#GC2019 Day One Summary

I was keenly aware of you. I was not alone, for a single minute, all day. I was aware that a great cloud of witnesses surrounded me, more so than I ever have been before.

Day one of General Conference was a longer time spent intentionally praying than I have ever experienced before, and it was really, really good. As the bishops led prayer foci from around the world, we shared moments of singing, moments of silence, moments of smaller group prayers, and it was really, really good.

I felt you, I felt my grandfather, I felt my seven generations of Methodist preachers, my five generations of General Conference delegates, I felt my friends and family in the LGBTQ community, their families, all of you who are allies. I felt you all wondering if we would do the right thing. I felt the weight of 864 people making decisions that will impact 12 million Methodists around the world. I felt all the anxiety, anger, hope, excitement.

I cried probably five different times during the day, just caught up in everything.

The heaviness of the cloud of witnesses, more fully present than I have ever felt it before.

Messages of encouragement came throughout the day, via text and social media. None were more helpful to me than my wife Erin's. In one text she said, "You are not voting on the worthiness of people. You already know their worth. You are voting in such a way that will allow for others to see it, too."

It is nonsensical to define "sacred worth" as anything less than full inclusion in the church. I am voting in such a way that allows others to see the inherent contradiction of saying every person is of "sacred worth" except for those who are "incompatible with Christian teaching."

My day 1 summary? Yield. Submit. Give way to God. Lay aside reputation, agenda, preconceived notions. Let God work. God's will, not ours, be done.

Those were day one words. We'll see today if they were just pretty words. Or if they might actually truly guide us, govern our words, our actions, and our decisions, for day two and beyond.

Will You Please Pray With Me?

I say those words - "Will you please pray with me?" - a lot. It is part of the pastor gig. This time, I'm asking you to pray with me in some very particular ways, and for a very important reason.

The reason is the future of the church, our continued faithfulness to our mission, the health and vitality of the body of Christ in the world. Specifically, the future of the United Methodist Church as we work through our policy differences about marriage and ordination of people who are gay.

Our bishops are inviting us to do three things, beginning on June 3 this year -

1) Engage in a weekly Wesleyan 24-hour fast from Thursday after dinner to Friday mid-afternoon.  Those who have health situations causing food fasts to be unadvisable might consider fasting from social media, emails or another daily activity.
2) Pause and pray for our church’s mission and way forward daily for four minutes from 2:23 through 2:26 am or pm in their own time zone OR at another time.  This is because the Special Session of General Conference will be held February 23 through February 26, 2019.
3) Pray using a weekly prayer calendar that will be posted on the UMCPrays.org website from June 2, 2018 through the end of February 2019. The calendar will list a unique cluster of names each week. The names will balance USA bishops and delegates with Central Conference bishops and delegates. It will also include General Secretaries, Commission on a Way Forward members, the Commission of the General Conference and the staff of the General Conference.

So I am going to attempt the 24-hour fast each week, although when I've tried fasting in the past it has not been as meaningful to me as I know it is for others. Nevertheless, I am going to give it another go.

And I have my alarm already set for 2:23 every afternoon, and when it goes off I will pause and pray on the spot. If you are with me at 2:23 and I seem to kind of "zone out" for a while, you'll know why.

And I'll make a point to visit UMCPrays.org each day to pray by name for those who are listed there.

I am hopeful and excited to tap into the power of so many people joining in prayer together. The power of God's Holy Spirit is at work in the world, and all I want to do is access it, to touch it, so that I can cooperate with what God is up to. I honestly do not know how the General Conference conversations are going to to, much less how it will turn out. Nobody does. And yet, I am hopeful.

Because see I believe in resurrection, and so I am not afraid. There is a force beyond our understanding, a "grace too powerful to name," a life that is abundant and eternal and transcendent. I am making a choice to rejoice, and embrace the grace  and peace and truth and justice and love that is made known to me in my Lord and Savior and Teacher and Friend, Christ Jesus of Nazareth.

So, will you please pray with me?

Off Script

There is a script that we follow in the days and weeks following a mass shooting. That fact alone is awful. We have a script. So it goes.

And after Orlando, we are following our script perfectly well. Everyone is an expert. Everyone knows just what the problem is. And each of us is so quick to point out how everyone else is wrong and we are right. And then we yell at each other a while and nobody actually does anything and we all just wait for the next one.

Forgive the hyperbole. It’s just so … exhausting. In my head I understand that everyone will have a reaction and everyone is entitled to that reaction. We are emotional beings, and we cannot help but react with emotions filled to overflowing when tragedy happens. I try not to begrudge anyone their particular reaction to a national event like Orlando … or Roseburg … or Aurora … or Newtown … There is heartbreak. There is anger. There is grief. There is despair.

There’s a script - “It’s the guns. It’s mental illness. It’s radical Islam.” And this time, “It’s homophobia.” As if addressing "this issue" is a multiple choice quiz. As if we could just pick the “correct” answer and it will fix everything.

