After reading several statements by women regarding their time as students at SWBTS, I decided to write one of my own. I attended Southwestern in the mid 1980’s just as the conservative resurgence was gaining steam. My experience at seminary was so very different than the women who have written about studying there recently. I am not writing this to invalidate other’s statements nor to presume that every woman at Southwestern had the same positive experience I did. I write this simply as a possible contrast between the climate under Dr. Patterson’s leadership and earlier years.
In October I found myself in a van full of college students on a road trip. A campus minister friend had invited me to tag along with him, his wife Gail, and a group of students. Our route just happened to take us through Gail’s hometown, a sleepy little place in northeast Kansas. It is a deeply rooted farming community where many families have been for generations. As we wound through town we passed a well-kept cemetery.
There have been three funerals in my church over the past year. One of the people I knew fairly well. None were in my circle of close friends. Two of them were a couple married fifty-four years, Jim and Barbara. Barbara lovingly cared for her husband in their home until his Alzheimer’s became so severe that it was too difficult for her. Once he was moved into a care facility, she visited him daily, looking out for his needs. She picked him up and brought him to church every Sunday. One of the holiest moments of my week was seeing her pull into the church parking lot on Sunday morning.
All three workshops will be offered on Tuesday, at 2:00p.m. and then again on Wednesday morning at 9:00a.m. You will have the opportunity to attend TWO of the THREE workshops offered.
I have hosted mini-retreats like this several times over the years for women in collegiate ministry. Women have joined me New Mexico or Colorado for a few days together. It never fails. Whether there is high content or low content. Whether there are three of us or ten of us. They love being together and listening to each other. They come away encouraged in the Lord. I am confident this time will be no different.
After posting two recent reflections on Buddy and Jean Albright, I heard from their son, Ray. He told the following story to me in an email:
Guadalajara is a beautiful city. One thing that fascinated me the year I lived there was the abundance of statues and fountains all around the city. Some of them commemorate Mexican history or honor a military figure. Others are simply designed to be beautiful.
A few years ago my father was hospitalized with pneumonia and I flew to New Mexico to be with him. Late one evening I was stretching my legs while wandering the halls of Lovington General Hospital. I wound up at the nurse’s desk chatting with the nurse on duty. As we talked, I noticed a little sign on the wall by her computer station. It read: “People don’t interrupt my work; they ARE my work.”
Noun / Camaraderie / käm-ˈrä-d(ə-)rē : A spirit of friendly good fellowship among the people in a group.
I love that word.
Everybody has a need to belong. Over the years, whenever I have been together with other women who are involved in collegiate ministry, there is an immediate sense of connectedness. I don’t need to explain what it is like to raise my own financial support. You get it. I don’t have to explain the joy of seeing a college freshman understand the gospel and give their life to Christ. You have experienced it. Young wives find immediate kinship with others who are keeping a home, raising babies and hosting 25 college students for supper every Friday night. You know what it is like to listen to a college student share her heart while also listening for the baby to wake from his nap. We are all in the same group. We are women pouring our lives out for the next generation. Whenever I am in a room full of women who do collegiate ministry, I immediately know, “I belong here.”
I hope you will consider joining us for two days in June in Norman, Oklahoma for a little camaraderie. There will be some inspiring teaching. There will be some rich times of worship. We will pray. We will share some discipleship ideas. But mostly we will enjoy being together as women in a group where we know we belong.
Registration is now live. Check out the Events tab here on the website and register to join us for:
A Conference for Collegiate Staff Women:
Refreshed, Inspired, Equipped
Last week as I walked out of the grocery store toward my car, I was approached by man in a wheelchair. Both of his legs appeared to be amputated just below the knees. He was unkempt and obviously did not have access to good hygiene. But, he wore a bright smile and looked me in the eye as he said, “Ma’am, could you spare 60 cents? That’s all I need to have enough for bus fare.” I try to be to be aware of safety in these sorts of situations, so I looked around to see if I could spot anyone who might be lurking nearby. Not seeing anyone, I opened my purse, handed him a dollar and said, “I’d be happy to help you. God bless you, sir.” As I was driving away I saw him approaching another person headed to their car. I shook my head and thought, “I’m a sucker.” Then, I paused, smiled and said out loud, “Maybe so, but that’s okay. “ I prayed for him as I drove home.
