I am ordained in The Big Church; I have a Masters of Divinity (MDiv). I am also, whether I like it or not, descended from what might be described as a long line of witches.
My grandmother, Mimi, was a chain-smoking 4'11" psychic who made her living doing charts and readings on her own radio show in the Chicagoland area. My mother is a doctor who often has disquieting "flashes," where she sees what will happen right before it occurs. (As a woman of science she has always discounted these, but they've never gone away.) I don't know much about the women who came before them, but I do know that I am almost painfully sensitive to the energies of people and places, picking up on things even without realizing I am sensing them. The comment I most often get from strangers is, "I have never told anyone that. How did you know to ask me about it?" I don't know how I know. I just do.
In 2009, I spent nine months as a hospital chaplain, and this confirmed my call to the healing arts. In 2010, I began a rigorous education at Emory's Candler School of Theology (I also began my journey with Tarot, doing readings at coffee shops for fun). After seminary, I got a book deal for my work on feminism and religious modesty. Then, I became a pastor--as in, a sermon-preachin', hymn-singin', Communion-blessin' pastor. Stole and all.
After many years of spiritual study, my creed is adapted from the writings of Joseph Campbell: religion is a language for talking about that which cannot be named. There are many languages to speak to God and one another about the Divine; the trick is commitment to fluency in your own, and humility in the knowledge that yours is not sovereign.
My native language is Christianity, but my ancestral tongue is intuition.
Here, I try to channel both. God's too big for one language, but it would be disrespectful of me and my gifts to try to smoosh Her into one box.
I am a Christian mystic, and I am not the only one.
