Welcoming tears
by Andy Behrendt
From what my parents told me, I didn't cry like many other babies when I was baptized 25 years ago.
This morning, I almost did. Seminary Pastor John Mann had dipped an evergreen branch into the baptismal font at the back of the chapel and was shaking water onto the new students as we confessed our faith. It was nothing like the deluge at a SeaWorld show, but since I was of course sitting in one of the back pews, the scattered drops of water that I felt were enough to startle me. And as it suddenly set in that this marked my next big step in faith and that I was finally answering God's call, I was on the verge of tears.
Today was the official start to my career at Luther Seminary, on the road to becoming a pastor. My dad is a pastor, at Peace Lutheran Church in my hometown area of Green Bay, Wis. As I grew up seeing all the great things he has done for people, I always thought I might want to be a pastor, too.
I also wanted to be a newspaper reporter, and I tried that first. Shortly before graduating from the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay in 2003, I landed my dream job as a news reporter at the Green Bay Press-Gazette. I got married in June 2005 and thought I had my career all set. But I couldn't escape the feeling that I needed to get more in tune with God and find a different way to serve people.
At my wife's home church one morning last October, it hit me. It came with that same feeling, bringing me to the verge of tears and causing my voice to falter as I sang the closing hymn. At the end of that service, I turned to my wife, Tracy, and told her that at last I knew I needed to become a pastor.
Choosing Luther Seminary wasn't difficult. My parents met here, and my mom's side of the family lives west of Minneapolis. Tracy and I moved to St. Paul in June. I came to Luther today as not much of a stranger; this summer I began working part-time at the seminary's Communication Office and took a seven-week Greek course as a foundation for New Testament study.
Today's orientation sessions offered me a lot. I met some more new friends, signed up for some activities and picked up some nifty freebies. But nothing quite compared to that feeling this morning as we re-affirmed our baptism — trying to leave behind our lives of sin and selfishness to live instead in the Spirit and for one another.
It's not often that I'm moved to the verge of tears. Recently, it has only happened in moments of deepest faith, when I realize what God has in store for me. There's no feeling that compares to it. The last time it happened was a couple months ago, the morning after a buddy's wedding back in Green Bay. After the wedding, I had talked to several of my friends about their uncertainty with faith or concerns about death, and it occurred to me at my home church the next morning how many people I could already help. With a strangely welcomed kick to the stomach, I become overwhelmed with feeling of humility and gratitude to God. It's these moments that remind me that I'm doing the right thing, despite any doubt and fear.
When my dad baptized me 25 years ago, there was no reason for tears — I didn't understand what was happening. Today, although there's still so much that I don't understand, I finally understand what I need to do. And that's worth crying tears of joy.
This morning, I almost did. Seminary Pastor John Mann had dipped an evergreen branch into the baptismal font at the back of the chapel and was shaking water onto the new students as we confessed our faith. It was nothing like the deluge at a SeaWorld show, but since I was of course sitting in one of the back pews, the scattered drops of water that I felt were enough to startle me. And as it suddenly set in that this marked my next big step in faith and that I was finally answering God's call, I was on the verge of tears.
Today was the official start to my career at Luther Seminary, on the road to becoming a pastor. My dad is a pastor, at Peace Lutheran Church in my hometown area of Green Bay, Wis. As I grew up seeing all the great things he has done for people, I always thought I might want to be a pastor, too.
I also wanted to be a newspaper reporter, and I tried that first. Shortly before graduating from the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay in 2003, I landed my dream job as a news reporter at the Green Bay Press-Gazette. I got married in June 2005 and thought I had my career all set. But I couldn't escape the feeling that I needed to get more in tune with God and find a different way to serve people.
At my wife's home church one morning last October, it hit me. It came with that same feeling, bringing me to the verge of tears and causing my voice to falter as I sang the closing hymn. At the end of that service, I turned to my wife, Tracy, and told her that at last I knew I needed to become a pastor.
Choosing Luther Seminary wasn't difficult. My parents met here, and my mom's side of the family lives west of Minneapolis. Tracy and I moved to St. Paul in June. I came to Luther today as not much of a stranger; this summer I began working part-time at the seminary's Communication Office and took a seven-week Greek course as a foundation for New Testament study.
Today's orientation sessions offered me a lot. I met some more new friends, signed up for some activities and picked up some nifty freebies. But nothing quite compared to that feeling this morning as we re-affirmed our baptism — trying to leave behind our lives of sin and selfishness to live instead in the Spirit and for one another.
It's not often that I'm moved to the verge of tears. Recently, it has only happened in moments of deepest faith, when I realize what God has in store for me. There's no feeling that compares to it. The last time it happened was a couple months ago, the morning after a buddy's wedding back in Green Bay. After the wedding, I had talked to several of my friends about their uncertainty with faith or concerns about death, and it occurred to me at my home church the next morning how many people I could already help. With a strangely welcomed kick to the stomach, I become overwhelmed with feeling of humility and gratitude to God. It's these moments that remind me that I'm doing the right thing, despite any doubt and fear.
When my dad baptized me 25 years ago, there was no reason for tears — I didn't understand what was happening. Today, although there's still so much that I don't understand, I finally understand what I need to do. And that's worth crying tears of joy.
posted by Andy Behrendt at 8:52 PM
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