"They Shall All Know Me"

"You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist." - Indira Gandhi

The fifth Sunday in Lent invites us to open up to what God has to give us, if we will allow ourselves to do so. 

...this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.  No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more. (Jeremiah 31:33-34)

 I love the symbol of the raised, clenched fist. It is a symbol of protest, of resistance. A raised fist says, "I shall not be moved." There are times to raise our fists in the face of evil, injustice, and oppression, in whatever forms they present themselves.

But there are other times we clench fists. We do so to fight, to punish, to protect ourselves from our enemies and close ourselves off. We clench fists and flex to warn, to show that we intend to do harm. Fists clenched in anger and animosity are very different from fists raised in resistance.

It is difficult to receive an offered gift with clenched fists. Impossible to shake hands. Clumsy to caress a cheek. Bizarre to blow a kiss. 

The prophet Jeremiah wants us to know that God has something to give us, a new covenant, an unmediated connection, a true relationship. And apparently, God intends to just write it on our hearts, so that there will truly be no "haves" and "have-nots" in God's family. Every single one of us is getting this gift, given freely and directly from God.

Are we ready to receive it? Are we open to it? Are our hands, hearts, minds, voices ... are we uncovered and emptied out, laid bare and vulnerable enough to actually receive what God is offering us?

At our best, the church is a community in which it is safe to unclench our fists, to receive one another, to embrace our siblings without fear of judgment or betrayal. We don't always attain that way of being, of course. But we're working on it. Some would even call it "Reign of God" work, which is (as followers of Jesus know) already among us.

God has something to give us. All of us. ALL of us. (Did I say "all" of us?") Grace isn't something that God gave you and now it is up to you to give it to everyone else. "They shall all know me!" God has given everyone this amazing gift, and all you have to do is realize that, recognize it, and celebrate it. 

My prayer for you on this Fifth Sunday in Lent is that you would open yourself up to God, and allow yourself to receive the life-changing gift God is giving you. And then, to understand the implications of this profound truth - God is doing the very same thing for each and every person you encounter.

"Look at the serpent of bronze and live"

 The fourth Sunday in Lent is a reminder that God is with us.

 The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” (Numbers 21:5)

The complaint came to Moses as the people were making their way through the wilderness, having been liberated from slavery in Egypt but having not yet arrived in the Promised Land. There were some mixed feelings among the people, naturally. I'm sure there was a lot of joy for being free, and at the same time a lot of anxiety and fear; they knew neither where they were going, how long the journey would take, nor what to expect when they got there.

And so, they complain. Naturally.

Many have noted the contradiction: the people complain both that there is no food and that the food tastes terrible. This, of course, is more than just a fun detail of the story. The contradiction means that the complaint wasn't really about food. Theirs was a fear they could not articulate, for it was too big, too complicated, too difficult to name. And so, they complained about the food.

What happened next is so strange, it is almost comical. The Bible says that the Lord sent poisonous snakes that bit the people, killing many of them. And though there is nothing in the text that explicitly indicates a causal connection, we cannot help but read the killer snakes as a consequence of the people's complaining.

In response to the snake predicament, God has Moses make a snake out of bronze and attach it to a pole. The idea is that people look at the snake on the pole and they won't die from the snake bite. "Moses made a serpent of bronze and put it upon a pole, and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live." 

If we are being honest, this is completely hilarious and bizarre to think about. It offends our 21st century scientifically informed perspectives. Which is, of course, precisely the point. It is a mistake to try to resolve that offense, to ease that tension. There is something to learn there; it is the space into which the Holy Spirit speaks.

That snake-on-a-pole makes another appearance in the Hebrew Bible, when King Hezekiah was cleaning up the temple:

He removed the high places, broke down the pillars, and cut down the sacred pole. He broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it; it was called Nehushtan.(2 Kings 18:4)

It seems that the bronze snake had become more than a reminder of God's presence. It had itself become the object of worship. The people had forgotten the iconic, sacramental identity of the bronze snake. They had forgotten what the bronze snake pointed to. "Nehushtan" just means "a thing made out of brass." 

Rev. Dr. Katie Nix says that "the sin of this story is the belief that the people knew what they needed better than God did." It is always helpful to remember that God is God, and that we are not. And this is especially true during wilderness times.

In times of high anxiety and fear, when the future is uncertain, we rely on tangible reminders of God's presence. We lean into means of grace - prayer, worship, an image to look at or an object to hold, those kinds of things - as a palpable touchpoint that functions sacramentally, reminding us of God's active presence within, among, and around us.

And these objects or actions are so very helpful, but they are just reminders. The reality to which they point is much, much bigger. It is easy to slip into thinking that God isn't present when things are unfamiliar. When we are worshiping in a different sanctuary, or when we are grieving the loss of one dear to us, or when the very pattern of human interaction seems so completely different than it was a decade ago. 

It is in times like those that we cling to the bronze snake up on the pole and forget why Moses made it in the first place. So remember, this Lent, that God is with you always, everywhere, at all times. We may be afraid, anxious, uncertain, and yet the things around us are but nehushtan, and that God is present with us no matter where we are, no matter when it is, and no matter what. 

"I Am the Lord Your God"

The third Sunday in Lent invites us to remember the story.

Exodus 20 is one of the two places in the Bible where we read what are commonly known as "The Ten Commandments," and it is the appointed lectionary text for this week.

In the past I have been asked if I support the posting of "The Ten Commandments" in public places. My answer has always been the same. Unequivocally no. But maybe not for the reason you think.

To be sure, posting "The Ten Commandments" in public places is problematic because the "public" who occupy those places do not all ascribe to the Judeo-Christian tradition, and that should be reason enough. But for me there is another compelling reason to avoid the practice.

Posting "The Ten Commandments" in public places separates them from the story. It relegates them to a mere list of things not to do, rather than a chapter in the story of God's love for God's people in the world.

