Prologue
I bet you thought I gave up on writing. Well, that’s certainly not the case. It’s been a very busy year with appearing in a play at my alma mater, OHF presenting a customized version of Allyship 101 while concurrently publishing a new anthology in record time . . . and then there’s this milestone that came to a head last night. What follows is the text to an address I presented last night to my church’s vestry.
To Dean Kidd, Senior and Junior Wardens, officers, and members, greetings and thank you for your time this evening. To those who may not know me, my name is Clay Rivers. I am a sixty-four-year-old, forty-eight-inch-tall Black actor, artist, author, accidental activist, and follower of Jesus Christ. If you think that’s mouthful to say, you should try living it. And I present myself to each of you seeking your approval and support to enter the discernment process for the Holy Order of the diaconate.
My journey of faith can best be described as a three-act love story in which the triune God simply asks me to follow him. If you’ll indulge me . . .
Act I
My grandparents and parents were people who had a palpable faith. Jesus has been a part of my life since before I was born. I knew who Jesus was before I understood who Jesus was. My family’s legacy of faith is my inheritance. Because of their investment, I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior at New Bethel A.M.E. Church, here in Orlando, while I was in middle school.
Despite this rich tradition, upon graduating high school with a state of Florida honors diploma and entering Florida State University as a sophomore, I “put God in a box” and came one hundredth of a point away from flunking out in my first term. After attending school year-round for three years, I put college on hold and began a career with Disney—not behind a desk in marketing, but in a Donald Duck costume at the Magic Kingdom. And I hated it. But in his infinite wisdom, God knew exactly what He was doing.
In the midst of all the meet-and-greets, shows, parades, and tours, God lined up friends who would reintroduce me to Jesus at Orlando Community Church. This small non-denominational church met at the Edith Bush Theater. Thanks to sound Biblical teaching, home groups, Bible studies, and all-around love, my perception of God, his goodness, and his mercy obliterated my earlier misconceptions of Him and grounded me in truth.
That goodness and mercy were never more tangible to me than on the night my father died. (Ask me about it sometime, but right now I’m pressed for time.)
Act II
If Act I was about God reacquainting me with Him, Act II, which lasted about twenty-some years, was all about God getting me to see myself the way He sees me. Certain facets of my being have always been a source of discontent for other people. “I” have never thought of myself as substandard or less than in any way. My parents and family instilled in me a healthy sense of self-respect and appreciation for my God-given talents. But for other people, their misconceptions about me are set in stone seconds after they lay eyes on me. So believe me when I say, I am intimately familiar with being “othered.” And trust me, words and attitudes can hurt as much as sticks and stones—if not more.
To ensure I had the upper hand and to protect myself, I crafted and wore a mask, one that said, “Yes, I am smart enough. Yes, I’m personable enough. I’m talented enough. Winsome enough, funny enough.” That performative thinking is exhausting and carried over into my relationship with God. I knew of Jesus’ work on the cross, but I still didn’t feel worthy to be loved by Him. I figured Jesus felt the same way everyone else did.
It took years of God showing and telling me over and over through scripture, and of others reinforcing the fact that I am fearfully and wonderfully made for God’s purposes. Yes, I am sinful, just like everyone else, but I was not an aberration. I came to understand, despite the slings, arrows, and lies of the enemy, that I, like everyone else, am God’s workmanship created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand I should walk in them. And that nothing can separate me from the love of God. And that I am enough.
Act III
Act III in this story—and in my life—has clearly been all about God saying, “Follow me.” Sometimes it’s been to places I’ve longed and other times to places I would’ve never imagined, but He has never left me, even in the times when I’ve turned away from Him. The Lord has and continues to mold me and my sense of self in the light of His work on the cross. It’s weird that at this stage of my life, I can see how my life has been orchestrated to glorify Him. That’s not to infer that I have no free will, but it’s to say, despite my prolific screw-ups, God still makes something beautiful from my messes to his glory.
My talents in performing arts (decades of experience in live stage shows, TV, film, and Broadway), visual arts (years of artistic endeavors since I was in second grade, designing iconic print and consumer products for Disney in Florida and California and just about every church where I’ve been a member), and literary arts (screenwriting awards, six books, numerous publications, and an article published in The New York Times to my credit), have all come together in Our Human Family, the charitable organization I founded five years ago. “Love one another” is not just our motto, it’s our reason for being. This ministry bridges Christ and the world in its advocacy of racial equity, allyship, and inclusion—a major theme of our Baptismal Covenant.
I experienced a full-circle moment when Bishop Holcomb appointed me to the Diocese’s Becoming Beloved Community Task Force, and Our Human Family was commissioned by the Diocese to present Allyship 101. The wildest thing is that I am currently working with two priests in producing an antiracism course for diocesan clergy, entitled Tools for the Task.
These and other opportunities to serve the body of Christ in the Diocese of Central Florida have all been calls to serve that I have not sought. They have come my way and I have simply responded, “Here am I. Send me.”
In closing, what am I discerning? To me, it looks like Jesus is calling me into a deeper relationship with him by asking me to follow Him down a path I wouldn’t have chosen on my own. In fact, twelve years ago, I was adamantly opposed to the idea when Deacon Michael Matheny first mentioned it. Truth be told, I am also here to avoid anything resembling a Jonah in the belly of a whale experience. Know that fear is not my motivator, it’s trust: trust that Jesus will accompany me on this leg of my journey as well, whatever the outcome.
So now that you know a little more about me, I humbly ask each member of this august body for your nomination and support to begin the three-year process to discern a call to the Holy Order of the Diaconate. This is NOT a request for immediate ordination, but to simply start the process of discernment.
Thank you for your time and consideration. And may God’s peace be with you.
Inquisition & Epilogue
Just kidding about an actual inquisition, but a brief Q&A period followed in which the Chapter and clergy posed a few questions that I hope I didn’t fumble too badly.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably about ten minutes . . .
A representative called me back into the Chapter room to learn the results of the vote: a unanimous approval. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I’ll now officially begin the three-year process of deep learning and training, which, when completed, will conclude with my ordination. No, I will not be a priest—that’s something totally different—but a deacon (the first rung of the clergy ladder) in The Episcopal Church.
If you’re so inclined, please keep me in your prayers.
And of course, love one another.