Seminary? Really?
Photo by Lauren Mitchell Photography, 2025
“Your way was through the sea,
your path through the great waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.”
I really want to work in ministry. Have I told you that before? Ever since I left my church job when our daughter was born, I’ve had a hunger in my belly to return to the work I felt called to do. I knew I needed to be home through Violet’s baby season. In my heart, though, I wanted to get back to serving a local body of believers as soon as possible. But God had other plans for me.
If you’ve heard my story, you know postpartum depression rattled the cages of my theology, values, and relationships. I never thought I’d escape that level of darkness. I felt too lost to be found, too broken to be fixed. But again, God had other plans for me. By some radical act of grace, I signed up for re:Generation, a 12-step program for healing and discipleship. I came in bitter, disillusioned, and wearing every ounce of my despair and darkness, and I was welcomed in warmly. I found a home among those beautiful, hurting people, because I was just like them. Broken, yet broken open.
It was the hardest emotional, mental, and spiritual work of my life. I excavated old wounds and religious ideologies. I repented for prizing my ways over God’s ways. I embraced dependence on my Shepherd. And, as the year ended, I felt ready to wash my face and move on into the world. But—are you surprised?—God had other plans for me.
He brought me right back into those little, fluorescent re:Gen rooms, where I co-led a group with two of my dearest friends. He invited me to sit with the hurting, speak truth to the doubting, cry with the grieving, and share my messy, miraculous story with new groups of men and women. Again, the work was hard. But something fresh and empowering bubbled up in my chest. God showed me, Hey, Mel, I’ve equipped you for this work. You can do this well. You enjoy being real and vulnerable and ugly and hopeful with others, and you make space for their questions and tears. That is a gift from my hands. Let’s be curious about it together. As the years marched on and my friends and I co-led more groups, my passion for this ministry deepened, and I watched the Lord take the pain that once broke me and turn it into hope for others.
Almost five years have passed since my daughter was born, and a lifetime of gospel healing has taken place in that time. Yet alongside every victory, I also experienced so. much. rejection. Throughout my years at home, I applied for more jobs than I can count—ministry roles, writing roles, editing, book selling, even data entry! The reply to every single one was “no.” No, your work resumé is not up to snuff. No, you are overqualified. No, you’re not qualified enough. We love you, you’re great, but we’re going in a different direction. The answer is no.
After reading yet another rejection letter this summer, I found myself crying in bed, wondering what God was trying to tell me. What did it mean that I had a desire to minister, write, and counsel? Will my whole life be spent choosing between doing what I love and providing for my family? Will those two values ever intersect in a job market this competitive? With inflation this insane? And is it selfish to desire compensation for doing something I believe I’m good at and equipped for? Or should I just shrug my shoulders, stay home with the kids, and keep my dreams to myself?
Why can’t I shake the feeling that the answer to that question is also a resounding no?
Jasper came upstairs and held me as I cried. He comforted and prayed for me. But, God bless him, he’s still a fixer (wives, you know what I’m talking about!), so he pulled out his computer and said, “Okay, we’re going to write down your dream job. Tell me everything you want to spend your life doing. I’m going to make a list.” So I wiped the tears and snot from my face, sat up in bed, and told him everything.
I told him I want to work with a team towards a beautiful, gospel goal. I want to write in a way that edifies God’s people. I want to continue the work of re:Generation, normalizing the tension between raw, honest emotions and grounded, steady faith. I want to meet people in their grief and questions. I want to sit in the silence with them, offering no perfect, tidy answers. I want to worship with them when words don’t suffice. And then, as the Spirit leads me, I want to speak truth that shines a spotlight on the God who keeps their tears in a bottle, who reigns over every big and small moment of their lives, and who gives us abundant life—not just someday soon, but today. Right now. And finally, through Christ’s kindness and mercy, I want to remind people how to laugh again.
Jasper typed it all out, looked at me, and said, “Babe, I think you want to be a Care Pastor. God has given you two particular gifts: a voice that gives words to what many people feel but cannot articulate, and a soft, honest heart that meets people exactly where they are, not where you believe they should be. You don’t care about polished products. You care about honoring the humanity in people and showing them that God honors it, too. You make crying people laugh. You make lighter moments rich with truth. If there were such a thing as a re:Gen Director at our church, you’d be the girl for the job. So the question is, what do we need to do to take the first step towards your dream?”
That’s when seminary went from a thing I heard about on a podcast to an actual application with transcript requests and course summaries. I had noodled with the idea for a couple of years, but I never did the research. Returning to school felt too big, too expensive, too inconvenient in my already busy life. But—have you heard this before?—God had other plans for me.
