Introduction

I am on the fifth season of myself. There’s young Sara, there’s military Sara, scientist Sara, Sara the mother, and now church Sara…. I was very hesitant to offer to write this, because frankly, I don’t belong here. But isn’t that true of any of us? I went back to one of the Bible verses that I drew, and ALL the women in the background of this verse, are unnamed, and that gave me the impetus to write.

I was raised Lutheran. It is just part of who I am, and I never questioned it, although I was FULL of questions ABOUT it. The ELCA, Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, in a mainstream progressive (meaning not conservative in the historical literal meaning when reading the Bible) merger of many ethic, immigration descendant Lutheran churches in the US. It was created when I was nine, but I don’t remember the predecessors. I started Confirmation at the appropriate time, and … I asked a lot of questions. I was kicked out Confirmation, for asking too many questions. This led to a parting of ways after graduation, between the church and me. I needed

answers and the church was slamming the doors on even asking questions, albeit very nicely. I wrote a letter to my mother, explaining that I was going to leave the Lutheran faith and explore other faiths. This should have been a hint to me that my faith was very important to me. I STILL describe myself as spiritual but not religious … and I am a minister now (but that came as a surprise to me). After my husband returned from the first Gulf War, we tried to go back to church; it seemed appropriate. It didn’t take. We never found a place that we found welcoming, although we did travel a lot. He joined the Foreign Service and we started traveling more!

Turkey, Paris, Orkney, Over the Baltic Sea

Call

While my husband went to Afghanistan, as a diplomat in this case rather than in the military, I remained with the children in Wisconsin, with the children, near my parents. I taught at the school, attended church, and lived closer to a life of pioneers, due to distance and isolation (Covid has nothing on them up there), in the middle of the woods of Wisconsin. Part of my teaching came to the attention of the local pastor, now a dear friend, and we started discernment discussions. I have to say, I NEVER considered ministry. I am an animal person, an anthropologist and zoologist, and my interest is human- animal interactions. I was tracking wolves, why would I want to go to seminary? Over the year, at one point, he asked me, “What do you feel when you talk about interconnected relationships?” I described feeling like I was standing in the centre of a huge bell. He busted out laughing and said, “That’s a call, Sara, with a capital C.” I resisted this tooth and nail. There’s too much responsibility. I’m a scientist. There are no lions or wolves. (There are, see Isaiah, Jeremiah, John, etc). But truly, one of my biggest hurdles was that for ME, I interpreted a Call like “here I am, Lord” and walking away from this life into His. Oh, my dears, this is a myth we have been sold to keep us at home. I had babies (5 and 7; but still babies to me), a house to keep, animals to care for, wolves to track, land to tend, was geographically isolated, and my husband was gone. I didn’t have TIME. What I discovered in this year, and the few years that followed, was that when I resisted, the Holy Spirit kept throwing curve balls at me; when I surrendered, doors opened, people called, and somehow things worked out. Luther Seminary accepted me, with hesitation, into their Distributed Learning Master’s program (semesters online, intensives twice a year between, in person, on campus) (hello jet lag). The synod (the equivalent to a district) accepted me, with hesitation, after a Bishop who strongly wanted someone to ‘chase away the Persistent Mrs. Bishop’ retired. I decided to do it ANYway, I didn’t HAVE to get ordained, but I could explore right relationships from the theology side of academics, to add to the anthropological and zoological. I began seminary while living in Turkey. I studied and read and wrote papers on planes. My kids listened to lectures with me as we made dinner. They learned the Greek alphabet song with me, and we still sing it! I was supervised at an Anglican and Episcopalian church in Ankara. When time came to move, the Anglicans found placement in Tallinn, Estonia for me, in a joint Estonian Lutheran and Church of England to do my internship placement. The Bishop of Europe and Gibraltar covered Turkey AND Estonia, and he freely admitted that he wanted me to jump ship and come through their process. None of this should have worked out, to be honest. I was steeped in old world, high church, medieval Old Town Tallinn, and struggled daily with whether or not to follow through with ordination. I was brutally honest with my candidacy committee, praying that they would say I was unsuited, too old, missing some vital attribute or, more importantly, too far away. ELCA Global Mission took the unprecedented action of calling me, even though it would be first call. The Anglicans and Episcopalian Bishops, as well as my ELCA Lutheran Bishop, and several others, were there in the park, under open skies in the Wisconsin woods for my ordination, and Puha Vaimu, in Tallinn, Estonia called me to serve, as a Lutheran pastor.

And then we moved to Australia. I assumed, foolishly, that I would serve here too; after all, against all odds, it had worked out elsewhere. Whether or not it was allowed or not never entered my mind. I had NO idea. Imagine being allowed to work, vote, receive wages, drive, whatever you view as an unquestioned normal, and that just being taken away. Imagine you were suddenly told that no, what you had struggled with, fought for, persevered to accomplish, dragging your family through it, with them hold you up and pushing you on when you were too tired to do so, and then being told, “Oh, that doesn’t count; it was for nothing, you CAN’T. “

I have always walked the fine line of depression. I have managed it with diet, exercise, regular sleep and routine; after all, it isn’t until recently that we were able to say those things without hesitation, we just dealt with it. I write, sometimes just to get words out. I surround myself with animals, who don’t judge, who need and give back more love than they receive. For the first time, the shadow was stronger than the light. I sank deeper into depression. I tried to do what the Archbishop of the Estonian Lutheran church asked me to do, and serve the members of the closed congregation here, and found that I am un- belonging there too; not enough Estonian language, and frankly, an American, not an Estonian, in a time when merely being American was a question of character, not pride.

It took a year to ask for help; it took another three months to stop crying constantly, and six months to believe in my purpose again (and that is FAST, as those struggling with depression know). I had a leg up, knowing what it was and being able to articulate it. I’d been fearing this for years; I felt like I’d lost some sort of battle, but it is really more like the weather, and I had prepared. I still almost missed the signs, but my family, friends who are on this road already, and frankly, fear picked me and helped up on (again)

In true form, it was the Holy Spirit who did that again, diverting me into a little inclusive, ecumenical, international church that wasn’t even sure what ‘being Lutheran’ meant, when it finally came up. They welcomed me with God’s hospitality and theirs, and I knew the flame was just damped, not put out. They asked me to come share my call, to connect, and it’s working. We’re here to stay. I continue to be Lutheran to my core, even though they don’t want me (speaking in generalities), I want them. I support, I watch, I pray.

Response

I end with a quote I heard today, from Isabel Allende. “I am not passing any torches. I will light the torches of other women, but I will NOT give up mine.” I cannot be un- belong’ed from God’s family. If my name is reduced to “the Persistent Mrs. Bishop”, belonging to my husband and reduced to an add-on; if my name is forgotten and I’m just that odd American minister; if I fall so far into the darkness that I forget that I am holding a torch, there ARE people out here to help me keep it lit, my faith will continue to light the way, and most importantly, He called me over. And here I am.

Sara is a professional expatriate, having lived outside of her passport country more than inside it, during the last twenty years. We are who we are as a result of our relationships: daughter, soldier, wife, scholar, mother, friend, minister. And that’s just so far.