Writing on Exodus 20, Terrence Fretheim points out that "This covenant is a specific covenant within the already existing covenant with Abraham." The story had already begun, and was entering a new chapter. The beginning of Exodus 20, before the "commandments" themselves, is as important as the rest, and maybe more so:

"Then God spoke all these words, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery..."

The people are already "God's people" by the time they get to Mount Sinai. The story has already begun. God has already been at work to save the people, to redeem them from slavery in Egypt. In that sense, these "commandments" are not given as a way to earn God's favor. It isn't: "Do these things and God will love you." Rather it is: "God loves you so much and in response you should do these things."

Too often, we approach the commandments of God as if they are video game maneuvers. If we jump up on these platforms in this particular sequence and collect up these specific coins, we will be rewarded by advancement to the next level. But the love of God doesn't work like that. 

We are already in relationship with God. God created us. God has chosen us. God has set us free. And God is here, in our midst. 

That is our story, the story of our relationship with the Lord. But not only ours. It had already begun by the time we show up. And the story will continue long after we are gone. May we remember the story, and live in gratitude for our small part of it.

Yet Even Now - Ash Wednesday 2024

“Yet even now, says the Lord,

return to me with all your heart,

with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;

     rend your hearts and not your clothing.

Return to the Lord your God,

    for he is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love,

    and relenting from punishment.”

                        (Joel 2:12-13)

Those three words, “Yet even now…”

Joel has just spent eleven verses describing in poetic elegance the “darkness and gloom” of God’s arrival. The day of the Lord is akin to the invasion of a “great and powerful army” whose destructive power is experienced like a wildfire that utterly devastates everything in its path. The passage ends with a haunting question: “Truly the day of the Lord is great, terrible indeed - who can endure it?”

And then … “Yet even now…”

As bad as it gets, God is still there, calling, soothing, comforting. There is a theological puzzle here, though. The same God whose day is “terrible indeed” is here offering grace and mercy. How is this not a divine description of the cycle of abuse?

It is really important to remember that the Bible is inspired by God, not dictated by God. God inspired Joel’s prophecy, and Joel wrote it from his own unique perspective, framed in his own particular view of the world. Joel’s words reflect his experience of and relationship with God.

You and I read a passage like this knowing some things about God. That God is good, and loving, and just. That God offers grace in abundance and life everlasting. When confronted with seemingly contradictory images of God’s identity, what are we to do? Maybe throw one of them out, based on our own comfort level? Maybe leap to the conclusion that the whole thing is fraudulent and throw it all away?

Or maybe hold them in tension, wrestling with the feeling of dissonance that the prophet so deftly illuminates. For me, this is the best approach. And it all hangs on those three remarkable words: “Yet even now.”

This Season of Lent begins in a broken and hurting world. War ravages innocent people with relentless brutality. Political figures demean and insult their opponents. Violence seems to be the rule rather than the exception. The climate continues its inexorable slide toward disaster. And on and on. No wonder so many people are anxious, angry, and flat-out exhausted.

In the midst of all that, the prophet offers this hopeful word. “Yet even now, return to God. Yet even now, center on the divine within, among, and around us. Yet even now, even when anxiety cripples you and anger rages red and exhaustion drains every bit of energy from your body … yet even now, God is there. Gracious. Merciful. Slow to anger. And abounding in steadfast love.

Yet even now.

The Comfort of Chaos

“...the earth was a formless void…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We All Belong to God - Sermon manuscript, February 17, 2019

We All Belong to God                           February 17, 2019 - Year C: Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
Romans 14:7-12
Sermon idea: The source of Christian unity is not us (our beliefs, practices, thoughts, opinions); the source of Christian unity is Christ - we belong to Christ.
Series theme: A Holy Mess: Christian Unity in the 21st Century
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I usually outline my sermons and then preach by following that outline. But this morning I have done something a little different; I wrote the whole thing out, word for word. I did it this way because I want to be particularly careful with my word choices today, and also because I want to make sure I say the same thing at all three services this morning. (Most Sundays, my sermons are a “holy mess,” and you never know what you’re going to hear from one service to the next, as Pastor Adrienne can tell you!)

It feels like there is an extra significance to this sermon, because it is coming just a few days ahead of a specially called session of the General Conference of the United Methodist Church, which is the global meeting of 864 delegates tasked to set policy and doctrine for our entire denomination. Normally, the General Conference meets every four years; the last one was in 2016 and the next one will be in 2020.

One of the reasons the United Methodist Church is having a special called session of General Conference next week is simply this: we have been trying to have two very different conversations simultaneously, and that, predictably, has not been very productive.

For some (and I put myself in this group) the conversation is about ecclesial practices, specifically marriage and ordination. These two practices of the church are significant, meaningful, and important aspects of the church’s identity. For our Roman Catholic siblings, they are sacraments.

And so for this group of United Methodists, the questions on the table are, “Will we marry same-sex couples?” and “Will we ordain people regardless of sexual orientation?” Much of the conversation is defined as a dialogue about allowing for differences in the practices of ministry. It is equivalent to a conversation about whether to baptize infants by sprinkling or to baptize teenagers by full immersion. A significant, meaningful practice of the church, done differently in different contexts.

I am able to define the conversation this way, but others are not.

For others (and I have many friends and colleagues in this group) the conversation is about sin and salvation, specifically the church’s response to and inclusion of those they believe are unrepentant sinners. This group embraces the idea, “Love the sinner; hate the sin,” and would say that gay people are welcome to be a part of the church, on the condition that they not be married or ordained here.

For this group of United Methodists, the questions on the table are, “Will we condone sin?” and “Will we be disobedient to Scripture?” It is deeper than just a different way to do ministry, because it speaks to a reality of all human experience, namely our sexuality. For this group, the conversation is visceral, and fundamental to our Christian faith. It is equivalent to a conversation about the nature of God or the divinity of Jesus.

