General Conference 2020 / 2024

In this past week, following the United Methodist General Conference, numerous summaries, reports, and characterizations have been offered. True Metho-nerds will have read or watched many of them, from the most celebratory to the most forlorn. I have no reason to expect you to read mine.

But here it is, anyway:

The 2020 General Conference, rescheduled for 2024, marks the beginning of a revival in the United Methodist Church. We are in full reform mode, and history will show that these past five years were a season of tilling and planting. And now, the garden is about to bloom!

We have repented of our colonial structure, and have begun to atone by creating more regional autonomy. We have repented of our discriminatory rules, and have begun to atone by removing restrictions on ordination and marriage for people in the LGBT+ community. We have repented of our divisiveness, and have begun to atone by leaving the season of disaffiliation behind.

Now, I do not mean we have attained perfection, only that we are on our way there. To be sure, the Spirit is still working on us, and there is much to do before the world looks like God wants it to. But now, more than any time in my experience, there is an openness to the Spirit's work. It is this openness to the movement of the Spirit that inspires me.

REGIONALIZATION - In the future, there will be a General Book of Discipline and a General Conference to deal with matters that are important to the entire denomination. Connectional ministries, doctrine, ecumenical relationships, and those kinds of things. And there will be Regional Conferences that will create policies and procedures specific to the regions. Every current Central Conference will become a Regional Conference, and the United States will be a Regional Conference, bringing a level of equity to our system. A team has been created to work on the initial U.S. Regional Conference. For now, there will still be Jurisdictional Conferences in the U.S., but some have suggested changes to that structure, also. Time will tell. And although the plan passed overwhelmingly at GC, it requires amendments to the UMC's constitution, so it must be ratified at the Annual Conferences. Every AC votes, and when all votes are tallied it must pass by a two-thirds majority. That is what is known as an "aggregate vote." We will not know if the plan has passed for another 18 months or so.

REMOVAL OF RESTRICTIONS - As of the end of this General Conference, sexual orientation is no longer a restriction on a person seeking ordination. Also as of the end of this General Conference, there are no longer any restrictions on clergy performing same-sex weddings, nor on congregations hosting them. No requirements were passed, meaning the decision to marry a couple still resides with the pastor. The effort was very much like the "Simple Plan" that was offered in 2019 in that it simply removed restrictive language. Such restrictions were scattered throughout many different sections of the Book of Discipline, and so removing them all required dozens of petitions. (Petitions can only deal with one particular paragraph of the Discipline.) Almost all of these changes passed so overwhelmingly that they were a part of the Consent Calendar process. It only takes twenty people to remove an item from the Consent Calendar in order to debate it on the floor, meaning had there been any serious resistance to the changes it could easily have been brought to floor for debate. There wasn't. And they weren't.

DELETION OF DISAFFILIATION - "Paragraph 2553" was created and passed in 2019 at the special called session of General Conference held in St. Louis. It allowed for congregations to disaffiliate from the denomination if they did not agree with denominational positions on marriage and ordination. Ironically, it was written to allow more progressive congregations a gracious exit, but was used almost exclusively by traditionalist congregations. This paragraph was officially deleted from the Book of Discipline, and every petition seeking to extend this disaffiliation time to allow for more disaffiliations was "rejected in favor of" the petition to delete paragraph 2553. Calls for unity won the day. That's not to say that the UMC is monolithic - far from it. We are as diverse a denomination as we ever were. We simply seem to have lost our appetite for divisiveness. A new spirit of connectionalism is emerging.

There are a dozen other things I could mention. Ordained Deacons now have sacramental authority. The United Methodist Church will soon be in a "full communion" relationship with the Episcopal Church. There will be fewer bishops in the United States, saving the denomination millions of dollars. There is a new retirement plan for United Methodist clergy. There was a lot!

But the headline for me is reform. After 2019, the denomination awoke. What happened at the General Conference in St. Louis did not align with our identity as Methodists. The years of disaffiliations were both heartbreaking and clarifying. Decades of struggle for justice and equity brought us to this kairos moment, and the future ahead seems very bright.

In many ways, the denominational reforms we saw happen in Charlotte were just a matter of playing catch-up to where the people already were. That's how reform always happens, seems to me - from the bottom, up. It is a good time to be United Methodist, and I cannot wait to see what God does with us!

If I Was Preaching Today

If I was preaching today, I would proclaim the Gospel, for there is a Gospel to proclaim, and I am called to proclaim it.

If I was preaching today, I would use Psalm 98:1 and entreat the church to "Sing to the Lord a new song, for God has done marvelous things." I would talk in particular about the marvelous things God has been doing in our denomination for the past five years, since the United Methodist Church woke up in February of 2019. Marvelous things that came to fruition in Charlotte over these past two weeks.

If I was preaching today, I would do all I could to convey the vibrant diversity present in the United Methodist Church, diversity that was on full display in Charlotte at General Conference. I would celebrate the Methodist ethos that unites us across the globe, even as we navigate the contextual particularities that make us unique in our various regions. 

If I was preaching today, I would have a renewal of baptism as part of the service, leaning into Acts 10:47, in which Peter asks, "Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing those who have received the Holy Spirit" and I would invite as many deacons as I could find there to celebrate. I would ask people to start fresh from today, knowing that the Holy Spirit has set our denomination free from decades of bitter animosity.

If I was preaching today, I would read 1 John 5:3: "For the love of God is this, that we obey God's commandments. And God's commandments are not burdensome." And then I would talk about the many "burdensome" things that the United Methodist Church has just removed from our Book of Discipline, eliminating restrictive and harmful rules that prevented LGBT+ people from seeking ordination and getting married in their own church. 

If I was preaching today, I would have people stand for the reading of John 15:9-17 and center in on what it means to love one another as Jesus loves us. And point out that Jesus loves us like the Father loves him, that is, so intimately and unconditionally that the two are all but indistinguishable from one another. Which means that we are to love one another the same way, intimately and unconditionally, as friends of Christ, who unites us in spite of our attempts to disaffiliate from one another.

If I was preaching today, I would celebrate the hope and joy of a new day for United Methodism, and encourage the church to follow the Holy Spirit as she leads us into freedom in community together. There is still so much work to be done, and by God's grace this church is doing it. This is a pivotal moment for this denomination, and congregations all over the world are gathering to celebrate. 

Truly, this is the day the Lord has made! And we are called to rejoice, and be glad in it! Alleluia, Amen!

The Comfort of Chaos

“...the earth was a formless void…”

This phrase, in the well-known first verses of the Bible, engages the imagination, and is worth a pause for contemplation. We may want to quickly rush to the part where God turns on the light, but maybe it’s okay for us to linger in the liminal space of the darkness that covers the face of the deep.

Many of us are “fixers;” we want to identify the problem, develop a plan to correct it, implement the plan, and move on. A “formless void” needs to be formed, it needs to be filled in, it needs structure and substance. Nature abhors a vacuum, right?

Our impatience is a product of our sinfulness. We want things done on our time, in our way, by our own calculations. We forget that we are we and God is God. 

This impatience turns us into our selves by prioritizing our own impulses and thereby away from one another. When we turn away from our neighbors, we fall short of the vision God has for this world, that we love one another as Christ loves us. When we turn away from our neighbors, we are unable to hear them. When we turn away from the world around us, we lose sight of the Gospel.

When things feel particularly chaotic, as they do these days, I take comfort in these first lines from Genesis. “The earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.” The comfort comes from the next phrase: “...while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”

In the formless void, the Holy Spirit sweeps. Within the impenetrable darkness, the Holy Spirit broods. In the chaos of the season, the Holy Spirit hovers among us, within us, and in between us. Therein lies our hope. We are in a liminal space. We are in a wilderness season. A time of uncertainty and weirdness. And we may be in a hurry for someone to just turn on the light so we can get out of this mess. 

To be sure, we must not sit passively, but rather we must actively engage the liminal space of this moment. We must be fully present to the formless void. We have to become fully aware of the darkness. We need to look into the face of the deep in order to see the sweeping presence of the Holy Spirit.

Love Disruption

I stood next to the communion table in the middle of the chancel area, holding an extra loaf of bread in my hand, ready to re-supply one of the serving stations when needed.

The man approached me from the congregation, passing by one of the serving stations as he did so. My first thought was that he had misunderstood the serving instructions and was coming forward to get a piece of bread from the loaf I was holding. So I stepped forward to meet him, indicating that he should return to the serving station.

However, he actually wanted to talk. To me. Full voice. Right there and right then. And so he did.

He was not pleased with the day’s sermon content, and one of the illustrations in particular. And he wanted to let me know that he was not pleased and to ask me if he could address the entire church to express this sentiment.

My first response was to ask him if we could discuss the matter at a more appropriate time. I told him I would be happy to talk with him after worship, if he wanted to. This was insufficient.

And so I then shifted to answering his concerns, assuring him that I heard him, I understood his opinion, and that the illustration in question was used to give an example of the larger message of the sermon. (The message, by the way, was that Jesus asks his followers to love one another as he loves us.) I asked him about the other illustration that had been used, and if that one also bothered him. He said, “No that one was fine.”

It was at this point that I realized that the man was suffering. He was experiencing some kind of crisis, and was not fully engaged with reality. I do not know exactly what the nature of his particular pain was, but it was evident that it was governing his words and actions.

And so I again shifted gears, gently suggesting that we could talk about his concerns at another time.

Through it all, communion was being served. The three serving stations were going, people were receiving the sacrament, the steady sound of “the Body of Christ, the Blood of Christ” was the background of my conversation, people were kneeling in prayer all around us. #ThisIsChurch

My approach wasn’t working, and I was beginning to weigh other options, when Debi came up toward the table.

Debi had just received communion and spent time in prayer, and now she was walking up onto the chancel area and approaching the man and me. We made eye contact. In that unspoken moment, she said, “Do you want me to see if I can encourage him to come with me?” And I said, “Yes please, and thank you. And God bless you.”

Debi then spoke gently and graciously, but firmly to the man, saying, “Let’s go out into the hall and you and I can talk about this. I want to hear what you have to say.”

At about the same time, Matt stepped up into the chancel area as well. Matt echoed Debi’s words, and reached out to the man to walk out with him. At first the man acted as if he was going to resist, but decided to go with them. He stumbled a bit going down the steps, but walked out calmly between Debi and Matt.

Several church folks met him at the door of the sanctuary, and stepped out into the hallway with him. It was all very quiet and calm. Communion continued to be served at all three serving stations for the entire duration of this event. I watched through the windows in the back of the room, and saw several people gathered around the man.

Just before we sang the final song, he came back into the sanctuary. He went to his seat, and stood for the final song.

And then I witnessed one of the most beautiful, grace-filled moments of worship I’ve ever seen.

Here at Campbell, we have the practice of joining hands for the closing prayer. The people in worship were invited to join hands, as usual. And they did.

And not only did the people right around the man reach out and join hands with him, people literally crossed the aisle to make sure he had people to connect with. They surrounded him with grace. When I saw it, I knew I was witnessing the work of the Holy Spirit. I knew I was seeing the sermon come to life in that room, as these amazing followers of Jesus chose to love this man, just as Jesus loves us. This. Is. Church.

I have heard through the grapevine that later in the day the man was still talking about what had upset him from the sermon at Campbell. Someone told me that as he left he took his nametag off, threw it down on the table, and declared that he was not going to be coming back. We are planning to do what follow-up we can with him, to make sure that he is in fact okay.

But here’s what I saw on Sunday. I saw a disruption of love. I saw the church of Jesus Christ being the church of Jesus Christ. I saw grace in action. I saw the sermon we had just heard become incarnate. I saw an authentic outpouring of love for one struggling person. I saw the core values of Campbell UMC come to life with grace, inclusivity, authenticity, and truly selfless service.

A guest on Sunday asked me after worship if she could see our safety policies and procedures for a Sunday morning disruption, “since you obviously have them!” Imagine her surprise when I replied, “Actually no, we do not have any written procedures for Sunday morning disruptions like that. What you saw this morning was authentic; it was just Campbell being Campbell.”

It is far more important to know who you are than to know what to do.

I’m not opposed to having written security policies mind you, but what happened last Sunday was not the result of any kind of policy. Debi and Matt and all the others did what they did because that’s who they are. They did not stop and say, “Now what is our policy for 'Sunday Morning Disruptions'?” They simply and selflessly responded with grace.

They made sure the man knew that he was being heard; they made sure he and others were safe; they made sure he knew that he had people around him; and ... they prayed with him.

And they did all of this not because they “knew what to do in a situation like this.”

They did it all because they know who they are. And it was beautiful to see.

#ThisIsChurch

"Spiritual But Not Religious"

On Thursday, April 28, 2016 at 4:45 p.m. I posted the following question on Facebook and Twitter: “What do you think it means to say, ‘I’m spiritual but not religious?’”

Fifty-one people responded, and here are their answers, which I found to be absolutely fascinating! I’m compiling them here with the thought that they need to be more widely read than just my social media feeds. There is something really, really cool happening in these responses. Give it a read, and if you have your own answer, feel free to add it in the comments.

- What do you think it means to say, “I’m spiritual but not religious?”

B.W. Freese: I think "spiritual but not religious" means no practices which connect with the holy.

Rob Barringer: I think it means, "I don't go to church."

