"The Direction of the Church"

The church staff of the congregation I serve hears a lot of feedback, as do I. By far, the two most common themes in this feedback are: 

“I do not like the direction the church is moving.”

and

“I like the direction the church is moving but it is not moving fast enough.”

For brevity’s sake, I will summarize the two positions as “Please Stop” and “Go Faster.”

So it goes.

It is noteworthy that we hardly ever hear from people who say “I like the direction the church is moving and am perfectly content with the pace at which it is moving there.”

So it goes.

I have a bit of advice for you, if you’d hear me. When you are offering feedback about “the direction the church is moving,” whether that feedback is offered to me, to a church staff member, to another pastor, or to anyone, please be specific. Please say exactly what you mean by “the direction the church is moving.”

For the record, here’s what I mean when I say “the direction the church is moving.” I mean “closer to God.”

I mean in the direction of love. I mean along the way of sanctification. I mean our cooperation with God’s grace that draws us ever closer to being perfected in love in this lifetime. I mean towards fuller inclusion. I mean Exodus, liberation, a direction that takes us toward the Promised Land. I mean drawing the circle wider, ever wider. I mean along the arc of the moral universe, bending inexorably toward justice. I mean the direction of the all-encompassing Gospel of Jesus Christ. I mean outward into the world as ambassadors of reconciliation. When I say “the direction the church is moving” I mean the direction of the Holy Spirit, discerned and embodied in an intentional community of people, all of whom are just trying to do the best we can with what we’ve got.

And if I am serious about moving that direction, I believe that any and all forms of evil, injustice, and oppression must be named so that they can be removed from the way. That’s hard to say, because it includes removing the obstacles that exist within me, also.

So, whether you are a “please stop” person or a “go faster” person, I hope you will be very specific the next time you talk with someone about “the direction the church is moving.” And specifically, if you are in the “please stop” camp and the “direction” you are referring to means working to include more people more fully in the life of the church, please be very specific about what you believe the consequences of that work will be.

Go deeper than just, “I don’t like this.” Go deeper than just, “It breaks the denomination’s rules.” Say out loud what you believe will happen if your beloved sibling in Christ who happens to be gay is allowed to get married in your church. Say out loud what you believe the theological implications are if your dear neighbor whom you love and who is called to ordination and who also happens to be gay is allowed to be ordained.

Be specific. If you really think it’s wrong, claim it. Tell me exactly why you believe that working to truly extend God’s love and grace to all people, rather than just sitting around and talking about it all the time, is not the right direction for the church to go.

I am not being sarcastic. It sounds kind of like I am, but I’m really not. I truly value all perspectives. And if you have a perspective to share, I am inviting you to share it with me. “Please stop” or “go faster,” either one. Don’t make a vague reference to “the direction of the church.” Tell me. I want to listen. I promise I will hear you. I may not change my mind about “the direction of the church” or the pace at which we are moving, but I promise I will hear you.

"New" Year?

To turn a page on a calendar from one year to the next is often an act of hopefulness. Resolutions are made, slates are cleaned, and new beginnings are … begun. It is an opportunity, albeit an arbitrary one, to breathe deeply and recenter ourselves for what lies ahead.

This year, to turn the page on 2020 and into 2021 feels nothing short of triumphant. We made it! We are through with this most weird and miserable of years!

Of course as we do so, we have to be mindful of those who cannot make this claim. There is something rather myopic about celebrating “making it through” a year in which 1.8 million people (and counting) died in a global pandemic. There is a certain sensitivity required of us this year, a certain empathy. 

So this year we celebrate and lament simultaneously. “New Year’s Eve” 2020 includes both grief and relief. We are able to feel more than one thing at the same time, and this year we feel them all.

And this year, we are more aware of the mundane truth of this “New Year” celebration. Namely, that there is nothing magical about it. There is nothing contained in the January 2021 page of our calendars that will miraculously erase our struggles.

Nevertheless, we resolve. We persist. We recenter and take another step. Even though we know it is just an arbitrary number on a calendar page, we embrace the opportunity to become something more. Alfred Lord Tennyson said, “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, ‘It will be happier.’”

It is a weird feeling, this knowing and hoping anyway. At times we pendulum swing toward one or the other, alternately drifting toward despair then becoming nearly giddy in the next moment. Weird, isn't it? So it goes.

And so we turn the page. Happy new year everyone! Embrace the relief and the grief, the hoping and the knowing. Let’s figure out what the next step is, and take it together.

Tendrils: A Foster Care Transition

Some of the them work their way more deeply into your heart than others.

Which means that when they leave, it hurts that much more. It is an extraction. 

Tendrils have entangled and pulling them apart is work. In botany, a tendril is a specialized stem or leaf shaped like a long thread that a plant uses for support and attachment, generally by twining around suitable hosts. These hosts are found by touch.

In foster care, it is much the same. By twining around suitable hosts. Used for support and attachment. Very often found by touch.

And then they need to move on, to be transplanted in new soil, and the tendrils have to be removed from the hosts. Some of them release gently. But some of them don't. They're stubborn; they hang on. Some of them rip off and remain. Still connected to the host. Dangling.

Baby C, there are so many tendrils.

We met you in the hospital, where you had spent the first two months of your life. Such a little chubbers. Cheeks for days. Fluffy brown hair. Bright, happy eyes. Your nurses had long since fallen in love with you, and we very quickly followed suit.

We watched you grow through all the "year one" stages. From a bottle, to baby food, to solids. From random movements of your arms and legs, to rolling yourself over, to crawling, to toddling around like a pro. Your first smile. Your first belly laughs. The first time you started mimicking our voices. The words you were learning: "What?!" "Ball." "Gabe!"

