In the beginning were “the stirred,” and “the stirred” were with God. Seminary chapel bells ring in a new school year, and “the stirred” file into their classes.
As a first year seminary student, I have already learned a few essential lessons:
First, hermeneutics is not that rash that Uncle Ned contracted in 1998.
Second, no one wears a Bible as the latest fashion trend. The only perceivable dress code is Steelers related, which is apparently another religion associated with Pittsburgh.
Third, you must be able to answer the question, “What brought you to seminary?”
My first response: “Excuse me. All of a sudden, I urgently need to wash my hair, water my Chia pet, or check on Uncle Ned’s rash.” What these well-meaning people really want to know is, “What’s your story?” Every handshake was paired with this invasive question, and I did not have a clear answer.
I was forced to examine my journey to seminary: past successes, regrets, and the ambiguous in between. Whether it was the eight majors I cycled through in college or my stint living in Washington DC, I asked a simple question, “Where was God in this?”
Then all I could see were the fingerprints of God. On the days I did not pray, God was there. On the years I did not open the Bible, God was there. And when I turned back to Him, God was there and ready. There was no burning bush or a thunderous voice guiding me. It was the still, quiet stirrings of God in my soul that led me to believe: there is nothing else I could do with my life but serve my Lord.
“What brought you to seminary?” Here’s the unifying factor in every response: “God’s stirring in my life.” Our story is one of our most powerful assets in sharing God’s love. For those who never open the Bible, your story may be the only Jesus they ever know. As we sit side by side in class, our stories intertwine, and once again, God is stirring.
By Kate Robertson, first year student at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary