Joyful Silence

“I … meditate on you in the watches of the night.” (Psalm 63:6)

The Jewish people had three overnight watches, from sundown to about 10:00, from 10 until 2, and from 2:00 until sunrise. (Later, under Roman rule, there were four watches overnight, as listed in Mark 13:35.) By mentioning watches, plural, the Psalmist is indicating that the meditation is an all-night long experience.

Have you ever “pulled an all-nighter?”

I can remember a few in college, either studying for exams or writing papers. I would stock up on high caffeine content beverages and snacky foods, you know, the really healthy stuff. Then sit at my desk struggling to stay focused on my work while all the time my brain was all up in my grill like, “Um, excuse me. This is supposed to be sleeping time. What the heck are you doing?”

Needless to say, the results of those “all-nighters” were not the best work of my academic career.

I have pulled three spiritual all-nighters in my life, all of them on Saturday nights before Easter. These Easter Vigils were very difficult for me; to sit still, stay quiet, and meditate on God for hours and hours … oh, and by the way: stay awake, too! My brain was a bit nonplussed on those nights, as well.

I wonder if those “all-nighters” were my best spiritual work.

The larger point is, happiness that comes from God does not have to be noisy. It doesn’t have to be in continual motion. Happiness in God is felt in the darkness, in the stillness, in the calm of the night, as well. I wonder if silence allows the mind and body to rest, which somehow allows the spirit to come to life in new and joyful ways.

There are times for us to make joyful noises; there are times for joyful silence, too.

Listen to Your Church

In the church, there is a place for noisy.

Scripture tells us over and over again to shout, to sing, to make a joyful noise to the Lord. Bells and lyres and harps and flutes and drums and shofars are among the several instruments mentioned in the Bible, often used in the context of praising God in a worship setting. Singing is mentioned in many different places throughout scripture, including when Jesus and his disciples sang together during their last Passover meal (See Mark 14:26 or Matthew 26:30).

Are we happy together? During Lent, we are considering the idea of “happiness,” in a series of services called “So Happy Together” here at Campbell UMC. There are times when happiness is just too much to contain, and it emerges in joyful expressions of noise - laughing, cheering, singing, shouting, and any of a myriad of sounds.

Are we happy together? On an upcoming Sunday morning, stop and listen to Fellowship Hall in between services. I’ll tell you what, it is buzzing with noise! People who are happy together tend to be a pretty noisy bunch, and that means Campbell tends to be a pretty noisy place on Sunday! There’s laughter and conversation and even singing here and there; it is a holy noisiness that surely delights the ears of the Lord.

Are we happy together? When you get to stand in the front of the sanctuary like I do, you hear the full sound of a congregation singing praise to God. I’ve said it a number of times, “You all sing like Methodists!” It is a joy to hear Campbell UMC gathered for worship, singing praise with reckless abandon, lifting voices young and old, making a truly joyful noise in worship of almighty God.

There is a place for noisy in the church, and it comes from being truly happy in God.

Wherever you worship, take a listen to your congregation this Sunday. What do you hear? Is there a buzz? Is there a joyful noise? Are you happy together?

Of course there is a place for stillness, too. There is a quietness that also comes from deep and abiding joy in God. That will be next week’s topic. For now -

Let’s sing it, shout it, walk it, talk it! There’s a higher power!

Lay down your soul ‘cause Jesus bought it! There’s a higher power!

Ashy Motivations

It has always been curious to me that Ash Wednesday traditionally includes a scripture (Matthew 6) that tells us to do all this stuff in secret, giving money, praying, fasting, and then we put a big black mark on our foreheads so show we belong to Jesus, a very non-secret thing to do, it seems.

It even says that we are supposed to wash our face so no one will know we’re fasting, then we actually make our face dirty, which seems to me to be pretty much the opposite.

Which is it? Are we supposed to be some kind of “secret Christians,” or are we supposed to wear it on our sleeve, or rather, on our face?

I think the answer lies in the text itself. It is the “so that” part of Jesus’ words that we need to pay attention to. It’s about our motivation for doing what we do. If we are doing good stuff so that others will notice it and think we’re so cool, then that’s not okay.

Jesus is saying, Giving money to those in need so that someone will see it and say, “Oh isn’t she so generous!” isn’t a good reason to give. Praying out in public so that others will notice and think, “Oh isn’t he so pious!” is not a good reason to pray. Looking hungry while fasting so that someone will say, “Wow, look how hungry he is, he must really love God!” is not a good reason to fast.

So maybe we can expand that to ashes on the forehead in order to say, wearing ash on your forehead so that others will see it and be impressed by your piety is not a good reason to wear ash on your forehead.

When it comes to motivation, only the individual knows. You can say that you are motivated by any number of things, but when it really comes down to it, only you know what motivates you.

So really the only thing I can do is tell you why I wear ash on my forehead on Ash Wednesday. I do it because I need a tangible reminder of how fragile life is. And though I cannot see the mark, I am aware that it is there. It means that I am dust, I am comprised of the earth, my life withers and fades, and the best that I can do is to live this short, insignificant, fleeting life in a way that is pleasing to God, in a way that spreads love, offers grace, and works for justice. The best I can do is to live in such a way that things are better off than they were when I arrived on the scene.

That’s just me. Maybe you have a different reason. That’s cool. Or maybe it’s just not something you need to do at all. That’s also cool. Ashy foreheads are certainly not a prerequisite for heaven.