Elizabeth Perry Wilcox: I tend to hear this from people who believe in God, but do not go to church or participate in organized religion.

Andrew Jones: I love you, but I don't want to marry you. I want all of the benefits of a relationship with God without the responsibility, accountability, or commitment.

Brad Bryan: Means, I'm neither. I'm cynical. But, in my experience, most people I have known that say this are not what I would describe as spiritual. I mean, not really.

Zak McIntyre: Trying to connect with a higher power but not yet seeing how a church fits into that.

Todd Scranton: In my experience it can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it means "I've been burned by the church, but I still have some semblance of my faith left that I'm struggling with." Sometimes it means "I've outgrown the narrow parameters of the faith I was raised with, but I haven't done the work of figuring out what I DO believe." Sometimes it means "I sometimes feel something, but I don't know what it is, and don't have anyone I trust to help me figure it out." And sometimes it means "Get away from me you pushy religious person." The thing I know it DOESN'T mean is "Please, scorn me from the position of your religious community's understanding and treat me like some kind of immature slacker."

June Clark: I have wrestled with this question. As best I can decipher it, this means that the person believes in a higher power of some kind but is not sure how that looks.

Valerie Kistler Miller: A belief in God but not the church as a collective entity.

Susan March: Unsure of what "God" means but still possibly open to seeking. Religion represents 'judgement', so definitely not religious!

Emily Stirewalt: Hurt by organized religion.

Michael Stanfield: It is a statement made by people who feel the pull of God, but are frightened by "Church". Christians, as a collective body, tend treat others as morally inferior. While professing faith in Jesus (a Man who spent his entire ministry preaching tolerance and understanding and dining with prostitutes and lepers) they support agendas that create division, oppression and fear. Christians, as a collective body, tend to be wildly hypocritical and some of the least tolerant humans on the planet. Your statement allows them to say they feel God without having to put that "label" of religion on themselves. Watching how a lot of "Christians" act, I can't blame them.

Bob Maffitt: I think it often means I am afraid to totally deny that God exists, but I do not want to commit my time or money to supporting a church, helping others or learning about Biblical concerns that may be contrary to how I want to live life my life. Just some thoughts.
            Linda Lightner Hobbs: Bob, I think you hit the nail on the head so to speak.

Seth Dylan Hunt: Spiritual is what you own and religion is the construct under which you practice or speech on spirit. That's always been my take.

Owen Smith: Believing in God, but not feeling welcome or comfortable with any local congregation/gathering they know of. May be a cop-out to being active or committed to serve or even attend a church.

Bob Edwards: Not sure. I hope it means that they pray but sometimes spiritual people are not believers.

Mark Hansche: I think it means that they sense the Divine spark that is in all of us, but they have no foundation on which to allow the Holy Spirit to turn that spark into a flame. They're drifting.

Cindy K Day Hauk: I believe when someone says they are spiritual but not religious is they may lack the personal relationship with Christ and His followers.

Joan Cotton DeBoe: Belief in a higher power but uninterested in "being subject to" an organization that expects a particular response.

John Hampton Jr.: I hear "I don't trust the church". Many I've spoken to (so this is just anecdotal) share in their assertion of spiritual, not religious an almost agnostic approach to God; but they share a feeling that the church is corrupt. They'd rather go through life finding God than have some church tell them who God is. I wish I had a better way of telling them that at least we in the UMC are doing the same thing they are.

Dorothy Drago Brucks: They like to hummmmm.

Nathan Cornelius” That is someone whom the church as a business has "turned off"

Ben Mulford: I'm surprised no one has said it means "I'm okay with burning in hell." Not that I think that, but I could imagine a deeply "religious" person responding that way.

Doug Cannon: I think being spiritual, but not religious, is becoming commonplace. Many people have been spiritually abused in a church, and don't want to be a part of a large group on Sunday morning. These people have a connection with God in their hearts, but don't feel the need to share that connection with others.  As stated before, many are turned off by some church they've visited. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was what the pastor said. Maybe it was not being made welcome when they walked in. People who have experienced this have chosen to worship their God in different ways. I think this is becoming more & more the norm. "Church" can mean many things. I've had church alone on a forest. I've had church with 5000 others.

Chris Snyder: I don't know but there are days I worry I am religious and spiritual.

Niki Parrish Scott: I think it means someone has been hurt in some way & may be afraid of being hurt further by a "structure" that should actually be doing the opposite.
I fear we underestimate it as a cop out or whatever you'd like to call it. I'd like to see a way to communicate without "the church" becoming defensive.

