042 - Chapter 42

(Illustrations: Joan at her ordination as deacon in 1987, and me at mine in 1995)

It was while I was still teaching at Central Middle School, that I began to test a calling to ordained ministry in the church. 

I was present at my sister’s ordination as deacon, at Newcastle Cathedral, on the 5th July 1987, (Joan was one of the first batch of women to be ordained to the diaconate then, with the intention of becoming priests some years later. She became a priest in May 1994)

I hope you will believe me when I say that the furthest thing from my mind was following in Joan’s footsteps yet again. After all, we had both been Methodists too, for most of our lives. We’d attended the same school, the same brownies and girl guides, the same high school and the same teacher training college, and we both had become teachers.

There was also no way I would have chosen to put myself through the pressure of extra studying, and writing essays. The course books that she had to read, were enough to put anyone off!

But when the hymn, known as St Patrick’s Breastplate, began booming out on the thundering cathedral organ, and everyone was in full voice singing,

‘I bind unto myself today,

the strong name of the Trinity,

by invocation of the same,

the Three in One and One in Three

That’s when I heard that still small voice again, and it brought my singing to a halt!

“Now will, YOU become a deaconess for me?” (I still don’t understand why ‘deaconess’ was the word used, when women were now allowed to be ‘deacons’?)

“NO WAY, I replied.

I began listing all the reasons why I could never answer such a call.

‘I’m a teacher!” “I have a profession already!’ ‘I haven’t got time for all that extra study!’ ‘My life’s already hectic.’ ‘Joan is snowed under with work, that’s not for me!’ ‘Don’t ask this of me! ‘People will just say, she’s following her sister’s path, yet again! So the answer is no!"

But I had already recognised that it had been the same gentle command, as once said to me, “Put the hoover down, go into the bedroom and pray!”

I tried to forget about it once we came out of the cathedral, but the thought of it just didn’t go away.

Because I wanted to be obedient, I felt that I had to test this; and so the person I decided to talk things over with first was in fact my sister, Joan. One of Joan’s roles in the diocese at that time was Vocations Advisor. I remember her saying to me in reply when I shared the 'call' with her.

“ But Sheila, you’ve got your music ministry, you already do so much!

 I suspect she was playing devil’s advocate at this point!

For someone who wanted a way out of this call, I should have been relieved and got on with my life, but the more I tried to push this out of my mind, the stronger the urge became to press forward.

I went back to see her. I told her, that I needed to have this calling tested, and I thought that she shouldn’t dismiss this out of hand, simply because of my musical gifts!

She smiled and said,

“Perhaps since you’ve come back to me about this, then you had better pursue it!”

I needed to know once and for all if this was God calling me to serve him in this way, or was it simply my own voice in my head?

Bear in mind at this point, I still argued AGAINST a woman becoming a priest, but his was a call to the diaconate for me at that time, not priesthood.

“If it is right the doors will open for you”, she said, . . .and they did!

Every single door in that long, drawn out time of testing, flew open.

Bob had already agreed that I should go ahead, and my children, who were now quite grown up, were roughly 18 and 16, but Peter was only 13 years old, at the time. They were all consulted about it and had no objections, nor had our much loved clergy at St Luke’s, Fr John Inge and his curate Fr Sam Wells.

And so, I found myself being interviewed by the Advisory Board of Ministry, ‘ABM’, a panel which recommended whether candidates were suitable for ministry or not.

I attended a special weekend, along with others who were testing their vocations, and at that point I was still not absolutely sure whether ordination was really what God was directing me to.

That weekend was absolutely super, I loved all the challenges at ABM; the debates, the lectures, the letter writing challenges, the role play, and listening to the opinions of others who were also testing their calling. I was in my element.

During the first Evening Worship, a lady deacon led a beautiful meditation session and I was surprised and moved by her choice of music at its close. I had expected the music to be very formal. She played Simon and Garfunkel’s, ‘Bridge over troubled water’.

(Try listening to this song in a quiet chapel, by candlelight some time!)

The lyrics spoke of a special friend offering to be there for you, every step of the way, laying down their life for you if need be, to ease you on your your journey.

Later on, that night, whether I was asleep or not, I can’t remember, but the words of one verse of that song suddenly hit me with force, and I heard it from a completely new perspective, as if I had never heard these words before . . .

‘Sail on silver girl,

sail on by,

Your time has come to shine ,

all your dreams are on their way.

see how they shine,

Oh if you need a friend,

I’m sailing right behind,

like a bridge over troubled waters

I will lay me down.

I sat bolt upright in bed. Silver girl?

Anyone who knows me, knows that I plenty of  silver hair, (extremely premature might I add!)

In that moment I felt a real sense of assurance and confidence that this was the way forward, and that I would be selected!

I would also come to need this ‘friend who was sailing right behind me’ in the years that lay ahead, for I knew I wouldn’t find the studies easy, or see my work load reduced. I sensed the road might even be difficult and challenging.

I did get selected and was approved, for part time non-Stipendiary ministry. (NSM’s)

The thinking behind such a scheme is that since only 6% of people in the UK actually attend church in England, so where the church needed its ministers was out in the workplaces and market places, drawing people to God right from every margin of society. NSM’s are ministers who continue in employment, but are not paid for ministry in the church. They are self-supporting, unlike full time stipendiary priests.

This arrangement suited Bob and me fine!

And so, I went on to study on the North East Ordination Course (NEOC) for ministry in the Church of England.

It was my intention that I would only go as far as deacon, as that was my calling at the time.

Studying on NEOC whilst holding down a job and seeing to family too, was hard, but I had a lot of support from Bob and my family, and indeed the headmaster at school. It seemed at times I was juggling with billiard balls, and being given more and more to handle, but by the end of the three-year course, certain billiard balls were removed and it actually became a much lighter load to bear.

However, it seemed to me that the recommended reading list for NEOC consisted mainly of highly intellectual books written by liberal theologians. i.e. Tillich, Schleiemacher, Bultmann, Strauss and Spong. If we were journeying forth as ministers, there was only one direction in which we could travel, and that was the liberal route! There didn’t seem to be any other direction on offer.

Our services were all very formal, and even when our families were invited to attend open services, (spouses and children), there was no creativity in our worship, no guitars, no dancing, no drama, which grieved me! Others thought like I did, I wasn’t alone.

It was a very challenging course, but my fellow students, made it all worthwhile, they were so down to earth, fun loving and light-hearted; they were ordinary just like me.

It was really interesting listening to their various preaching styles; some were so very gifted and caught our attention immediately.

One of the worst things before putting pen to paper to write lengthy essays and sermons, is staring at a blank sheet wondering what on earth you are going to say. Also, I couldn’t operate a computer then, not in the way some others did, it was a new-fangled machine at that time, but it would have made my life so much easier. So I was very wary of computers. One person lost all of her essay once, by pressing ‘delete’, and she hadn’t saved her work at all! I couldn’t afford that kind of tragedy. I played it safe, and wrote my eesays by hand, and I employed Elaine, our secretary at school, to type them all out for me.

I was becoming more cat ease  though, at speaking out on various issues, and debating scripture; that was a book I did know about, having read it, at some point each day for years.

I was told by my principal, at the close of my three-year study, that he hadn’t wanted to remove the ‘Charismatic’ in me, he simply wanted me to become a better Charismatic! But I was never conscious of him seeking to do the same with the traditionalists, to help them become better ‘traditionalists’, by experiencing the benefits offered by Charismatic renewal? Had his students ever experienced songs of renewal? Had they been taught anything at all about the exercise of the more supernatural spiritual gifts, or been encouraged to try out more creative styles of worship?

I was approved for ministry which I found very humbling, and surprising too, and I fought much liberal thinking all the way.

I was ordained deacon in September 1995, to serve at my own church at St Luke’s Wallsend, where Bob and I had worshipped for twenty years by then.

I obviously continued teaching at the same school, Central Middle. What made the difference at school? I found that ministry was simply coming alongside others in their need, when they needed it, and simply being there for the children and staff.

At St Luke’s, Fr John and Fr Sam were both wonderful role models, gifted preachers and extempore teachers, and they were very supportive.

They taught from the front of church rather than the pulpit, worship was fairly modern, the altar had been brought forward, but sometimes the Eucharist was conducted at the high altar, and people could go from there into the Lady chapel for prayers afterwards.

As a deacon, I loved pastoral visits, and praying for folk in need.

I had already been used by God, ever since my ‘Baptism in the Holy Spirit’, in praying with people for healing, so was no stranger to it. I believed that God would give the healing, he wanted to give, all we had to do was to act as a channel, and put the matter into his hands. It was that simple, it had nothing to do with any power of mine.

I remember one lady who developed severe, continuous seizures, and the doctor allowed me into the emergency room to pray for her. She was in a comatose state for a few days, and the doctors didn’t seem very hopeful for her recovery, but God restored her a few days later.

There was another man who had cancer in one lung and it needed to be removed. We grew to know each other well. He always wanted me to pray with him whenever I visited his home. His lung was removed, he thought he would die, but he lived for a good many years after that.

