eye contact with a little girl no older than two, and I thought, "No, this isn't about me, but thanks be to God that this child won't be 19 before she hears her first female preacher."

You can be what you see, sweet girl.

I'd be lying if I told you I slept well the night before that Sunday morning. I tossed and turned. Woke up anxious, doubtful, and afraid. Then again, I once was told to never trust a preacher who sleeps well on a Saturday night, so maybe there's some reassurance there. Either way, I woke up, got ready, got to my office, and sat in silent preparation.

I thought to myself, this isn't about you, you're only the midwife. And as I made my way to the chapel, and eventually to the pulpit, I decided to open us with a prayer, “Lord, may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be pleasing and acceptable to you, O God our rock and our redeemer, Amen.”