Embracing the Call: God can Lead You to Places You Never Imagined

By Rev. Betty A Beach-Connell

Embracing the Call is the true story of what can happen when an imperfect woman discovers a perfectly gracious God. Rev. Betty Beach-Connell is a retired pastoral minister in the United Methodist Church. Born and raised in New York State. Betty served churches in the New York Annual Conference for 28 years. But that's just part of the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Aug 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781947620421

Rev. Betty A Beach-Connell

Betty Beach-Connell was born June 10, 1938 in Bullville, NY. Her parents were hard working farmers. There always seemed to be something missing from her life, but she couldn't figure out what. After several mistakes and struggles she met the Lord Jesus Christ and invited Him into her life. God called her into the pastoral ministry at the age of 37. She served the church in that capacity for 28 years. After retirement she worked for Hospice in their spiritual care department. She has published her first book entitled "Embracing the Call," as well as, a second book "Through the Storm" which is a little book of prayer, scripture, and meditation. She hopes to inspire others to embrace their own call in life.

Book preview

Forward

Rev. Betty A. Beach-Connell, the author of EMBRACING THE CALL, is my wife. I say so humbly and proudly. She has been my wife since January 8, 2005. At that time I thought my love and joy was at the very top of the list! (Not so!!!) Love and joy has increased every day since.

We thank you, Lord, for the blended family you have given us – Dale, Dean, Donna, Debbie, Daryl, Jean, Alice, Frank, and Penny – all of whom have their own lives and families. It is such a blessing when we can get together.

We, also, thank you Lord, for your everlasting love and grace that you give us day by day. The Psalmist writes in Psalm 103 these words: But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him and his righteousness with their children’s children—with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts. (Verses 17-18).

Betty has put her whole life onto the printed page, so the reader can know how God will love and bless anyone who will pray to Him for direction and guidance. It is my hope that everyone reading this book understands that God loves you. Ask Rev. Betty, these are her favorite words – Remember God loves you.

Delford (Del) C. Connell

Introduction

The Lord called Betty, or rather, she heard the Lord’s call, at a very inopportune time. Her family was under great strife. There were things she had to do. And now the Lord wants her to do what? However, she would come to understand that His call was not to make her feel better, or to take her away from her family, but rather to strengthen her, give her courage to meet all their needs, and do His Will.

Embracing the Call is about an imperfect woman who followed the call of God without looking back. Jesus has forgiven Betty of her many sins and is now calling her up for active duty in the King’s army.

Embracing the Call will help you face the challenges of each day as you read Betty’s story. You will be able to relate to the trials and tribulations she has faced—the consequences of bad choices, abuse, sexual harassment, divorce, a runaway child, grief, problems pastors face, retirement, etc. Betty lays her life bare, holding nothing back, for you. She talks to you as a friend.

Betty’s story will give you courage and show you that you too can do anything with the help of God for nothing is impossible with Him. He has chosen you to be His child. Jesus says, Come, follow Me.

Embrace your call.

Call upon Him and He will hear you and answer you. (Jeremiah 29:12)

Dear Lord, open up my heart so that I may hear Your call. Give me the strength and the desire to follow You by the power of Your Holy Spirit, direct me through the maze of life. Show me how much You love me and help me show that love to You and my neighbors. In Jesus’ name I pray. AMEN

The Lord is the light of my salvation; whom shall I fear?" Psalm 27:1

Chapter 1

The Call

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As we sat around the kitchen table that January night, the emptiness of the vacant chair made the room feel small. Outside it was freezing; that predictable New York State chill that redefines blustery. The wind was blowing so hard the snow fell sideways. Inside, we were warm and cozy, and I was surrounded by my family in the safety and comfort of our dining room. But something was terribly wrong.

The empty place at the old wooden table where we had shared so many wonderful moments filled the room with hurt and worry. No matter what was going on in our lives, the seven of us always made it a point to be home for supper, but tonight not all of us saw the point in that tradition. Our oldest daughter had run away from home and had been missing for almost a week. State Police were looking for her, without success. In those days we did not know all the things we do now about what law enforcement calls the first forty-eight, those crucial first two days in any missing person’s case. Even without that knowledge we understood that the longer she was gone, the less hope we had of finding her.

While the police searched for our daughter, we searched for answers. Why? Where? With whom? All the open ended questions you shout at the walls and the ceiling when there is no one to hear you cry.

Or when you believe there is no one listening.

But that was not the only thing on my mind this blustery New York night. Nervously, I gazed past my family, the face of my husband, Lee, the stresses of a hard life etched into his kind and loving face. A face now clouded with worry. Past the faces of my children, who may have known more than they let on … or maybe less?

I let my gaze wander past walls covered with Z-brick, past the cooking stove, refrigerator and the large sink, and to the windows that faced the large field next to our home. Tonight those windows were flecked with snow. In the morning, the fields would be covered as well.

And I was about to lay my heart bare.

The night before, Lee and I had attended a church service. We were regular attendees, but this gathering had been different. After the sermon, the preacher had announced there would be an altar call. What in the world is an altar call?" I thought to myself. I had never heard of such a thing!

The minister invited those who wanted to ask the Lord Jesus into their heart to come forward. I felt myself being lifted up. Suddenly I was standing. On legs that seemed to have their own mind, I stumbled past the others in the row and turned up the aisle toward the altar. I remember looking around, seeing no one else following. What an incredibly lonely feeling! For an instant I wondered, What am I doing?

Before I had an answer, I reached the altar rail.

I heard the angels singing. There seemed to be a cloud all around me. I heard a voice say, Do not worry, all is well my child. The Pastor came and put his hands on me and said a prayer. I don’t remember what he said; all I remember is that still, small voice and the angels singing.

How could I be experiencing such peace and joy when our family was in such turmoil?

So many things flashed through my mind. Our daughter was missing and I heard those words as plain as day, Don’t worry my child, all is well. But, where was she? How would we find her? What would I say to her when we did find her? Yet, those words comforted me and quieted those questions.

But those were not the only words I had heard while kneeling there at that altar rail. I had answered the altar call, but had not yet embraced my own. What was about to happen at my dinner table would be one step in that direction. But I felt like a blindfolded wire walker, who had no idea what would happen with that second step.

All I knew is that it was a step I needed to take.

Here we were at the end of our day. I could see that my family was tired, hungry and, understandably, a bit cranky. Lee had been up at the crack of dawn to go to the mill where he spent the day mixing feed for over a million chickens. Shortly after he was out the door, the children had been on the bus to school. They had spent the day learning, then come home and collected eggs on the farm for several hours before tackling their homework. Typically I would have been working on the farm as well, but recovery from a recent surgery had kept me home. Lee and I had discussed whether or not I would go back at all. I had no idea what I would do if I was not working, and to be sure we needed that $141 every two weeks.

On top of the daily stresses and these new concerns, all of us had carried the extra weight of a missing person with us throughout the day, and I’m certain that we would have all preferred to enjoy our meal in relative silence and find the comfort of our beds.

Now I was about to say something that may mean never returning to my job. If you had asked me, on paper, to figure out how we would make it without my salary I could not have told you. But at that moment, there was a little voice inside telling me we would be just fine.

That was not all that little voice had said. I had heard the words: You will go to China. I thought China? Who wants to go to China? I now believe what God actually meant was that He was going to show me new and marvelous things.

There was one thing I knew for certain. A voice had spoken to Betty Beach that night in that church. I had taken a lonely walk to that altar in answer to a call and had been given another in exchange. For many, a call to public ministry is a cause for celebration, a momentous occasion celebrated by family, friends and neighbors.

Or, perhaps I should say for men, not many. At this time, nearly four decades ago now, the idea of a woman pastor was not just unheard of, it was taboo. Women were to learn in silence and certainly never to teach. But the call I heard had been crystalline. There could be no mistake as to message or intent.

Of course, even when you are the one who heard the call, such a foreign idea can be difficult to embrace. I know I had been wrestling with the idea all day. So many questions. Could a woman go into the ministry at all, much less as a pastor? Beyond that there were other questions. My family had always been the focal point of my life. How would they feel if I answered this call and took on something else? I knew a pastor’s life was one of service, and I had only served my family to this point. Would they come to resent me? Would they be jealous or mistrustful of the people to whom I would be called to serve?

I knew I had this to do, but could those I loved with all my heart be convinced? All through the meal my heart pounded and my hands shook. Everyone else seemed lost in their own thoughts, content to eat in silence. They did not seem to notice my disquiet.

As they ate, I pushed the food around my plate, so many contrary notions boiling in my mind. I was a divorcee. I was a woman. Didn’t these things disqualify me from ministry? Never mind that my first husband had been horribly abusive. Never mind that I had fled that home for the safety of my children and my own. The Church frowned on what it considered abandonment, broken vows. Weakness and sin.

I could not serve that church I realized. But it was not The Church that was calling me. You did not choose me, but I chose you. the Voice had said.

I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. (John 15:16-17 NRSV).

Then, sitting there at that supper table, while the wind whipped the snows outside, the storm inside me suddenly stilled. Peace and confidence filled me. If God had called me, He would prepare the way. The Church had no say in the matter. The prevailing culture would not change His mind. No matter what others said, no matter what they believed right or appropriate, I had been Called. And that is all there was to it.

Unfortunately, my family may not see it that way. And it was for this reason that I had been afraid. But if I believed in my call, I had to believe that God would prepare the way, including with my family. This would be a lesson He would have to teach me over and over again.

I desperately wanted my family’s support. I had been so scarred from my previous marriage. I had become afraid of being rejected. What if my family said no, told me I was crazy? How could I ever handle that again?

I still had those questions, but around them there was a peace, a confidence and comfort I could not understand. It was time.

My voice shaking just a bit, I called for my family’s attention. Forks paused and clinked down on plates. The children turned to me, waiting. Lee smiled.

I had no idea how to begin, so I just let it spill out. I told them everything, the altar call, the lonely walk, the still small voice. The angels singing. Everything! I told them how I had sat up all night and sang hymns because I was so filled with the Holy Spirit. Finally, I told them that God had called me into the ministry.

Mouths, full of food, stopped chewing. Jaws practically bounced off the table. I waited, hungry only for their reassurance and encouragement, but I could not say more. Not yet.

The silence stretched. My mind raced. What if they rejected the whole idea? What if they laughed at me? Or worse yet, what if my husband said no?!? God had told me to trust in Him.

Measured by the clock hanging on the wall, not much time passed, but it surely felt like forever. Finally, all five of them said, That’s wonderful!

Relief flooded me. The hard part was over, but the harder part was about to begin.

The following Monday I phoned our pastor, Pastor Madill, and explained what had happened Saturday night. I wanted to come in and speak with him about it. We scheduled a meeting, and I spent the next several days considering exactly how to say what I knew I must. But when I walked into his office all that careful planning just melted away. I blurted out: I want to go into the ministry.

Pastor Madill beamed. That’s wonderful!

No objections. No rejections. Just excitement and acceptance. Then planning. Pastor Madill explained the steps I would need to take in order to qualify for a ministerial position. Church approval. Conference approval. College. Seminary. (Where would I get the money?) It would mean quitting my job (WHERE would I get the MONEY!), long nights of study and one month away from my family each summer for five years in order to complete seminary in Washington D.C. It was a long list, but Pastor Madill promised to check off the first thing.

I will get the ball rolling by contacting our District Superintendent, Rev. Readus Watkins.

