Author Sue Monk Kidd instantly drew me in to her book “The Dance of the Dissident Daughter” from the first paragraph of the introduction. She recalls a question she heard asked on National Public Radio: “Once you wake up, can you wake up any more?” She then goes on to describe a period of her life when she felt like she was waking up “some more.” As I think about my life, especially my spiritual life, I can definitely see patterns of waking up and waking up some more.

I cannot pinpoint when my initial “waking up” to the things of God began, because memories of hearing, thinking, and talking about God exist as far back as I can remember. Actually, I believe that we are born “awake,” with a strong sense of the Divine; something that is not taught to us, but is stamped upon our hearts as we come into being. I was extremely fortunate to have been born into a loving and caring family who not only taught me the basic principles of living as a Christian, but also put those teachings into action. My first step to become a follower of Jesus happened as a young child. Looking back, it was a simple understanding, but a real one nonetheless.

Throughout my childhood and teenage years, the basic foundation of what it meant to live as a follower of Christ was laid. I was, what Scott Jones has lovingly referred to as, a “church nerd.” I loved being involved in every possible activity our church offered. If the doors were open, we were there. I had great role models both at church and within my family.
I wouldn’t be completely honest, though, if I didn’t share that because of the type of church we attended, I was also picking up subtle (and not so subtle) fundamentalist ideas . . . ideas that would take many years to sort through and recover from. I remember the first time I heard a Royal Lane member admit to being a “recovering fundamentalist,” I thought, “What a wonderful way to describe me.” There are many messages I received from church that were not only unhealthy, but harmful to my soul. The one message that really stuck with me, and one that kept coming up again and again as I grew up, is ironically a principle that would never have allowed me to be standing here at this moment. This message was this: women are not to be in places of leadership whether at church or in a family. I have a vivid memory of myself as a young child, sitting in church on a Sunday night. Our pastor would close each Sunday evening service by asking a member of the congregation to pray. At some point I became panic stricken that perhaps he might call on me to pray. Being terrified at the thought of this, I began running through an escape route, something I could do to get out of the situation if, indeed, I was asked to pray. After rational thought returned, I felt a calm come over me as I had a revelation. It was absurd for me to think he would call on me to pray. Not because I was an 8 year old, but because I was a girl. In my 8 years of faithful attendance in church, I had never heard a woman pray or lead in any noticeable way during the service. Even then, a small fire burned in my soul that said, “No, this is not right.” Maybe these were the first stirrings of awakening.
My first big “waking up some more” period occurred in college. Joe and I, who had begun dating in high school, attended and were very involved in a conservative church in Lubbock. At some point during those years, we began to have lively and often emotional discussions with my family when we would come home for a weekend or for the holidays. My oldest brother was in the midst of his “crisis of faith” and this eventually led all of us to reexamine our most basic beliefs. During this period, the easy Sunday school answers and black and white view of the world became increasingly uncomfortable. I began allowing myself to contemplate the hard questions. For those of us coming from a fundamentalist perspective, even allowing yourself to consider these questions was considered a dangerous road . . . one that could lead to destruction (these were actual words of warning spoken to us by some good friends and mentors within the church as we began to vocalize our thoughts). This was a time when my personality of persistence and refusal to follow the crowd really paid off (my mom always told me it would). I was at the edge of the unknown. But surprisingly it was not scary. I felt the urge to dig deeper, to ask the questions, articulate the doubts, and begin the journey of truly living the life Christ called me to live. And at this point, there was no turning back.
We had been enduring the pain of forcing ourselves to sit through sermons and Sunday school classes at our church home in Lubbock. It was becoming increasingly difficult. During sermons, Joe and I would look at each other with that “Ooo, I can’t wait to get in the car and talk about this!” look. The final straw for me occurred when I went to speak with the associate pastor to ask a few questions about the direction in which he thought the church was moving. I specifically asked if he could foresee a time when women would be in leadership. His answer? Laughter. He actually laughed at me and said “No. If we have women deacons, who would be left to attend to our missions work?” Needless to say, Joe and I never attended that church again. And where to go from there? Well of course, the one church we had been warned by many people in Lubbock never to step foot in . . . Second Baptist. We were only at Second for a few months before we finished out our teaching careers and moved to Dallas. Then the journey of searching for a church began. That journey eventually led us to Royal Lane. We breathed a sigh of relief as we worshiped here for the first time 6 ½ years ago.
Based on what I know about myself and others who are embarking on their own journeys of faith, I know that we are never finished Waking Up. There is still much to learn. But for now, I am thankful. Thankful for the past that led me to where I am today, thankful for my wonderful, loving family, thankful for you, my community of faith, who encourages me and challenges me to continue on my journey. Thankful for this opportunity to be a servant leader. And thankful that, though my kids will likely have wounds of their own, they will never doubt that all of us are equally valued and everyone is welcome at God’s table.