You wanted to be so fierce, with that little growl. (You were not fierce.) Sometimes you would sit at the table and just ... yell. No reason. Just yell. You would often grab a single piece of food from your tray, throw it carelessly onto the floor, and then grab another piece and eat it. Again, why?

You were learning to throw the ball, but every time you tried to throw it, it ended up somewhere behind you, which really cracked us up. One of your best moves was your "double take" look, looking away and quickly turning back with a gleam in your eye and a little smile on your mouth.

Speaking of smiles, you smile with your entire face. It is the most amazing smile ever in the history of smiles. When people would see you smile, it just makes them happy, and we smile with you. Don't lose that, C. That quality will come in handy.

You cried when you were sleepy or when you needed changing. And that was pretty much it. I mean, you got a little crabby after dinner but we took care of that by stripping you down to you diaper, which tended to keep you happy until bedtime.

And when we would rock you to sleep, you had a habit of reaching up your little hand and touching our faces, your curious fingers exploring mouth, chin, cheeks.

Tendrils. Twining for support and attachment. 

Around whose heart though? Who is the trellis here?

And now, you are gone. We were careful with you; we tried to be gentle with your fragility during the process. Tried to protect the roots, the leaves, the tiny tendrils. We think the family you are with now (your family, after all) will be good soil in which you are going to take root and grow into ...

Into what? 

We might be lucky enough to see. To be a part of your life in a new way and watch you keep growing and learning and becoming. To see how you will blossom. Maybe. It's just that whether that happens or not is not really up to us. So maybe. 

All we know for sure is that we did our best. We loved you as best we knew how. We still do. And you are loved by so many people, C. So, so very many people. What a lucky kid you are, to have so many people who love you so much!

A foster family's job is to help a kid learn how to attach. And having learned that skill, they will then be able to attach more easily to the people in their forever family when they transition. 

In other words, once they've figured out how to grow tendrils, to touch another with tender dependence, to find a suitable host to twine around for support, taking root in new soil will be much easier for them. 

It's just that some of them work their way further into your heart than others do. And Baby C, you were in deep. 

I love you Lito. I think you are neat-o.

Oh, inconvenient heart. So quickly filled. So easily broken.

The Good Samaritan, Covid-19 Edition

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he contracted an illness that left him with a compromised immune system.

“Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he wore no mask and did not maintain six feet of distance. ‘I’m not sick,’ he thought, since he clearly had no symptoms, ‘So there’s really no need.’

“So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, wore no mask and did not maintain six feet of distance. ‘Since I am free to choose how to live my life, I can do as I please,’ he said.

“But a Samaritan while traveling with a mask on did not come near him; and when he saw him, he greeted him with a wave from a safe distance. He asked how the man was feeling, and if the man needed anything. Then he did not put him on his own animal since that would have violated distancing guidelines, but rather walked along the road with him a while, always staying a minimum of six feet away.

“The next day he took out two denarii, donated them to Doctors Without Borders, and said, ‘Thank you for taking care of so many people; and when I come back, I will donate whatever more I possibly can.’

“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”

Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

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.

Tipping Into Grace

Things feel precarious these days.

It is the end of May, 2020, and we have been living with a global pandemic for three months now. Even longer, actually. It feels to me like we are at a tipping point. It feels to me like what happens in the next few days and weeks is going to set the next few months in motion, and maybe years. And it feels to me that it could tip either way.

Put simply, we will either tip into fear and frustration, solidifying the divisions among us, or we will tip into love and grace, drawing us closer together than we have ever been.

Already angry protestors carry automatic weapons to capitol buildings to threaten government officials. Frustrated customers berate store clerks trying to enforce simple, easy to follow rules. A stylist with Covid symptoms shows up to work with dozens of clients, and when the story breaks she receives death threats. And decisions that should be guided by reason and science are guided by political party affiliation. And so it goes.

It feels precarious, like we are tipping toward fear, anger, and divisiveness. I just hope it isn’t too late for us to tip back the other way.

I get the idea we’re feeling it personally, as well. The weight of these three months is grinding us down. We are sad, tired, and grouchy. It is hard to focus. Our relationships are strained. Our hearts are heavy and a weariness has settled into our bones. And so just at the moment we as a society are hanging at this precarious tipping point, we lack the personal fortitude to do anything about it but succumb.

It’s no wonder though, is it? The pressure cooker of this pandemic has slowly increased over time, squeezing our anxiety until we have reached a point where it either has to be released or it will explode. Many of us, feeling this pressure build up, are rushing to restaurants and bars and gyms, foregoing masks and physical distancing guidelines. Or expressing caustic bitterness on social media with no empathy or understanding whatsoever. Or eating too much unhealthy food. Or drinking too much. Or… pick your poison.

It is as if we just need a pressure release, and we don’t care how unhealthy it is.

My prayer is that we will figure out a way to tip into love and grace, and become closer over these next few weeks than we ever have before. And it will take intentionality, cooperation, and determination to do so. It will take honesty and good communication and a level of vulnerability not many of us are naturally comfortable with. It will take trust, lots and lots of trust.

And most of all, it will take the Holy Spirit. It will take us surrendering ourselves to God’s desires and yielding our own wills to the divine. It will take a renewal of our commitment to our calling to be the church.

I refuse to think that it is too late, that we have overbalanced into fear and anger with no hope of correcting things. I continue to hold on to faith in the human capacity for love, which is far greater than we sometimes imagine. I continue to hold on to faith in God’s capacity to redeem and reconcile. This is a precarious moment, a tipping point. With God’s help, may we choose wisely, and discover ourselves tipping into grace.

