Here it is. Second year.
It’s interesting reflecting on this now when this time last year I wasn’t even certain about the first year. In my mind I tried to romanticize it, a reckless nomad at heart daring to seek her path regardless of the obstacles that lay before her.
In truth, I was nervous, venturing in the realm of being scared out of my wits. Seminary was the last place on my bucket list of things to do and I found myself being drawn to it. You can see evidence of me dragging my feet on the soles of my shoes and in the question of “why would God call me here?” I felt extremely ill prepared, having never cracked open a theology book before. Or thought before then of what exactly worship is and the how’s and why’s of its happening. Or who exactly are George Whitfield or Emmanuel Kant.
But my fears and nerves could not overcome the magnetized draw I felt, something I have heard otherwise as a call, vocation, intuition, what have you. It was the same feeling that guided me through my studies of theatre, writing and rhetoric, and that has helped me navigate most of my life, so I knew better than to ignore it now. Yet somehow in the annoying, nagging part of my brain, doubt kept creeping in, making me temporarily ignore all the things that confirmed me being here now was perfect.
Perhaps for some reason I had assumed if this is where I was called then everything would work out as I viewed things working out. How I thought perfect looked, where nothing could go wrong and things would be smooth sailing.
Sitting here, and looking back at them, I smile at the silliness of my worry, for though I could not see the path, could not understand the path, the path was in better hands than mine. In fact, the best hands it could be in.
So here I am. Second year, knowing without a doubt this is where I need to be now, while also knowing that though it may not always be okay, life may not be okay, it is still perfect.
Rebecca Dix, MDiv Student at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary