It’s a miracle that I became a minister. Not a “driver walks away uninjured from a horrific accident” kind of miracle, but a miracle in the sense that you apply baseball’s three-strikes-and-you’re-out philosophy to all of life.
Let me explain.
In the United Methodist Church, when young people have reached the age of 12 or so and are ready to make the decision to become a member of the church, they enlist in what we call confirmation classes. Once the series of classes is over, the young people (called confirmands) go through the confirmation ceremony during a church service and become official members of the church.
When I was in sixth grade I went through the confirmation process. During one class at church I had a coughing spell.
Before I go any further, I need you to understand that when I cough, I cough hard. It’s bad enough when I’m not sick and just have a tickle in my throat, but when I am sick a horrible growl of a cough erupts from my insides. Either way it’s embarrassing when I start to cough and can’t stop.
One time in elementary school this happened. The teacher offered water, crackers, and taking a walk – and I still kept coughing. Well, the incident in my confirmation class wasn’t quite that bad, but it ranked up there on my coughing score card, and as you might imagine, I was humiliated that this was happening in front of my sixth-grade peers at church.
I exited the confirmation classroom and went directly to the water fountain in the church hallway. I eventually regained my composure and went back to class.
But, for the sake of this column, that was STRIKE ONE.
STRIKE TWO also happened during confirmation class. This time, though, it was in front of our entire congregation on Confirmation Sunday.
The way my home church is set up, to be confirmed each confirmand had to go up a few steps on the right side of the altar, kneel at the kneeling rail to actually be confirmed and then go down a few steps on the left side of the altar. And as you might imagine, we were all dressed in our Sunday finest.
So, rather than sporting my regular tennis shoes (being the tomboy that I was), I had to wear dress shoes. When it was my turn to be confirmed, everything went fine – except my descent of the stairs on the left side of the altar.
In case you’re unaware, dress shoes are oftentimes slick on the bottom. They don’t have much traction compared to tennis shoes. So there I was in a white frilly dress and white dress shoes, and as I made my way down those few steps, my feet slid out from under me and down I went – falling, instead of walking, down the stairs.
The only thing that was hurt was my 12-year old ego. As I stifled tears, I gathered myself, got up and promptly walked to the line of confirmands, taking my place as I’d been instructed.
Needless to say, this incident didn’t improve my relationship with dresses and dress shoes. However, apparently God has a sense of humor!
Before getting the Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky, I graduated from Circleville Bible College (now Ohio Christian University) here in Ohio.
CBC had a dress code. Most of the time, while on campus, girls had to wear dresses. I knew this going in and, thankfully, seven years had passed since the fall-on-my-face-during-confirmation incident.
I was apparently recovered enough from that trauma to give it a go. Granted, this STRIKE THREE would only apply to tomboys, but that’s what I was.
Yet, because I knew it was God who was calling me to ministry and because I knew it was God who wanted me to attend CBC, my wardrobe took a dramatic turn. Dresses, skirts and dress shoes became my norm … until I graduated!
So, yes, I coughed and I fell and I had to wear clothes that weren’t my first choice. Some might say I struck out. But being in ministry is where I’m supposed to be.
The way I look at it now is that rather than striking out, God’s plan was a life-changing grand slam!
Joni Manson is Pastor of Sabina United Methodist Church.
