Peter Storey

My former professor, hero, mentor, and spiritual giant is coming to speak at Mount Vernon Place on this Thursday, June 25 before continuing the conversation at Capitol Hill United Methodist Church on Friday, June 26. He'll be speaking at both churches from 7:00 - 9:00 p.m. on "Being the Body of Christ in a Place of Power and Poverty." The event is open to all; we would love to have you be with us for this two-part conversation.

In preparation for the event, I asked one of our members, Kevin, to share his thoughts on Dr. Storey. This is what Kevin wrote:

How Peter Storey changed my life by Kevin G. Feltz (short version)

Recently, at Mount Vernon Place UMC, I have joyously heard some individuals proclaim that they are interested in having a Christian life that is “authentic.” I surmise that what folks are referring to is the desire to live a life that is truly based upon the transforming work of the Holy Spirit and teachings of Christ; particularly concern for the poor, charity and community. I admire this because in our church lives, it can be easy to get busy and preoccupied with church attendance, committee membership, fitting in, etc. Not that there is inherently anything wrong with those things. But sometimes we can get so busy with playing church that we forget that as servants of the Most High God, we are called to be transformative agents in the world.

In my own personal evolution in these matters, the teachings of Peter Storey, in classes at Duke Divinity School, have been extremely influential. While he would never use this language, I think he might have been the first person to help me see the “BS” in my so-called Christian life, filled with “churchmanship.” A short survey of issues he felt were important for Christians to address reads like a laundry list of social justice topics: racism, homophobia, concern for the poor, changing unjust economic systems, the legitimate and illegitimate uses of power, etc. These are topics I did not encounter in Introduction to Biblical Hebrew or Early Church History. It was largely through these teachings that I decided I wanted the authentic Christian experience more than anything else.

I could write a lot about the specific lessons and topics, but for the sake of brevity, I will elaborate on just one example. One of the most consequential comments of Peter Storey that has stayed with me was the emphasis that in an authentic Christian life, we should strive to serve in a way that involves taking “vulnerable risk.” I can easily think of several situations in my life where I faced decisions and uncertainty with the words “vulnerable risk” echoing in my decision making process. Those words gave me courage to take the riskier route in big ways and small ways, at times putting myself in economic risk and others in physical risk. In the process, I was able to love and serve others and become transformed myself at least as much as they were.

For example, while I was employed as the Administrative Director at Christ House, it was my role to keep the peace among the dozens of homeless persons who came into our building each day. In was in my desire to love and serve, and with the words “vulnerable risk” a conscious part of my thinking, that I was able to place myself physically in between two angry, arguing, broken individuals, not knowing if they would both decide to attack me instead of each other. I did this somewhat regularly and there was one moment when I thought a man was going to slit my throat and that surely I would die, right there on the sidewalk in front of the place. Sure, I might have had these experiences without Peter Storey, but I would not have had the deep understanding of them and the passion for service to vulnerable populations.

So, if you truly desire to have an authentic Christian life, I encourage you to do everything you can to be in attendance the evenings of June 25 and 26. My life has been changed by the teachings of Peter Storey and I think yours will be too.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God-what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:2

A Series of Interruptions

Earlier today, my colleagues and I were in a staff meeting when we heard a door open. As a downtown church, we try to make sure we are always fully aware of who is in the church. Since we are in the heart of Washington, we do not normally keep our doors unlocked but rather have people ring a doorbell whenever they are at the door.

After hearing the door open, my colleague, Chris, went into the lobby and found an older woman sitting there. She was overwhelmed and frustrated, having just realized that her cab dropped her off at 900 Massachusetts Ave. NW instead of 914 Massachusetts Ave. NE. She had paid her money and did not have enough money to get to the other side of town where she was supposed to be at a meeting.

I peaked out into the lobby, trying to discern what to do. I motioned to Chris, asking if he needed my help. My colleague, Carol, then went and started to pat the woman on the shoulder. The woman soon burst into tears, telling us more about what had happened and how she had just lost her nephew. Carol rubbed her arm up and down, offering her comfort. Chris got out his cell phone and called the cab company, asking that they come and rectify the situation. I stood and watched it, not knowing what to do.

Chris and Carol seized the opportunity to be like Christ. I froze in my tracks.

My colleagues offered extraordinary grace and assistance. I asked the woman how she got in.

When the staff meeting resumed, I was wondering who left the door open while my colleague said, "Thank God is was opened because no telling what would have happened to her."

My colleagues are motivating me to be a better disciple - a better participant in the Kingdom of God.

I have commended Carol twice just this week for how she has the uncanny ability to stop everything when someone wants a tour of the church. She rarely seems annoyed when someone stops and knocks on the door of the church - for a tour, financial help, or something else. In the meantime, I almost always see these people as interruptions - distractions - something that takes away from my job instead of something that is part of my job - part of my call, for God's sake!

Carol told me yesterday about a sign she used to hang on her desk at the company where she worked. It said, "I was always bothered by interruptions until I realized interruptions are my work."

I was always bothered by interruptions until I realized interruptions are my work.

Ministry is a series of interruptions. Ministry is a response to a God who loves to interrupt - a God who interrupted me when I thought I was on my way to law school - a God who interrupted me when I was loving my role as an associate pastor - a God who interrupted me when I was extraordinarily successful as a director of admissions - a God who, after all of these interruptions, led me to Mount Vernon Place where I have what I consider to be the best job ever. And this job is a job where I am called to respond to interruptions - where I am to pray that God will interrupt me, pulling me away from what is occupying my time and attention so that I might be used by God.

My work is a series of interruptions. My task now is to continue to take a few cues from my colleagues. Thank you, Chris and Carol, for your example.

God, help me to do better next time.

The Best Job in Washington

This afternoon afforded some of those moments when my only response is to think, "I cannot believe I get paid to do this work."  

I went to visit some of our older members.  Nancy is someone I affectionately call, "Spitfire, Junior."  The first Spitfire is a feisty 95-year-old named Lois.  Nancy comes in right behind her, however.  She has a dynamic personality.  She is funny, witty, and so unique.  I love visiting her. To give you the full understanding of who she is, I should confess that I once took a 20 ounce can of beer from a member who I knew was struggling with alcohol but who showed up at the church with a tall can of unopened beer, and I knew immediately what to do with it.  I brought it to Nancy.