Next Wednesday evening Melissa will put some ash on my head and tell me that I am dust. I’ll do the same for her. Then together we’ll invite anyone who wants to come forward so that we can put some ash on their heads, too.

And we won’t ask a single one why they’re doing it.

The Wall

Little Jack couldn’t see over the wall.

So he asked for a box that would help him be tall.

And Mom did oblige; she was glad to provide.

And Little Jack’s smile was a couple feet wide.

Now Littler Jill, she wished to see, too,

But for Littler Jill, one box wouldn’t do.

So Mom gave her two, so that Jilly could see,

Right next to Jack, who said jealously,

“Well that isn’t fair! How come she’s got two?

I’ve only got one! Oh Mom, how could you!”

But Mom only smiled, “Now Jack, you’ll recall

That your box is to help you see over the wall.”

And just at that moment, Littlest Mary

Arrived on the scene. And now Jill grew wary

For in order for her to see over the wall

Mary needed THREE boxes! Yes, she was that small.

And Jill looked at Mary and said, “Well I’ll be!

I’ve only got two, but that twerp has got three!”

“Oh Jill,” said her Mom, “Just please let it go.

You can see from the top of your boxes, you know.”

But Littler Jill and her brother Small Jack

Would not stop complaining regarding their lack.

They grumbled and blathered, and made such a bawl

They completely forgot to look over the wall.

And Mother reflected, while the two children fussed,

And pondered the difference ‘tween “equal” and “just.”

Responding to Gun Violence: Choose Love

At this point, the so-called “national conversation” has deteriorated to one Zax saying, “Guns are not the problem” and another Zax saying, “Oh yes they are.” (More on Zaxes.)

With all the respect that is due, may we please move on?

Clichés are rarely helpful. So, let’s just agree that 1) No, not all kinds of gun are “the problem,” but some are obviously "a problem," and 2) yes, obviously a gun safely unloaded and locked away won’t kill people, but a person getting it, loading it, pointing it at someone and pulling the trigger might. Okay, so let’s now declare this conversation a “cliché-free zone,” agreed?

Next, my full disclosure that I do not now, nor have I ever owned a gun, much less fired one. All I know about guns I know because of friends who own and use them. One of those friends is Fred Koenig, who has this very helpful perspective to share. Though obviously not a friend, Kathleen Parker’s column of January 11 was also very helpful.

I ran across another helpful piece of information in the Washington Post. Grant Duwe of the Minnesota Department of Corrections has researched mass shootings in the United States, defining a mass shooting as “an incident in which four or more victims are killed publicly with guns within 24 hours.” Part of his work included a list, broken down by decades, of mass shootings in the United States:

1900s : zero

1910s: 2

1920s: 2

1930s: 9

1940s: 8

1950s: 1

1960s: 6

1970s: 13

1980s: 32

1990s: 42

2000s: 28

2010s (three years): 14

All of us, expert and non-expert alike, will form opinions about why there is a spike in these incidents in the last third of the twentieth century. Personally, I believe it comes from a broad desensitization to violence. As weapons technology became more and more destructive and weapons became more and more widely available, attitudes toward violence became less and less horrified and more and more glorified. And furthermore, while I do not believe that our government can completely legislate away gun violence, I see no reason not to try. I value human life more than property rights.

However I have not invested myself as others have in the matters of earthly government. There are those who become irrationally energized over these matters, and it leads to very unhealthy places. I don’t even feel compelled to respond; it’s just not worth it. There is a more excellent way.

Whereas the world is anxious for certainty in uncertain times, God’s people are called to faith. For people of the world, there are a myriad of answers that may or may not lead to certainty. More guns, less guns, security officers, armed janitors, better healthcare for the mentally ill, fewer violent video games … and so it goes. Each of us is entitled to have and share an opinion about our earthly responses to the issues that confront us.

For people of God there is one answer - more love.

It is simple, yet extraordinary. The answer is more love. I’m not talking about a sugary sweet feeling; I’m talking about agape - divine love.

This is a love that recognizes the sacred worth of all God’s creation.

This is a love of which there is no greater, the love that lays down one’s life for another.

This is a love that refuses to allow a single Who down in Whoville to perish.

This is a love with fortitude, a courageous love that shouts down injustice and oppression.

This is an active, vibrant, powerful love that knows no strangers, no outcasts, no enemies.

This is a love that does not conform to this world, that overcomes evil with good, that turns the other cheek every time, that gives without expecting anything in return, that does justice, loves kindness, and walks humbly with God … this is the love that will fix everything.

And finally, it is a love that cannot be legislated, it cannot be demanded or required - it must be freely given. We must choose to love. We already know the answer; it is love. It is not certainty - it is faith. So simple; so extraordinary; so elusive.

We must choose love.

This is Church: More Newtown Reflections

I learned about the shooting in Newtown at 1:03 on Friday afternoon. I learned about it from Facebook.

It wasn’t a status or headline I read; it was a message from my friend Sharon. It asked if we could send a prayer shawl to Connecticut, and expressed her feelings of sorrow. I didn’t have any idea what she was talking about, so I checked some news websites and heard about the shocking story.

At 2:02 I posted an announcement on my own Facebook page that those who would be worshiping at Campbell the upcoming Sunday would pray over as many prayer shawls as we could in order to send them to Newtown United Methodist Church, asking knitters to contribute to the effort if they could. In that post I tagged Campbell United Methodist Church. 35 people liked that status; 8 shared it; several others posted similar statuses of their own.

I also sent messages via the Newtown UMC website, both to their pastor and the main office, saying that we would be gathering, praying over, and sending prayer shawls their way.

The next morning I posted another Facebook status basically repeating the idea. This time 25 people liked it and 5 shared it. I also sent a churchwide email via our iContact service with the information in it. Several colleagues saw the buzz on Facebook being generated by people of Campbell, and spread the idea to their own congregations in various ways.

Sunday morning at 6:15 I posted a message on Newtown UMC’sFacebook page to let them know we would pray for them in worship, and assuring them they were not alone. Someone in Newtown “liked” it before worship started here, so I was able to tell worshipers here that our message had been received.

On Sunday morning the prayer railing was filled with the vibrant colors of dozens of prayer shawls. Many had come from the closet in which we store them as they are finished, until they are needed. And several others were brought in that morning. Two were laid on the prayer railing incomplete, still connected to balls of yarn, knitting needles inserted through. At least one person brought a shawl and left to attend church in their own congregation. Another had to work but brought her shawl during her break. At each service, we came forward, touching the shawls, entwining our fingers in them, placing hands on the shoulders of those who were.

Monday the shawls were boxed up, then mailed by a church member who volunteered to take care of that task. They are supposed to arrive in Newtown this Friday. In both boxes is a paper copy of a letter that I wrote to the congregation of Newtown United Methodist, sending our support and prayers along with the shawls.

With the boxes shipped, I then posted a .pdf of that letter on our Wordpress newsfeed and put a link to the letter on my Facebook page, and that link has 52 likes and 5 shares.

One of those shares was by Newtown UMC, along with a note that said, “We are humbled and thankful by the witness and outpouring of love shown to us by you and countless others. Jesus smiles upon you, we are indeed certain of this, if nothing else! God bless you and yours, verily His.”

+++

Thinking about these events, reflecting on this story, I notice two things. First, I believe it represents the church at its best. No attention-seeking sensationalist statements of trite theological cliché, just love. I do not begrudge television personalities and famous fundamentalist preachers for their statements of the past few days, but neither do I even remotely consider their remarks representative of the Gospel. Rather, a simple idea shared with a pastor and embraced by a congregation and brought to life through the love and sacrifice of so many … pure, active, gracious love for people - this is church.

And secondly, it is simply astounding how much happened in this story through online connections and social media. Clearly online social networking is not the future of the church, it is the present. If your own congregation isn’t “doing online” well, fix it. Everything that happened in the story above may have happened 20 years ago as well, but it would have taken ten times as long and been a hundred times less effective. Nothing ever will replace the face-to-face aspect of church; the doctrine of incarnation will see to that. But the connective power that is available online can no longer be ignored by congregations if they want to remain faithful to God’s mission.

Faithful, fruitful ministry. An ever-expanding pattern of discipleship. Helping one another in our time of need. Changing the world for God’s sake. This is the church, and it is beautiful.

Say Something: Our Newtown Reactions

Everyone needs to say something, or not. Please do not begrudge anyone their expression in response to the Newtown shooting. Or their non-expression, either.

Some people need to say, “I know exactly why this happened!”

Some people need to say, “Why in the world did something like this happen?”

Some people need to say, “No matter what, God is still here!”

Some people need to say, “See, this proves it. God is not here!”

Some people need to say, “I am going to start carrying a concealed handgun!”

Some people need to say, “We must immediately dismantle the NRA!”

Some people need to say, “May the soul of the shooter burn in hell for all eternity!”

Some people need to say, “We have to eliminate the social stigma that surrounds mental illness!”

Some people need to watch a funny movie.

Some people need to say nothing at all.

And so it goes.

What I’m asking is that we allow one another our time of expression without critique. Of course we see things differently. That’s okay. Just let it be what it is for now.

Don’t argue right now, while we’re all just reacting, expressing, still shocked, still bewildered. Don’t argue, bicker, pick. And don’t hate on other people for their need to express themselves.

Any and all emotional responses at this point are perfectly valid and understandable. As time inevitably moves ahead, there will be clarity … and dialogue … and action taken. But in this moment, as our stomachs are still churning and tears appear seemingly from out of nowhere, as the faces of children we know surface in our minds alongside the thought “what if it had been them,” as fear and evil and horror seem to rule the day … not in this moment.

There are questions that do not have answers. Trying to answer them may actually do more damage.

Right now, we all just need to say what we need to say. Even if that is nothing at all.

"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Every Means Every

In order to be ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church, I had to answer “Yes” to Bishop Schnase when he asked, “Will you diligently instruct the children in every place?” Needless to say, I answered in the affirmative.

(There were a few other things I had to do, as well, but for now let’s focus on this one.)

I think the intention of the historic question is to ask about the children “in every place you are appointed, wherever that might be.” But I tend to take it further than that, and just let it mean exactly what it says - the children “in every place.”

The children in one place are just as important as the children in another.

As I write this, a friend is preparing to come home from China with a new son. A team from Campbell is returning from a heart-wrenching visit to an orphanage in Haiti. Schools for poor children in Pakistan are being named “Malala Schools” after a fifteen year old hero. And in Springfield, Missouri my family has just received a newborn infant in order to provide foster care for a time.

Every place.

Matthew 18 includes one of my favorite Jesus quotes: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” Could it be any clearer? Welcoming a child is welcoming Christ. (The Greek word translated “welcome” in the NRSV means “to take by the hand” or “to take hold of” or “to receive.”)

Children are more than ornaments to the congregation’s life, they are our brothers and sisters in Christ. Do we welcome them as if we were welcoming Christ? Do we take them by the hand and value them for who they are or do we try to mold them into smaller versions of ourselves?

My prayer, this week and always, is that the church embraces God’s children of all ages, in every place.

Every. Means. Every.

Diverse is Different than Divided: 2012 Election Reflection

I must say, after Tuesday’s election, most of us seem to be … just fine. Of course, there is a distinct minority of Americans which is not just fine, and within that minority there are two sub-groups: people who are ecstatic and people who are appalled.

The ecstatics are ecstatic because President Obama was re-elected and now all is right with the world.

The appalleds are appalled because President Obama was re-elected and now our nation is hopelessly doomed to oblivion.

Neither outlook is truthful, and that’s why most of us are just fine. We know we’re not great; there is a lot of work that needs to be done, so we’re not really ecstatic. We know we’re not horrible; things have been and could be a lot worse than they are, so we’re not really appalled.

And of course there are degrees of “just fine-ness,” with some of us on the pleased end of the scale and some on the disappointed end. And there is variety within the spectrum of “just fine,” depending on if you are talking local, state, or national levels.

The “just fines” voted Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Green, and the rest. Some of our candidates won, and some lost. Some of our ballot initiatives passed, and some didn’t. Some of our amendments amended, and some didn’t. And so it goes.

And “just fine” doesn’t equal “weak” or “ambivalent” or “disengaged,” by the way. Many of the “just fines” are energetic, passionate people who care deeply for our communities, our states, and our nation. We’re just realistic about it, and by realistic I mean this:

We understand the difference between “divided” and “diverse.”

If Tuesday’s election did nothing else, it reinforced the idea that the United States of America is a diverse nation. The “ecstatics” and the “appalleds” want to talk about how divided we are, but I don’t think that is accurate. Our nation is not divided, it is diverse, and there is a big difference.

There are times it feels divided, but the problem lies with the system, which is currently structured in such a way that the myth of the divided nation is perpetuated. One of the changes I wish for is the immediate elevation in significance of multiple alternative political parties, so that the system more accurately reflects the diversity of our nation, and provides a process by which we can choose from among a more diverse set of platforms.

Just for example, this year I was struck by the number of people with whom I communicated who expressed the core of the Libertarian Party platform. Though not a clinical survey, it seemed to me that a fiscally conservative approach that emphasizes personal freedom, including the freedom to marry whomever one chooses, was fairly common. However, neither the Democratic nor the Republican platforms fully reflected this perspective, so the people who felt that way were forced to compromise something of their values if they wanted to feel as if their vote counted for something.

We should never have to choose between feeling like our vote counts and feeling like our vote fully reflects our values. Many of the “just fines” vote for people rather than party already. Last Tuesday, I personally voted for candidates representing three different parties. I think it would be very healthy to bring more voices into the conversation, more perspectives, more philosophies from which to choose, and not automatically consider these alternative parties to be “fringe” or “extreme” or any other dismissive label, but rather legitimate perspectives that we could hear, understand, and then choose, or not.

However, all in all, I’m just fine. Our nation is just fine. So is our state and our town. My president is a Democrat, my U.S. senators are Republican and Democrat, my U.S. representative is a Republican, my governor is a Democrat, my state representative is a Republican. See, just fine. Not ecstatic, not appalling.

There is a difference between divided and diverse. Our nation is not divided, we are diverse, and I for one love it that way.

UMC Judicial Council Rules, World Keeps Spinning

And the gates of hell remain unshaken.

The Judicial Council of the United Methodist Church has issued a ruling that has been much anticipated by absolutely no one outside of the United Methodist hierarchy. (FYI: Basically, they overturned a change made at General Conference this year. The change had been to eliminate the idea of a “guaranteed appointment” for United Methodist pastors. The motivation for the change was to increase accountability for excellence in pastoral leadership.)

So this means that the one shred of reform that was left in place after General Conference has been itself shredded. All the work to de-tangle the hairball has been nullified, most of it at General Conference and now the remainder, by the Judicial Council.

A hairball that is tangled tends to remained tangled. It’s organizational entropy. Or something.

With that said, I am not in the least bit discouraged by this decision, any more than I was when the reform efforts all but failed at General Conference. The motivations are there, the principles are there, the mission is there. The picture has been painted in stark reality. Anybody in United Methodist leadership who cannot see the impending Weemsian wave “death tsunami” and appreciate its implications to the church hasn’t been paying attention.

(And by the way, I call dibs on the term “Weemsian Wave.”)

The allusion above to the gates of hell is from a letter John Wesley wrote to Alexander Mather in 1777. I wrote about it here. His point then, and mine today, was/is that the focus of Methodism has been diffused. Our denominational attention is focused on so many different things, many of them internal, that our energy is sapped, our mission is compromised, and our priorities are unclear at best.

In response to the ethos present in his day, John Wesley asked for “one hundred preachers,” clergy or laity, who had an intense focus on God, and they would do no less than “shake the gates of hell and set up the kingdom of God on earth.”

Whether or not the ordained itinerant clergy of the United Methodist Church are guaranteed an appointment is one of the navel-gazing questions that diffuses our denominational focus and takes it away from God, where it needs to be. And by the way, it is a change that I’m all in favor of trying, knowing that we either have to change intentionally and proactively or we will be changed by the circumstances around us. I’m in favor of all of those “Call to Action” changes that were first resisted, then rejected, and now reversed by the status quo.