(And yes, this song is on my mind a lot these days.)

Pandemic Pedagogy

Things I have learned during the Season of Weirdness:

1 - We can change. The idea that the church is incapable of change is a myth. Suffice it to say that myth is thoroughly busted.

2 - It is all us. People are the church, not the building or the pastors or the staff or the membership roll or the budget or the policies, processes, and procedures. The church is us and there’s no them. Every congregation is now and forevermore a “multisite” congregation.

3 - Belonging is more important than believing. Non-essential beliefs, like non-essential activities, have faded into near obscurity. For the past six weeks, the church has been all and only about “God is with you no matter where you are” and “God is love” and “Love your neighbor as yourself” and other such foundational truths. Isn’t it interesting that in a time during which the term “essential” has become so prominent, the “essential” doctrines of the church have also?

4 - We need each other. The categorizing labels of the church are all but meaningless any more. The lines separating “Evangelical” and “Social Justice” and “Liturgical” and even “Conservative” and “Progressive” have become permeable. Individual people and congregations will still lean into a particular perspective, but those who lean into another are no longer demonized. We have seen just how interconnected we are, and it will change how we interact.

5 - Who we are is more important than what we do. It has been tricky to “do what we do” as the church, and working to figure all that out has given us pause to consider why we do all the stuff we do in the first place. Asking the “why” question leads us inevitably to finding out who we are. It peels away the layers of irrelevance and reminds us of what truly matters at the core of our identity.

I cannot help but think that the church will emerge from this “Season of Weirdness” in a better place. “Stay at home” orders that limit gathering sizes, define essential activities, and establish personal spacing minimums have compelled the church to do some deep self examination. I am hopeful that we will have learned a few things in the process.

Tech Support Evangelism

Evangelism these days looks more like tech support.

Helping people get connected with Jesus in a time of “stay at home orders” looks like helping people get internet access. Inviting people to church looks like “Liking” and “Sharing” social media posts or creating “Watch Parties.” Sharing the love of God with a neighbor looks like helping them create a Facebook profile or walking them through joining a Zoom meeting.

As the Easter Season continues, the call to share the abundant life of Christ with the world is a call to help those who may not be “tech savvy” become so. Buying someone an electronic device is the equivalent of driving them to church these days. Having reliable access to the internet is a social justice issue now more than ever. The skillset to navigate online content is a spiritual gift. 

One of the things we have done at Manchester UMC is divvy up our list of phone numbers among our Stephen Ministers, the entire database, and they have been calling each and every person connected to the church. For some, who are very well connected, these calls have been a really wonderful “extra” point of connection. For others, those who are not online, these phone calls have been a Godsend, the only way they have felt connected to the church at all.

So take a minute and ask yourself: Who do you know who needs some “tech support?” Who do you know who may be feeling disconnected right now? We are beginning our sixth week of a “stay at home order” in St. Louis County. Although there is some talk of a plan to relieve the order, it is likely it will not happen for quite some time. Who can you reach out to this week to get them connected to the life of the church, and thereby connected to the resurrection life of Jesus?

In the “Season of Weirdness,” evangelism looks like tech support. Our mission is to make a difference for Christ by transforming church and community, and a specific way each of us can “transform the church” is by helping others get online to get connected.

Covid-19 Letter to Manchester UMC

Dear Church,

Manchester UMC is a part of the St. Louis County community and the health and safety of all community members is deeply important to us. In this unusual time, we are thinking especially of those who are more vulnerable. Our concern is for our health care workers, who are overwhelmed. We act out of compassion for the elderly, who are at risk. We seek to offer grace for those with compromised immune systems, for whom this is a time of high anxiety.

In response to the Covid-19 pandemic, St. Louis County is banning gatherings of more than 250 people for the time being. By law, the government cannot prohibit a religious group from meeting. However, churches have been encouraged to follow the guidance of this ban.

Manchester UMC is going to do so. This weekend, there will be online worship at 9:30 and 11:00 via the congregation’s Facebook page. There will be no onsite worship. In addition, Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning non-worship activities (including Sunday School) are cancelled. Other non-worship activities, groups, and classes are welcome to meet if they would like to, and will do so at the discretion of the group leader.

Here are some thoughts about how your smaller group might operate:

- Rule one: If you have symptoms, please stay home.

- Rule two: If you are concerned about getting sick, please stay home.

- Rule three: If your group meets, wash your hands before and after meeting and greet one another with a wave rather than a handshake.

- Rule four: Wash your hands … a lot. And then wash them again.

During this outbreak, things are moving very quickly. For a number of very complicated reasons, reaction to this particular outbreak has been widespread and frankly, a bit mind-blowing. It feels to me like a lot of decisions are being made based on fear and panic, rather than reasonable, prayerful, and level-headed consideration.

I am hopeful that we will continue to be the church in the midst of this chaos. The calm assurance of the Holy Spirit will ease our fears and guide our actions. We will pay attention to medical professionals and follow the guidance of sound science. We will neither overreact nor underreact to the circumstances around us. We will witness to the love and grace of God in all we say and do.

Friends, we are stronger together. And this is a time for us to especially look out for one another. Call your loved ones to check in. Invite family and friends to worship online with you this Sunday. Think about how school cancellations will affect families and offer support and care. Share your stockpile of toilet paper with your neighbors. Think about whom you could bring groceries to, if they are unable to shop themselves.

You know, stuff that people who follow Jesus would do!

And remember, in this time and always, 

But now thus says the Lord,

    he who created you, O Jacob,

    he who formed you, O Israel:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

    I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

    and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,

    and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the Lord your God,

    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:1-3)

Grace and Peace,

Andy B.

A Reformation Season

There are some occasions, albeit rare, when one is aware that one is witnessing history. These are the times when we are able to step back from the events of the day and think, “Our children’s children will study this time.” Coming to that realization allows us to more deeply appreciate the moment as it happens.

What if the Church of Jesus Christ is experiencing such a season right now? What if the church is moving through a time of reformation on par with reformation moments of the past? What if the last few decades of the 20th and the first few decades of the 21st centuries are studied by future historians as a truly pivotal moment in the life of the Gospel?

There are scholars who believe as much, and have done the work to back it up. Several church historians have pointed out how the Church tends to cycle in 500 year periods of reformation, and the last one was (you guessed it) about 500 years ago. That was when Martin Luther famously mailed a letter with his “95 Theses” enclosed to his bishop, beginning what we now know as “The Reformation.”

Just think a minute - what if we are living through a similar season? What if we are witnessing a reformation period that our children’s children will study in their church history classes?

If we are willing to entertain that thought, the question then becomes one of response. How will we conduct ourselves in this season of reformation? Will we see changes as threats, or embrace them as opportunities?

Remember, reform doesn’t mean that everything old is worthless and needs to end immediately. Reform means that “everything old is new again!” Reform breathes new life into ancient traditions. Reform recreates meaning in ancient practices. Reform reminds us of the “why” of following Jesus in the first place.

I am hopeful that the church embraces this season of reform and allows the Holy Spirit to move us into a bright and vibrant future. By God’s grace, I know that we will not only make it through this season, but we will flourish for the sake of the Gospel as we do so!

A Season to Shine - My Initial "Protocol" Thoughts

On Friday, January 4, news broke of a new proposal to be presented to the United Methodist General Conference. The proposal came from a task force of sixteen United Methodists from a diverse array of groups within the denomination. The people were not necessarily leaders of the groups, or even representing the groups per se, but they were certainly members. The groups in question reflect the theological diversity of our denomination, from conservative to progressive and everything in between.

The proposal, known as the “Protocol for Reconciliation and Grace through Separation,” will be presented to the United Methodist Judicial Council for a declaratory ruling as to its constitutionality. Then it will be presented to the General Conference for consideration, potential amendment, and a vote. And so, while the content of the Protocol sounds quite dramatic, as of now it is a vision, not a plan of action.

The vision is a way for the United Methodist Church to remove our prohibitions on marriage and ordination for our sisters and brothers who are LGBTQ+. In doing so, the Protocol creates a way to leave the United Methodist Church and start a new denomination that would neither allow same-sex weddings nor ordain people of the LGBTQ+ community.

Following this separation, the United Methodist Church would convene another General Conference for the purpose of removing the prohibitions on same-sex weddings and ordination of people in the LGBTQ+ community. Everything else that the United Methodist Church does will remain the same at this point, though all acknowledge that further reform is required in order for the denomination to flourish as God intends.

Importantly, everyone would remain in the UMC unless choosing to leave, and the Protocol calls for the Annual Conference to decide first. In other words, if an Annual Conference wants to stay in the UMC, no vote will be required. At an Annual Conference session, if 20% of the delegates want to vote, we will. Then, if 57% of the delegates want to separate (obviously a number reached by compromise) we would do so. Annual Conferences would have until July 1, 2021 to make this decision.

After the action of the Annual Conference, congregations would respond. If the congregation aligns with the decision of the Annual Conference, no vote is needed. (For example, if Missouri decides to remain United Methodist, then all of our congregations remain United Methodist.) However, if a congregation wants to affiliate with a denomination other than the one chosen by their Annual Conference, the church council would determine the vote threshold required, and a church conference would be convened to hold the vote. Congregations would have until December 31, 2024 to make this decision.

At this point, we are all asking questions about the implications of this proposal. It is good to prayerfully and faithfully speculate about the future, as long as doing so does not make us fearful or anxious. The Holy Spirit is on the move within us, around us, among us. God is truly doing a new thing. Seasons of uncertainty are also seasons of great promise and possibility. The words of Jesus give assurance: “Remember I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Manchester UMC is in a position to be a leader in the denomination for such a time as this. Again I hear Jesus saying to us, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

This is not a time to dim our light, Manchester. This is a time to shine even more brightly. To shine with the God-given light of the Holy Spirit reflected in our lives. To shine with the light of our vision, to be an inclusive community of people who love deeply, worship passionately, and serve boldly. To shine through our mission to make a difference for Christ by transforming church and community.

Church, this is a season to shine!

"Even Mine"

Many Methodists know that John Wesley had an experience in which his "heart was strangely warmed." It was a conversion of sorts, a moment of awareness of the divine.

Not as many Methodists realize that the moment happened in 1738, when he was 35 years old and had been ordained in the Anglican Church already for 13 years. That means his "conversion" happened after he was called into the ministry.

And I suspect that even fewer Methodists know the journal sentence that follows the "strangely warmed" observation. He wrote, "I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death."

"Even mine," he says. "Even mine." Those two words. It is as if he has only just now realized that all the stuff he had been saying for all those years ... applied to him as well. How is it possible for a preacher, ordained by the church, not to realize that all the stuff they are saying also applies to them?

Even mine.

I have been a preacher for nineteen years. I was a full-time music director at a church for five years prior to that, a part-time choir director for two years before that. Twenty-six years working for a church. I grew up in church, my family is saturated in church.

How is it that while all of that was happening I have never really been aware of the presence and power of the Holy Spirit?

I mean, I have preached about it. I have pointed it out in other peoples' lives.

But ... even mine?