I then stopped by the home of 100-year-old Mabel.  Mabel was the chair of the Staff Parish Relations Committee just 4 years ago when I arrived at Mount Vernon Place.  She is this extraordinary woman who always looks on the bright side.  She always offers words of support.  Without fail, a visit will include the words, "Donna, Washington needs Mount Vernon Place and Mount Vernon Place needs you."  She'll then say, "Do you know that you have the best job in Washington?"  If I were smart, I would probably visit Mabel at least once a week - she is food for the soul, bread for the journey.

As I think about these two extraordinary women who blessed my life on this day, I am also mourning the loss of a beloved church member who blessed my life on many other days.  Dorine died last Saturday, just five minutes after my husband, Craig, and I prayed with her.  I had no idea just how holy the ground was when we were there last week.  I wish now I would have stayed later.

I have grown incredibly close to Dorine over these last four years.  Her husband was sick soon after I arrived, and I would see the two of them almost weekly.  I was with Dorine when her husband died - with her when she held onto his body and did not want to let go.  I have since been with her in her home as she grieved the loss of her beloved.  And, I have seen her several times each month since last fall when she became ill.  Dorine was an amazing woman.  She had extraordinary beauty that radiated from the inside and the outside.  She had the ability to see the best in everyone.  She was an artist who was able to see creativity all around her.  And, she was an amazingly faithful church member.  She loved her church so much.  With the exception of when she was very, very weak, not a visit would pass when she would not pray for her church and her pastor.

This prayer time is what I will miss the most.  So often, I am always the one who prays - and this is an incredible privilege.  Yet, Dorine would always continue to hold my hand after I had said, "Amen."  She would then thank God for our church and then she would thank God for her pastor before specifically praying for God to grant me strength and wisdom and guidance.  Almost always, I would leave her with tears in my eyes because her prayer was just what I needed.  I'd give anything to hold her hand again today - to pray for her and then to be touched at the core by her prayers for me.

Thank you Nancy, Mabel and Dorine for all of the ways you have reminded me that I do, indeed, have the best job in Washington.

The H Corridor

A statement in the newest issue of Time Magazine, the June 1 issue, caught my attention today. The article is about the large wall that is being constructed on the edge of Jerusalem, separating Palestinians from Israelis. The wall is offensive and cruel to many people, separating families and businesses and livelihood. Still, the people who find the wall offensive are finding a way to change the wall. Many people are writing their own message on the wall, covering the wall with graffiti. One of the graffiti artists is quoted in the article. Faris Arouri says, "'To resist something, sometimes you have to interact with it'" (June 1, Time, page 6).

To resist something, sometimes you have to interact with it.

I read this statement over and over and over again this morning, trying to discern its full meaning. My mind then turned to a lecture I heard last week at the Festival of Homiletics.

On Tuesday, Tom Long, professor of preaching at the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, spoke. Dr. Long used Grady Memorial Hospital as one of the illustrations for his lecture. Grady Hospital was founded in 1890. It moved locations three times before reaching its current location. When the current facility was built in 1945, it was built as a segregated facility. Wings A and B, which faced the city, were built to serve white patients. Wings C and D, which faced the opposite direction, were built for black patients. The four wings were joined together by Wing E, a hallway connecting all four wings, forming a structure in the design of a large H. As a result of the two very separate sides, many people still refer to the hospital as "The Gradys." There were two distinct areas joined together by one hallway - a hallway that spoke volumes.

While many people have probably not thought much about that hallway, Tom Long explained how that hallway spoke of a vision - a dream for a different day. That hallway brought together that which had been separated as blacks and whites had to travel the hallway together. Wing E was shared by all people. The people who drew the plans for Grady Hospital knew that a collision was coming - a new day would dawn. The middle hallway, Wing E, demonstrated what was possible - it was a powerful interaction with walls of separation.

I talked about the Grady Hospital illustration often last week with my two roommates for the week, especially my dear colleague, Laurie who is the pastor of St. Luke's UMC in Columbus, Ohio. Laurie challenged me to apply my appreciation of Wing E, the H Corridor, to a current area of criticism I have for our church.

You see, I have long felt that our United Methodist Church's communication slogan, "Open Hearts, Open Minds and Open Doors" was filled with hypocrisy - a bunch of baloney. Too often, it has seemed as though the people who have this slogan printed on their business cards are the people who are fighting to keep our doors closed instead of opened to all people. Too often it seems as though the churches that are hanging banners broadcasting an "open" message are not all that open, at least in my eyes. I told Laurie last week how this slogan is a "bunch of B.S." But Laurie pushed me to think differently.

She explained how when the "Open Hearts" media campaign was first introduced that many people fought against it. Many people worked tirelessly to defeat it. The slogan was too open for many people in our denomination, and many people were not willing to open the doors that far. Still, the media campaign won approval. For many years now, the United Methodist Church has been proudly proclaiming that we are a church with "Open Hearts, Open Minds and Open Doors." It is a prophetic statement. It is a beautiful reality to live into - being a people whose hearts and minds and doors are open to all.

And while we are not there yet in all churches - perhaps the people behind this media campaign know a thing or two. Perhaps they are right. Perhaps if enough churches start proudly using and proclaiming this slogan then our hearts, minds and doors will be opened - further, wider, more gracefully and lovingly.

In the meantime, perhaps I need to open my mind a little - to what this slogan really means and the story behind it. Perhaps I need to interact more with that which I have been resisting for too long.

Thank you, Laurie, for your wisdom.

A Faithful Dialogue About Homosexuality, the Bible and Faith

I'm in Atlanta this week, soaking in several sermons a day at the Festival of Homiletics.  So far, I have heard preaching giants like Desmond Tutu, Barbara Brown Taylor and Thomas Long.  It has been rich and wonderful.  I already have pages of notes and a few books to haul back to Washington on Friday evening.  I am grateful for the privilege of being here.

Barbara Brown Taylor has long been my favorite preacher.  I love to read her sermons.  She is masterful with words.  Hearing her teach for an hour last night and preach in worship this morning was a pure gift.  She said several things last night that are still making me think.   

Her lecture was called, "Red Letters in Red Clay."  She spoke of how the South is hardly Christ centered but more Christ haunted.  She then went on to share the different signs she has seen on her journeys along dirt roads and how so often she wants to stop and rearrange the letters to make God sound less stupid and mean.  She spoke of how there are a whole lot more people who love the Bible more than know what is in it.  She also shared how we cannot read the Bible unless we read our lives - how the Bible speaks in a different way after 9/11 than it did before 9/11, for example.

I preached a sermon on Sunday about the Bible and Homosexuality.  You can read the sermon on our website by downloading it here.  It's the second time I have devoted an entire sermon to this subject, though I have mentioned it numerous times in my preaching.  The sermon preached on Sunday is quite different from the sermon I preached two years ago.  My life is different now.  More and more individuals have shared their testimony with me, and I read the Bible differently now that I read it with their lives and my life.

Following worship on Sunday, we had a "Talk Back with the Preacher" session.  About 40% of the people in worship on Sunday stayed for the session.  It was a holy conference - a time in which we could introduce ourselves alongside our partner.  It was a place where we could share how we are the parents of a lesbian daughter or a gay son.  It was a room that seemed thin as authenticity took over and people shared their joy and their sorrow, their dreams for the future of the church and the hurts from the past.  No one spoke a word of hatred.  No one spoke a word of judgment.  Everyone seemed to offer a mind that was open.  The ages of the participants ranged from 24 to 92.  It was really quite remarkable, and I am grateful for it - so thankful for it.

And, I wonder.  I wonder what might happen if we had more conversations like this in church.  What might happen if instead of telling one another that we are right and others are wrong - if we came together, to try to always see the other person's side or viewpoint or life.

I cannot read my Bible without also reading my life.  And, I cannot read my life without reading my Bible.  Thank you, Barbara Brown Taylor, for your words.  Thank you, Holy Spirit, for offering words to me on Sunday.  Thank you, my church family, for struggling together and seeking to be faithful disciples.

Make us one, Lord.  Make us strong, Lord.  Make us courageous.  Make us faithful.  Amen.

Proper Identification Required

Several weeks ago, prior to wedding season, when I was blogging regularly, I clipped an article from the Washington Post. The article appeared on the front page of the March 16, 2009, Metro section and is titled, "Here, Even Icons Needs IDs." Writer Michael Ruane explains how many people in Washington take for granted the familiarity of the many monuments and tourist attractions in our city. We believe that everyone knows that the tall cement tower extending high in the air is the Washington Monument. However, Ruane interviews tourists from Belgium who, when asked about the Monument, said, "We think it is the Ellipse."

Apparently, the Park Service is now in the process of fully identifying each monument in Washington, taking nothing for granted. In the meantime, I keep thinking about everything we take for granted at the church. There are so many places in our buildings that are not properly marked. And, there are so many parts of our liturgies that are not fully explained.

Right now, we are assuming that everyone knows where the handicap entrance is at Mount Vernon Place; there is no door to properly mark it. We assume that visiting families can find the nursery even though the sign on the temporary nursery door says "library." These things will be changed as soon as phase two of our building is completed, but I wonder how much confusion we have caused so far.

Once a person is on the inside, we do different things. We stand at some times, sit at other times, and offer the invitation to kneel at other times. We pray prayers, listen to scripture readings, hear a sermon, sing songs, pass an offering plate, exchange signs of peace and reconciliation with one another, and hear a closing benediction. It all (well, most of it) makes sense to me. But, I wonder how confusing it is to others.

We are trying to do a better job of explaining to our gathered congregation why we do what we do instead of taking it for granted. I am always trying to think of ways to make the church more user friendly, especially to those on the outside.

What about you? What makes sense in terms of what we do as a gathered community on Sunday mornings? What could use more explanation?

The Miss Markhams of Life

I started a new book this week, "How Starbucks Saved My Life." It is an extraordinary story, written by Michael Gates Gill, that speaks of one person's remarkable success, downward spiral, and then rediscovery as he becomes an employee (Partner is what Starbucks calls it) at Starbucks. I am not even halfway through the book, and I have already caught glimpses of my life and the life of the church in Gill's writing.

On page 63, Gill tells the story of Miss Markham, an elementary school teacher who told Gill who he really was.

"'I have made a decision, she said. 'You, Michael,' she continued, as though making a formal, public statement, 'are destined for greatness. I don't care what you do, or what you don't do. I don't care if you go to some prestigious college, or don't go. I just know: You are great.'

She sat back, dropping my hands, smiling at me.

I did not know what to say. I really didn't understand her point.

She leaned forward and spoke again. 'I almost never do this,' she sad, 'but once every few years I see some young person I feel has exceptional qualities. I want you to know that you are worthy. You. Not just what you do.'"

At church on Sunday, we started a new study in the 9:45 Sunday School class about spiritual gifts. As a result, I have been thinking about my gifts more this week. And, I have been especially thinking about the people who have named my gifts for me, giving me the courage to claim my gifts. I have thought about the Miss Markhams in my life - the people who have told me I am great - not for what I do but for who I am.

This morning, I give thanks for these individuals. I give thanks for Harold Bossaller, the person who told me I was a great public speaker as my FFA advisor in High School. I give thanks for Kathy Krafka Harkema, my first real boss who told me I was dynamic and capable as my work supervisor at the National Suffolk Sheep Association. I give thanks for my mother who always told me I was beautiful even when I was horribly overweight with acne all over my face. I give thanks for Hugh Cameron, my first field education supervisor at Benson Memorial UMC in Raleigh who told me I was a gifted pastoral leader. I give thanks for David Argo who told me I could be a lay leader for a church even though I was not yet 25 and some 10 years later told me that I had what it took to bring a declining church to life again. I give thanks for my Grandma Ivy who always told me how special I am. I give thanks for Wannie Hardin who told me I was one of the most gifted young pastors he had ever worked with. I give thanks for the members of First UMC in Hendersonville, NC who continued to name my gifts for me, entrusting me with so much, as their pastor in 2000-01. I give thanks for the students at Duke Divinity School who told me what a difference I had made in their admission process.

These people - all of these people - are the great cloud of witnesses that surround me each day. These people are the reason I had even ten percent of the courage needed to return to Washington and be a pastor. These voices are the ones I listen for when the voices around me seem to be filled with critique instead of encouragement. These faces are the ones I see smiling at me when others disagree with me. These people are the reason I am Reverend Donna Claycomb Sokol - a child of God trying hard to be faithful as the pastor of Mount Vernon Place.

Thanks be to God for the Miss Markhams of life. Who are your Miss Markhams?

My Easter Sermon - A Whole New World

A Whole New World!
John 20:1-18
April 12, 2009 Easter Sunday
Donna Claycomb Sokol
Mount Vernon Place UMC, Washington

There have been a few times in my life when something appeared to be so solid, so unbreakable, so much a part of life that I never dreamed it would change – only to later find myself living in what seemed to be a whole new world.

I remember well the first time I experienced the loss of a friend. Randy Gross is the person who stepped in when my father stepped out. He was a gifted businessman in our community and active in our local church. My sister and I regularly babysat for his children, and Randy would often drive us home filling the car with a listening ear and a voice of encouragement. In many ways, it was Randy who had tucked the pillow of God under my head when I was prepared to give up on God. Randy was fit and trim. He played basketball almost every day. And still, Randy’s life was stripped short, stopped in the middle of an ordinary game on the basketball court when he suffered a heart attack and died at the age of 42. At that time, the world as I knew it seemed to be turned upside down. I learned that life is not always fair – that bad things happen to good people – that some questions arise that will never be answered.

For many of us, the times we are experiencing in our nation are unlike anything we have experienced before. Each week I learn of someone else whose economic security blanket has been pulled from beneath them. Individuals who have worked for the same company for 15-20 years are being asked to leave. People who thought there was no doubt that they would be retiring from this same company have been given pink slips. Women and men with master’s degrees and extensive experience in a myriad of fields are working for minimum wage. Countless others are pounding the pavement, resumes in hand, eager to see what door might open. And while all of this is happening, those who have retired are wondering if their hard-earned investments will ever rise to the level where they were before the economy started to weaken. Our nation’s economy that once seemed to strong – so indestructible – has been spun around with us all holding on tight, praying that we have seen the worst of it and that recovery is on the way.

It does not take much for the world to be changed.
One senseless death.
One lost job.
One parent leaving.
One diagnosis at the doctor’s office.
One closed company.
One plane hitting a tower.
One broken heart.
One accident.
One empty tomb.

It is early, on the first day of the week, John tells us, when Mary Magdalene first arrives at the tomb. As she approaches the tomb, she notices that the stone has been rolled away. This moved stone is enough to fill Mary’s head with questions and conclusions. Instead of looking inside, we are told that Mary Magdalene takes off running. She runs to Simon Peter and the other disciple who Jesus loves, telling them how “they” have taken Jesus out of the tomb. With this announcement, we are told that Simon Peter and the other disciple also take off running, with the disciple whom Jesus loved reaching the tomb first. He looks in, notices the wrappings, but does not go in. Simon Peter, however, runs right in when he arrives at the tomb. Seeing the courage of Simon Peter and recognizing that nothing has happened to him so far, the other disciple also walks in. They are in a tomb that contains only the linens that once covered Jesus’ body. One disciple sees and believes, we are told, while Simon Peter does not seem to react. Neither of them, however seems to comprehend how the things that Jesus has told them are true – how he would die and then rise again. The two men do not jump with joy when they see the empty tomb. Instead, John tells us that they returned to their homes.

While the two disciples have returned home, Mary Magdalene remains outside the tomb weeping. And, her remaining there allows her to be the first to not only see Jesus standing in her midst.

The man originally thought to be a gardener calls Mary by name. When Mary hears her name being spoken, Mary believes. And then Mary rushes off to tell others what she has seen. I have seen the Lord!

Three people were there that day. One disciple did not seem to be touched by the empty tomb. Another disciple saw the empty tomb and believed but still went home as though nothing had happened. Mary remained, filled with doubt and concluding that the worst had happened. But when Mary hears her name, she believes, and she runs off to tell others what has happened, how she has seen the Lord.

We can catch a glimpse of ourselves in each of these characters. There are some of us who will linger outside the tomb all day. Along with Mary, we will not believe until we have a personal, upfront encounter with Jesus.

Some of us accept the story at face value.

Some of us will rush out and tell others how we have seen the Lord while others will remain silent.

And yet, no matter which character we identify with in this particular account, there is power in the message of Easter that gives us hope unlike anything else. When the world as we know it seems to be turning around or falling apart, it is this message that offers us a whole new world.
Like every church’s resurrection window, Jesus is the focal point of our church’s window. But something else stood out to me as I looked at this window earlier this week. What stood out to me are the knife and the piercing sword. The knife is laid down, and the sword seems to have lost its power. The sword is still pointing towards Jesus, but it is not piercing Jesus. These weapons and those who hold them have lost its power. At the same time, the cross lost its original power and was given a whole new meaning.

Long before Jesus came into the world, the cross had a symbolic meaning in the Roman world. The cross was used to kill many individuals long before Jesus was killed. People were crucified, one after another, for doing something wrong. For many people in Rome, the cross meant, “we Romans run this place, and if you get in our way we’ll obliterate you – and do it pretty nastily too,” N.T. Wright explains. He continues, “Crucifixion meant that the kingdom hadn’t come, not that it had.”[1] The cross meant that some greater power was in control. There was authority, and it rested with the Roman leadership. If you crossed paths, deviated from their plans for society, or went the wrong way, then you were crucified. Wright explains, “Death is the last weapon of the tyrant, and the point of the resurrection despite much misunderstanding, is that death has been defeated. Resurrection is not the redescription of death; it is its overthrow and, with that, the overthrow of those whose power depends on it.”[2]

Every time we gather in this place, we pray the words, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” On Easter morning, this prayer was answered. The kingdom did come as the tyrant’s weapon was destroyed. And, the kingdom is still breaking in all around us as God’s ways continue to triumph over the ways of those who seek to rule in ways contrary to the spirit of God.

As Christians, we tend to put so much emphasis on what happens when we die. We tend to believe that the only message of Easter is life after death. And while this message is so central and so mysterious and so beautiful, if we only believe this message then we, too, can go right on home today without doing anything else just as the two disciples did. We can get busy dying, praying that death will come sooner rather than later. But the message of Easter is that we had better get busy living!

A whole new world made possible thru the resurrection of Jesus has arrived. On this day, heaven came to earth. God’s perfect plan of salvation triumphed over the Roman authority’s last weapon. Christ has won. Violence, war and death do not have dominion. Economic powers no longer have their hold. Political principalities no longer have the final say. The doctor’s diagnosis is not the reason we have or do not have hope. The love of another person is not what provides our security. The presence of a job or lack thereof is not what gives us our identity. And whatever it is that we have been enslaved to, we have been released. What we have, on Easter day, is fresh grass, bright red tulips, and yellow daffodils breaking through the concrete of corruption. We have a whole new world!

We have just finished one of the more intensive times in the Christian year. For many people, Lent can be the only time in the year when we truly try to live a disciplined life. Like training for a marathon, many of us do things or give up things in the six weeks of Lent that we would never do at any other time. We are more focused during Lent and then Easter comes. On this day, some of the discipline goes out the window. We return to life as normal, resuming our usual way of life. Many of my colleagues think, “Thank God, I made it through Easter,” and go away on vacation tomorrow. We say to ourselves, “Lent is over. Easter has come. We can now go home.” But if we let Easter last only one day – if the celebration is a mere few hours long – then we have also missed the point.

N.T. Wright shares how Easter “ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems.” He goes on to ask, “Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don’t throw our hats in the air? Is it any wonder we find it hard to live the resurrection if we don’t do it exuberantly in our liturgies? Is it any wonder the world doesn’t take much notice if Easter is celebrated as simply the one-day happy ending tacked on to forty days of fasting and gloom? It’s long overdue that we took a hard look at how we keep Easter in church, at home, in our personal lives, right through the system.”[3]

As many of you know, I spent last week at what has become one of my favorite places on earth. Holy Cross Abbey is nestled in the valley of the Shenandoah Mountains in a place called Berryville, Virginia. It is a place where I can enjoy both the most relaxing and the most productive week of the year – a rare combination, what some would even call an oxymoron. It is the only place where I can consistently put God before everything else in my life and come close to reading six books in one week. One of the books I read last week left me speechless.

The book shares the same title of a popular song sung by REM several years ago, “Losing My Religion.” The author of the book William Lobdell, was the religion reporter for the Los Angeles Times. He shares his journey in this powerful book that stirs at your heart in the beginning, middle and end. Lobdell writes of how he found God – he found God in a powerful way. God answered many of his prayers, including his prayer to become the religious writer for the paper. And then, the paper commissioned him out to cover one scandal after another in the church.

Lobdell is sent all over the country to interview victims of sexual abuse – abuse by priests – many of whom had a long record of child sexual abuse but were never removed from the priesthood. Lobdell writes story after story of the church he longed to be a part of and the church he found – Catholic and Protestant. And after a while, Lobdell throws his hands up, concluding that if God were real, then surely the people who follow God would act differently. Throughout his reporting, Lobdell has a hard time distinguishing between those who are Christian and those who are atheists. There just is not much difference in their behavior – at all.

Lobdell writes, “It was discouragingly easy – though incredibly surprising – to find out that Christians, as a group, acted no differently than anyone else, including atheists. Sometimes they performed a little better; other times a little worse. But the Body of Christ didn’t stand out as morally superior.”[4] He then goes on to quote research from the Barna Group, a much respected Christian research organization about the behavior of Christians versus non-Christians when it comes to divorce, racism, generosity, and a myriad of other issues. Lobdell then says, “If the Lord is real, it would make sense for the people of God, on average to be superior morally and ethically to the rest of society. Statistically, they aren’t. I also believe that God’s institutions, on average, should function on a higher moral plain than governments or corporations. I don’t see any evidence of this. It’s hard to believe in God when it’s impossible to tell the difference between His people and atheists.”[5]

If Christ has been raised from the dead, triumphing over the tyrant and death itself, then we are given every possible reason to embrace a whole new world – to live a whole new life. My life and the lives around me have not been turned upside down only by the bad things that happen. I’ve also seen lives being turned upside down when God gets involved. I’ve seen it happen when people allow the story of Easter to take control of their lives.

I heard about a whole new world last week when John was sharing his testimony, telling us about dark days and pain-filled nights that even all the alcohol in the world could not diminish. The only thing that could truly bring him from the depths of despair was a God who knew pain, who took on more pain than any of us can imagine, promising that nothing in our lives can have its grip forever.

I have heard about it from one of you who could have gone to law school this year. Instead, you accepted a job in Washington that has taken you to the edge of violence and the trenches of poverty. You have taken breakfast to hundreds of people in this city, recognizing that part of our task as Christians is to make sure that all people are fed – on earth as it is in heaven.

I have heard about it by one of you who shared how your heart has been broken time and again by messages proclaimed in pulpits about how some people are condemned to eternal judgment. You have sense fought tirelessly and passionately about how to bring about a different kind of love, compassion and welcome in the United Methodist Church – to make our churches known for having doors wide open to all people instead of shut to some people because of their sexual orientation – a church that shares the love of God with all people – on earth as it is in heaven.

And, I saw it all the time in the life of Harry McLean in whose memory we created the Easter Fund. Though the church does not have a food bank, Harry often showed up with a bag of food to be given to the poor. Though many of us gave up on helping make meals to be given to people living with AIDS and other life-threatening illnesses, Harry took three buses to get to Food and Friends. Though I still have no idea what to do with the prostitutes who work in our community, Harry said it could be as easy as my inviting them to church. Harry brought heaven down to earth all the time, making sure that others could experience God’s kingdom, God’s ways, on earth as it is in heaven.

Yesterday afternoon, my husband Craig walked into the house. He started talking at the bottom of the stairs that lead to our condo, saying how we were going to be so excited about who he had run into. He continued to share, “You’re never going to believe the person I just saw. It was so exciting to see him. I cannot believe I ran into him.” He then got to the top of the stairs with my excitement peaked, and he handed over a generous bag of very nice chocolates saying, “I ran into the Easter Bunny.”