I find that when overwhelming circumstances threaten to stifle me, I need to return to the Lord in prayer and meditation. I need to refocus my mind on God, and remember who God is, and who God wants me to be. I need to re-order my thinking so that it more closely aligns with Christ’s. I need to attune my spiritual senses to the presence of the Holy Spirit.

I need to hush. I need to just be still. I need to listen for the divine whisper again. I need to go “off script” and allow God to guide me. I need time to process, to reconstruct, to learn.

And then, having taken that time, I need to act. I need to speak. I need to write. I need to be an ambassador of love, grace, justice, hope, peace. I need to work to make this world look more like God wants it to look. I need to offer Christ.

I invite you to go “off script” with me. To be still for a while and listen for God’s whisper. And then to act graciously, on God’s guidance. Speak up on behalf of love. Work for peace. Confront injustice, oppression, and discrimination. Strive to be the church that God desires. Offer hope. Offer Christ.

Thoughts and Prayers

My thoughts and prayers are with the people affected by the San Bernardino shooting.

They truly are, even though I have no earthly idea what that even means. How can my prayers be “with” a group of people?

A prayer goes from me to God, and from God to me. What? Does it kind of make a detour over to California and hang out for a minute before drifting off to its intended target?

And what exactly am I praying? What possible prayer could I offer that would make any kind of difference in the life of a person whose sister or brother or mom or dad or son or daughter was just randomly shot and killed while attending a party with their coworkers? What?

My thoughts and prayers are feeling less and less thoughtful and prayerful these days.

“Pray that they will be comforted.”

But no, I do not want to pray for comfort; in fact I actually want to pray that we be deeply uncomfortable, shaken to our core at the callous violence that defines our nation. I do not want anyone to be “comfortable” with this.

“Pray that there will be peace.”

But no, I do not want to pray for peace; I want to pray for a level of righteous indignation to energize a movement of grace and love that sweeps across the world. I want our anger to empower a radical, revolutionary, incarnate love that stands up and shouts out, “NO!” to every evil in the world.

“Pray for an end to violence.”

But no, I have done that far too many times, and it really isn’t working. It pulls me toward theodicy when I start down that road. And I’m sometimes scared about how easy it would be for me to embrace a full on theodicy at any given moment. Like, really comfortably easy.

My thoughts and prayers are with the people affected by the San Bernardino shooting.

And I really do mean that. Sincerely. But my thoughts and prayers have been with so many different communities from so many different places around the world so many times, it has become rote. Meaning has begun to atrophy.

All the world’s a stage. Signifying nothing. And so it goes.

I hope you’re not mad at me for being so honest. I’m a preacher, after all. I’m supposed to be a source of answers, not more questions. But I just can’t. I’m being truthful, authentic, and hoping for grace. So please don’t be mad.

A politician tweets out “thoughts and prayers” and then gets cruelly attacked for it. This is what we’re upset about these days. Tweets. We live in a nation that literally made it illegal to research gun violence, let alone do anything about it. And we are mad about politician’s tweets.

It happened so slowly, that’s the thing. It happened so slowly that most of us didn’t even notice it. In the last 100 years our society has become gradually less and less appalled by violence. Every war moved us further away, and made the next one a little bit easier. Now we just don’t care at all. Sandy Hook Elementary proved that once and for all.

Oh, there were a few who noticed it was happening. They tried to tell us. They were duly labelled and ostracized. Some were even killed for noticing. The prophets of the 20^th century it seems had no more luck than the ones in the Bible.

Some say that things are no more violent today than ever, it’s just that we know about it today. Communication technology, they say, has spread knowledge into everyone’s smartphone, so we instantly hear about things that 20 years ago we wouldn’t have necessarily known.

I do not agree. I understand the premise of this reasoning, but I do not agree. We are fundamentally different today than we were 100 years ago. We’ve developed societal callouses and now we are simply numb. And you do not develop callouses suddenly, it happens over time.

My thoughts and prayers are with the people affected by the shooting in San Bernardino. Colorado Springs. Roseburg. Charleston. Fort Hood. Newtown. Aurora. Virginia Tech. Columbine.

Do you even remember Columbine?

The BBC now reports on mass shootings in the United States like CNN reports on car bombings in Iraq.

My thoughts and prayers …

No actually I do have a prayer for today. We sang it at church this past week. It’s a verse of a hymn.

“O come, Desire of nations bind all peoples in one heart and mind.

From dust thou brought us forth to life; deliver us from earthly strife.”

Do you recognize the words? It’s a verse of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

There’s a refrain to that song, a call to “rejoice.” Significantly it is the only time the song is in a major key. The verses are all minor, gloomy, sad, dark. And after that one major key “rejoice,” the song quickly returns to the minor, with a somber thought that Emmanuel isn’t here yet, but “shall come to thee, O Israel.”

Emmanuel isn’t here yet. No kidding. Because I’d really like for someone to “deliver us from earthly strife” right about now.

And as jumbled and rambling as they are, bordering on heresy and a product of great spiritual struggle, those are my thoughts and prayers.

The Church is a Theological Body

A quick social media question yielded the following responses. I asked people simply “What is ‘church’ to you?” And people said:

The theatre..

Love in action.

Doing.

The mystical body of Christ.

People.

Extended family.

Christ alive and at work in the world.

God’s strength and love in human form.

Support.

Home. Or the closest I can get to it on earth, anyway.

Sanctuary.

Family.

Sharing in This Holy Mystery.

Guardians of...

A movement. A verb.

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is the one, true church...."

People in relationship and community supporting each other and serving the overall community together!

Whenever and where two or more are gathered in His name.

Church is everything. I've never limited church to a building or a single congregation. It's every part of speech, everyone, everywhere, always.

Way of life.

The bride of Christ which consists of the entire body of people who abide in him and he in them.

Amen! And Wowza! What a list!

By the way, not on the list: An institution. A hierarchy. An exclusive club. A non-profit organization. A political action committee. A self-help group. A business. A Branson show. A disciple-making factory.

And so now I’m looking at this amazing list and thinking, every single decision made at every single level of the church ought to be based on the principles that are articulated here. This list is some good theology! And at our core, the church is, always has been, and forever ought to be a theological body.

Making decisions based on any principles other than theological ones is weak ecclesiology, and almost always a cop out, by which mean the easier or less complicated way. Decisions made based on expedience or logistics rather than sound missional theology may very well make sense on the surface, but the ecclesial ripple effects can be harmful. First rule: do no harm.

If a decision is made that is simply the will of one powerful person or a relatively small power group, it ignores the mystical connection of members of the body, which builds resentment and distrust.

If a decision is made based on the bottom line of dollars and cents, it ignores the abject poverty of the cross of Jesus Christ and the promised resurrection of the body, and redefines the church’s success in earthly rather than heavenly terms.

If a decision is made by simple majority rule, it ignores the clear scriptural call to pay special attention to the least and the lost, the powerless, the marginalized, the ones without a voice, and as such the first remain first and the last remain last.

So how, pray tell, will the church ever decide anything, Rev. Smarty Pants?

It’s very simple. Prayer, discernment, and consensus. Those three things, and in that order. And yes I said “simple,” but note that I did not say “easy.”

Now, let me insert here that this does not mean that every decision should be made by the entire body (whether that be a class, a ministry team, a congregation, a conference, or a denomination). A part of the prayer, discernment, and consensus needs to initially determine what decision-making authority resides with what people. And most often, the closer a person is to the impact of the decision, the more equipped to make the decision they are. (A children’s ministry leader is better equipped to choose curriculum than the Church Council, for example.)

And the second point to make here is that once decided, “who makes which decision” need not be set in stone from now unto eternity. At different times in the life of the congregation/conference/denomination, decision making policies may be adjusted to reflect current circumstances. (When giving is down and cash flow is tight, some decisions that may have been easy to make might need prior approval, for example.)

But, regardless of who is making the decision, when the decision is made, and how many people are impacted, the decision must be made theologically. Prayer, discernment, and consensus.

As the lead pastor of a large congregation, I have been entrusted with decision-making authority by our Church Council. I am guided by a set of policies that define our ends and limit my actions. Within those limits, I can make just about any decision as long as it moves the congregation toward the stated ends. I, in turn, have entrusted some of those decisions to the core staff. The core staff has entrusted more decisions to the extended staff and other congregational leaders, and so on.

All up and down that line, decisions are made with prayer - we offer gratitude for God’s gracious presence with us in all things, and ask for God’s guidance and direction as we act. And each of us does all we can to discern the best choice - collaborating and consulting with others, collecting information and data, reading articles and books, and so forth. And then we work to attain consensus - talking with others involved, ensuring the decision makes sense, and doing all we can to reach a decision that as many as possible can live with, if not support fully.

I am not naive. I understand that there are business-like components to church life. I understand that sometimes you just have to take a vote and go with the majority’s decision. And even in these moments, grace and love can and ought to be shown throughout the entire process.

But I contend that first and foremost, the church should operate like a church - love in action, Christ alive in the world, a movement of the Spirit, people sharing life together, a way of living in the world. And always and everywhere, a theological body.

A Denomination-Wide Sabbatical

I have an idea for the future of the United Methodist Church. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that my idea is exactly what our denomination needs right now.

I think we need a sabbatical. All of us. A denomination-wide sabbatical.

One year should be enough time. We need a one year sabbatical to do nothing but worship and pray, reconnect with God, refocus our energy and renew our souls.

In that year, we do nothing else. No Bible studies. No mission trips. No church plants. No leadership training. No marriage license signing. No board meetings. No capital campaigns. No new member classes. No political advocacy. No evangelism programs. No fellowship events. No appointment changes. Nothing.

Rather, every resource, every dollar, every pastor, every staff member, every denominational board and agency, every United Methodist in every congregation around the world focused for an entire year on two things: worship and prayer. And literally stop doing anything else.

Let’s see, General Conference is in May of 2016. So, maybe they could designate 2018 as a year of sabbatical for the United Methodist denomination, which would give everybody plenty of time to prepare. (As with any significant time off, you need to plan ahead to make sure the processes and procedures are in place to get you through the time in a healthy way.)

Imagine the power of all 12 million of us on sabbatical at once. Imagine how radically counter-cultural that would be.

We would say no to the frenetic pace of the world. We would say no to imposing market-driven value on people. We would say no to the debilitating metric of unimpeded growth. We would say no to our over-scheduled, hyper-active calendars. We would say no to the relentless demand for instant results. We would say no to slick programs and perfect curricula and trendy books and hip lingo.

We would say yes to the living presence of God.

Period.

There are a few “plans” floating around out there about the future of the United Methodist denomination. Many of these “plans” are variations on a theme titled, “What the United Methodist Church Should Do About Homosexuality.” The run up to every General Conference features a quadrennial flurry of latest, greatest ideas. And this time around is no different.

However, my plan is unique among them. See, all the other plans have something in common: they all advocate doing things. To my knowledge, mine is the only plan that advocates actually stopping doing things. On purpose.

Sigh. I know, I know. It’s not going to happen, is it? But wouldn’t it be nice? Just to take a break, catch our breath, and remember why we do what we do?

Maybe stop nitpicking each other for a year? Maybe stop bickering? Maybe stop trying to one-up each other? Just pray and worship. That’s it.

And then, when the year is done, we get back to it. But we come with a new perspective, refreshed and focused. A little less grumpy. A little more gracious. And a little more ready to be the church that God wants us to be.

St. Patrick's Priority One

Other than wearing the color green on March 17, having a parade, and eating corned beef and cabbage, what does “St. Patrick’s Day” mean to you?  How much do you actually know about Patrick himself?

Well, much of his life and ministry is legendary at this point. He served in the 5th century, so a lot of what he actually did has been either forgotten or embellished over time.

He was likely born in Scotland, and captured by an Irish raiding party as a teenager. He apparently spent several years as a slave in Ireland before escaping and returning to his native land. However, it seems God called him to return to the land in which he had been a slave, for the purpose of spreading the gospel of Christ there. And so he became a priest, and eventually a bishop, at which time he was sent across the Irish Sea once more.

March 17th, the date we celebrate as St. Patrick’s Day, is the date that it is believe he died, sometime around the year 460.

This Sunday at Campbell UMC, we’ll consider a prayer that is traditionally attributed to St. Patrick. It is known as “St. Patrick’s Breastplate” or “St. Patrick’s Lorica.” There are several translations, as a quick internet search will show you, and the variations arise from the passage of time. Here's an excerpt from one version:

Christ be with me, Christ within me,

Christ behind me, Christ before me,

Christ beside me, Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort and restore me.

Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of all that love me,

Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,

The strong Name of the Trinity;

By invocation of the same.

The Three in One, and One in Three,

Of Whom all nature hath creation,

Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:

Praise to the Lord of my salvation,

Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

The theme of the prayer is constant across the variants: the priority of Christ. Over and above all else, this prayer is a commitment to keep Christ at the very center of one’s life. Life will throw challenges at us, constantly. And yet Christ is the point of salvation, the source of hope, and the promise of life.

So as I’m enjoying my “Shamrock Shake” this year, listening to the Chieftans, and kissing everyone who’s Irish, I’ll also be asking myself if Christ is the priority of my life. Have I allowed Christ to be the very center of all that I am? Is God my “Priority One?”

F**k You, Pain: Thoughts on Robin Williams, Michael Brown, etc ...

Note: There are cuss words in this article. This article has been rated PG by me, just so you're aware.

I want to think about how funny Robin Williams was. All in all, I’d rather not reflect on the pain that must have led him to take his own life.

There’s a human tendency to deflect from that which is just too painful to dwell upon. We are experts at distraction.

I can scroll through Youtube videos of Robin Williams’ funniest moments all day long and laugh and laugh and laugh. And it saves me from imagining the scene described in the coroner’s report.

There’s a similar thing happening around the death of Michael Brown. I can watch coverage of marches and read reports of violence and looting in Ferguson, clicking my tongue and shaking my head and muttering, “Shame, shame, shame.” And it saves me from reflecting on the reality of a human life taken too soon, the pain of parents, family, and friends.

We do it all the time. In Gaza, I can explore the geo-political implications of a two-state solution and read about the history of Islam … so I won’t have to think about children dying when bombs fall on school buildings. In Ukraine, I can bad mouth Putin all day, which of course keeps me from thinking about planes filled with people being shot out of the sky. On the border, if I grandstand and play the political game enough, I don’t have to acknowledge that they are real live children who are probably really scared and just want someone to take care of them. And so it goes.

Are we so afraid of pain? Must we always retreat, escape, withdraw?

In a conversation with a friend recently, I remarked that our prayer life would be much more vivid if cuss words were allowed.

What if I could stand before the congregation, lift my middle fingers to the ceiling, and on behalf of the people just shout out “God Damn It!” at the top of my lungs? Or if I could lament in prayer with a guy whose life has gone to shit and actually say, “Dear God, Joe’s life has really gone to shit.” What if I could hit pain right in the face with a liturgically appropriate “Fuck you!”

We should not be afraid of pain and seek distraction from it. Pain is real. Pain reminds you you are alive. Pain doesn’t go away if you ignore it – it festers. Pain needs to be cussed at. Pain needs to be grabbed by the throat and shaken. Pain needs to be crushed.

And please hear this: Pain needs to be shared. “I don’t want to be a burden.” Never mind that, you can’t kick pain’s ass all by yourself, fool. You need me. “But it’s not your …” No, it isn’t. But some day I’m going to need you to help me with my pain, so the opportunity for payback’s coming.

I’m not talking about momentary respite. Taking an emotional Tylenol to relieve the symptom is fine. Watch a movie, listen to a song, take a walk … all good. When you do this, you are saying, “This really hurts and I just need a break.” No, I’m talking about refusing to acknowledge the pain at all, pretending it’s not there, trying to trick yourself that you are “Just fine” when in reality, you are not.

 “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast…” (Psalm 22:14)

There’s a lot of pain in the atmosphere these days. Please, let’s not yield power to our pain by pretending it isn’t there. Drag it up to the surface. Express it. Reveal it. Cry a lot. Cuss in your prayers. Scream and shout as necessary. Share it with someone, so that it gets scared out into the open, flushed from hiding.

When pain is uncovered it is weaker, smaller, less scary. And it becomes oh so much easier to crush.

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.

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 Mystery of Death

I have prayed the prayer
literally hundreds of times
and I will pray it hundreds more.

“Give to us now your grace, that as
we shrink before the mystery of death,
we may see the light of eternity.”

We shrink.
Before the mystery.
Of death.

We shrink. God grows.

We are finite.
God is eternal.

Is it only as we shrink
that we gain the perspective
which allows us to see
the flicker of eternal light?

We shrink. The mystery.
Death.

A Great Weekend to Go to Church

This weekend is our national celebration of Memorial Day. It is a weekend that people traditionally … (how shall I say this?) … don’t necessarily make worship a part of their itinerary. Outdoor activities, get-togethers with family, and travel frequently diminish participation in Sunday gatherings. And that’s fine; I’m certainly not bashing the occasional three-day weekend spent connecting with our families!

But I’m just wondering about this Sunday, coming at the end of a week in which our neighbors in Joplin, across the state, and throughout the region have been devastated by especially harsh weather. 125 have been confirmed dead in Joplin, and 232 are unaccounted for. The number of injuries is staggering. The destruction of property is mind-boggling. We are shaken, stricken, and scared.

What better time to gather together to remember that God is good, all the time? How could there be a more opportune moment to affirm that the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love? When else would it be more appropriate for us to reaffirm Christ’s call to help those who need help and truly love our neighbors as ourselves?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if sanctuaries across the nation were filled to overflowing this Sunday morning? If people travelling made a point to find the nearest church so that they could go to worship? If people with guests would bring their guests to worship with them instead of using them as an excuse to be somewhere else?

Wouldn’t it be great if followers of Jesus gathered in record numbers this weekend to proclaim one gigantic NO! - the devastation of this world is not the end of the story! There is more!

Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Church assembled for worship this weekend with no regard at all for denomination or congregation, but simply and powerfully as the body of Christ, affirmed an enormous YES! - There is hope! There is resurrection! There is life!

This started out as an email to the people of Campbell UMC to encourage them to be at worship this weekend, but it has become a bit more than that, I suppose. My hope is that all who are reading this, wherever you are, will go to church this Sunday and worship God with as much passion, energy, and devotion as ever. No, with even more!

God is good! ALL the time!

A Chosen Cup

The Gospel according to Matthew uses much of Mark’s version of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. One of the most notable differences is the way Jesus refers to the cup from which he is about to drink.

According to Mark in the NRSV translation, Jesus says, “…remove this cup from me…” whereas in Matthew, Jesus says, “…let this cup pass from me…”

(In the NIV translation, it is, “Take this cup from me” in Mark and “…may this cup be taken from me…” in Matthew.)

In Mark it is a direct request, while in Matthew the request is in a passive voice. So what’s the difference?

Mark cuts right to the chase – Jesus asks God to act so that he will not have to go through what lies ahead of him. It would be like wanting to break up with someone and knowing that the other person also wants to break up, but hoping that they would break up with you first so that you won’t have to be the bad guy/gal.

Matthew nuances it a little bit – Jesus asks that he might not have to experience what lies ahead, but stops short of asking God directly to intervene. That would be more like wanting to break up with someone, but the other person doesn’t want to, so if you don’t do it yourself the two of you will just stay together.

It leads me to understand the crucifixion as a choice Jesus is making, and if he doesn’t actually pick up the cup himself, it will just remain on the table un-drunk. I’m not wanting to split any Christological hairs here, but in Mark it feels like the crucifixion is inevitable unless God acts to prevent it, whereas in Matthew Jesus chooses crucifixion for himself. Therefore, in Mark if Jesus just stays in the garden, it would still lead to crucifixion; in Matthew the consequence of inaction on Jesus’ part means there would be no crucifixion at all.

It may be a subtle thing that I am making too much of, but I prefer the way it reads in Matthew to Mark’s version. It means something more to me if I can think of Jesus’ crucifixion as something he chose rather than something inevitable. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” It makes a difference to me that Jesus laid down his life for us, rather than having it taken away.

And then, when Jesus finishes his prayer with, “…yet not what I want, but what you want,” it means two different things: in Mark it seems to imply, “I don’t want to, but I’ll go along with what you are making me do.” In Matthew, however, it feels more like, “What I might want to do is not as important as what you want, so I choose your way.”

This distinction makes a big difference in thinking about suffering. The suffering of Jesus is not something inflicted on a powerless victim, as if he was just a prop in the drama of the crucifixion. His suffering is something he chooses to experience on behalf of another, namely, us.

That’s what makes it possible for us to condemn the violence of, for example, domestic abuse or poverty or prejudice (gasp - sounds like social justice to me), flat-out not including such suffering in the kind of suffering the New Testament seems to affirm so often (i.e. Romans 5: suffering > endurance > character > hope). This "Christian" suffering is chosen, and is for the sake of someone else, to make another person’s life better somehow.

The cup of the crucifixion sat on the table in front of Jesus. He asked that it disappear, if possible, so that he would not have to drink it. But it didn’t – and he did. He chose it, picked it up on his own, and drank it – to make our lives better somehow.

Thanksgiving Prayer - by Cori Bryan

Dear God,

I don't know why we have only one day to give thanks,
But while we are here we might as well start.
We all have many thank-yous in many different lengths,
And every one comes straight from our heart.

We thank you for our food, and that we have a bite to eat.
We thank you for our family and meeting here together,
We thank you for pies and cakes, for a treat,
And thank you for the climate and having good weather.

We know people all over the world don't have good things,
They don't have food, shelter, or really much to do.
We should be thankful we have that stuff, and lots of other piles of things.
And we should be thankful for you.

A Psalm:

What

the

hell

is happening here?

Confession, Dandruff, and Tweed Sport Coats?

What is the role of confession in your relationship with God? I found a quote this week that said, “Confession is good for the soul only in the sense that a tweed coat is good for dandruff – it is a palliative rather than a remedy,” meaning that confession soothes and comforts, but does not fix or cure.

My experience with confession has been in basically two forms, silent and corporate. When I have prayed prayers of confession, it has either been just between me and God or in the context of a unison prayer in a worship gathering. I don’t remember ever truly confessing anything personal aloud in front of another person.

That’s not to diminish the power of confession in my own spiritual life, though. I have had moments alone with God in which my soul was bared completely and I emptied myself in God’s presence, truly confessing all that I was carrying. There have also been moments in which my heart has been broken by the words of a unison prayer as I experienced the power of speaking someone else’s words aloud together with my sisters and brothers in Christ.

But when it comes to talking about my own personal sin out loud in front of other people, my experience has been rather limited. I have no confessor. I feel like I might be missing something, but I don’t know for sure. The confessor can help give voice to the confession, can listen well and clarify and shape the confession, particularly if there is a deep enough level of trust present. Absent that trust, though, I suppose a confessor might just get in the way.

Of course, another aspect of confession involves confessing to the person who has been wronged. I remember when I was a kid and Mom caught me stealing a Matchbox car from the store. She made me go back in and confess to the manager, which absolutely killed me! But I never stole anything again, let me assure you of that!

When we confess to the person who has been wronged, we are not quite so sure if we will be forgiven as when we confess to God. In that sense, confessing to God is easier in a way; we are certain of God’s grace and forgiveness but are not certain at all of someone else’s. It is “safer” to confess to God than to another person.

But does that cheapen God’s grace, and thereby lessen somehow the act of confession itself? If I know God’s just going to forgive me anyway, I might as well confess, right? “What then are we to say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin go on living in it?” (Romans 6:1-2)

I guess the important thing is to remember that confession is only one part of repentance, which itself is only one part of salvation. As such, confession can be deeply liberating. Whether speaking the truth to God alone, corporately, or to another person, confession unbottles what’s going on inside you. It is a pressure relief valve, in a way. It doesn’t take the sin away, but it gets it out there so you are free to heal. It is one part in a process.