The most dramatic blessing I witnessed was with a lovely lady that I used to visit called Jean. She had severe emphysema, and relied on a machine to help her breathe. I visited her regularly, but one day she asked me to pray with her before I left; so we sat and we had a nice cosy prayer together, asking God to bring healing. Suddenly she reached out for the tube which tested her air flow, and she shouted, “Wait a second! She blew into it

“It’s gone up to 200!” she cried out. She repeated the test, breathing into the tube, and cried out again, “It’s gone up to 230!” Then it was 240. She did it once more and smiled broadly at me, crying out, “ It’s now 250!”

I asked her, “ Is that good?”

“Very good, for me!” she said. By this time, we were dancing round the room, thanking God for answering our prayer.

I always think that when we pray for healing God’s ‘coincidences’ happen.

I also recall one dear friend whom we knew at a folk club in Durham, by this time, who had developed Motor Neurone Disease. He wasn’t a Christian at all when we met him, but knowing I was in church ministry, he would always ask for my prayers. We would go on walks and chat together, as he and his wife had a caravan next to ours in the Lake District. He would often unburden himself, and share his concerns. If ever I failed to turn up on time for a folk evening we attended, he panicked because he needed his dose of prayers to keep him calm.

His prayer requests were straightforward, far more direct than mine.He didn’t want to ever be a burden, or enter into disability with his MND, and it was his prayers that were answered not mine. His illness certainly was not long and drawn out by any means. Quite the reverse. He went very quickly and had not become an invalid, for his wife to have to deal with.

I don’t want to give any impression that everyone was healed through prayer. This was not the case, but it’s better to pray, and see coincidences happen, than not to pray at all and see none.

A year after I was ordained deacon, I was saddened when Fr John took up the post of residentiary canon at Ely cathedral in 1996, and Fr Sam had moved on too.

This left just two of us, Andrew and myself, ministering in the interregnum period, until a new priest could be found, and we both worked really hard that year. Both of us were NSM’s and also had full time jobs.

Of course, congregations are always happy to pull together, in an interregnum, ours did, and everything continued like clockwork.

I met regularly with my spiritual counsellor, a very wise retired priest. It was he who felt he should ask me whether I would go on from there to become a woman priest.

My answer was a quick and firm NO! “I am not going to become a woman priest!” I replied. “My calling was to be a deacon!” That door was firmly closed.

As I listened to him one evening, he told me that I couldn’t really close a door on a matter like this, unless I had fully explored what might be beyond the closed door.

Then he began to speak to me about the kind of care that a priest within the parish would be expected to give, and of conducting the Eucharist which fed people, offering them unity, forgiveness and the presence of Jesus in their lives.

He asked me if I could I not see myself called to serve God in the fullest sense of priestly ministry? Could I not see myself shepherding a flock some day?  He was not trying to persuade me at all, merely asking me to at least consider whether it might be God’s chosen way forward, and if not, all well and good.

I answered as only I could then, honestly and straightforwardly, not in a hoity toity way, but firm and definite in my belief that I felt that my call was to go beyond the four walls of a church, and not simply serve those in church!

“I wrote a song not very long ago” I told him. “It was to do with the Eucharist, but it was a call for us all to care for those on the outside where people were broken and in need!”. I told him that when I wrote the song, tears had streamed down my cheeks: And I quoted it to him.

Take eat, this is my body, broken for you,

Eat it and remember, I died for you.

Gaze out of the window; 

see my broken world out there,

And let me ask you a question, ‘Do you care?’

Blood of the covenant, poured out for you,

For your forgiveness, making you new.

Look beyond these four walls,

 look with eyes that see,

and ask if you will be poured out for me.

Song: Take eat, this is my body

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mc3hUNHuEA8

There was a silence then between us. I had finished all that I’d wanted to say and had run out of steam.The silence became more prolonged and a little uncomfortable. He sat and simply looked at me, and I was puzzled.

And then, he bent forward to me very slowly, and as I leaned in to listen, he whispered,

“ My dear . . . you’ve had your calling, already!”

In that instant, in my mind’s eye, I saw a window flying open, with coloured streamers fluttering from it ; and I knew and recognised God’s call through both my counsellor’s comment, and my song!

Through it, God was actually inviting ME to ‘pour myself out’ for him, and his broken world!

I had goose bumps and tingles and flutters of excitement all the way home as I drove the car, and a trembling certainty for what God was calling me to. Thank God for his wisdom.

He was calling me to now move on from being a deacon, to becoming a woman priest!

But who would believe me, and who would accept the fact that I was now thinking quite differently? Would those against women priests in my church see this as being ‘pre-planned’?

But for now, my heart was ‘quite changed’, rather like Lizzie Bennet’s renewed opinion of Mr Darcy. Those of you who have read Pride and Prejudice, will know what I mean!