Today, we run into someone else. We run into an empty tomb. We run into a risen savior. We run into a whole new world. What if our lives told the same story, “You’re never going to believe what just happened to me. You’re never going to believe who I have met. I have seen the Lord! And this is what he brought – promises of how the poor will receive good news, the lame will walk, the blind will see, the sinners will be forgiven, the first will be last, the last will be first, the captives will be released, heaven will come to earth. It’s a whole new world! A whole new world!”
[1] N.T. Wright, Surprised By Hope, New York: HarperOne, 2008, 40.
[2] N.T. Wright, 50.
[3] N.T. Wright, 256.
[4] William Lobdell, Losing My Religion, New York: HarperCollins, 2009, 204-05.
[5] Lobdell, 271.

S-T-R-E-T-C-H-E-D

I set my alarm for 6:30 this morning but could hardly get out of bed - even when the clock said 8:15 a.m.  My body, mind, and spirit seem to be running on empty - exhausted, stretched to the limit.  I have spent the better part of the day in my pajamas, catching up on things that should have been done weeks ago and putting away things that have been in boxes for almost 10 months now.  In between all of this, I have been listening to music, lighting candles and reading a new book.  

I am exhausted.  I am feeling rather burned-out.  I have been stretched to the limit, and much of my exhaustion is because of decisions I have made - not decisions others have made for me.

I have accepted too many invitations.  I have said "yes" to the request to officiate at weddings for people I have never even met before, thinking that people might come to the church as a result and that the extra money can be really helpful.  I have said "yes" to participating in a book project containing different liturgies for Sunday morning, thinking that the list of coauthors was rather impressive and that the extra money would again be helpful.  I have said "yes" to being the last one to leave the church yesterday, making sure every door was locked, thinking that I could save the church a few extra dollars on security.  I have said "yes" to too many things instead of focusing on the main things.  

This issue is not new - my attention often seems to be consumed by things that are not that important, taking away from things that are really important.  While preaching on Sunday mornings is quite possibly the most important thing I do all week, there are times when writing the sermon gets pushed all the way back to Fridays.  While taking care of my body through eating and exercising is the thing that can help me enjoy life the most, I too often have gym reports that say I was only there once or twice a week in any given month.  While my attention needs to be focused on shepherding the flock whom I am called to serve, my energy can be zapped by committee meetings and administrative details that could easily be taken care of by other people.

I am discerning again today what are the main things in my life.  Cultivating my marriage is at the top of this list.  Taking better care of myself through diet and exercise is moving to a higher position.  Spending time with friends is important.  Making sure I have quiet time to study, pray and listen for God is important.

When it comes to the church, visiting our sick, our elderly and our members is important.  Making time to get to know newcomers in the church and following up on all visitors is important.  Carving out time for reading, sermon writing, and sermon practicing is important.   Planning good worship is important.  Making sure I am casting a vision for the congregation and also working with our leaders is important.  And yet, too often these things are pushed to the back burner.  

Why is it that we do not keep the main thing the main thing?  Why is it that we allow ourselves to be stretched so thin?

My focus is shifting again this week - to the main thing.  

It's Raining Again

It's cold and rainy in Washington, DC today.  It is not the kind of day when you rush to step outside, go for a long walk, marveling at the Cherry Blossoms.  Rather, it's the kind of day when you want to stay inside, clear your schedule, put on a teapot, and curl up with a book.  It's a dreary day, a gloomy day, a somewhat sad day.

On days like this, my heart aches a little.  There is something about the melancholy of the weather that makes me think about those who are sick, hurting, broken.  My mind is consumed with thoughts of Dorine who struggles in intensive care.  I think of my mother's first Easter without her husband, Red.  I am praying for those who have lost jobs and for our nation as our debt reaches record levels.  I am thinking of those who are huddled on the porch of our church, unsure of when they will find a home next or even their next meal.

All is not well.  There is sadness, brokenness, sin, loss.

I can imagine how Mary and the other women must have felt on this day.  On Good Friday, they would have watched as their beloved son, friend, teacher, and guide was crucified.  They would have watched as he carried his cross and then died a violent death.  They would have heard the seven last words from the cross - coming from the mouth of Jesus himself.  And, I can imagine that when Saturday came, they had a hard time getting out of bed.  I can imagine that their outlook on life wanted to keep them inside the house instead of outside in the marketplace.  I can imagine that their thoughts were filled more with despair than with hope.

Thankfully, we know the rest of the story.  The sun is supposed to rise tomorrow.  The rain is forecasted to end.  Along with this change in the weather, we will gather to celebrate the only reason any of us can have hope for today, tomorrow and all eternity.  While the tomb is now consumed and the cross is empty, the tomb will be emptied in the morning.  Jesus will rise again.  We will shout, "Hallelujah!  He is Risen!" and then sing together, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today."

In the meantime, I am wrestling with what it must have felt like to be in Jerusalem some 2000 years ago on this day.  Hope would have been hard to find.  I'm so thankful that the tomb was not filled for long.  I am so thankful that on the third day, the tomb was emptied.

Our hope has been found.  I'd love to tell you about it in the morning.  Please come join us at 11:00 at Mount Vernon Place.

Joy!

"But is this not what we covered last year?" Father Mark asked, after a period of silence in which he appeared to be looking deep within his soul.

"Yes, Father.  This is what we covered last year.  But I am still having a hard time.  I am still searching for, longing for balance.  The busy-ness of the church so often invades my space - the space that should be saved and protected for God.  The church so often comes first - long before prayer, reading, rest, confession, solitude," I shared.

"Humm," Father Mark replied.  "A priest was just here last week with the exact same problem.  I told him he needed to get help - to get an associate.  But, let me share something else with you."

Father Mark continued, "When I was about to graduate from medical school (Father Mark was a doctor for 5 years before becoming a monk) and start my practice as an obstetrician, I knew the hard, long hours that were about to invade my life.  The one thing I asked my family for graduation was season tickets to the Boston Symphony.  I knew that the week would be long, hard, and beautiful.  And, I wanted something to look forward to every week.  Every Saturday night, I knew that my soul would find rest and renewal.  I knew that I would find joy in that space."

"What is it that gives you joy?" Father Mark asked.  "If you are making space for joy, then I believe you will also be naturally more inclined to turn to God - to give God thanks and to be in a more intentional relationship with God."