I love the line, “He breaks the power of cancelled sin,” in Charles Wesley’s hymn. Sin is cancelled (forgiven) by God’s justifying grace but still has power over us. Over the course of the way of salvation, sin’s power is broken by God’s sanctifying grace as we strive for perfection. Asking for forgiveness means first of all saying that there is something to forgive, in other words, confession.

So I guess I like the dandruff on a tweed sport coat image. You still are going to have to brush the dandruff off your shoulder, but you don't feel as bad as you would if you were wearing a black turtleneck. When you confess, you still have the sin, but you don't feel as bad as you would if you hadn't confessed it.

You know how sometimes when you have an argument with someone, the next time you are with them there’s a kind of tension in the room? The only way to break that tension so you can be in a good relationship with them again is often to address the previous argument, or “name the elephant in the room” as they say.

It’s like that with confession, too, I think. God knows you did it; you know you did it; and to break the awkward tension between you and God might necessitate saying out loud that which both of you already know.

Yes, I Saw Barack, Too!

Happy Election Day Eve, everybody!

First of all, I'd just like to say congratulations to "saggy" for posting all those comments on the last post from the PHONE! Amazing! Your thumbs must be buff!

Secondly, I was mistaken in the last post when I implied that the U.S. was fighting in the second World War at the time of Roosevelt's speech. World War II was being fought, but the U.S. did not officially join it until after Pearl Harbor was attacked in December of 1941. Roosevelt's speech was in January 1941.

Thirdly, Yes, I did go to see Barack Obama on Saturday night here in Springfield at a rally held at JFK Stadium, a High School football field. So now I have seen Governor Sarah Palin and Senator Barack Obama live - either the first woman ever elected to be Vice President or the first African-American ever elected President. I can say that I've been a part of history, and that's pretty cool, no matter whose little box you check tomorrow!

I arrived in the area and parked my car on a side street, then hiked a mile to the end of the unbelievably long line. There was a lot less political conversation in this line, I noticed. But that may have been just the people I was standing by. We walked by only a handful of protesters, but they were very nasty ones - a sign that said "Hitler drew big crowds, too" and one that said "Obama doesn't just want change, he wants all your money." We were called "morons" by one particularly angry guy. I am so grateful that the handful of really mean people there are most definitely not representative of McCain supporters in general.

The rally was an impressive sight - the estimates I read were 30,000 people. I stood at about the 20 yard line and the stage was set up in the opposite end zone. Because I'm tall, I had a clear view of Claire McCaskill, who introduced Michelle Obama, who introduced Barack Obama. Jay Nixon was also present, but he didn't speak.

After a little glitch with the sound system, McCaskill started her part by saying, "I'm confused. Somebody told me there weren't any Democrats in Southwest Missouri." Well, of course that got a huge reaction, and set the tone for the rest of the rally. There was a lot of cheering and it was generally an upbeat mood all around.

Obama gave a pretty standard stump speech, and there wasn't anything particularly new or different than normal, with one exception. He made a big deal about Dick Cheney saying he would "be delighted" to have McCain as president. Obama thanked Cheney for his endorsement, in fact, and said that it was proof that McCain would just do the same things that the current administration is doing.

But other than that, it was the standard Obama speech, using lines that he has been using for the past few days now on issues of economy, war, education, health care, energy, the environment. (Though he did get in a pretty good zinger when he said that "99.9% of all plumbers make less than $250,000 a year.") He seemed energetic and his voice was strong, though I can't imagine how exhausted he must be - how all of them must be actually! What a gruelling process this is. Is this really the best way to do this?

Two moments of the rally were most profound for me. The first was when he looked out at the crowd and said he wanted to take a quick poll. He guessed that there were about 40,000 people present and he asked everyone in the crowd making less that $250,000 a year to raise our hands. Well obviously, everyone raised their hands - at least everyone I could see. Then he said, "Those of you with your hands up, your taxes are not going to go up." And then he proceeded to give the info on his tax increase affecting only 5% of the country, and so forth. I'm sure you've heard those details before. (btw - Greene County had a median income of $41,162.)

The second moment was when he was contrasting one of his positions with McCain's position, and the crowd started booing. He kind of cut us off, saying, "You don't need to boo, just go vote." I had read about him saying that before, but to experience it made an impact on me. The crowd did not boo any more after that. By way of comparison and for what it's worth, Governor Palin did not stop the crowd at her rally from booing.

I have decided for whom I am going to vote tomorrow, and I hope that you have too. I hope that if you are planning to vote for a different person than I am, we can still be friends. I hope that if you are voting for the same person I am, we can still be friends, too! I hope that the United States will join together in support of whatever leaders are elected tomorrow, and work together to ensure that our national future is prosperous, safe, and free.

But I have got to say, along with the apostle Paul, that my biggest hope is that we who are Christian affirm the belief that "our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ" (Philippians 3:20). That means that whatever tomorrow's election results are, our primary allegiance is to God. Whoever we elect tomorrow to lead us in earthly, temporal matters, our leader in all matters is Christ.