Joy Perry: I have always thought that it was a comment made by someone who has been hurt by the church or who is fed up with the politics of the church. Another possibility is someone who has seen too many hypocrites there. They believe in God, but don't feel they need organized religion.
            June DeWeese: I agree totally with what Joy wrote. That would be the case with the person whom I know. Except where she wrote " or" I would write "and"......

John Schmalzbauer: Agree with much of what has been said. People hurt by "organized religion" and disaffected with congregations. I think there is also an element of American individualism. Jefferson said "I am my own sect." Saying you're spiritual but not religious is analogous to being political without voting. Many studies show Americans are disaffected with institutions, including the church, the government, business, and the news media. A lot of this is because institutions have let us down.

Megan Hammer Lucy: I agree with all the above, but would also say that while sometimes people are turned off by being treated poorly by church goers but still like the ideas of Christianity, that sometimes it can be the other way around, too. People can be turned off by things like the way the Bible talks about women, or the way church doctrine addresses LGBT people but still feel connected and loved by Christians in a way that makes them feel spiritually connected to the community. At least that's the way I feel sometimes. I find myself frustrated by the "written policies" of the church and even the Bible sometimes, by the goodness and love of God's people draws me back.

Kathryn Smith: And there are those who say they can be closer to God on the golf course or on lake.

Wyn Andrews: I think it's indicative of someone who has been hurt by church. I used to say this about myself. Religion has been deeply problematic throughout human history, and it's not unreasonable to want to separate oneself from that. Of course, as a regular church goer (I used to say that even though I went to church every week. I still do.) I believe in the positives that an open and affirming congregation can offer to members, local communities, and the world. But, I don't think it's helpful to criticize this statement - not that you are, Andy, but I've seen some troubling comments here that, in my experience, will keep people from wanting to embrace going to church.

Dan Bohannon: The "religious" follow rules and people and are usually are viewed as less tolerant of other "religions" or people who follow a different path. The "spiritual" follow a perception of a "higher power" or their own bliss or something, anything they feel doesn't put them in the religious category. They may feel they are less judgmental and more tolerant than their religious friends.

Margie Lutjen Briggs: I think of religious people as Bible thumpers, the rules and regulations, flowing robe kind of people. Spiritual people are deep in faith and trusting with their walk. I guess I feel that being religious one must talk about the rules and see to it everyone follows them like they believe they should be followed. The kind that would use the Bible as weapon. A person who is spiritual tries their best to be full of love and grace.

Julia Essman: I don't know if it's been stated but I know one person I talked to recently said that their definition of their spirituality was listening to the feeling that come to them and in general letting fate take its course type of a thing. The way they described it sounded along the lines of agnostic, but with "following the path that is put before them" thrown in... I don't have a personal definition of "spiritual not religious" because I don't know enough about it. That's just from the conversation I had recently.

Maureen Glynn McNeil: I think it's a copout.

Thomas T. Sanders: Not much. I mean, it doesn't seem to me to be a statement which intends to communicate much, but more likely block or cut off communication about the subject.

Patsy Rhodes: I've been told I answer certain questions the way I do because I'm Spiritual. But to me, I say I'm Spiritual because of experiences I've had and visions I've seen. That's probably not what’s the correct way to describe a Spiritual person, but who is to determine what's correct and what's not.

Andrea Young: This has been a very good question. To me it could be like the chicken and the egg. I feel the spirit of God within me but yet I am not versed well in the religious teachings of the bible. I cannot quote scriptures and I don't know which testament is which sometimes. I cry every time I pray because I am so moved by the spirit of God. Someone might ask how can I know God if I do not know the bible? Which came first, Spirit or Religion? I only know what I feel
            Whispering Pine: So, Andrea, what holds you back from studying more and exploring that which is moving in you? Why not seek understanding and wisdom?
            Patsy Rhodes: Andrea, I understand and respect you for what you so eloquently Posted. You spoke for me too. No one can believe in and love God, Jesus and The Spirit more than me, and I am not well versed, as you stated, in the Bible. I had tears when I read how you cry every time you pray. I know and believe in them because I survived and experienced them and their love in real life.

Hector Eduardo Bousson: "I'm confused but I want to sound smart while saying it."

Chris Mixson: Spiritual= Individual / Religious=Part of something bigger than me.

Terry Hammer: There is a mindset which allows a person to believe they can live a Godly life without actually engaging with other people and the broken world. It is a very alluring proposition-much safer and less messy, but it is also a false premise. What if Christ had not engaged with the world?