I feel like I have become more aware of the presence and power of the Holy Spirit in the past two or three months than I ever have before. No let me rephrase that: I feel like I have never been truly aware of the power and presence of the Holy Spirit prior to the past two months, and now I am. In really amazing and wonderful and sometimes confusing ways.

I have seen the Spirit moving in the ministry of the church, in fresh expressions of Christian Community being born, true koinonia as it is meant to be lived. The ways I have seen this are numerous, and abundant. I have seen people returning to church for the first time in years, with hesitancy born from ongoing pain, and being able to spiritually breathe again. I have heard stories from the Shared Streets community, stories of transformation and hopefulness. I have seen the Spirit move in the simple gift of a new pair of shoes, a refurbished bicycle, and a new pillowcase. In the church, I have seen the Spirit move.

One of the ways most obvious to me is the way I feel about my wife and children. My love for them has been renewed in these past few months in a powerful and tangible way. My wife Erin said to me recently, "You are happier than you've been in years." And she is right. I've loved her fiercely for almost thirty years, and in these past few months that love has deepened even more. How is that possible if not for the work of the Spirit? And my heart aches with pride for each of my uniquely gifted children, for each of whom I would gladly lay down my own life. In my family, I have seen the Spirit move.

John Wesley had a group of Moravians show up in his life in the season of his conversion. Their unwavering faith in the midst of storm and struggle inspired him and was an impetus to his own time of soul searching. In a way, I have my own "Moravians" all around me. In this season, I have met and become friends with people whose connection with the Holy Spirit is so deep, so intimate, and so profound. I long to be as connected with the Spirit as they are, and I feel a unique grace in their companionship. In my new friends, I have seen the Spirit move.

And finally, within myself ... I cannot even begin to describe the change I have felt within my own spirit. Yeah, even mine. And please understand, the way I feel does not invalidate any prior experiences I've had. This present moment is emerging from all that has been. It's just that in the past, I have been quick to affirm those "God moments" that others would tell me about in their own lives, and just as quick to minimize them in my own, to chalk them up to coincidence or just ignore them altogether.

But now, I don't know ... my spiritual senses are awake in a way they haven't been before. I smile more. I walk more lightly. I breathe easier. I see people and am overwhelmed immediately with love for them. I notice beauty. I cry a lot. I laugh a lot. I don't really know this person I'm becoming, but I kinda like him. He's familiar to me, like a version of myself that I may have been once in a different time. In my self, I have seen the Spirit move.

So yeah, I feel like I do see God present everywhere in the world, and sense the Spirit is at work in my life, even mine, saving me from my own spiritual lethargy, connecting me deeply to other people, inspiring me with a renewed sense of vocation, and beckoning from a hope-filled future.


(And yes, I realize this post is utterly self-centered, and I'm sorry for that. I process things by writing, so this is really me processing some of the stuff happening to me right now. Thanks for reading.)

Missouri 2020 Delegation Update

The 2020 Missouri Delegation has been working hard in these past couple of months.

+ In November, the Missouri Delegation officially endorsed Rev. Sally Haynes as a candidate for bishop. Sally had shared with the delegation at our September meeting that she was discerning a call to bishop. At that meeting, there was a sharing of initial thoughts, a prayer for discernment, and an outline for the process ahead. In November, Sally shared some updates with the group, there was a time of questioning and healthy conversation, and then the delegation voted our support of Sally’s candidacy. We ask for continued prayers for the remainder of the process ahead. 

+ In our meetings thus far, we have been coached by Rev. Melissa Bailey-Kirk, who is a trained facilitator in the Circle Way of meeting. Our hope has been to set a different tone for our work together, one of trust and openness, so that our work may be done as a spiritually centered and fully engaged delegation. We are so grateful to Melissa for coaching us through our first few gatherings.

+ We have had several other guests with us, providing input into our work process. Rev. Jessica Foster and Rev. Chelsey Hillyer spoke with us about their participation in the UM Forward meeting last Spring. We spent some time speaking with Terry Shoemaker and Ross Lundstrom from Wespath about legislation Wespath is proposing for General Conference this year. We had conversation with Rev. Bob Phillips of the Illinois Great Rivers Conference about his participation in the Wesley Covenant Association. Each guest was invited so that Missouri might be fully engaged in our important work.

+ Delegation member Rev. Kim Jenne was able to connect with members of both Mozambique Annual Conferences’ delegations on a recent trip. She conveyed greetings on behalf of the Missouri delegations, presented a letter, and had a very meaningful conversation about General Conference legislation and the hopes and dreams for the future of the United Methodist Church. It is our intention to stay in contact with our siblings from Mozambique, and to share a meal with them in Minneapolis in May.

+ The delegation is anticipating receiving our written material in January 2020. Once we get our copies of the “Advance Daily Christian Advocate” we will know exactly what individual petitions are connected with what larger “plans” you may have read about. There are fourteen legislative committees that initially deal with General Conference petitions, prior to them coming to the larger group during the conference’s second week. That means the General Conference is never talking about a single plan in its entirety. Our system breaks the plans down into smaller petitions based on the paragraph of the Book of Discipline that is impacted. Please keep your Missouri delegates in prayer as we carefully read through the pages of petitions that we will consider in May.

+ The next time the delegation will meet together will be in February, when we will meet in Oklahoma City with other delegations of the South Central Jurisdiction. At that gathering, individual delegations will have the opportunity to interview the endorsed candidates for bishop. There will be opportunities to discuss General Conference legislation, and to connect with other delegates from the various Annual Conferences of our Jurisdiction. 