I'd like to close with a prayer that I'll be praying tomorrow.

God of all that is,
we thank you for this day of opportunity.
Every day is a day of opportunity,
because you give it to us.
Our nation is electing leaders today, and the process so far
has been gruelling
and tedious
and sometimes bitter
and even angry.
Forgive us, we pray.
Forgive us for relying on ourselves instead of you.
Forgive us for prioritizing earthly concerns ahead of you.
Forgive us the animosity we have at times felt
against our brothers and our sisters - your beloved children of this world.
Please send your spirit to be with those we elect
and those whom we do not elect,
to give guidance, to encourage,
to give peace, to comfort.
Whatever leaders we choose this day,
remind us again and again of your presence
over us, within us, around us, underneath us.
And through us, Holy God,
we pray that your love and grace
would be made known
throughout all of your wonderful creation.
In the name of Christ Jesus - Amen.

Ignatian Examen - It is Called a Discipline for a Reason

"Recall that you are in the presence of God."

This is the first line of the Examen prayer that I am using this Lent as a spritual discipline. (In fact, I'm inviting the whole congregation to participate.) The Examen is a structured time of prayer and reflection with five or six specific steps to go through at the end of each day. It takes maybe 10 - 20 minutes, depending on how deep I go.

But having done it every night for the past couple of weeks, I have realized a pretty cool thing. During the day, in the "heat of the moment" as it were, I just have to say that first line, "Recall that you are in the presence of God," and suddenly there is clarity and breathing space in a way that there wasn't before.

When something happens that is upsetting, "Recall that you are in the presence of God" calms me down so that I can respond more appropriately.

When my to-do list threatens to overwhelm, "Recall that you are in the presence of God" helps me prioritize my day, moment by moment.

When my latent perfectionism freezes me into unmotivated hebetude, "Recall that you are in the presence of God" liberates me to fail gloriously without fear.

And so forth.

I think that's one of the reasons that a spiritual practice needs to be a "discipline" - so that it becomes ingrained, habitual, so much a part of me that just thinking the first line allows me to sense a bit of what I sense when I do the full thing each evening. To borrow from our Buddhist friends, I am able to get into a state of mindfulness very quickly. Just uttering the first line calms me down, heightens my awareness of the present presence of God, and gives me room to breathe.

It's the same thing with music, too. The first couple licks of "You Got to Funkafize" by Tower of Power are all I need to hear for me to get taken to another place. When I hear the opening of U2's "Sunday, Bloody Sunday," I'm awakened immediately. The thunderous opening of the Dies Irae movement in Verdi's "Requiem" catapult me to a different dimension instantly. It's because I am so intimately familiar with these pieces that just hearing one small part of them elicits my response to the whole.

So it is with a spiritual discipline. With the repetition comes familiarity, and a more immediate access to the fullness of the practice. All of which, of course, is intended to draw us ever closer to God, and to becoming the people God desires that we become.

Prayers for Kenya

The violence in Kenya has a face for us here in North Kansas City. Last summer, a member of our congregation travelled there on a mission trip to serve at the Missionaries of Charity home for disabled and abandoned children and women and in the autism unit at an elementary school. She kept a blog and you can read about her experience there.

Edna has been in contact with some of her friends in Kenya, and they are alive, but it is very dangerous to leave the house still. 300 people are reported killed and 70,000 have been displaced, according to the BBC. We are asking for prayers for all of those innocent ones caught up in between the combatants, and for a just, peaceful resolution to the fighting.

There is such power in relationship, isn't there? Without Edna, the violence in Kenya would be just another abstract news story about a political/ethnic conflict on the other side of the world. And we would still pray for peace and for the safety of all the people, to be sure. But since Edna was there, knows people, has been in contact with them, and has shared and continues to share her experiences with us in the congregation, their story is our story, and their suffering is ours.

Life in Christ is a mystery. How is it that my connection with Edna means that I am also connected with her friends in Kenya? It kind of shrinks the world a little bit, no?

Kansas City Shooting - A Prayer

Living God,
Another one?

Grant them eternal rest
and let perpetual light shine upon them,

also.

It was close to home this time, Lord.
The guy was twenty minutes from my children.
We don't normally shop at that mall,
but we shop.
Some days I feel like just locking the doors
and sitting in our house together, where it's safe.

But we go to school. We go to work. We live.

God, thank you for the training and skills
of the police officers who risk their lives
every day to keep us safe
in the out an about of our daily lives.

I don't understand things sometimes ... well, most of the time, actually.

It is not so much the understanding, but the peace of mind that I desire.

So, if it might be possible,
is there some way I could
feel that peace of mind,
even if I don't understand?

Forgive us, O Lord, for our manifold sins and wickedness which we from time to time most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against your divine majesty.
Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful God.

In your holy name, Amen.