Marti Fort: I have wondered that many times. Maybe they don't think they fit in to the church establishment.

Bo Tucker: God is moving you to take action outside the walls of the church.

Debby Peebles: My sister - you practice yoga, you read spiritual books, but you don't go to church unless maybe the yoga class is there

Pat Barker Auston: I believe it is possible to be both spiritual and religious. Spiritual - feeling within self, religious - going to a church and becoming an active member of that religion. So can you be religious and not spiritual? Yes, but missing one of the most important parts of religion, spirituality . Can you be spiritual and not religious? Yes, but missing fellowship.

Sonseeahray Hodge: A "personal walk with God" is just that. Personal. You don't have to be hurt by a church community, or follow a daily doctrine to have that relationship. When someone says that they are spiritual, it means that they have not found a church community that regularly adheres to values that they believe reflect their vision of what God wants. People within church communities don't realize that they truly speak another language, "church talk" that is very isolating and at times even appears ridiculous to people that are not within that community. When those outside the church community see this language, the hierarchy of members and see church members failing to follow their own doctrine...they ask themselves why would they want to be a part of that and why would they need that in their personal relationship with God? Religion is a practice, if that practice does not entirely reflect your spiritual belief then you do not need to be a part of it.

Lawrence Kyle Hern: I think it means that God's location has changed.

Ashley Hicks: I am actually one of those people. I'm sure the definition is different for each of us so I will only speak for myself. I believe in God, I pray, I was raised in the church which was a wonderful experience and shaped who I am as a person. That being said, my personal beliefs as I've grown don't really fit into one specific religion so I don't feel right identifying with one. Many of my beliefs overlap with a variety of religions so I tell people I'm spiritual because I guess I don't really know how to define it. Life = love for me.

Take a Breath, Church

You rarely think about breathing until you are finding it difficult. As when you have just run up three flights of stairs or been swimming underwater for several seconds. And if it gets really bad, then breathing is ALL you can think about. You gasp until your body has enough oxygen to function normally again, and little by little your breathing slows and deepens, at which point you promptly stop thinking about it again.

Yet we are always breathing. While we live, we breathe. We are never doing nothing. We breathe. The oxygen infuses our blood. Our heart carries it through our body. Life is motion. Life is breath.

For the church, the Holy Spirit is breath. There are times that we take the Spirit for granted, as we do with our breathing, rarely thinking about the Spirit ... until we struggle. Until a poor decision gets us in trouble. Until a loved one dies too soon. If it gets really bad, then we gasp for the Spirit with huge hiccups of prayer and grief and unanswerable questions of “why.” And little by little, as time goes by, our spiritual breathing eventually slows and deepens, normalizing into a new version of our inevitable new life.

We are always in the presence of the Holy Spirit. While we are the church, the Holy Spirit is with us. God is never absent from us. We pray. Love infuses our lives. Our service carries it through the body. God is Spirit.

My prayer for the church is that we would be continually mindful of the presence of the Spirit among us. Just as breathing deeply calms the mind and body, may our deep prayers serve to calm the church and focus us on God’s presence, power, and peace.

That will require us to practice intentional awareness, to develop our ability to perceive the Spirit. Of course, there are times it is the mighty wind of Pentecost Sunday, and it blows our hats off. But much of the time it is just the tiniest puff of breeze, which we may very well miss if we’re not careful.

We are always going. Always striving. Always arguing. Always making noise. Always ...

Always out of breath.

And so, stop. Sit still. And take a breath, church.

Just.

Breathe.

So, The Church Is a Mess...

There’s a new study out that reinforces a trend that has been on church leaders’ minds for years. It is a Pew Research Center report, and it verifies that the number of Americans who identify as “Christian” has dropped while the number of Americans who identify as “atheist,” “agnostic,” or “nothing in particular” has grown.

To be sure, over 70% of the population still says it is Christian, so we could still override a veto. But the trend is quite clearly a decline, and it has been for years.

Now, different church leaders will react to the trend in different ways, obviously. Lament, panic, resignation. But I’ll tell you what I think about it – I think it’s a good thing.

I have spoken to quite a few people who have left the church for one reason or another. As I’ve heard their stories, I have noticed a common theme: The church they left is not the church of my experience.

They are leaving a version of Christianity to which I have never ascribed. They are leaving a narrow and rigid form of church that bears little resemblance to the community of Jesus as I understand it. In other words, what they are leaving is an expression of the church that frankly I would leave, too, if I was a part of it.