It is our desire to be as transparent as we can about the work we are doing. This is a significant moment in the life of the United Methodist Church, and it is a privilege to be serving in this capacity at this time. We long to be centered in God’s Spirit, and to be equipped by God’s grace to serve the church to the utmost of our capacity. And we need your prayers in order to do so. Thank you for all the encouragement that has been offered thus far, and as we swing into Spring and get really busy, we’ll be relying on your prayers more and more. 

May God’s grace and peace be with us all. Amen.

Pathways, Too

Or is it Pathways 2? Or maybe Pathways II? Oh I know! Pathways Next!

Ok, so it doesn't really matter. It is a team of 20 people from the Missouri Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church meeting together for a common purpose. And when Missouri convenes a team to help discern a direction for the Conference, we call it a "Pathways" team. It's what we do.

At our first meeting on Wednesday, October 30, we began our work by clarifying that purpose. Our Bishop, Bishop Bob Farr, has called this group together to discern a way for the Missouri Conference to be in ministry together pending the outcome of General Conference 2020.

The group present last Wednesday agreed on a lot of things. We began with Scripture and prayer. Each one gave permission to share our names as participants in this process. We took some time getting to know one another. We started talking about some common ideas of covenant to guide our work. And we heard the Bishop lay out one possible idea for how we might proceed after June 2020 (the Annual Conference session).

There are people from every district in the conference. There are elder, deacon, licensed local pastor, and laity. There is racial diversity. There is one person who is gay and out. (There may be others, but I don't know everyone at the table personally and we didn't really take a poll.)

And there are people at the table who believe being LGBT+ should disqualify a person from getting married and/or being ordained, alongside people who believe sexual orientation and gender identity should be celebrated as an important part of what makes a person unique and gifted. And I'm sure there are people somewhere in between, too. So it goes.

One of the helpful filters that Bishop Farr added to our work was this: we are not going to try to change one another's minds about what we believe. Our conversations are to be focused on how we can, in the bishop's words, "multiply our witness for the sake of Jesus Christ." In my own words, the question is, "What can we do together that would sow the seeds of the Reign of God in our varied contexts of ministry and service?"

Bishop Farr has a way of speaking pretty powerful truths in pretty accessible ways. Sometimes you don't really catch it until it's past. Recently he said that it seems like there's an earthquake happening in the United Methodist Church; but maybe the church "needs to be shaken up."

At our meeting on the 30th, he uttered a doozie, a real "Farrism." He said, "Whoever wound up the United Methodist Church did not want it to be unwound." What he meant by that was that our system is a giant hairball of overly complicated processes and procedures that nobody really even understands, much less follows completely. So the work of this Pathways team is not around "unwiding" the church, but orbiting that hairball as best we can.

So here's the process - we are meeting at least four more times (December 17, January 18, February 27, and April 21). Our work will be presented to the Mission Council, who would, pending their approval, present it to the Annual Conference in June.

One of the unresolved questions as I see it is, "What would trigger consideration of the Pathways plan?" Meaning, what outcome of General Conference would cause us to say, "Okay let's do our thing instead of that?" Would affirmation of the status quo trigger it? Would voting to divide the entire UMC? Would voting in favor of full inclusion and affirmation of all people, including ordination and marriage?

Or will we just do it anyway, regardless of the specific outcome in May?

This is one of the myriad of questions that the Pathways team will be asking. And there are so many. It is my hope that we are as transparent as we can possibly be in this process, and for me that includes listening to your hopes and fears as well. Please comment, email, or message me with your questions. Your voices are important to this conversation.

And finally, I just ask that you please pray. A lot. Pray a lot. Pray for God's wisdom. Pray for an awareness of the movement of the Holy Spirit. Pray for our church. We are living through a season of reform, and the future is uncharted territory. In prayer together, we can navigate what lies ahead and continue to become the church that God desires.

Two or Three?

Help me out here, United Methodist friends. In the ongoing conversations about the future of our denomination, one of the questions is essentially, "Two or three?"

As in, will there be two different systems (one traditional and one progressive), or three systems (one traditional, one centrist, and one progressive). Yes, I know it is way more complicated than that, and the language and labels are different among different "plans" and such. And I'm assuming we are all resigned to the idea that staying one system and trying to make that system more just is no longer an option, as February 2019 made clear to so many of us.

So, a core question to wrestle with remains, "Two or three?"

And here's where I need some help. I fail to see how there are three options. It seems to me that there is either "status quo" or "change." Either we allow same-sex weddings or we don't. Either we ordain LGBTQ+ people or we don't.

There is nuance, of course. Some people are in favor of ordination but not marriage. Some would favor marriage as a legal relationship but not a spiritual one. And so it goes. Yes, it is nuanced.

But ... let's do some practical theology, ok?

A young gay person comes to their pastor and says, "God has called me to be ordained in the United Methodist Church." That pastor either says "Yes" or "No." That pastor cannot say, "Either."

A same-sex couple comes to their church and says they want to get married. Their church either says "Yes" or "No." That church cannot say, "We are divided on that question."

In fact, if that pastor says "either" or if that church says "we are divided" are they not in fact saying "No?"

It seems to me that if we end up with three systems and one of those is labelled "centrist," the "centrist" system is in practice "traditionalist" if weddings and ordinations are still prohibited. And it is in practice "progressive" if weddings and ordinations are allowed.

So, in practice, either "status quo" or "change."

Many clergy colleagues have expressed some trepidation about making their congregation choose. There is significant anxiety about the tone of the conversation, and the potential for conflict. "It would split the congregation in two," some have said. I get that. I feel that.

Nevertheless, I disagree. What better place to have the conversation than in a community of people who worship together, serve together, learn together, and love each other as members of one another in the Body of Christ? Surely there's no better place to have potentially difficult conversations than in the local church. It's certainly a far better place to have them than on the floor of General Conference, isn't it?