Granted, this is an over-simplification, an artificially binary viewpoint that does not adequately describe the nuance and subtlety of the situation. But I think this is a fairly accurate illustration of the holy mess that lies ahead of us. How is it possible to even converse about a way forward, much less discern one, when we are stuck having two such dramatically different yet simultaneous conversations?

And there are some who have already answered this question, deciding, “No, we cannot talk about this any more. It’s time to go.” Indeed there have already been members, pastors, even entire congregations who have left the United Methodist Church, in part because we do not agree on the parameters of the conversation itself. After next week, there will undoubtedly be more who leave, no matter what the outcome of the General Conference may be.

I want to say that I do not begrudge anyone’s decision to leave one congregation for another, or to leave one denomination altogether and connect with another, when that decision is about discipleship. When you join a church, you join a group of people with whom you want to follow Jesus. A group of people who will encourage you and hold you accountable to your Christian discipleship, and for whom you can provide similar encouragement and accountability.

Joining a church is all about choosing a certain group of people to walk among in your Christian journey.

And many factors go into that decision, among them location, size, style of worship, theology of the pastor, even whether or not the congregation hosts same-sex weddings. The point is to follow Jesus, not what particular church you are a part of.

Different congregations and different denominations are expressions of the diversity of the Church, one body with many members. The Church’s unity is not dependent upon our understandings, but rather depends on God. As Paul wrote,  ...to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living. Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. (Romans 14)

Christ is Lord of all of us. Resurrection means that each and every one of us belongs to God, and to God alone. If Christ died and lived again for all of us, if we actually believe that we all belong to God, then can we not commit to be united in the hard work of honest, respectful, and gracious dialogue about our differences of opinion?

Or will we insist that our unity comes not from Christ, but from a uniformity of belief? A uniformity which, when absent, thereby erodes our essential spiritual unity. I for one do not equate Christian unity with doctrinal uniformity. Granted, uniformity is tidier than unity, and we do like things to be “neat and tidy.” But unity can actually be quite messy, and it does not even imply lock-step uniformity.

 In fact when Jesus himself discussed unity, he did not describe uniformity of specific teachings. Rather, he prayed for unity in profoundly relational terms, expressing his desire in John 17: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Notice, Jesus asks us not to believe in a list of particular ideas, but rather to believe in him. It is our relationship with Jesus that unites us, not our beliefs about Jesus. And the reason Jesus unites us as one body is so that the world will know. Our unity is a witness to the world, a testimony to the power of God’s love.

I have heard some criticize “unity for unity’s sake.” They ask, “Are we to remain united at all costs? How much disagreement is enough, and how disagreement much is just too much? Are we just wanting unity for the sake of unity?” My answer: “Yes, in a way.” Unity in diversity is inherently a witness to the power of God’s love, and to the death and resurrection of Jesus. When we are united in spite of disagreement, we are announcing to the world that Christ is bigger than us, that God’s love is more powerful than our disagreements, and that the Holy Spirit is alive and well within and among us all.

This profound, relational unity is accomplished not by us but by the Holy Spirit, whose unifying power on Pentecost gave all who gathered the ability to understand, in spite of their obvious linguistic diversity. This spiritual unity is not something the Bible says should happen, it is something the Bible says does happen.

Unity is described in many places, including Ephesians 4:1-6. Paul writes, “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”

This passage asks us to “maintain” Spiritual unity, not create it. This passage says there “is” one body, not there should be. Spiritual unity is assumed in the Bible. Relational unity in Christ is a given in Scripture. Galatians 3:26-28 emphasizes the point this way, “...in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

Unity is described, taken as a given for followers of Jesus. The Bible doesn’t say “You should be one.” The Bible says “You are one.”

We who are called “Methodist” should understand this more deeply than anyone. It is in our theological DNA, so to speak. The founder of our movement, John Wesley, seemed to get this better than most. Wesley understood Christian unity and was able to talk about it in powerful, articulate ways.

He said, “Every wise man, therefore, will allow others the same liberty of thinking which he desires they should allow him; and will no more insist on their embracing his opinions, than he would have them to insist on his embracing theirs. He bears with those who differ from him, and only asks him with whom he desires to unite in love that single question, ‘Is thy heart right, as my heart is with thy heart? … If it be, give me thy hand.’”

This is a quote from Wesley’s sermon titled “The Catholic Spirit.” Every United Methodist ought to read the full sermon at some point; this week would be a pretty opportune time to do so. Because, as I may have mentioned before, we have a pretty significant meeting coming up this week.

Friday evening, I’ll head to St. Louis. Saturday the delegates will convene for a day of prayer together. Sunday we will focus on prioritizing the various proposals. Monday is scheduled for legislative work, amending and perfecting the plan. And then Tuesday, final debate and vote. At least that’s the idea. We’ll see how things go once we get there. It may get a bit … messy.

I’d like to share my personal position with you, knowing that there are people listening to this right now whose position is different than mine. So please don’t get mad and leave - this is me being honest about me.

I do not believe the Bible directly blesses same-sex relationships, nor do I believe the Bible directly condemns same-sex relationships. I believe that, in order to bless or condemn them, one has to interpret what the Bible truly says.

So I interpret the Bible to condemn relationships that are idolatrous, abusive, objectifying, and degrading, no matter the gender of the individuals in the relationship.

On the flipside, I interpret the Bible to bless relationships that are loving, respectful, grace-filled, mutually affirming, and committed to a lifelong covenant, no matter the gender of the individuals in the relationship.

And because of how I interpret Scripture, I would like the United Methodist Church to change our policies that restrict marriage to only heterosexual couples and restrict ordination to only straight people.