And nine times out of ten, among the doctrines of the church they leave is included some variation of this idea: “There is only one way to be the church – our way.” And so when confronted with a church that they find void of meaning AND the idea that this is the only version of church there is, the only option is to leave.

The thing is, that’s NOT the only option.

There is a diverse spectrum of churches, of denominations, of congregations within denominations, of people within congregations. There is no “one-size-fits-all” when it comes to God, and so there is no “one-size-fits-all” when it comes to church, either.

Sure, it can be a confusing mess to sort through, trying to find a group of people to call your church. But the messiness is real. It’s the realest thing ever. It is truth. It’s people being people. It’s a beautiful mess. And sorting through the mess is most definitely worth the effort.

A significant problem is that we have spent too much time and energy insisting that church isn’t messy, that it shouldn’t be a struggle, that church is a neat and tidy proposition. The norms we project are actually false fronts, hiding turbulence and anger and doubt and fear. What a mess.

What a gorgeous, holy mess.

And so I do not lament that people are leaving. I’m not going to wring my hands and worry about the demise of the church. In fact, I celebrate the opportunity that arises. I am eager and excited to witness what the Holy Spirit is doing among the people who have left the church, what new expressions of faith are emerging, and what “church” is going to look like as we experience this messy, turbulent time together.

There are nicer things to call this mess, actually. Gil Rendle calls the present moment “our particular exodus,” a healthy journey through the wilderness to a new ecclesial identity. Phyllis Tickle says it is a “Great Emergence” similar to other historical “great” moments, like the protestant reformation, the east/west schism, and the monastic movement.

The only reason to lament people “leaving” the church is if your ecclesiology is so narrowly defined that it only contains your own personal understanding of what the “church” is. How dare we try to place such limits on what the Holy Spirit may be capable of accomplishing outside of the boundaries of what we think of as the church!

Instead, we who are the church should be celebrating the great work that God is doing in the world today, and asking how we might join in to help out! There's no need for us to be jealous of what God is accomplishing outside of the sphere of our understanding. The church is a mess, and I for one like it that way!

Everyone's An Angel?

God is still sending messages. God has spoken to human beings through all of history, and God is still speaking today.

The law was a message from God, sent through Moses. God spoke through the prophets of old, calling the nation to live worthy lives. God sent messages through the heavenly beings called angels, whose very name means “messengers.”

And ultimately, God embodied the message in Jesus. Jesus is the incarnate Word of God, the most complete expression of God’s message to the world. And after his resurrection, God sent the Holy Spirit to dwell in our midst, the ongoing presence of God with us even now.

And so, considering God’s ultimate expression in Jesus, considering God’s ongoing, unmediated presence with us .... are there angels any more? If God can speak to us directly in the Holy Spirit, what use is there for angels? Do they even exist?

Now some will answer, “Yes, absolutely. I know because I have seen for myself.” Others will say, “No way. Angels are myths.”

Still others will reply, “Maybe so, maybe not. I’m not really sure. Angels haven’t been a part of my experience, so I can’t say one way or the other.”

Wherever we personally fall on that spectrum, scripture does make one thing clear to all of us: we are to treat people as if each one is an angel (Hebrews 13:1-2). How would it change the way you looked at others if you thought to yourself, “What if he has been sent by God?” or “What if she has a message for me that God need me to hear?”

God is still sending messages, and it could come from ANYONE! There are definitely “Angels All Around.”

Prophecies, Visions, and Dreams - Oh My!

Part of the Pentecost story in Acts is the prophecies, visions, and dreams that followers of Jesus are given when the Holy Spirit comes to them. It is actually Peter, quoting the prophet Joel, who makes the allusion.

The followers of Jesus received the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit empowered them to dream.

We all dream. We all envision a future for ourselves, our families, our congregations, our communities. We know what it means to desire a different future, a better future.

But how do I know the difference between a dream that comes from the Holy Spirit and a dream that comes from within myself? How can I tell if it is God or my ego creating this picture of the future in my mind?

I mean, I could have a dream of myself driving a brand new, silver, Porsche 911 Carrera 4 GTS Cabriolet with the top down and U2 blasting out of the speakers, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from God. But obviously not all of my dreams would be so easy to distinguish.

I have a different vision for the church than some do. And I actually think that having multiple congregational visions is healthy for the church as a whole. When it comes to congregational vitality, “one-size-fits-all” is not a good rule to follow. And I do not begrudge one person their dream for the future of the church, as long as it is not harmful.