Look, it is naive for anyone to think that no LGBTQ+ people in their congregation will ever be called into ordained ministry, or want to be married in their own church building. And so, we probably ought to go ahead and have the conversation, so that we can respond in a Christlike way when (not if) it happens. Otherwise the urgency of the moment will prevent effective communication, and the conflict will be harder to navigate.

Right this moment, though my mind is open, I like the "UMCNext Plan," mainly because it presents a clear answer to the question of "Two or Three." The UMCNext answer is "Two." The UMCNext Plan basically says, "We would like to change the status quo in the UMC. If you don't like that change, we are going to create a respectful way for you to leave and form your own Wesleyan church, where you can have policies that prohibit marriage and ordination if you want."

I like it because it is a choice between two things. Clearly articulated. One is fully inclusive; one is conditionally inclusive. You can pick. You have to pick. It is time to pick. Have the conversation. Choose.

Help me. How is having a "centrist" system not choosing one or the other?

Every One Is 'Gabriela'

Regardless of the circumstances of their specific cases, what has unified all twenty of our foster kids has been the trauma of being removed from their parent or parents.

Kids are taken into foster care for two reasons, and only two – abuse or neglect. That means the adult in charge of caring for them has either treated them as if they are worthless or treated them as if they did not exist. One hears the stories and thinks, “How horrific! Who would do such a thing? What awful people!”

Yet each and every one of our kids has loved their “awful people,” in spite of the horrific things that have happened. That love is experienced as grief when the child is taken away, and that grief is traumatic.

One of our kids (I’ll call her “Gabriela”) was taken into care when police raided the home in which she was living. It was a drug raid, and large amounts of cocaine were seized in the raid. As Gabriela’s case progressed, it was discovered that her mother was from Mexico, and living in the United States without proper documentation. Mom was struggling to get by, looking for a better life for the two of them, and had been taken advantage of by coyotes who promised big and failed to deliver, as is typical. Moving in to the drug house was an act of desperation, a matter of survival. And bad timing.

For a week straight, Gabriela cried herself to sleep every night at our house, repeating a word over and over again as she did. We did not recognize the word, partly because she was crying which made it hard to understand, partly because she was three years old, but mostly because it was a word we had never heard before. It turned out to be a sort of pet name for her mom.

She cried herself to sleep every night crying for her mama.

Stories of children being taken from their parents have been in the news lately, first at the U.S./Mexico border and more recently as a result of I.C.E. raids in Mississippi. These stories have hit my family in a particular way. Every one of the kids whose faces we see on the news, whose voices we hear crying for their parents, whose stories have awakened indignation and ire among so many, every one of them is Gabriela.

Gabriela was reunited with her mom, which is great. And then we lost track of her, which is not uncommon. And so we don’t know where she lives or who she’s with or how she is or pretty much anything about her. She’s a teenager now, which is hard to fathom. In our minds she is still three, still chattering away in a mix of Spanish, English, and toddler, still wagging her finger at us when we tell her it’s time for bed, still crying herself to sleep and calling for her mama.

You may try to come at me with “but they broke the law” and the “it’s the parents’ fault for bringing their kids here in the first place” and the other myopic platitudes that do nothing but make you feel better about yourself. But please, don’t. I have zero patience for it.

Here is the truth: Each and every one of those kids on the news loves their parents, no matter what. And each and every one whose parents were taken away was traumatized by that experience. And that ought to be the priority; that’s what we should be talking about.

Because I just cannot bear the thought of a single child, much less a dozen, much less … however many … crying themselves to sleep at night, calling out for their mamas.

It's All Racism

I value diversity, in all forms. Difference keeps life interesting; we are created as unique and distinct individuals who see the world differently. I celebrate that.

I celebrate it ... up to a point. And I get to decide where to draw the line between a perspective that is worthy of my respect and a perspective for which I cannot muster any. Celebrating diversity of opinion does not imply that all perspectives are equally valid. There's a line.

Racism crosses that line. A racist perspective is not worthy of my respect. Racism is sin. Racism is evil. Racism is "antithetical to the gospel itself." Racism is the only issue; every issue is racism.

Over the past three or four years in our nation, latent racism has been revealed, embraced, and mainstreamed. Overtly racist statements are made openly, in public, and without shame. And when challenged, the statements are defended with malice, malevolence, and bitter defensiveness.

For the record let me say this: Telling people of color to go back where they came from is racist. (Though why I should have to make that clear boggles my mind.)

Now, I have no desire to comment here on the president's character; I believe that his own words and actions have revealed more about his character than my thoughts ever could. Maya Angelou said it best when she said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time." Our president has shown all us exactly who he is, and I believe him.

At first the overt racism was sporadic; it seemed a sideshow or some kind of alternate reality that would soon pass. When it did not, there was indignation and anger, resolve to resist and persist. And then when it continued, we thought it was a distraction from deeper more insidious things, intentionally orchestrated to divert our attention. I no longer consider it a distraction.

The malevolent racist spirit that corrodes our nation is not a distraction from other more destructive activity happening behind the scenes. In fact the very fact that I once considered it to be a distraction is ample proof of just how insidious and evil this malevolence is. The malevolent racist spirit is the only thing that matters; everything else begins there.

As I wrote previously, "And so as disciples of Jesus, as Christians, as people who desire to live as God intends us to live, we have to confront the malevolent spirit permeating our world. We have name it, draw it up to the light, and annihilate it. And then we have to offer an alternative way of being, a replacement for the malevolence that will solidify its destruction once and for all.