Because in the meantime, people and communities and congregations already are changing, in spite of the hairball. Or they might be orbiting around the hairball, drawing on its gravity in order to sustain forward momentum. This is why I’m not discouraged by the Judicial Council’s decision this week. They are going to do what they are going to do, functioning in a system exactly as it is designed. You cannot blame them; they are bound by the system in which they exist.

However, congregations that innovate and change, ministries that are flexible and responsive to community needs, communities of faith who are creative and passionate, individual disciples who fear nothing but sin and desire nothing but God - these will be surfing on the leading edge of the Weemsian Wave, even as old systems and unchanging structures are drowning in the flood.

The change starts locally, and percolates outward from there. It must. Neither the General Conference nor the Judicial Council are change agents. The local church is. The changes that need to take place must take place at the local level and eventually the General Conference will catch up.

The gates of hell remain unshaken, and the kingdom yet awaits realization.

Dividing the UMC is No Solution - Try Local Autonomy

Dividing the United Methodist denomination is a bad idea. (Click here for some background info.)

I thought we were supposed to be a mission focused church. I thought we were supposed to keep the main thing the main thing. I thought that meant an outwardly focused orientation. I thought we were followers of Jesus Christ.

Dividing our denomination does none of those things. Division does not align with our mission. Division is definitely not the “main thing.” Division is the most inwardly focused thing we could do. Division of the body of Christ is incompatible with Christian teaching.

And you know what? You know what would happen if we spend the exorbitant time and money and energy on dividing the denomination?

Nothing.

Nothing would happen. Nobody would care. The people who aren’t coming to United Methodist Churches now would not magically start coming to the Gay Methodist or the Straight Methodist, or whatever Silly Methodist name we would come up with, just because where there used to be one there were now two denominations. Or three, or six, or a dozen.

Nobody would care. And when I say “nobody,” I mean nobody who is supposed to be the “target demographic” for our mission. (For the record, I do not like that term, since it objectifies people in overly simplistic and rather demeaning ways.) In fact, just about everyone who’s not already heavily involved in church has stopped reading this post by now, and is on to more interesting things, I’m sure.

For the record…

…I reject the idea that the body of Christ should be divided as a way to avoid confronting the controversies.

…I reject the idea that it is possible to categorize the diversity present in our denomination into an either/or, us and them, ally and enemy paradigm.

…I reject the idea that all gay people would feel comfortable in the liberal congregations, and all conservative people would feel comfortable in the “not gay” congregations, and every possible permutation of these labels and categories.

…I reject the idea that almost 300 years of Wesleyan tradition isn’t worth as much as a disagreement about sex.

…I reject the short-sightedness that laments the amazing, exponential growth of African and Asian United Methodist churches. (This lament is offered because these regions generally don’t affirm marriage and ordination for all people.)

I reject all of it. I reject it in favor of mission: the “main thing,” an outwardly focused drive into our communities and around the world. It is a drive to share the love of God made known in Christ Jesus. It is a mission that is equipped and empowered by the living presence of God’s Holy Spirit. It is a mission known by various terms and phrases, but at the core it is quite simply to make disciples of Jesus Christ who are transforming the world for God’s sake.

As such, what makes sense to me for the immediate future of the United Methodist denomination is local autonomy with regard to the question of marriage and ordination, a General Conference shift from “shall” to “may,” if you will.

So, according the Book of Discipline, pastors currently have authority with regard to marrying couples. The pastor does not have to marry every couple that asks. A simple extension of that authority would allow individual pastors to marry same-sex couples, or not, depending on their personal convictions and their community context.

Similarly, the Annual Conference is given the authority to ordain individuals. Each Annual Conference has its own variation on that process anyway, whether in mentoring, the role of the various boards, the interaction with the DS, the candidacy process, the residency time, etc. Each Annual Conference could easily be given authority to determine whether a candidate’s sexual life is a significant enough stumbling block to prohibit their ordination.

And voila! A solution with which no one will be completely happy! Sounds like a compromise to me. Some will say it is condoning sin. Some will say it is too random. Some will say it will create a complicated mess of “safe” and “not safe” congregations and conferences. Some will say that it essentially divides the denomination, if not formally then practically. I completely understand where all these perspectives would come from.

But we cannot simply stay status quo; status quo is a steady decline toward an impending tsunami of Weemsian proportions in North American Methodism.

We cannot divide the denomination, for the reasons I stated above. And the same reasons also apply to the “civil disobedience” option in which pastors or conferences intentionally break the rules to force a confrontation. Not missional, not Christlike, not outwardly focused, etc.

The best option is local autonomy. Local autonomy represents an option that is missional, faithful, hopeful, and most importantly, grace-filled and loving. It is not the cleanest option, but we live in a messy world, don’t we?



[Note: This article has been edited from the original post. "Latin American" in the original has been replaced with "Asian." I apologize for the error on my part.]

MLB Playoffs

It has become an annual tradition for me, and I'm a bit late with it this year, but better late than never, here are the total payrolls of the eight teams currently in the Major League Baseball playoffs:

New York Yankees	$ 197,962,289
Detroit Tigers	$ 132,300,000
San Francisco Giants	$ 117,620,683
St. Louis Cardinals	$ 110,300,862
Cincinnati Reds	$ 82,203,616
Washington Nationals	$ 81,336,143
Baltimore Orioles	$ 81,428,999
Oakland Athletics	$ 55,372,500

So without a team to truly root for (again), I go with the team with the lower salary in each series.

Which means currently I'm rooting for the A's to come back and beat Detroit, Baltimore to beat the damn Yankees, Washington to beat St. Louis (although I wouldn't totally hate it if the Cards won), and Cincy to beat the Giants.

It's worth noting that the top paying team has paid almost four times as much for this season as the lowest team on the list. And also worth noting that the average salary on the lowest paying team is more than 1.8 million dollars.

Yikes.

Here's the full list.

Poverty's Face

How about this? Here’s a new rule - you can’t say anything about a group of people unless you can call to mind somebody in that group whom you know and after calling their face to mind you think that you would be able to say what you were about to say as you look directly into their eyes.

Have you ever been to the University Plaza Hotel in Springfield, Missouri? You might have been there for an event of some kind, or a dinner, or maybe a “conference” type of deal? If you haven’t, you likely know the kind of place it is - big fancy hotel, ornate lobby, a bunch of meeting rooms, big “ballroom” for banquets and stuff like that.

I know a guy who works there whom I will call “Chris” for this article. I know Chris really well. He is not my friend by any means. However I am well acquainted with him, since I have been intimately involved with his life for over two years now.

Chris works at University Plaza Hotel; he washes dishes. Do you have a general idea of how much a banquet facility like that charges per plate? If the hotel sells three meals, that takes care of paying Chris for his entire minimum wage shift, and then some. And they could almost cover it with two. Two plates - you and the person sitting next to you - Chris’s check for the entire day.

Chris rides his bike to work, because he and his girlfriend cannot afford to keep a car. He is strong, he works hard, he never misses a shift. He is almost always tired. I cannot begin to comprehend the stress he must be under.

They had been renting a house. The plywood of the front porch slopes away from the front door. Every doorway from one room to another in the house is crooked. The foundation is cracked and crumbling. The roof is a disaster. To my great shame I confess that I would never ever live in a house like this.

Actually they don’t live there anymore; they could not afford the rent, even on such a house. So there’s a motel in north Springfield that basically changed their name from “Motel” to “Apartments” without doing much of anything else that I can tell. Now Chris and his girlfriend live there, in what’s called a “studio apartment,” but is really just a motel room with a curtain hung across the middle to divide the space if desired.

So that’s Chris. He is not lazy. He does not have an inflated sense of “entitlement,” a word that politicians have rendered almost meaningless. What Chris wants is a standard of living that would allow him to get married and raise his son, to be healthy and just be able to live a decent life.

It is Chris’s face that comes to mind whenever I hear anybody say something about “the poor.” Admittedly I do not have as much experience working in impoverished communities as some do, but nevertheless I have a lot more than some. And I always think about Chris when somebody starts in on how “all they do is scam the system” and “you know they’re just looking for a handout” and “I don’t want something I earned to be given to someone else because they should have to earn it” and so forth.

Of course there absolutely are people who choose not to work and make a career of going from charity to charity getting aid. But in all honesty my experience has been they are an extremely small percentage - like in the single digits.

I always wonder about people who so blithely write off “the poor” as just lazy good-for-nothings, or as somehow inherently dangerous, or as moochers living ungratefully off the hard work of others. In particular I wonder how much time they have spent in impoverished communities. I wonder if they've ever been inside a house that they would never dream of living in. I wonder if they've spent any time getting to know the person they deliver that pretty food basket to, or do they just drive up, drop it off, and dash away.

I wonder if they have a “Chris” whose face they call to mind when they talk about the poor.

And I wonder if they would really have said what they just said if they did.

The Bishop of Digne

Let me tell you why I’m so excited, honored, and humbled to be portraying the Bishop of Digne in the current production of Les Miserables at Springfield Little Theater.

Firstly, it’s because I’m playing the Bishop of Digne in the current production of Les Miserables at Springfield Little Theater!!! I mean, come on - how cool is that? It’s flippin’ LES MIZ!!!

More specifically, though, and in no particular order…

It is a privilege to play a character who embodies unconditional love and is guided so deeply by the grace of God that he allows grace to dictate every word, every act, even every thought. The acts of welcoming Valjean, sharing a meal with him, and giving him a place to sleep are amazing in and of themselves. But when Valjean breaks that trust and steals the Bishop’s silver, and in response the Bishop not only allows him to keep it, but gives him the costly candlesticks as well, the abject selflessness and audacious grace of the act penetrate to the very heart of holiness.

It is a challenge of musical, physical, and artistic skill to funnel ninety-plus pages of description into two minutes on stage. In the novel, the Bishop of Digne is intimately described in the first section of the book, with overwhelming clarity and detail that reveals a complex and nuanced character. The burden of the actor playing the Bishop is to convey all of that in just a few simple phrases and gestures on stage. It has been quite a humbling process.

It is an honor to be on stage with Lloyd Holt for the powerful “candlesticks” moment. He is not just portraying Jean Valjean; while he is on stage he IS Jean Valjean. The energy that Lloyd radiates elevates the cast around him, myself included, and inspires us to a level of excellence that is rare in community theater settings. As our eyes lock while I am placing the silver candlesticks in his bag, his focus compels me to fully enter into that moment with a passion and depth that I would be unable to access were it happening with a different actor. There is so much that is unspoken underneath that brief moment, and you have to know that the Bishop’s love for Valjean is very much parallel to Andy Bryan’s love for Lloyd Holt.