What are our dreams for the church?
- Bigger congregations
- Smaller congregations but more of them
- More small groups within larger congregations
- Networks of simple churches meeting in living rooms
- New congregations emerging from within older congregations
- Younger congregations
- Multi-generational congregations
- Ginormous congregations with multiple locations
- Congregations without locations that gather as flash mobs in various public places
- The complete dissolution of the notion of a “congregation” and creation of a new connectional concept of church, networked somewhere in the cloud

There’s nothing wrong with multiple dreams within the church. I’d say the only thing wrong is no dream for the future, no vision, no motion forward.

Last night at rehearsal, an actor noted that in one particular scene different people in the chorus were making different choices about our respective reactions to the action on stage. The actor asked if the director wanted one uniform response from the chorus. She replied that no, the multiple reactions actually created interest and energy. The only thing that would be “wrong” is if there was no reaction at all.

It’s like that with vision for the church, too. The vision in one congregation is different from the vision in another congregation, and that’s okay as long as it first of all does no harm. What would not be okay is if a congregation claims no vision at all. The Pentecost story is all about the Holy Spirit sending prophecies, visions, and dreams to followers of Jesus, and I believe that the Holy Spirit continues to do so today.

Grief For Tuscon

We call an event like the Saturday shooting in Tuscon, Arizona “an unspeakable tragedy.”

Funny how we then proceed to speak about it ad nauseum.

Maybe we should just be still for a little while.

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
leave to your God to order and provide;
in every change God faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: your best, your heavenly friend
through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: your God will undertake
to guide the future, as in ages past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
the Christ who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” I think we don’t mourn very well, in general. I don’t think we allow ourselves to mourn enough. We rush to rationalize, to explain, to excuse, and we do not give ourselves time to grieve. We do not give ourselves permission to mourn.

Now, I’m not talking about ignoring it. I’m not talking about closing our eyes and pretending everything is just fine, when it clearly isn’t. I’m talking about some quiet time with God, acknowledging life’s brokenness so that we can sense the wholeness of the Holy Spirit.

So let’s just be still and mourn. At least for a little while.

Here's Hoping

When the TV series “Lost” ended last week, millions of viewers were watching. One thing that “Lost” did was play around with the rules of time; viewers were never quite sure if the scene we were watching was past, present, or future. Past moments foreshadowed future events, present experiences paralleled happenings of the past, and ultimately the series ended in a kind of timeless moment that could have been any time, and every time.

The Holy Spirit also plays around with the rules of time a little bit. This week, I'm thinking about HOPE, a profoundly future-oriented theme. And we experience the future-focus of hope in the present moment because we recall what God has done in the past – past/present/future are all contained in this one timeless idea.

To help think about what hope is, there's a passage in Romans 5 that tells us “…hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” The source of Spiritual hope is God’s love. Knowing that God’s love is given, we may envision the future with confidence, imagining the possibilities that God has in store for this remarkable creation.

In that last episode of “Lost,” just before operating on his spine, Jack says to Locke, “Everything is going to be okay.” When Locke asks him if he really knows for sure that everything is going to be okay, Jack responds, “No, I might kill you. I was just saying that to make you feel better.” And they laugh. None of us really knows exactly what the future is. No one. Having hope doesn’t mean we know for sure, it means that whatever happens, we’re going to be okay.

We Didn't Start the Fire?

The fire of the Holy Spirit will always find a way to burn.

The thing is, it’s either going to burn in spite of us, or because of us.

That’s my Pentecost sermon this year. Reading the familiar Acts 2 story this year, here’s what came to mind. The Holy Spirit had a message to get to all those people, and it was going to be heard. God was not going to let a little thing like linguistic, ethnic, or national barriers get in the way.

Yes, the voice of the Holy Spirit will always find a way to be heard, and the question for us is will we be translators or inhibitors? It really doesn’t matter in the long run, of course. If God wants a message to get out, it WILL get out. I guess I’d rather choose to be a translator, if at all possible.

People are really, really good at categorizing one another, noticing our differences. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. What gets us in trouble is when we take it too far, and make judgments based only on those categories, believing one category better than another in some way. Instead, I think those differences that we notice among one another are, in fact, exactly the way God wants things to be.

I say that in part because of this remarkable Pentecost story. In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit sees the differences among the people gathered, and neither pretends they are not there nor uses them to divide. In fact, it seems to me that the Holy Spirit speaks to the crowd through their differences, as if the diversity of nation, language, and ethnicity were themselves the language the Spirit used to speak.

The voice of the Holy Spirit WILL find a way to be heard. The fire of the Holy Spirit WILL find a way to burn. That’s not the issue here.

The issue for us is, are we going to resist it or help it along?