That alternative way is called 'love,' by the way. Love, and everything that comes along with it. Things like hope. And forgiveness. And justice, and peace, and grace, and compassion."

I'm still here. And although it feels sometimes like the malevolence is indestructible, we must not allow ourselves to fall into "weak resignation to the evils we deplore." May God "grant us wisdom, grant us courage, serving the One whom we adore." Amen and amen.

The Second Sunday

After a wave of “first Sundays” across the connection, United Methodist pastors woke up to discover it is week two, and another Sunday is right around the corner.

We celebrated last weekend, pulled out all the stops, wore all the nametags, shook all the hands. Preachers brought their "A" game. Musicians filled sanctuaries with joyous praise. Hospitality teams polished up welcome desks. And it was wonderful! It was a party! There was cake! Everyone was there to check out the new pastor, and it felt like a big family reunion where one of the kids is bringing home a new significant other for everyone to meet.

It was great.

And guess what … this coming Sunday is just as important. I might even go so far as to say that this coming Sunday is even more important. A one-time celebration of a special event is awesome and spectacular and fun, and I don’t want to take anything away from all the good stuff that United Methodist churches did last weekend. It was a mountaintop moment.

Faithful, fruitful discipleship is more than just mountaintops. Following Jesus is comprised of mountaintop moments that are connected by long stretches of valley, and those valleys are where life happens. Those valleys are where faith is tested. Those valleys are where we grow and learn and serve and share.

The good news is that there’s another mountaintop coming. We get one a week, actually! How cool is that? When we gather together to be the church at worship, whether it is the new pastor’s first Sunday or the old pastor’s one thousand first, it is the day the Lord has made and we ought to rejoice and be glad in it.

For a lot of us, this weekend will be the second Sunday (or Saturday) of a new appointment. And I hope we pull out all the stops and bring our "A" games and fill the room with joyous praise. Yes, again. Because God is worth it.

God’s grace comes both in periodic bursts of brilliance and in slow, steady streams. We live in valleys interspersed with occasional mountaintop moments. Growing in faithfulness means learning how to navigate both.

It’s the second Sunday, week two. There may not be cake this week. Get up and go worship anyway. I’ll see y’all in church.

Delegation Election Thoughts

Here’s what I think happened in the delegation elections at the Missouri Annual Conference in 2019. (For background, click the lead story of this conference daily journal.)

It was about principles, not labels.

The national UMC Next gathering generated four clear, succinct principles. Written as commitments, these principles provide an unambiguous way for people to self-identify. Labels like conservative, centrist, and liberal can mean different things to different people and at different times. I am conservative in some ways and progressive in others. Does that then make me an aggregate centrist?

Instead of those subjective terms, the Missouri UMC Next group took the four commitments and asked potential delegates if they supported them. People were then able to say, “Yes, I affirm the four principles of the UMC Next movement,” rather than, “I am a centrist” or some other nebulous label.

It made some people mad.

I am truly sorry that some people were upset or angry or disappointed by the lack of theological diversity on the Missouri delegation. And to be honest, in past years I would have shared their disappointment. I am an advocate for a “big table” church in which many different theological perspectives have a voice. But this isn’t “past years;” this is a profoundly significant time in the history of Methodism.

In this season, I am particularly mindful of the voices who for decades have been at best only partly included at the table if not excluded completely. And one of the UMC Next commitments is to “build a church which affirms the full participation of all ages, nations, races, classes, cultures, gender identities, sexual orientations, and abilities.” Actually, that sounds like a pretty big table to me!

It was driven by hope and trust.

At a pre-conference meeting of 225 people or so, hosted by the Missouri UMC Next group, there was a notable buzz in the room. I said to my colleague Lori, “There’s a lot of energy tonight.”

Lori looked at me and without missing a beat said, “It’s hope.”

There was a generally positive, hopeful outlook among those who affirmed the UMC Next principles. The 2019 General Conference had sucked a lot of life out of a lot of people, and here for the first time since February were some tangible ways to respond. That generated a lot of really good hopeful energy.

This hopefulness spilled over in an abundance of trust. The Missouri UMC Next list of suggested delegates would have been nobody’s personal preference from one to twelve.  The names came from a series of regional meetings held all over the state, countless personal conversations, and several flurries of group emails. There was broad participation, as many, many people connected in a variety of ways to pray and talk and discern together.

So yes, people were voting for people they had never actually met before. Nobody knew each and every one of the slate, much less had spoken to each one about how they would serve on the delegation. But here’s what happened - personal preferences were set aside, because if you didn’t know someone on the list, you knew someone who knew them. It was relational and organic, the Methodist connection working like the connection can and maybe should.

It was a small part of a great awakening.

Here in our conference, there has been a reluctance to dialogue about points of disagreement. Sidestepping difficult conversations has generated an ethos that some would describe as unity. I do not see it as unity; I see it as conflict avoidance.

But the church is awake now, in a way it hasn’t been before. It happened all over the country at one annual conference session after another. United Methodists are pretty strongly rejecting the petitions passed at General Conference 2019 and the manner in which they were passed. And while that doesn’t mean we ought to seek out conflict, it very clearly means we will no longer be avoiding it for the sake maintaining a veneer of artificial unity.

There are so many things that are going to happen between now and General Conference 2020, and nobody knows how everything is going to shake out. Bishop Farr said at our Annual Conference session this year, “The United Methodist Church is experiencing an earthquake. But maybe we need to be shaken up.”

However you view this season in the UMC, very few can deny that Easter people are raising their voices all over the place. Hope and trust and grace and love abound! God’s Holy Spirit is alive and on the move!

The church is awake. It is glorious. It is terrifying. It is in God’s hands. All shall be well. Amen.