But I know that others interpret Scripture differently. And so I would like for the United Methodist Church to also include an explicit statement that says pastors are not compelled to marry any couple, nor are bishops compelled to ordain any person, if their conscience does not permit them to do so. For the record, that makes me a fan of what is known as the “One Church Plan.”

And along with that change, I want us to stay together, as messy as that may be. I want us to recognize that unity is not uniformity. I want us to honor Christ’s life, death, and resurrection by affirming the truth of our spiritual unity, in spite of our diverse theological perspectives. The source of our unity is not us, not our beliefs, not our practices, not our thoughts and opinions. The source of Christian unity is Christ.

The United Methodist Church seems to be at a tipping point, and the old structures of the connection are rapidly eroding. It is a theological Gethsemane moment for us - And if we believe in resurrection, this is not a bad thing.

Rather than worry about who might leave the denomination after next week, shouldn't we be excited about who might join? Shouldn't we celebrate the new life emerging from the tomb? I, for one, commit to a resurrection redefinition of our beloved connection, and I hope the other delegates will too.

We are all, each and every one of us, a beloved child of God. We all belong to God. That is a stronger bond than any we could ever create ourselves.

Beyond "Right" or "Wrong" - Thoughts on Interpretation

My dear progressive friends, of course it is possible to interpret the Bible as condemning same-sex marriage. It isn’t even very hard to arrive at that interpretation.

But, my dear conservative friends, a claim that the Bible itself directly condemns same-sex marriage is not supportable. It just doesn’t.

For someone who takes the Bible very seriously as a moral code intended to govern human behavior, this is the interpretive lens through which the entire book is read. And for one with such an interpretive lens, obedience to God is a matter of applying the text directly to personal behaviors. And sometimes you make a few interpretive steps to get there. And all of that is fine; we all do that.

So, in order to go from Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 to a belief that same-sex marriage should not happen in the church, you have to go through several interpretive steps.

- You have to interpret the Biblical euphemism “lie with” (the typical interpretation is “have sex with”).

- Since the passages only mention men, you have to interpret the passages as applying to both men and women, unless your claim is that same-sex marriage is only condemned for men but for women it is okay.

- You have to interpret sex as either synonymous with marriage or the only or primary reason someone would get married.

- You have to interpret the “as with a woman” (NRSV) part of the phrase from a heteronormative perspective. That is, you have to interpret it with the assumption that all men would in fact lie with a woman. (The truth is that gay men would not, so the strictest literal reading of these lines does not apply to a homosexual man.)

In order to go from Romans 1:27 to a belief that same-sex marriage should not happen in the church, you have to go through several similar interpretive steps.

- You have to interpret the “Therefore” in verse 24 and the “For this reason” in verse 26 in such a way that does not directly connect verse 27 to what has come before. (The previous verses are a description of idolatry.)

- You have to interpret words like “degrading,” “unnatural,” and “shameless” (NRSV) as applying to loving, mutually respectful, life-long, covenant relationships (i.e. marriages).

- You have to interpret marriage as consisting of being “consumed with passion for one another” (NRSV), or otherwise interpret degrading and shameless sex as synonymous with marriage or a primary reason for marriage, or have a preconceived notion that homosexual sex is inherently shameless and degrading.

- You have to interpret the “exchanging” and “giving up natural intercourse” from a heteronormative perspective. (For a gay woman for example, sex with another woman is in fact “natural.”)

And finally, in order to go from either of the other two scriptures frequently cited in this conversation, you have to interpret the practice of pederasty as being equivalent to marriage between two consenting adults who love each other very much and want nothing more than to spend the rest of their lives together as a married couple. The word “homosexual” is often used to translate the Greek in these two passages, even though the word wasn’t invented until the late 1800s and did not appear in translations of Scripture until the mid 1900s.

And the truth is, you can absolutely take those interpretive steps to arrive at the conclusion that same-sex marriage should therefore not be allowed in the church. The ample evidence of this truth is simply that a lot of people do.

However, what is unsustainable is to say without qualification that “the Bible condemns same-sex marriage.” The best you can do is say, “My interpretation of the Bible leads me to personally condemn same-sex marriage.”

And honestly, I do not begrudge my more conservative friends their belief. I just wish they would be honest about the interpretive steps they took to get there. Widespread unwillingness to do so has done great harm to people.

(And by the way my more progressive friends, same-sex marriage is certainly not directly blessed in the Bible, either. One must take some interpretive steps to arrive there as well. My own interpretation of the passages cited above involves condemnations of idolatry, promiscuity, child abuse (pederasty), and sexual violence – all things that I am glad the Bible condemns. And my own interpretations of numerous other passages lead me to a belief that a mutually respectful, gracious, loving, covenant relationship between two consenting adults is a beautiful thing, and one that the church should indeed celebrate and honor with marriage vows.)

Furthermore, I wish we could all be honest about the fact that there are indeed hateful and homophobic people in the church. It is infuriating and exhausting when every time hate and homophobia are pointed out, then begins the inevitable protests of “But not me! I’m just doing what the Bible says.” Okay, not you, dude. But can you at least acknowledge that it’s there, and speak up when you see it?

And finally, the very last thing I want to do is push someone away from a relationship with God. I lament that when there are differing interpretations of scripture that lead people to very different places, some Christians choose to double down on their own perspective even when it is hurtful, which inevitably builds barriers between people and Jesus. I personally would choose to err on the side of love and grace, offering a connection instead of severing it altogether.

In the United Methodist Church, we are far, far beyond arguing over whose interpretation of Scripture is “right.” There are a variety of interpretations of Scripture in our denomination. The discussion has shifted to, “What are we going to do about that?”

That conversation requires honesty, humility, and integrity. I fear the supply of these qualities may be too short in this present season to make any difference.

