An Anniversary of Sorts

As most of you who read this know, I feel - and have for several years - felt called to the Priesthood. As I look back it feels as if this has always been a part of my life. I think I've been told stories of how I would play church with my stuffed animals - give them communion and everything. I was raised in the church. I can remember so many nights, where my parents would drag me along to various church functions. Then I started acolyte. One of the first times I served was for the Bishop, and it seemed almost every time she came I was one of the acolytes. Every time the Bishop would come she would ask the oldest acolyte if they ever thought about the Priesthood. Even though she wasn't asking me I always thought that would be really cool. Afterwards I would have this weird feeling. Each time she asked this feeling would get a little strong and stay a little longer. Well then one day something changed.

That little bit of background brings me to explaining the Title of this post. I'll never forget the exact moment I knew that God was in fact calling me to the Priesthood. It was the first Sunday of Advent 2001, I was 12 years old, in the 7th grade, and Nancy Olmsted was still the Rector. I was the acolyte at the 8 o'clock service. Nancy had me light the first candle on the Advent wreath. As I was lighting the candle I could feel a pair of hands on my shoulders. The scary thing was, that no one was around me. Later on in the service - during the confession - I closed my eyes to really focus on the prayer. Suddenly, I wasn't in Christ Church anymore. I was in the middle of a field, with a crystal clear blue sky. All of a sudden a mass a pure white clouds rushed over me. The clouds opened and a figured descended. I couldn't make out the figure, but some how I knew it was Jesus. I could feel him hold my hands, and he said to me "Whom shall I send", and I replied "Here I am, send me." Then we began to walk together. We came to a fork in the road. When I turned back to Jesus, I couldn't see him, but I could feel his presence. I had to make a choice. I went down the path on the right. As I walked down the path I was filled with warmth and comfort. At the end of the path was an altar, and I was standing behind it celebrating the Eucharist. All of a sudden I was back at Christ Church kneeling in my pew. I got really nervous that I had missed a huge chunk of the service. But, when I listened to the prayer the members of the congregation were saying. It was the confession - the same spot we were at when I closed my eyes.

From then on I have questioned my calling, but haven't regretted - haven't looked back. I know that morning I picked the right path, and it has put me on a wonderful journey. The adventures I've been on, and the people I've met are gifts I thank God for everyday.

So this Sunday December 2nd is the 1st Sunday of Advent. It has been six years since I've identified my calling. As I look back on the past six years, I am incredibly thankful for every minute, every second, good and bad. I'm thankful for all God has blessed me with these past six years, and can't even begin to imagine what adventures I will have on the journey ahead. May the next six years, be and amazing and blessed as the first.