A lengthy reflection 
with a very full heart!
In the Church of the Nazarene each district gathers annually for an assembly. We join together to hear reports from churches and auxiliaries, vote on district leadership positions, celebrate those receiving district licenses and ordination, learn about the work of denominational ministries and resources, and worship as we celebrate what God is doing across our district. But even more than all of that, it is a special few days when we get to spend time with people we may only see once a year. It's a reunion of sorts.
During our final service today (albeit, after very little sleep and a very full day), something incredibly special happened to me, and I am still trying to find the words.
When I was 14, an incredible woman at the United Methodist Church in Stratford, CT, Pastor Julia Yim, became a catalyst for me discovering God in a way that changed the course of my life.
Before then, when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answers ranged from news anchor, to Broadway actress, to (for a surprisingly long time) air traffic controller. (Honestly... ministry isn't all that different!)
But at 15 years old I encountered God in a way I never had before.
I was knee-deep in mud at a four day long Christian festival called InsideOutSoulFest in New Hampshire. I remember exactly who was on stage. Sonny from P.O.D. walked out dressed entirely in black, covered in tattoos, with locks, and immediately challenged everything I thought a Christian was "supposed" to look like.
For much of my life I had felt like I didn't quite belong anywhere. Even after finding youth group and meeting Pastor Julia, I was still trying to figure out how I fit. Was I good enough? Did I know enough of the Bible? Everyone seemed to have this certain Christian "look" or confidence that I didn't have.
Then Sonny stepped onto that stage, and I honestly wondered if he was in the wrong place.
Instead, he dropped to his knees and prayed one of the most beautiful prayers I had ever heard. I don't even remember the words anymore, but I remember what happened inside of me.
I knelt in that muddy field because, for the first time, I understood that I didn't have to fit a mold.
I belonged to God exactly as I was.
It was that summer that I sensed God calling little old me (the girl who had spent so much of her life wondering where she fit) to become a pastor.
What church though? That part remained a mystery.
So I started looking for a college that would honor that calling.
Eventually a friend invited me to visit Eastern Nazarene College. My mom raised an eyebrow because she had never heard of the Nazarenes. Honestly, I had only ever heard of one Nazarene... and He seemed like a pretty good guy. 
I fell in love with the school, not because it was Nazarene, but because it was just outside Boston and the people were incredibly kind.
Then I arrived on campus.
Everyone seemed to know everyone else.
Parents were pastors. Grandparents were district superintendents. Friends had grown up together in Nazarene churches. Some weren't even religion majors, yet they knew the Bible far better than I did.
Meanwhile, I couldn't even name the twelve disciples.
That little voice began whispering.
Imposter. You don't know enough. You don't belong here.
What even was a Nazarene?
I started visiting churches around campus and eventually found my home at Malden Church of the Nazarene. I didn't fully understand Nazarene theology, polity, or the Articles of Faith.
But I understood this: These people saw me. They hugged me. They fed me. They welcomed me. They made me feel valued.
And to me, that was what it meant to be a Nazarene.
And yet still, that whisper lingered: Outsider.
After graduating from ENC, my dear professor and mentor Jeff Barker encouraged me to attend seminary. Not only to continue my education, but, as he joked, "to meet more Nazarenes."
So I packed everything I owned into my little sedan and drove to Kansas City.
Again, I found myself surrounded by people whose names everyone seemed to know. And again, that whisper returned.
Outsider.
After seminary came Binghamton. Then Endicott. Then Schenectady.
I was 27 years old when I arrived on the Upstate New York District, one of very few female pastors at the time, surrounded by people who had decades of ministry behind them.
Was I Nazarene enough? Did I know enough? Did I belong?
As the years passed, that whisper became quieter.
Friendships formed. Relationships deepened. Ministry happened.
Somewhere along the way I realized I had been asking the wrong question all those years.
The question was never, "Am I Nazarene enough?"
The real question was:
Am I living my life in a way that honors Christ and the calling He has placed on my life?
Even after I knew the right question, every now and then that old whisper would still return.
Outsider.
But today... As I sat at the piano leading worship at District Assembly...
As I looked across a room filled with people I have now loved and served alongside for fifteen years... As we remembered the saints who have gone before us... As we gathered around the Lord's Table...
Something shifted. A holy shift. And suddenly I realized something.
The one whispering "outsider" all those years...was me. But the One whispering: One Body. One Spirit. That was the Holy Spirit.
As we came forward to receive the bread and the cup, I wept.
Not because something new had happened. But because I was being reminded of something God had spoken over me all along: I have always belonged to Him.
As I returned to my seat, person after person gently placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
One woman kissed me on the top of my head and quietly said: "Thank you for your ministry and all that you are doing for God."
And I wept even harder.
One Body.
One Spirit.
Today I realized the Holy Spirit wasn't telling me something new.
He was reminding me of something He first whispered to a 15 year old girl kneeling in the mud at SoulFest.
You belong to Me.
I have always belonged to God. And because I belong to Him, I belong in His Body.
One Body.
One Spirit.
The whisper that called me an outsider has finally gone quiet.
Amen.
Side note: several people asked about my PEACE FOR ALL shirt today. It is a shirt from UNIQLO's Peace for All collection, where proceeds support humanitarian organizations serving people affected by poverty, violence, displacement, and conflict around the world.