Thank you, Buddy and Jean Albright.
When I graduated from college, I took a job teaching first grade in Guadalajara, Mexico at a small private school. My roommates were two other young American women who were both serving two year stints teaching at the school. It was a wonderful, adventurous year.
About the time I was arriving and getting settled, we were introduced to our neighbors who were also just moving in. Buddy and Jean were probably in their early 50’s and had spent 25 years in Malawi (Africa) with the International Mission Board. Their children were grown and they began to ask the Lord what He had for them in the next season of life. They heard his clear direction to move to a new mission field: Mexico. We loved them and frequented their house in the evenings for popcorn and Milo (a malt flavored mix added to warm milk, very similar to hot chocolate.) One Saturday evening we told them the following story.
We had answered a knock on our metal door that morning to find the most adorable little boy standing there. He looked to be about six years old and was undoubtedly dressed as nicely as he could manage in a dingy, collared shirt that was tucked neatly into well-worn jeans. His shoes looked like they were about to come apart at the seams. His hair was combed very precisely and he had the biggest brown eyes and a shy smile. He was going house to house begging in our neighborhood. We knew his mother had probably dressed him early that morning, given him a bag and sent him on the bus to come across town, all by himself, for this day’s work. We were smitten. We brought him upstairs, sat him on a kitchen stool and put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his hand. Then, we went to work filling his bag with sugar, beans and flour. When he had all he could carry, we gave him a few additional pesos and sent him on his way. As we relayed the story to the Albrights, I laughed and said, “I hope we didn’t just get duped. Maybe he’s taking advantage of foreigners. He’ll probably be back next Saturday and bring all his friends.” We laughed about how, if it was a scam, it was a good one, and they definitely sent the right little boy.
Buddy and Jean did not laugh. Instead, Buddy quietly said, “I would rather give to someone and find out later that I got “taken,” than not give and find out later that they really were in need.”
I was stung.
The truth was the odds were low that it was a scam. Our joking revealed an underlying self-protection and cynicism. How badly we hate to be made fools of. Buddy’s words exposed my wretchedness. Bags of beans and sugar don’t make up for a cynical, self-protective spirit.
Matthew chapter 5 gives us a number of admonitions that seem absolutely foolish:
- If someone strikes you on the cheek, turn to him the other also (v. 39)
- If someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. (v. 40)
- Love your enemy (v.44)
- Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. (v.42)
- And of course the gospel itself is foolish. “We preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” (1 Corinthians 1:23)
I never encounter a beggar that I don’t think of Buddy’s words. I don’t always give to someone who asks, but I usually do. I do try to always be kind and pray for them. I can’t know what their true needs are. One thing I do know: If a person with no legs is in the parking lot asking for 60 cents, then his needs -- spiritual and physical and emotional -- are likely much greater than bus fare. I will never miss that dollar. And I never want to miss an opportunity to keep my heart flung wide open to others. Even in small ways. Even at the risk of being a fool.
I have been thinking lately about the dear folks who peopled my childhood, youth and early walk with God. Many of them have now gone to be with Jesus. I am often reminded of how they shaped me by their words or their example.
For some (morbid?) reason I once memorized Ecclesiastes 7:2: “Death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.” Cheerful verse, right? Yet, I find this verse coming to mind more and more often as I get older. I want to “take it to heart” that life is short; and also, that I have the astounding opportunity to touch the lives around me with the gospel. So, in an attempt to honor the legacy of those who have gone before me, I thought I would tell you a few stories about the power of influence in my life. Maybe in the telling, these stories will inspire you. Stay tuned.
A friend of mine thinks that we who do ministry need to learn to “spike the ball.” When football players finally get the ball into the end zone, they don’t stand around the goal post looking depressed, grumbling to one another about how many plays they had to run, or how they fumbled the ball on first down and then let the quarterback get sacked. No! They celebrate! They give each other high fives and jump up in the air -- and spike the ball. At that moment it doesn’t matter whether or not they played flawless football. It doesn’t matter how many interceptions were thrown, or how long it took. They got the ball in the end zone and that’s the whole point of the game.
