Benediction from a Professor

Tuesday was the last day of my Tuesday classes.  I realize I say this often, but how can it be December already?  I have been trying to be observant of the passage of each day so that I don't lose a moment, so that I appreciate every scrap of time that I'm here, a seminarian, which in a way is existing out of the regular rhythms that most 57 year olds experience.

But yesterday was indeed the last day of Tuesday classes.  It seems like just yesterday that I came into the classroom, the first in-person class of my first week of Fall 2022 term, just yesterday that I was grateful for the air conditioning during a DC heat wave in late August.  I watched my professor wrestle with the technology, and I thought, OK, it's not just me who has trouble with the classroom technology--different campus, same struggles.

My professor soon captured my imagination, and that class, Foundations of Preaching, has never let me down.  I'm always happy to have attended; I always leave enriched.  Last night was no exception.

Last night concluded our second round of sermons.  I feel like we've really come into our own, or as our professor says, "You've all found your preaching voice."  One of my classmates preached her first sermon in English just six weeks ago.  Last night, you would never have known she was so new to preaching in English, as she preached again.

Our professor had some final words, and then she said, "I wasn't going to say this, but it came to the surface, so here it is:  God did not make a mistake in inviting you to do this work."  I started writing down her words, and she repeated them.  I let my tears well up and spill over as she said, "You are not here by mistake."  I was not the only one--many of us wiped our eyes.

She had advice for us as we fulfill our call.  She said that one of the most prophetic things we can do is to tell our people that God loves them just as they are.  She said that we might be surprised how many people have never heard that God loves them.  She concluded class by saying, "Never miss an opportunity to tell them" (her emphasis).

I left the class feeling blessed in all sorts of ways.  I felt like I had gotten a specific benediction and a blessing, a laying on of hands without the actual laying on of hands.  But I've also been blessed in other ways.  Our professor has a wealth of experience and expertise, and I feel blessed (in the sense of lucky) to have been in her presence for a semester.

And the wealth will continue.  Next semester I will take her Women and Preaching class, an upper level class.  I can hardly wait!