The Boy, The Boss, and The Bully (A Creative Re-Telling of "David and Goliath")

The Bully is bigger, stronger, and has more stuff than just about anyone else. But The Bully does not use his privileged position for the common good, but rather for selfish purposes.

Plus, The Bully is loud. Like, really loud. His favorite thing is to stand up in front of people and shout things. Most of the things he shouts are things about how much better he himself is than anyone else, how big, how strong, and how much stuff he has.

As our story begins, this is what The Bully is doing. He is technically representing a "side," but he really doesn't care about one "side" or the other; all he wants is for people to know how great he is. That is his only agenda as he stands (literally) in the gap between the sides: that everyone notice him.

And they do.

The Boss certainly does.

Now, The Boss is old, and getting older. He has started to forget things, and to act in unusual ways, doing things that make the people around him make meaningful eye contact with one another, shake their heads, and look worried.

And as The Boss slowly drifts away from rationality, it kind of scares him. He becomes desperate to hold on to what once was. This makes him irritable, grouchy, and just plain mean. He becomes unreasonably defensive, and does so astonishingly quickly, and his companions often walk on eggshells, trying not to upset him.

The Boss has heard the Bully, and The Boss is ticked.

Which is when The Boy shows up.

The Boy is fascinated by conflict, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He is bemused by The Bully, secretly impressed by his bravado. The Boy is also quite arrogant, puffed up with a braggadocious confidence born of youth and previous successes.

And The Boy has figured out how to strategically yet casually drop these success stories into daily conversations as often as he can. This, by the way, infuriates his older brothers, who would rather he just stay home and do his chores. Even his dad seems to conveniently forget about him from time to time.

The Boy has heard The Bully, and The Boy is energized.

He asks, "What's the reward for taking out this guy? Like, what's in it for me if I decide to take this loser out?"

"Well, The Boss would love it, I'm sure," comes the reply. "Probably cut you in on a pretty big slice of the action!"

"Let me at 'im!" says The Boy.

When The Boss gets wind of The Boy's bluster, he calls him over. "You can't take this guy," he says. "You're just a kid."

The Boy's smile is almost a sneer. He drops some knowledge. "That guy? He's nothing. A piece of dust. I've killed literal lions with my bare hands. Ain't no thing."

The Boss is impressed. "Go on, then." But then The Boss shakes his head, coming out of a foggy daze, and seems to remember that he's supposed to be in charge here. So he starts to tell The Boy how to do the job. But The Boy won't have it.

"Look here, Boss. It's my way or no way at all. Hear me?"

And he goes up to The Bully. Now The Bully has been standing there, shouting. Like he does. And when he sees The Boy coming up to him it kind of catches him off guard. "I'm hurt! I'm insulted! This little puppy coming up to me, thinking he's got something? Bring it, scrub."

And The Boy thumps his own chest with equal machismo. "I will bring it, you big loser. Did I mention I killed literal lions with my bare hands yet? Well, I did. So there."

And by the sheer force of his toxic masculinity, so surprising to The Bully who usually corners the market on that particular commodity, The Boy knocks over The Bully. And while he's down on the ground, The Boy walks up to him and kicks his teeth out before he can get away.

Then he picks up the teeth and strings them together on a little piece of twine that he wraps around his neck so everyone will be sure to see that it was him, The Boy, who kicked out The Bully's teeth.

And when The Boss saw it happen, since he had already forgotten their previous meetings, he asked his buddy, "Who is that kid?" And his buddy, not wanting to upset The Boss by reminding him that he had, in fact, already met The Boy, feigned ignorance.

A Truthful Frame

The United Methodist Church is at a significant crossroads.

Recap: Our bishops are meeting this week to receive the report of the “Commission on a Way Forward.” That report will present a plan for the denomination regarding marriage of same-sex couples and ordination of people who are gay. The bishops will then present something (it may be that plan or it may be something altogether different) to the special session of the General Conference in February of 2019, to be held in St. Louis, Missouri. The General Conference will then vote on what the bishops present, which then becomes the official policy of the UMC. And after that … well, who really knows, tbh?

One thing I am hoping is that the conversation is being framed truthfully. One of the reasons our denomination has felt “stuck” around these questions for so long is that many of the people having the conversation are not working within a truthful framework. Hence, we talk around and around each other, and no progress is made. Let me elucidate.

Historically this conversation has been framed as one of polar opposition, with no room for a middle way. Specifically, one was either obedient to God or disobedient to God. One was either faithful to the Bible or had rejected the Bible. And when the conversation is framed that way, it is unproductive, not to mention dishonest.

See, when one group frames the conversation and puts themselves in the categories of “obedient” and “faithful,” placing the other group in the categories of “disobedient” and “unfaithful,” it is obvious that the conversation is going pretty much nowhere. Because of course nobody in the church wants to be labelled “disobedient” and “unfaithful,” especially in dialogue with others in the church.

However, this framework is not truthful; it does not reflect reality. It’s just false.

In the church, those who favor marriage equality as well as those who favor traditional marriage are doing so from an honest and heartfelt attempt to be obedient to God and faithful to the Bible. We come out in very different places, yes. But those differences are to be expected, arising as they do from very different life experiences in very different settings.

Look, no matter what your personal interpretations may be, you are making interpretations. In the dishonest framing of the conversation there exists an unwillingness to admit even that an interpretation is being made. One often hears, “No, this is not an interpretation. This is what the Bible actually says!” Such absolute certainty is not now nor has it ever been compatible with Christian teaching. We all make interpretations, as Christians everywhere always have.

If (and it’s a big “if”) we can get past the untruthful framing of the conversation and actually be able to say that someone who sees things differently than us is not being “disobedient” and “unfaithful,” we may be able to figure something out here. We may be able to actually craft an official denominational position that allows for contextual ministry to advance the mission of the church in healthy and hopeful ways.