So starting in January, while fear and peace share a bunk bed in my heart, I will pursue a Master’s in Biblical and Theological Studies with a Women’s Cohort at Denver Theological Seminary. I hope to continue working towards an M.Div. in Pastoral Care and Counseling, but I’m taking this plan one step at a time. I know many of you are probably thinking, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mel’s trying to be a pastor? Is that even biblical?” Great question. I’ve been asking myself, Jasper, Jesus, and every trusted, godly voice I know, the exact same one. Where I live in Greenville, South Carolina, in the churches I have served, I’ve been taught that women holding the title of pastor or elder is not biblically supported. But where I grew up in Canada, and in the denomination I once espoused, a woman as a pastor would ruffle nary a feather. It’s extremely common.
So I am left with two big ol’ realizations:
1. The “Should women be pastors?” debate is not some theoretical concept for me. My question underneath the question is, “What does God want to do with the gifts and desires He’s put in me? How can I spend my days giving Him the most glory?” I need to roll up my sleeves and do the work to figure out what I believe and why I believe it. I need to pull from trusted, humble, and scripture-first sources to determine the reasons why one earnest, God-honoring community believes scriptures like 1 Timothy 2-3 and 1 Corinthians 14 still apply today in every respect, while other earnest, God-honoring communities believe they only apply to the church of that time and culture… while yet another earnest, God-honoring community believes a bit of both to be true! LIKE, WHAT? How will I come to my own conclusion? And will I alienate myself from the community I’ve built around me if I end up with a different one? Should that even matter if I know I’m fulfilling God’s will for my life? And can any of my dreams be fulfilled in Greenville, in the church I already love and serve, or will we have to move away? The answer to every question, in this moment, is I don’t know. All I want is to be an obedient and faithful steward, even if nothing vocational comes from earning my degree. Which leads to my second important realization…
2. If I am doing any of this work to gain an earthly title, I am doing this work for the wrong reason. I do not need the label of pastor to engage in the ministry I think God is calling me to do. While I’m curious about the answers to every aforementioned question, and while I feel limited by the ministry jobs typically available to women, all I can do is be faithful with what God’s put in my hands today. All I can do is keep my heart soft towards my King and the sincere, well-versed people on both sides of the argument. All I can do is rest in green pastures beside still waters and release my need to understand everything to the One who actually does understand everything. All I can do is value my God more than I value my preferences.
When talking with my therapist, I got embarrassingly honest with her about seminary. I confessed, “There’s at least a small part of me that wants to get this degree so future employers point to me and say, 'Her. We don’t want just anybody–we want Mel for this. We pick her.’” I told her I wanted to be so equipped that I was objectively undeniable. She let me sit in that feeling and wrestle with the stuff beneath the surface. But as I got in my car to drive home, I heard Christ’s voice more clearly than I had in some time. With quiet kindness, He said to me, “Mel, I lived the perfect human life. I did everything according to the will of my Father. I was, as you say, undeniable in every respect. And still, they put me on the cross. My love, if you are serving Yahweh for any reason other than the glory of His name and the good of His Bride—if you are striving to secure the acceptance of those around you—no level of acceptance will ever be enough. Your striving will eventually crucify you, too.”
Phew.
Just as Job replied to the Lord, my only appropriate response is, “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” I’m going to stop shouting my questions into the void and end here with a prayer.
Jesus, I come to You with a broken and contrite spirit, because I know that is all You ask of me. Thank You for knowing my heart. Anything good in me is You. Any comfort I give to another is from You, our ultimate Comforter and Counselor. So shatter my pride, Lord. Demolish any plan that I’ve crafted with my own two hands. I don’t want my kingdom to come or my will to be done; I want Yours. Please, take it all. Everything I am and hope to be, I give to you. If the seminary plan ends in a dumpster fire, I know I’ll find You among the flames, reaching for me with arms open wide. If I lack the capacity to take classes, homeschool Cros, and still complete all the mom, wife, and volunteer things, I know You will meet me there in my limitations. I believe the daily bread You give us will be enough bread for the day. I believe You see every financial, relational, and practical need in our family. I don’t have great solutions for any of them, but, as Spurgeon said, when I cannot trace Your hand, I will still trust Your heart.
I believe, Lord. With everything in me, I believe that what You call me to, You will equip me for.
I believe, I believe, I believe.
My Shepherd, my King, help my unbelief.