It is exciting to be portraying a “religious” person who is not a vapid caricature of the faith. Almost every time an explicitly religious person is portrayed on stage or in film, they are shallow, judgmental, hypocritical, or in some other way characterized as “the bad guy.” Not so for the Bishop of Digne. Of him Victor Hugo wrote, “It will be perceived that he had a peculiar manner of his own of judging things: I suspect that he obtained it from the Gospel.” (Hugo, Victor (2010-12-16). Les Misérables (p. 25). Public Domain Books. Kindle Edition.)

I portray other characters throughout the show, including a poor beggar, a factory worker, a waiter, and … a pimp. (Yep.) I am having a great time with each, and to be a part of such an overwhelmingly talented cast and crew is undoubtedly a life highlight.

But I am captivated by this Bishop. I am hopeful that I can present him with the profound simplicity and powerful humility that he embodies. I hope that in my offering of the Bishop of Digne to the audiences at the Lander’s Theater, I can offer Christ in the fullest possible expression of what that truly means.

Wishy One Day, Washy the Next?

The term “wishy-washy” has been around since the 1690s. Originally it meant “thin and watery,” and likely was just the word “washy.” So you might have said, “Wow, my tea is quite washy this afternoon,” meaning it had been “washed” with water. The “wishy” part was added for a bit of playful emphasis.

I can’t think of “wishy-washy” without thinking of good ol’ Charlie Brown. Here’s an exchange between him and Lucy from a 1965 comic strip:

Charlie Brown: Next year I'm going to be a changed person!
Lucy: That's a laugh, Charlie Brown.
Charlie Brown: I mean it! I'm going to be strong and firm.
Lucy: Forget it. You'll always be wishy-washy!
Charlie Brown: Why can't I change just a little bit? I'll be wishy one day and washy the next!

In our current worship series, “No Other Life But This,” the character of King Ahasuerus (or “Elvis,” if you prefer), gives us an example of what it means to be a “wishy-washy” leader. Every single time there is a decision to be made, he makes it based on the persuasion of others. There is never a time he takes a stand boldly on his own, based on what he knows is the right thing to do.

Sometimes I think we follow Jesus like that, too. We base our own faith completely on the influence of others, rather than our own unique perspective. Of course, I am not discounting the power of community and the profound importance of connection with others. Far from it.

In a passage discussing unity in the church, Ephesians chapter 4 puts it this way: “We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ…”

Is our discipleship “wishy one day and washy the next?” And what’s the difference between “wishy-washy” (with a negative connotation) and “open-minded” (with a positive connotation)? These questions and others will frame our worship at Campbell UMC this week - see y’all in church!

Who Teaches Whom?

This morning started with “Character Education” at Cherokee Middle School. Once a month, people of the community (including 4 from Campbell UMC!) come to Cherokee to lead a half-hour character lesson in a classroom.

I have a clever and insightful group of sixth graders this year. I also have some fairly substantial mutton chop sideburns at the moment, because I am in Springfield Little Theater’s production of Les Miserables. Needless to say, mutton chop sideburns elicit a reaction from sixth graders. It was definitely an “ice-breaker.”

At the end of our lesson, a boy named Tristan asked me if I was going to keep the sideburns after the show. I told him that I would if it catches on as a fashion trend.

“NO!” he said, “If it catches on, that’s when you DON’T want to do it because then you’re just doing what everyone else is. You want to be doing your own thing.”

Yeah, there’s your character education, right there!

My second meeting of the day took me to Room 123, where I met with our three three-year-old classes from our congregation's daycare/preschool. It is “Community Helper” week for them, and I had been invited to share with the littles about what I do to help people.

I told them my name and what I do, and told them that I help people by helping them think about God and learn about God and know that God loves us and is with us all the time. I put on my robe and let them look at the symbols on my stole. I showed them a Bible and told them that we use it to learn about God and read stories about God and so forth.

I also brought a hymnal to show them, and told them that one of the things we do when we are with God is to sing. So then we sang “Jesus Loves Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.”

When our time was up, I asked who remembered my name. Most of them did, which was fun. Then I asked, “And who can remember what I do to help people?”

A little girl raised her hand. When I called on her, she paused kind of shy like three-year-olds do sometimes, then she said very softly, “You help us sing.”

And I thought, “I’m good with that.”

When I was ordained, I promised to “diligently instruct the children in every place.” But even better is when the children instruct me.

No Other Life but This

This week we begin a new series at Campbell, titled “No Other Life But This.” The phrase is Henry David Thoreau’s; the full quote is:

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.

Because Thoreau may not be everyone’s first choice on which to base a worship series, and because the quote itself is open to different interpretations, I would like to share my thoughts as to the basis for this series.

We are going to spend a few weeks with the characters in the scriptural story of Esther, and watch to see how each lives fully “in the present” and finds the “eternity in each moment.” The characters in this story are presented with choices and challenges, and we’ll spend the next few weeks reflecting on how they do (or do not) understand that “there is no other life but this.”

So when I say “there is no other life but this,” I do not mean once we die, we die, and there is nothing other than this earthly life. Far from it.

This quote makes me think about the potential contained within each and every moment of our lives. Every instant is ripe with God-imbued possibility, ready for us to realize. God does indeed offer eternal life, but not as a separate life that begins after this one. The life God offers is possible right here and right now.

This series will allow us to see how the various characters in the story of Esther realize the possibility of their moments, and hopefully give us new insight into our own moments, and how we ourselves might find our eternity in each of them.

There is no other life but this!

Wanna Live Forever?

“I am the living bread … Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.”

These are the words of Jesus, a promise given in a metaphor in John, chapter 6. To “eat this bread” is to be in relationship with him, indicating a closeness that continues to grow over time, in the same way that any relationship matures.