Those who are clinging to the “you just can’t” position and those who are clinging to the “you just have to” position need to come to the middle on this one, where the rest of us are, where real life happens, where the mission of the church comes to life. We need to end up with a “you can but you don’t have to” position as a denomination if we want to stay focused on the mission, and actually start addressing some of the more pressing challenges that we as a church face in the 21^st century and beyond.

Finally I need to say this – I am not naïve. I understand that there will be people who will still frame the conversation with the false dichotomy I’ve described. I guarantee there will be General Conference delegates who stand up on the floor in St. Louis next February and say things like, “I’m being faithful to the Bible and obedient to God here – and you are not!”

But maybe just maybe there will be more of us who are willing to stand up and say something different, to say something from a different framework. As a delegate, if given the opportunity, I will do my best to do so. That’s one of the ways I am trying to be obedient to God and faithful to the Bible, actually.

The conversation matters, and that includes how the conversation is framed to begin with. May we frame our conversations truthfully, graciously, respectfully, and most importantly, may we frame them with love.

Miriam's Revenge - October 8, 2017 Sermon

I love the story of Miriam! Miriam, Moses’s big sister, given the most important babysitting gig of all time, sees her baby brother picked up out of his basket by no less than the princess of Egypt. What does she do?

She is at a definite disadvantage, remember. Her people, the Hebrew people, are slaves in Egypt. They are powerless and subject to the whims of the Pharaoh’s oppressive decrees. The one in force was that every newly born Hebrew boy was to be thrown immediately into the Nile River and drowned.

And there was her brother, floating in his basket on the turbulent river, settled in among the reeds, in open defiance of Pharaoh himself. His very life was a blatant act of protest against an unjust government policy.

And the one who sees him and picks him up, of ALL people it might be, was the daughter of the man who thought of, wrote, and is ultimately responsible for enforcing the decree.

So what does Miriam do?

She redefines the conversation. She reframes the parameters of power.

She. Takes. Charge.

She could have said, “Hey! You can’t do that!”

She could have said, “Hey! That’s my brother!”

Who knows what the results would have been? If that would have changed the outcome at all, or perhaps made matters even worse? People in power tend to dig in their heels when they are challenged directly, even if the challenge makes complete sense. A direct challenge to the princess, in public no less, would not have gone over well. The princess, in her attempt to save face and affirm her control of the situation, would very likely have dismissed Miriam for the powerless, oppressed, enslaved little Hebrew girl that she was.

But lo and behold, the princess was not the one with the power here. True power resides in the ability to frame the conversation in the first place. True power is not winning or losing an argument, it is defining the terms of the argument before it even starts.

Which is exactly what Miriam does.

“How can I turn this situation around so that my baby brother is not only safe, but maybe even gets to come home with me again?” she thought. And inspiration struck. A brilliant idea emerged in her clever mind, and idea that was just crazy enough to work.

But, having the idea is one thing. Implementing it is another. To do so would require a great deal of courage. She would have to take an enormous personal risk in order to pull this off. She would be risking her safety and the safety of her family as well.

Digging deep, she walked up to the princess, who was looking into Moses’s basket and talking with her servants about him. As Miriam approached, she heard the princess say, “He must be one of the Hebrew babies, I suppose.”

This was Miriam’s opening. Looking up boldly into the eyes of the princess, she made an offer. “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to be a nurse for him?” she asked.

Not a challenge, then. Not a confrontation. In one clever question, Miriam redefined the conversation altogether. They were not speaking about what the princess could or could not do; they were not speaking about the particular identity of the as yet unnamed baby; they were not participating in debate and dialogue about the issues of the day.

Miriam deftly and courageously took the princess’s power away from her and used it against her. “You are in charge here,” Miriam’s subtext said. “And I, your humble servant, want to make your life easier by finding a suitable caretaker for your new baby.”

The princess was completely duped by the plan, and agreed … hook, line, and sinker.

Miriam ran home as fast as she was able, grabbed her mother, and returned to the princess.

And then, making the story even more remarkable, the princess not only gives baby Moses back to his mother, thereby allowing him to stay alive, but she actually offered to pay for the child’s care.

So … Moses lives. Moses’s mother gets to raise him. AND she gets paid for it as well.

All because of one clever, courageous girl’s ability to completely redefine the conversation, to reframe the parameters of power, and empowered by God, take charge.

Once again we gather together on a Sunday morning following a mass shooting in our nation. This pattern has become familiar, and that familiarity is unsettling. We ought never to become familiar with violence of the type unleashed in Las Vegas, Nevada last Sunday evening. And yet, here we are again.

And as it happens, this Sunday is “Children’s Sunday” here at Campbell, an annual tradition by which we celebrate the youngest members of our congregation, their work, their faithfulness, and their immeasurable contributions to this congregation’s mission and ministry.

Obviously, this date was chosen for “Children’s Sunday” many weeks ago. I know that there are people here today who would rather we simply talk about how awesome our kids are and how bright the future is and how hopeful we ought to be. I know there are people here today who want to hear that message, because I do. I would rather not have to think about the terror of last Sunday evening in Las Vegas, and the shock, grief, and heartache that it caused.

But not to address it would not be faithful. Some preachers will tell you that God has “laid it on my heart” to say such and so. I have no idea what that actually means, but I do have a sense that I need to say something today. Something important and significant. And if that means that God “laid it on my heart” then I guess that’s that.

What I feel like I need to say today is not so much about the event of last Sunday, as about the days that have followed it. It’s about our “conversation.” The social environment in which we live. Our community. Our nation.

It is simply this: We need to pay attention to who is defining the conversation.

The one who defines the conversation itself is the one with the power. It’s not about who “wins” or “loses” the argument, it’s about who sets the terms of the argument in the first place.

