I did not realize until my sabbatical how mentally, physically, and spiritually tired I was. Working full-time in ministry, serving God’s people in the church and the community, and completing my doctorate degree had utterly depleted me. Being at the point of exhaustion caused me to internalize the notion that I was not enough and to suffer from “imposter syndrome.”
I needed a break. I desperately needed to take time to breathe, center myself, reset, and seek God. I reminded myself that after pouring out to others, Jesus would often steal away to be replenished, pray, and reconnect to his source, God. So, during my sabbatical, I set my intentions to embark on a season of cultural immersion to remind myself who I am in God’s sight through worship, rest, connecting, and reflection.
I attended the Hampton Ministers’ Conference the first week of my sabbatical, a 125-year-old gathering of Black pastors and preachers from every denomination that is held at Hampton University in Hampton, Virginia. While there, I was surrounded by the preached Word of God, praise and worship, and singing in the Black tradition in which I was raised and nurtured. The worship services were spirit-filled and emotive. That experience recharged my spiritual battery, as I reconnected to my source—the Lord God.
I spent time with my family and spent a week with my mother. Although she no longer knows who I am, my heart still leaps when I am in her presence. Spending time with my mother in the home where I was raised and nurtured, reminded me of and connected me to who I am—JoAnn and Bobby’s daughter—and that I am loved unconditionally, just as I am, and that I do not need to be anything other than Patrice.
I do not know anything about the people from whom I descended, so I decided to go to the source—Charleston, South Carolina. I spent a week, immersing myself in the history of the enslaved people who arrived on those shores from Africa. I toured a plantation, and I took my shoes off and planted my feet in the soil where the ancestors walked and were robbed of their freedom, culture, identities, and dignity. I prayed and wept. Mother Nature wept with me as a soft rain began to fall, and the spirit of the ancestors and God reminded me that I am descended from kings and queens who had their birthrights and humanity stolen from them, and that I reflect their dignity, greatness, and perseverance into this world.
The final week of my sabbatical, I traveled to New York, and I saw The Wiz on Boardway. The musical was a party and a church service rolled into one. It was a study of good and evil, acceptance of who we are, and a lesson on loving ourselves and others, just as we/they are—imperfectly perfect—and an illustration in the realization that very often things and people are not what they seem. The artistry, creativity, pageantry, and talented actors of African descent sang, danced, and acted in beautiful costumes against imaginative and majestic backgrounds. The play fed my spirit and confirmed that I, too, am wonderfully and fearfully made, creative and talented, and imperfectly perfect.
Even though I spent many hours in airports waiting and flying, driving from state to state, my sabbatical was a time of rest, refreshment, reflection, and confirmation. It was a time to remember that the pressure that we often place on ourselves to achieve more, to spend more hours on the job, to acquire more stuff, or to try to prove our worth, is unnecessary. God loves us just as we are; we are more than we imagine, and we all need time to just be still. I pray that each of you had time to reflect, refresh, and reset this summer—and took time to seek God’s confirmation that you are or are becoming exactly who God created you to be. And more than anything, I hope you know that you are enough.
—Pastor Patrice