These morsels of wisdom arrived on day three of my retreat at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville, Virginia last week.  It was my second visit to Holy Cross - the second time I would spend the week before Holy Week in solitude, silence, prayer, praise, and contemplation.  My nights last week were filled with long hours of sleep - going to bed early and rising early.  My days were spent taking long walks along the sides of pastures where cattle graze, eating simple meals, reading some six different books, going to any of the five services that happen in the daily life of the abbey, listening to the monks chant back and forth, hearing the voice of birds and crickets, praying, writing, and discovering more about myself and my relationship with God.

When I got back to my room, I made a list of the things that give me joy.  This is what I wrote, unedited, "Manicures, Bill's exercise classes at the gym, Craig, a good sermon, a good book, a good movie, coffee with newcomers, people from Hendersonville, Mary Elizabeth, the Thursday Bible study, good food, tulips or fresh flowers, grocery shopping, buying cards, family, long walks, blogging."

I then added in my journal, "When I am making time for these things, then I will be more likely to also make time for God."

What gives you joy?  What's on your list?

May we find - discover - make time for joy and for God this week. 

A Glimpse of the Church....at Weight Watchers!

I caught a glimpse of the church yesterday. I was not at the church. In fact, I was several blocks away from any church. I caught a glimpse of the church while attending a weekly meeting at the local Weight Watchers office on K Street.

I have a love/hate relationship with Weight Watchers. I love how I lost nearly 40 pounds in 1997, just before going to seminary. I hate how I have gained the weight back and now pay Weight Watchers again, struggling to figure out how to lose it once more.

I love the meetings when I have lost weight and have something to celebrate. I hate the meetings when the person weighing me says, "Are you sure you are tracking everything you are eating?"

And yet, there is something powerful about these meetings - about people coming together because they want to lose weight. Yesterday, I watched in awe as one success after another was celebrated. Hands kept on clapping as one woman shared how she was moving more, another person shared how she lost 1.6 pounds, yet another woman said she was on vacation but only gained .5 pounds. People clapped loudly, cheering each other on. And every time there was a celebration, the leader said, "Let's share the love," getting the crowd to clap louder.

We then got to the place in the meeting where the leader asked people to share different struggles. The first person to open her mouth shared how her husband had lost his job on Friday. The whole room let out an audible, "oh no." She continued to share how when she got home, she first wanted a cigarette, but instead of returning to this bad habit she ate all of the chocolate she could find. No one scolded her for eating chocolate. Instead, one person said, "I'm a recruiter. Please give me your husband's resume." Another person said, "I completely understand." Still another said, "I would have probably ordered an entire pizza." One expression of empathy was shared after another. It was powerful.

I like to think that the church, at its best, offers this kind of community. I like to think that our churches are places where we can share every good thing happening in our lives and be cheered on by others in the congregation. I like to think that our churches are places where we can express our struggles and our disappointments and our failures and have people be with us - helping us to rise above it and move forward.

I love what I experienced at Weight Watchers yesterday. But I love the church even more - the time on Sundays when we ask, "How is it that we can pray for you this week? Where is it that you need to experience God? And what are you thankful for?" This is the church at its best.

I Love this Church!

We are working on a job description for a "Director of Music and the Arts" at Mount Vernon Place. As part of the process, I wrote a description of who we are for the opening of the job description that interested candidates can read. I love this church, and I love what this statement says about us. Here it is for you to enjoy and perhaps even be compelled to come journey with us:

Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church, located in the heart of downtown Washington, directly across the street from the Washington Convention Center, is seeking a creative, motivated, faithful individual to lead our ministries in music and the arts. We are a growing congregation that has doubled in size in the last four years. Our worshipping community is old and young, black and white, gay and straight, people filled with faith and people struggling to believe, people in ties and suits and people in jeans and shorts, housed and unhoused, Democrat and Republican, lifelong church members and individuals coming to church for the first time, people who love to sing hymns with the organ and people yearning to clap their hands to the beat sounded from a drummer’s stick – we are a beautiful assortment of God’s creation! Our 1917, historic building has just undergone a complete restoration from top to bottom, and we are waiting for the completion of additional new space in a Class A, LEED Certified Gold building to be finished in mid-fall in which the church will own and occupy 22,000 square feet. The possibilities for ministry and growth in this community are endless, and we are excited to see where God will take us in the future!

I love this church!

Leaving the Church

I had conversations this week with another friend who has left the church. Jason grew up in the United Methodist Church. He spent years in youth ministry at a large United Methodist Church in Alabama, building a program that attracted countless kids every weekend - young people growing as disciples because of his leadership. He went to seminary with me at Duke Divinity School. He spent time as a hospital chaplain in Durham and in New England. He faithfully followed his call, responding to the affirmation of others in the church who named his gifts, giving him the courage to claim his gifts, and now he wants nothing to do with the church. He has left the church.

It's not the first time this has happened to one of my friends.

I was talking this week with a colleague from seminary about another incredible person pushed out by the church. I talked about this person in May of 2007 when I preached a sermon on "Marriage, Divorce and Homosexuality." "Mark" is one of the most gifted young men I have ever met. "Mark" has so many incredible gifts for ministry, and when I first met him, he was on his way to becoming a bishop, at least in the eyes of most of his friends.

But he is no longer a United Methodist. He left our church. He left our church because he is gay, and our church does not believe that people who are gay - no matter how gifted they might be - can be pastors. Our church has locked the door on these individuals - even when they are incredibly faithful and possess remarkable gifts for ministry.

When I talked with my colleague last week about our friend who was on his way to becoming a bishop but is no longer a United Methodist, my friend said something that really struck me, "When did the church get into such a good position that a person like 'Mark' is expendable? Think about his gifts. A whole trajectory of people could have been impacted by him because of his incredible discipleship."

My colleague went on to talk about "Mark's" commitment to our church when he was in seminary - how he kept going to a United Methodist Church at that time even though he could never be ordained in the United Methodist Church. My colleague told him once, "'Mark' you love your church more than your church loves you!"

