Recently, Mars Hill Graduate School sent off another class of students with a meaningful graduation ceremony. Each year, a student from each degree program is chosen by the faculty and student body to speak on behalf of their class. This year, three phenomenal speakers gave us a glimpse of what they learned over the past few years. You can read or listen to the short speeches of each speaker below.

Paula Womack, MACP

All of you have, in some way, helped us get here and this was no small task.  So, it is an honor to be up here today, and an honor to be in the company of the other women from whom you will hear this morning.  It means a great deal that you have chosen to celebrate with us today.  Thank you.

As I thought about what to say today, I thought of the countless conversations, class lectures, practicums, reading groups, hallway meetings, office hours and happy hours that have impacted me, and will continue to shape my life.  However, there are two conversations in particular that I want to speak about today because they occurred at the beginning of my time at MHGS, and with two people I barely knew.  They have been present with me since then and have turned out to be eerily thematic during the last three years.  The first conversation was with Jo-Ann Badley, Professor of Biblical Studies and a mighty Canadian Woman.  Being the staunch Feminist that I was (and am), I had gone to see her to inquire about her work as a woman in the predominantly male field of theology, in addition to talking about what I hoped to be/do throughout my time at MHGS.  I do not remember what I said specifically, but I have no doubt that it included doing some great and mighty works of justice and salvation at MHGS. At the end of our conversation she offered me some profound wisdom.  She spoke to the essential task of seeking beauty and goodness in this life, as well as learning how to spiritually sustain oneself in the midst of battles if, in fact, I was created to fight them.  If I did not do this, I would become bitter and burnt out.  She ended with a call to be a woman of peace who could withstand the hardship of battles and to remain hopeful and to offer light.

Second conversation:  again, a conversation around the issue of social justice in the city of Seattle and included a discussion about my passions as well.  At the end of our time together, he looked at  me and said, “there is no doubt you will lead people through hard things, but can you learn to find rest in your own life in order to help those you lead also rest in the midst of those hard things?”  I remember being taken totally off guard.  In fact, these conversations made me wonder as to what it was that prompted these people to say such things.  What was flowing out of me that I was not even aware of?  And what did they know that I didn’t?   They exuded such a curious confidence in these strange ideas.  And everywhere I went, I heard similar themes, both in general and in response to me.

Well, what I am continuing to learn, in surprising ways, is that the rest, goodness and peace these two people were talking about had more to do with the deep soul rest that comes from knowing that to be the face of Christ means living into my humanity, not into some false notion of my divinity.  Yes, Jesus was God but he was also human and, since I was created to be human, to be a Woman, and not God, I am called to the non-glamorous work and play of being human. But, this has been one of the hardest tasks of my time at Mars Hill Graduate School because to embrace my humanity means to embrace my needs, my failures, my desires, my limits, my beauty and my power.  Unfortunately, but maybe fortunately, this is often awkward and messy and I do not like being messy.  However, it is where I have found more freedom than I have known for a really long time…maybe ever.  There is freedom because I have been surrounded by those who have loved my mess and called me to use it as a way to love others.  I hope this freedom leads to a freedom to be in my own unique skin.  This, I hope, will then help me to offer care and compassion to others as they seek freedom in their unique way of being.

That is my hope for all of us.  That, no matter what our calling, vocation or role in life, we are able to steward with wisdom all that we have learned at MHGS.  My hope is that our learning to rest in who we are as women and men emboldens us to rest deeply enough in our broken and beautiful humanity, that we are propelled to truly listen to wounded souls, and to “do justice, love kindness and to walk humbly with our God.”

Jeanette White, MACS

During my 3 years at Mars Hill Graduate School, a typical end of term assignment for classes has sounded something like this: Summarize, integrate, and synthesize twelve weeks of intense lecture and twelve-hundred pages of rigorous academic reading into a personally reflective and professionally researched paper.

Oh, and do it in just six to eight double-spaced pages, please! Sound familiar, class of 2010?

In many ways, the task of composing this speech has felt much like the process of writing these papers: lots of material to cover, but little space, so I must thoughtfully narrow it down to the one essential thing that I most want to say. As daunting as these all-encompassing assignments felt each time I approached them, the routine of wading through everything to get to that one essential thing proved to be as much a part of my learning experience as the class time itself. The process not only deepened my understanding of the course material, but it also illuminated the concepts that became the most intriguing, challenging, or personally transforming for me.

So for this one last assignment of a graduation speech, which I am so honored to be up here sharing with you today, I reflected deeply on the impact that these three unforgettable years have had on my life. And if I had to name one of the most important themes from my time here, it would definitely be the way in which my faith has been shaped and changed. At its core, my work at MHGS has invited me toward a theology of increased space, which in turn has led to greater room in my heart for the wholly Other nature of God, as well as more grace and hope for myself, for those that I love, and for this world.

To understand what I mean when I say I have acquired a theology of space, I want to reflect for a moment on what I thought I wanted when I enrolled here. I began the Christian Studies program feeling like I didn’t know enough about my faith, and I was seeking concrete tools and answers to discern exactly what I should think and believe. In short, I wanted a clear set of skills and rules that would give me an “airtight” theology, so that I could once and for all understand God correctly.

But the thing about an airtight theology, is that once it is sealed, it is no longer open to being touched or changed by even the slightest breath of fresh inspiration. And when I truly consider how God has worked, and has been revealed over time in this world, it becomes clear that we are unable to predict exactly how he will choose to move and to love.

Through my studies here, I have determined that God’s motto for faith may be something along the lines of this: Be prepared to be surprised. Be prepared to let a little fresh air into that box of limited human understanding in which you hold me. Be prepared to make room for the unexpected movement of my Spirit, and to make space for me to show up in places that you did not think I could exist. Be prepared to be surprised.

I have often said over the course of these three years that, while I still believe many of the same things, I now believe them differently. For example, I leave this place knowing that God’s deepest desire for me and for all of you is redemption, relationship, and liberation. And while at its core this conviction is no different from what I believed upon entering this program, it holds a different kind of hope and expectation than it did three years ago — because my understanding of God has been stretched, and opened, to hold new paradigms and possibilities.

So I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School, for rooting my belief in a God who goes to extravagant, mind-bending, Jesus-coming-to-earth lengths to stay connected with us, and to heal us. I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School,  for helping me see that flexibility, curiosity, and the embrace of mystery are hopeful and necessary companions to both my faith and my ability to love myself others well.

Because you see, in making space for God to be revealed as bigger and different than we thought was possible, we suddenly gain more space to love and to honor both ourselves and the lives and stories of those around us.

This is what I have learned to do at Mars Hill Graduate School, and it is the everything and the one thing that I hope for each of you here today. Thank you.

Kj Swanson, MDiv

I’m not a fan of countdowns. At the turn of the millennium in 1999, I actually boycotted the new years countdown and did a movie marathon instead. I can’t deal with the pressure of those final seconds, the tick…tick…tick of what exists- suddenly becoming what doesn’t exist… The End has no time to be an End before in a second it’s replaced with a Beginning. But here I am, at the ten…nine…eight…seven of my life as a student at Mars Hill Graduate School. And so are you.

I’ve been in this community for fours years. Many of you today are completing the work of three years. Some of you, have done it all in two.  And a few mighty perseverant folk have been here for sevenish.  It is strange that we don’t end with everyone we began with. Last year, when I watched the main cohort of 2006 graduate with their three-year degrees, I felt like all of my stories were leaving with them. And I can only wonder at the strangeness for those of you graduating ahead of those with whom you began.  But I do know this–we are all ending together.

And here’s the significant thing about countdowns- at least the New Years kind.  In the incomprehensible moment between the End of a year and the Beginning of a new one–in the space between Then and Now, when the unfathomable weight and reality of unstoppable time threatens to crush your tenuous human consciousness- some brilliant person realized long ago- this would be a good time to kiss…To pass through that liminal space holding and being held by another.  And here in this liminal space of graduation, all I can really think of are those who have held me and whom I am holding.

I have delighted in the labor of my education here. And to be graduating as a woman with a Masters of Divinity means no small thing.  But right now, what I most want to name about this school, this community- is that with you and because of you, I have loved better and failed more than I’ve ever been allowed to love or fail before. Because, through thesemen and women, and the women and men you’re sitting next to right now, we learned to set down our Missions to save the world, our Plans to construct the most airtight theologies, and instead– learned to love and honor God by honoring and loving one another.  We may have come wanting to save souls, but what we learned is how to care for souls. We learned that the effort of trying to be honest with ourselves, with one another, and with God- is much harder and far more worthwhile then the effort to convince others of our best guesses.  We have learned and forgotten and learned again the humility and joy that come from being transformed through relationship.

And our transformation continues as this liminal space between Student and Graduate gets smaller. In a few minutes, we’ll start walking across this stage. Then Naomi will sing to us. We’ll pray with Chelle and Rachael, and Keith will bless us. We are Ending and we are Beginning. And here in this space between, I cling to the words of the psalmist who promises “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet, righteousness and peace will kiss.”

Happy New Year.

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Congratulations to all the graduates. We are so proud and cannot wait to see what new adventures you will take on.