That night at supper I explained the plan to my family. I need each of you to help around the house. Everyone will have to do their part. You will have to keep up on your homework on your own. Mom will have her own homework to think about.

I watched my family and I waited. Once again, they surprised me. They eagerly agreed to help.

As I ticked off, one by one, all the ways this path would change our lives, I watched my husband. Lee had remained silent, stoic and expressionless. Just taking it all in. Finally he spoke. If the kids are willing to help out, we can definitely make this work,

His response filled me with such joy!

Lee worked very hard. His work was grueling and his hours were long. I knew there would be little he could do to help me. I did not plan to ask him. His emotional support was vital, but I had no intention of ceasing to fulfill my responsibilities as a wife and mother. In answering this Call I would simply be adding another dimension. I knew if God had called me, then He was going to provide everything I needed to reach the goal He had laid out for me.

I would still take Lee his food when he was working late at the mill. I would still plan the children’s birthday parties and do all the other things that my family was accustomed to me doing. How could I not? I loved them, and I knew that God would help me to love them more.

But there would be hurdles. Aren’t there always?

Chapter 2

Facing The Hurdles

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I had always felt that I had to work very hard to gain my parents’ approval. When I came home from school with a grade of 90 on one of my tests, my mother would say, Well, that’s good, but why not 100? Nothing ever seemed good enough.

While that may just seem strict, some of her directions made absolutely no sense to me as a child. Looking back now over the decades, they still don’t.

I always wore dresses; frilly and feminine was what my mother expected. Even for playtime. I can still remember hearing her call to me as I went out the door to play, Don’t get dirty!

Any parent can tell you this command is almost impossible for a young child. I remember questioning my mother on this once. Her answer left me even more perplexed. Instead of explaining her illogical standard, she told me a story.

Once a little girl wanted to go swimming in a creek. Her mother agreed, but gave her one instruction. Hang your clothes on a hickory limb, but never go near the water.

This story never made any sense to me, except that I should do what my mother told me.

So, Hurdle Number One. My mother. I knew I could not win her over with logic or passion. She would make up her mind and that would be that.

Sometime after that tense evening around the dinner table, we visited my Mom and Dad. Once again we were seated around the supper table. I was loath to risk killing the mood until after we had enjoyed the meal. So, as we ate, I kept the conversation steered toward small talk. Finally, after the last morsel has disappeared from our plates, I announced that I had something I wished to discuss. I wanted desperately to receive their blessing, and told them so.

My parents waited quietly and listened patiently as I recounted the night I learned about an altar call and the sleepless night that followed. I told them I had accepted Jesus into my heart and had accepted the call to ministry. I told them about my conversation with my family and my pastor.

Throughout the recitation they said nothing. I finished speaking and tried to read their faces for some sign of acceptance or rejection. Anything.

Dad remained quiet, face blank. I could see his mind processing behind his eyes. My mother looked like she felt a migraine coming on.

An eternity later, Dad asked Lee what he thought about all of this. Lee said he supported me and the decision that had been made. He had not yet come to Christ and he admitted he did not quite understand what it all meant, but that he loved me and respected my decision. That was all it took for Dad. He liked and respected Lee, so his approval settled the issue for my father.

Mom watched this exchange, pain still lingering on her face. Without commenting, she rose and walked into the kitchen. We could hear her in the kitchen, busy with the after dinner dishes. All of us knew my mother well enough to just let her be. When she knew what she wanted to say, she would say it. Rush her at your own risk.

Eventually she returned to the table. I read her face once again, searching for some idea of what was to come. I needn’t have bothered. She didn’t hold back.

Betty, you simply cannot do that! You are a woman, and it is not your place! Who’s going to take care of the kids? Who will take care of Lee? What about your house?

And that was only the opening salvo. She kept on, each comment phrased as a question but delivered as an indictment. Stone after stone after stone weighing me down, crushing the excitement in my heart. I had so wanted my parents’