In John 6, the Jesus relationship goes from “Listen to …” to “Be nourished by …” and now “Abide in ….”  If you read through the chapter closely you can see this movement, from one phase of relationship to the next.

A crowd of 5,000 gathers to hear what Jesus has to say, and they are fed. At the next level, Jesus challenges them to “rethink bread” and believe in him. There are some who resist.

For those who are left, Jesus takes it deeper. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Now it is not a matter of simply being nourished by Jesus, it is a matter of mutual “abiding” - you in him and him in you. There are more who resist; verse 66 records that “many of his disciples turned back” after he says these things.

The first dropouts were happy to be fed, but didn’t want nourishment. The next ones to leave were satisfied as long as Jesus was doing the nourishing, but were unwilling to allow him further access into their lives.

Jesus will nourish us, but he wants to do more. He wants to “abide in” us. Jesus’ desire is to abide in us with the kind of life that is so abundant, so amazing, so enormous, it can only be described as “eternal.”

Are we willing to let Jesus abide in us? Will we grant him unfettered access to every part of our lives? Or are there some nooks and crannies we’re just not that comfortable letting Jesus into? Our finances? Our politics? Our marriages?

What does it mean for Christ to abide in us, and to abide in Christ? What does it mean to live forever?

Bacon, Marriage, and Freedom of Speech

When somebody says something out loud, exercising their right to free speech, and then somebody disagrees with that person out loud, the second person is ALSO exercising their right to free speech, correct?

So, why do many conversations seem to go something like this…

1) Person A: I do not like bacon.

2) Person B: Really? Bacon is delicious.

3) Person A: Hey man! I’ve got free speech!

Line 3 is a red herring, and does absolutely nothing helpful for the conversation. People tend to call Line 2 “backlash” and “intolerance” and even “oppression” and all sorts of nonsense. And then, whereas we were once talking about the relative deliciousness of bacon, now we are all of a sudden talking about the right to speak freely.

So, line 4 should now be -

4) Person B: Yep, you sure do. So do I. So, do you want to continue talking about bacon or what?

When the conversation is magnified from bacon to same-sex marriage, the emotional investment increases, but the progress of the conversation should look just the same.

1) Person A: I think same-sex marriage is wrong.

2) Person B: Really? That’s discrimination.

Now Person A has a choice, and what they decide will either advance the conversation or shut it down. It could look like this…

3) Person A: I don’t see it as discrimination, because … (insert reasoning for this position).

At that point, we are having a conversation! Hooray for us! Respect, graciousness, rationality, and all that good stuff.

However, lately it looks more like this…

3) Person A: I’m just using my right to free speech.

As if Person B wasn’t? In response to this, Person B now has a choice. They could follow the red herring. This diverts all the attention away from the question at hand and pretty much shuts down any chance of meaningful dialogue. Free speech is not the issue; same-sex marriage is.

I believe that Person B should now avoid any reference whatsoever to free speech and advance the conversation. Person B’s avoidance of the red herring may very well advance the conversation, if Person A is willing to come along.

4) Person B: I know we do. So, I think denying same-sex couples the right to be married is discrimination. So tell me why you think it isn't.

The conversation can indeed be salvaged. I still believe (though my faith is faltering) that human beings can actually have substantive and meaningful conversations with each other regarding issues about which we disagree, especially if those conversations are held in the context of a loving and respectful relationship, rather than an anonymous online forum or other public media outlet.

If you disagree with my take on this conversation, I promise you I will not characterize your response as “backlash” or “intolerance” or “oppression” and hope you don’t characterize mine as such. Those are strong words, and need to be reserved for appropriate situations. 

To be clear, I am not saying that one should never use such words, but rather that the time to use them must be limited. If what I am saying is oppressive or intolerant, by all means tell me and show me how it is so. It is not oppressive to simply disagree with somebody; it is oppressive to deny somebody their rights. And a person calling another person's opinion "oppressive" is not automatically oppressive in and of itself.

The culture of easily accessible mass communication may have altered our capacity for respectful dialogue, but I hope that we haven't lost it completely.

To tell you the truth, I don't really like bacon all that much. And ... go ...

Hope to Transcend

Shooting at Sikh Temple in Milwaukee.

Rover landing on Mars.

Burning of a Mosque in Joplin.

Olympic track and field.

Sunday, August 5^th, 2012 saw the worst and the best of humanity interwoven into one otherwise ordinary day. When you reflect on what “we” (meaning we as human beings) accomplished Sunday, it really is remarkable.

Horrific violence and inspired ingenuity. Senseless destruction and astounding achievement. Hand in hand on the same day. What a mess.

It is so good. And it is horrible. At the very same time. That’s the reality; neither that everything is awful nor that everything is peachy keen. It’s a whole lot of both.

A little boy has five loaves and two fish. And Jesus uses them to feed a crowd of five thousand people. And then there are leftovers. And it’s funny, but it looks like there’s more of the leftover than there was of the original meal.

How in the world would a story like this make any sense in a world that has days like August 5^th, 2012? I mean, so what? It’s such a little story, silly even. What in the world does a dusty old story like this have to say to us today?

Something about the meagerness of this life, presented in contrast with the abundance of the life that Jesus offers, maybe? Something about how Jesus can take the inadequacy of this mess and transform it into something transcendent?

I think there’s something there that makes it possible for us to have hope, and in our hopefulness seek to become the world God desires. The best and the worst, together redeemed and transformed in the presence of Christ.