The one who defines the conversation is the one who defines the parameters of power. And that one is rarely a public figure, by the way. Rarely a politician or an athlete or an actor or a TV preacher. People who define the terms of the conversation stay out of sight, under the surface, in the shadows. And they like it there.

I’d like to be very blunt, very honest about something. I suppose I’ll get emails this week about “being too political.” That’s fine - abryan@campbellumc.org - go ahead and send them. I have prayed about this, thought about it, wrestled with it, and here I am. “Too political” or not, you all know me and I’m happy to have a cup of coffee with you this week and talk about it face to face. So here it is.

We are not a “divided” nation. We are a “polarized” nation. It does not seem to me that we are divided, meaning that half of us think one thing and half of us another. It seems to me that we are polarized, meaning that there are relatively small minorities on both “ends” of the spectrum and a large majority in the center. I find this to be true in many issues, and one of those is when it comes to guns.

There is an extreme pole that wants to repeal the second amendment. That is true. Those people exist. And there is an extreme pole that wants any and all guns to be accessible to any and all people. That is also true.

Here’s the thing, if you were to add up the “no guns for no people” group and the “all guns for all people” group, they would be a minority. A significant minority. The vast majority of us are reasonable and rational people that can actually talk about things with one another. Whether it is me, who doesn’t like guns and has never even picked one up let alone fired one, or someone else who collects them, hunts with them, keeps them clean, and stores them safely, both of us could be a part of this reasonable middle group. And both of us would agree that no, we should not repeal the second amendment and also that yes, there should be reasonable limits on what kind and how many guns should be allowed to be owned and used by qualified, licensed, responsible people.

However, if you listen to how the conversation is framed, you would think there are only two possible ways to think about it - either “no guns for no people” or “all guns for all people.” That’s the way our “national conversation” has been discussed. But it is just not true! It isn’t reality!

And so the question is - Who is framing the conversation that way? Maybe that’s where we need to spend some time and energy. Who benefits from keeping us at each other’s throats over issues that aren’t really issues in the first place? That is where the power resides, after all. And they stay hidden, under the surface, in the shadows.

And maybe some different, deeper, and more Christ-like questions are - How can we REFRAME the conversation?

How can we resist getting sucked into fearful, hateful, unhelpful confrontations, elaborately choreographed by someone we will never ever see?

How can we redefine the parameters of power?

How can we take charge of the moment on behalf of today’s babies floating in their baskets, to speak a word to the unjust and oppressive decrees of our day?

For we know that true power resides with God, whose reign is announced and embodied in Jesus, and brought to life in the world by the Holy Spirit.

These are not an easy questions to answer. Doing so required of Miriam not only a great deal of cleverness, but also a amazing and inspiring courage. Miriam was living with three strikes already against her: a Hebrew, a child, and a girl. She is an unlikely hero indeed. But it is her story, her example that we can follow today as well.

For the sake of the children we celebrate today, we have to find a way to reframe the conversation so that it aligns more closely with the priorities of the Reign of God, as described and defined in the Holy Scriptures. Peace. Justice. Hope. Love. And like Miriam’s example of scripture, maybe today’s children have something to teach us about how we might do so.

Children have not yet been taught that the world is polarized. Or divided. Children understand that people see things differently, that people are different from one another. And children actually like it that way! Too much sameness and children get bored, right?

Maybe that is a part of what gave Miriam the cleverness and courage to pull off the greatest babysitting feat of all time! It’s not coincidence that Miriam was down by the river, not her mother. Would her mother have even thought of such a plan? And if she had, would she have had the courage to pull it off?

Maybe we ought to look towards our children for guidance through these turbulent times. Not to put pressure on them as potential saviors of the world, but rather that they might teach us how to reframe our conversations, how to reframe our actions, how to reframe our lives according to God’s own purposes.

And maybe, if we do, maybe just maybe the world will begin to change, for God’s sake. It could happen! After all, as Miriam showed us, never underestimate a clever, courageous child.

Reclaim the Rules: "Do Gooder" (Post 2 of 3)

I have often wondered why the word “do-gooder” is often spoken with such bitterness. What could possibly be wrong with someone who does good stuff all the time?

Of course, the word means more than that. A “do-gooder” is a term for a person who means well but may be naive in their expectations or maybe actually ends up doing more harm than good, more getting in the way of a solution than actually helping.

Nevertheless, we cannot fault a “do-gooder” for their intentions. Scripture tells us to “not grow weary in doing what is right,” and John Wesley picked up that theme with General Rule #2, which is quite simply “Do Good.”

In a sermon titled, The Law Established Through Faith, he said, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Neither is love content with barely working no evil to our neighbour. It continually incites us to do good: as we have time, and opportunity, to do good in every possible kind, and in every possible degree to all men.”

His intention was that help would be offered to those in need, both physically and spiritually. He made that crystal clear in his direction to give food, give clothing, and care for the sick and those in prison, in addition to “instructing, reproving, or exhorting” those around us.

In other words, love incites us to be a do-gooder! In the best possible meaning of the term, of course, which may be something like “helping people who need help in a way that is actually helpful to them.”

But the idea of “goodness” is subjective, it seems. What one person considers a “good” action may not be considered “good” by another. It is yet one more trait we lose as we age, the certainty of the “good guy” and the corresponding “bad guy.” An eight year old playing with action figures harbors no moral ambiguity.

Despite its subjective nature, there are tests by which goodness can be assessed. In “Three Simple Rules,” Bishop Job wrote, “Every act and every word must pass through the love and will of God and there be measured to discover if its purpose does indeed bring good and goodness to all it touches.” The love of God, and the will of God are two powerful checks on the relative goodness of an action or a word.

Of course, the most obvious filter to run an act through is Rule Number One itself – “Do No Harm.” If the action or the word (or the inaction or the silence) actually does harm, then obviously it is not doing good, and another option ought to be selected.

So let’s be a bunch of do-gooders! Let’s do good things for God’s sake, making the world a more loving and gracious place, helping people in need in the way they themselves have identified, and sharing all of those collective “good deeds” and “random acts of kindness” that people do every single day.

(Post One is here. Post One-point-five is here.)

Reclaim the Rules: First, Do No Harm (Post 1 of 3)

The first rule is to do no harm.

John Wesley created three “General Rules” for Methodists to follow, listed and defined in our denominational resources for generations. And the first of those is simply, “Do no harm.”

As the late Bishop Rueben Job puts it, “To do no harm means that I will be on guard so that all my actions and even my silence will not add injury to another of God’s children or to any part of God’s creation.”

Seems easy enough, right? It’s really just a variation of something my mom always said to me growing up: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Perhaps you also heard that one at some point in your life?

Medical professionals are familiar with the concept as a part of the Hippocratic Oath. It is essentially the idea of “Ahimsa” in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions, notably practiced by Mohandas Gandhi in the Indian independence movement, the idea known as “non-violence.” Similar principles guided the 1960s civil rights protests in the United States.

Rule number one says, “Hey look. At the very least don’t make things any worse than they already are.” Of course, rule one is not in and of itself a sufficient guide for living. Not many dreams are realized by just trying to not make things worse. That’s why there are two more rules to talk about after this one.

But “do no harm” is a pretty good starting point, isn’t it?

Galatians 5 names our tendency to “bite and devour” each other. The passage contrasts this tendency with Christ’s call to “love and serve” each other. Not only “serve,” the text actually says that we should become “slaves to one another.” In one of the fundamental paradoxes of Christianity, we are told that we are “called to freedom” and at the same time bound inextricably to one another in love.

A part of that binding together includes support, encouragement, and accountability in our Christian discipleship. In other words, we need others to reflect back to us what they see in our lives, and point out where our words, our silence, our actions, and even our attitudes are causing harm to another person or any part of God’s creation.

The reason John Wesley created the “General Rules” in the first place was so that we “should continue to evidence [our] desire for salvation.” This is clearly of more significance than just being nice to each other, which is not a uniquely Christian concept. For a follower of Jesus, Wesley believed that “doing no harm” actually has salvific significance.

When he looked at the Anglican church in the 1730s, Wesley saw people in need of spiritual renewal. He saw a faith that was utterly disconnected from life, with no application of love or grace or peace or justice in the day-to-day interactions of the people. Thus began the Methodist movement.

I believe that the kind of spiritual renewal Wesley began in his time is desperately needed again today. And maybe now more than ever. The polarization of our society has produced a heavy blanket of anxiety and fear that many people are feeling, myself included. What better time to recommit to Wesley’s rules, starting with the first one - “Do no harm.”

Bishop Job’s words in the introduction to “Three Simple Rules,” written in 2007 yet astonishingly on point for 2017, have been rolling around in my mind all week long. I can’t say it any better than he does:

“Most of us never imagined we would be living in such a divided world. People...who lived through the Second World War were convinced that our world would be drawn together in harmony, peace, and plenty. The sacrifices made were so enormous that it seemed certain that we would never again permit our world to become so divided. But here we are in a world where divisions are growing deeper nearly every day. We had this naive expectation that we would just get better as we became educated and shared more of the world’s riches. It looked like a natural and easy path to follow. Forgetting the struggles and sacrifices of the past may have led to a complacency that took community too lightly, individualism too seriously, and neglected our call to faithfulness to the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

That last sentence is prophetic. May God forgive us our complacency. May we renew our commitment to community. May we confess the sin of self-centered individualism. May we remember again and again our call to faithfulness to none other than the Gospel proclaimed in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Hidden From Your Eyes

This is a picture of a pew in St. George’s Coptic Church in Tanta, Egypt.

I do not want to look at it. I cannot stop looking at it.

I’d rather it was hidden from our eyes.

There is blood on this pew because a Daesh terrorist detonated a bomb in this sanctuary during worship, killing 27 people and wounding 78 more. (A few hours later another Daesh terrorist detonated another bomb at St. Mark’s Cathedral in Alexandria, Egypt, killing 17 more people and wounding another 48.)

It was Palm Sunday.

It was the day on which the Bible says Jesus said these words: “As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.’”

I wish I could stop looking at this picture. There is a smear on the back of the pew, apparently made by someone’s fingers in the drips of blood running down. Had those fingers been moments earlier waving a palm branch?

Hosanna, indeed.

We waved palm branches on Sunday, too. Young and old alike sang familiar songs from pews not that much different from the ones in this picture. As we did, our kids paraded around those pews a few times, holding their branches over their heads, smiling at the grown-ups smiling back at them, caught up in the joyful energy of the moment.

And then, you know, we went home and ate lunch.

I suppose I’ll never really understand what motivates violence like this, how such hatred and fear of the other takes root in the human heart, corrupting us, eroding us, minimizing us.

A sensible explanation is hidden from my eyes. Hatred warps the human soul. Violence only ever causes more violence. Fear distorts truth, casting instead a shadow of grotesque and horrifying false reality.

It’s the Palm Sunday juxtaposition that won’t let me go this time. Save us! From halfway around the world, a picture of a bloody church pew. A phrase from Jesus Christ Superstar that says “To conquer death, you only have to die.” A so-called “triumphant” entry, deeply misunderstood then as well as today. A cheering crowd of people who know not what they do. Waving palms, breaking bread, driving nails.

What has changed?

We’re just stuck here. Stuck between Palm Sunday and the cross. Cheers and lament. In between “Hosanna” and “Crucify.” The next big thing is already old news. That which is in plain sight is simultaneously hidden from our eyes. Spiritual déjà vu.

If I didn’t know better, I would say that it feels like we need a resurrection.