Its been almost a year since I started my Sabbatical. I had been involved in children’s and youth ministry for over 25 years, starting when I was a teenager myself. I loved the work, and really loved the kids. I taught various grade levels-from working in the nursery all the way through college students. My favorite age, however, was middle school. I loved working with these kids in particular, as they transitioned from elementary school-recess, snack, one teacher-to being more mature, learning to navigate cliques and lockers, new schedules and more homework and hormones. My son is almost at that age, and I both look forward to it and fear it.
During this time of Sabbatical, I not only stepped away from my ministry, but my faith as well. On many levels, it was like at the end of the Wizard of Oz, where the curtain is pulled back and you see the wizard is just a man. So it goes when you work in ministry, they are just people, no matter how much magic you want them to possess. I needed to sojourn, in the wilderness. I’ve had dry bones.
Like in Ezekiel 37:1-14
The hand of the LORD was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. 2 He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. 3 He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
I was one of those skeletons.
I am wandering in the desert, waiting for one to:
“Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! 5 This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath[a] enter you, and you will come to life. 6 I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.’”
7 So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. 8 I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.
I am waiting. Wishing. Hoping. I am waiting to feel the breath of God-the ruach-to blow over me and breathe new life into me. I am waiting to be restored, revived and renewed. I am listening for both the thunderclap and the still, small voice. I eagerly await the glories of resurrection, because I am in that pit.
As I wander in this Sabbatical season, I have found inner fortitude and strength. I have become deliberate about my faith. I have set intentions and watch miracles manifest. I have developed a strong practice around gratitude. I have looked towards the heavens and found angels all around us. I have read Scripture with a skeptical eye. I have met with atheists and free thinkers, who have challenged me and caused me to think about what I believe. My child like trust that all is good, all the time really doesn’t measure up when you are parched for living water.
I need the steady stream of life. I need the gentle breeze, the ruach, to breathe life into these dry bones.
Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity. Margaret D. Nadauld
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