It was Elaine’s catchphrase on Seinfeld.
Someone would say something shocking and Elaine would wind-up and then throw both arms out, hands striking the chest of the person in front of her.
“Get out!” she would say, completely and totally amazed.
There was this little metaphorical Elaine living inside my head yesterday at my orientation at Asbury, representing that part of me that is still shocked to be living this life, not even one year after being confirmed, not even a year and a half since finding Hope.
On one hand, seminary is exactly like every other school I’ve ever attended. There were warnings about plagiarism and working hard. There was talk of money and insurance.
There was mention of walking to the parking lot at night in groups of two or more, which made me think about all the dark alleys I walked down when I was in college up in Ohio. I’m pretty sure God had an army of angels following my stupid self around those nights.
It was all the same.
And then in striking and amazing ways, it was completely different. It began in worship. Orientation began with breakfast and then worship. And worship began with a faculty member telling us how they had been praying for us for weeks, by name.
People, strangers no less, praying for me, still amazes me, especially because I am such a strong believer in the power of prayer.
Worship continued and when it was time for communion I went up and my faculty advisor handed me the bread and said, “Kendra, this is the body of Christ.” And then as I dipped my bread in the grape juice, another faculty member said, “Kendra, the blood of Christ.”
What got me in that whole exchange—was the use of my name. It took me back to when I was little and Sister Julie used to give me communion and address me by name. There is something in the power of a name. It makes everything more real, more intimate, more present, more now.
And by the time I made it back to my seat, I found those familiar tears welling up in my eyes as the praise band sang.
I was sitting there quietly, but all I wanted to do was jump up and do cartwheels (which I have never been able to do so that would have been a miracle in and of itself). I wanted to dance. I wanted to sing. I wanted to make a complete fool of myself. I wanted to be obnoxious in my joy.
I thought about Jesus calling the first disciples, how they dropped everything, left their families and their lives and followed him.
And I think now, how if someone had told me I could pull out a sleeping bag and sleep there in the chapel at Asbury every night and attend classes all day long, I would do it.
I would do it because that is what I want so much right now. I want to be able to attend seminary fulltime. I want to be immersed and not have to come up for air.
And if someone were to offer me a way to do that today, I might just give my inner Elaine free reign and slap that someone on the chest.
And say, “Get out!”