There is something I often hear among women who work in ministry. It is a conversation that begins with the sentence, “I feel like a failure.” It has surprised me to discover how widespread the feeling is. I have not merely heard it from one or two women who had a bad year or from a woman on a campus that has suffered a significant drop in numbers in their ministry. It appears to me that it is the appraisal of many women regarding their lives and ministries, no matter how outwardly successful they may be.
I have been thinking about this and trying to figure out why we often feel this way. (Is it just the women?) I’m sure there are many possible reasons. My guess, though, is that this vague feeling flows mostly from a failure to remember how the kingdom of God works. In Matthew 13:31-33, Jesus tells the following parables:
“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.”
“The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough."
These are how the kingdom most often grows: slowly and out of sight,
I think most of us long for and expect our ministry to have more “wow” factor:
- The series of weekly meetings where worship was awesome and the messages were creative, clear and compelling (move over David Platt and Rend Collective!)
- The party you pulled off that everyone is still talking about
- The unforgettable retreat
- The twenty women you personally led to faith in Christ this semester.
A lot of parties are fun, but most are not that memorable. Sometimes you only get to be one small link in a person’s journey to faith in Christ. So, be as faithful as you can with the ministry God has given you. Work hard. Pray hard. Learn from your mistakes. Accept the fact that both big retreats and small group Bible studies rarely come off without any glitches. Don’t beat yourself up over conversations that were not “perfect.” (I often labor over these articles and then don’t post them because I can’t get them just perfect.) Never forget for one moment that God is the ONLY ONE who is always faithful, perfectly insightful and, of course, wondrously creative. I wonder how you are evaluating your semester now that the end is in sight? Consider the possibility that good is sometimes good enough. Go ahead and spike the ball.
A couple of years ago I wrote an article for directors of collegiate ministries to help them better understand and more effective supervise the young women who work alongside them. The article was published online at the Collegiate Collective this week. Although it was written primarily for your boss, maybe you will find some help here too. Perhaps it will help you put words to something you have needed from him or her, but could not articulate. I would love to know your thoughts. Do you resonate with these three things? What would you have added to the list?
A Guest Post by Sheri Johnson
When my kids were little they ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. I would carefully craft this midday meal with soft bread, a little more peanut butter than jelly and always made sure the crusts were cut off. I served them their crust-less sandwiches with a kiss and prayer and would promptly start to clean up the kitchen. Returning the jar of peanut butter to the pantry and the jelly and bread back into the fridge, I would then get a fresh cloth and wipe up the surface of the counter as I popped the crusts of the sandwiches into my mouth. After the dishes were washed I would sit down with my kids. Sometimes we were silly, making each other laugh, other times we would read a story or I would teach them about table manners. It was a quality time of the day with my little ones.
In the afternoon, my kids would go down for their naps and I would settle in with my own tasks. When my body was stationary I would realize that I had an incredible hunger. I wondered why I was so hungry. Didn’t I just eat lunch a while ago? Then it would occur to me, I prepared and served lunch to my kids, but only had a few crusts of bread for myself. This is what I call a “peanut butter and jelly existence”.
As women in ministry, we can also have a “peanut butter and jelly existence”. God has called us to lead the women that He has put into our care. We lovingly prepare Bible studies. We spend time with women one-on-one, listening to their questions and digging in the Word for the answers. We spend hours sharing the good news of the Gospel with non-believers on campus. It is our pleasure to show others how to spend alone time with God.
Our Bibles are out; the pages are turning. The truth is extracted and shared with hungry women on college campuses. We are providing spiritual nourishment for others, but are we still hungry ourselves?
1) What are the signs that you are spiritually hungry? Do you ever “eat” on the run or skip “meals”?
2) Do you have a time each day to feed yourself? Are you able to focus on God’s Word for you without thinking of how it will benefit others?
3) When living out your week, do you safeguard your own time with God?
4) Is there an extended time each month that you spend a day with God?
Sheri Johnson grew up in Colorado, attended the University of Wyoming and has been on staff with Campus Ventures (CV) since 1992. Sheri and her husband (Cody) have served on campus staff at Northwest College and the University of Wyoming. In 2014, she stepped into the role of Women's Coordinator for Campus Ventures to train, resource and shepherd the women on staff throughout Wyoming and South Dakota.