I remember well what happened in the Baltimore Washington Conference when one of my transgendered colleagues told his story on the floor of Conference. It was the holiest conference I have ever been to. It is one of the more limited times in which I have truly felt the presence of God at Annual Conference. When Rev. Drew Phoenix stood and told his story, I knew God was at work. When he stood and told us how he had struggled with his sexual identity his entire life and finally felt free to be who he is, now that his body is that of a man and not a woman, I saw and heard liberation. It was not easy to hear everything, and I still don't understand it all. It is all quite complex and perplexing to me. But, I listened to how Drew told us about his church in downtown Baltimore - how families with children are coming back for the first time, how the giving has doubled, how the church is growing in significant ways - I celebrated the diversity of our church. I celebrated the ways in which God uses all kinds of people to build the Kingdom of God inaugurated by Jesus Christ. I was taught in real ways how God needs a diversity of pastors to reach a diversity of people. Lives have been changed by Rev. Phoenix's ministry. Rev. Phoenix was an incredible pastor. But, sadly, Rev. Phoenix has also left the church.

Three incredible people - just in my own circle - have left the church. Three incredible people with remarkable gifts given to them by God - have been pushed out - told that their gifts, their commitment, their discipleship, their willingness to serve, and their willingness to be part of changing lives in the name of Jesus are not welcome.

When did the church - this body that is losing far more members than it is gaining each year in most places around our country - get into such a good position that people like this are expendable?

Just Because Our Doors Were Open!

Earlier this month, I gathered with a group of my clergy colleagues as I do on the first Tuesday of every month. The topic of conversation selected for this particular day was evangelism - how we share the good news of Jesus Christ with others and build the Body of Christ.

Sitting around a table, we were asked to share what was working well at our churches - what, specifically was helping our churches to attract newcomers. Many of my colleagues have churches that are growing abundantly, and I am always inspired by their creativity and their passion. But the answer to "what is working in your churches" boiled down to something rather simple.

"It's so simple to throw open the doors of the church," my friend said. She then went on to share how the church she serves had participated in our Conference's efforts to provide radical hospitality during inauguration weekend. Many of the United Methodist Churches near the White House and the Capitol hosted people throughout the weekend who needed a place to stay overnight and many other churches opened their doors wide on the day of the inauguration, providing a place for people to come in from the cold, enjoy a hot beverage, and receive rest for their weary bodies.

Alisa continued to share how some $1,000 had been sent to the church by people who had experienced their hospitality. She talked about the notes and the cards they had received. She said how one parent did not think she was going to be able to walk any further and then saw a member of the church open the door and say, "Please, come on in. Find some rest and enjoy a cup of coffee with me." This invitation changed everything for this woman and her son. This gesture became the highlight of their inauguration day.

It's so simple to throw open the doors of the church. People came just because the doors of our church were open!

I spend a lot of time thinking about church doors. There was a time when the church I serve had great big bars placed upon the doors of the church. Gates were installed in an effort to keep people from sleeping on the porch of the church at night. Thanks be to God these gates were removed as part of our restoration in the last couple of years. The symbolism of the doors was so jarring - borderline offensive. But I also think about the non-physical gates that our churches have installed - either intentionally or by association.

On Sunday, we had our first Church Council meeting of the year at Mount Vernon Place. During this meeting, one of our members got up and talked about his experience as a traveler in many different cities looking for a place to worship. He shared how not every United Methodist Church is the same. He talked about how he does not always know what message he might hear - how in one church he might hear a message of hate and condemnation while in another church he might hear a message of love. He shared how his gay friend, a lifelong United Methodist, had been to United Methodist Churches where he was told straightforward that he was going to hell and in United Methodist Churches where he was embraced and loved.

Adam went on to share the tool that he and his wife now use when looking for a church to visit. He goes onto a website associated with our denomination and looks for a church that is part of the Reconciling Ministries Network of the United Methodist Church. He seeks a church where he knows that he is welcome and where he knows that his gay friends are welcome. Adam wants to be sure that the message he hears is one of grace and love and compassion.

Adam shared his journey with us on Sunday. As a result of his faithful leadership and courageous vision, our Church Council agreed to appoint a Task Force to consider what it means to be a Reconciling Congregation and to truly struggle, wrestle and be educated on what it means to be gay, lesbian, transgender or bisexual and more importantly, what it means to be a place of radical hospitality - a place with doors wide open to all people - to all of God's children no matter what - especially those living in the margins.

We will start this conversation on Sunday, March 29 with a viewing of the film, "For the Bible Tells Me So" in our church's undercroft theatre at 1:30 p.m. The film viewing will be followed by a panel discussion of clergy and laypeople who are willing to share their story. I am looking forward to this conversation and to our congregation's willingness to struggle - to really struggle - with what it means to be followers of Jesus, disciples of Christ.

It's so simple to throw open the doors of the church!

And yet, we sometimes have a hard time just opening the door. Sometimes, the keys are hard to find.

The door is open. Please, come join us. Please come be part of this holy conferencing. Please come be part of our journey. And if you cannot be here, then please keep us in your prayers.

Hiding

I wore a clergy collar today.  Tucked underneath a black suit jacket with a long black skirt, I looked very smart, if I do say so myself.  I wore the collar because I wanted to hide behind it - I wanted people to see it and immediately know that I was the pastor who was reporting to duty for the memorial service.  The service was at a church that I had never been to before, and only one person in the family knew who I was.  I was doing the service as a favor - the family needed a pastor, and I said I would come.

It's the second time this has happened to me.  The first time was at Arlington National Cemetery where I found it really important for a clergy person who is both a female and a stranger to show up in a collar.  The collar - the small piece of plastic tucked carefully into the clergy blouse - made me easy to recognize and hard to miss.

But today - at the start of this day - I wanted to hide not behind the collar but I wanted to hide the collar - the entire marking of my identity.  I wanted desperately for people not to see it.

I parked my car in the garage where I normally park - a few blocks from Mount Vernon Place.  I got out of the car, gathered my belongings, and walked towards the elevators.  I made my way upstairs, all the while being reminded that my vocation was no longer secret - everyone who looked at my neck noticed a collar - a collar that marked me as a pastor, or a priest, or a servant of some sorts.

I made my way through the building lobby and outside to the street where I noticed a group of teenagers standing outside of a nearby Hostel with eyes wide open.  They were clearly gawking, and I quickly realized what had captured their attention.  Three women stood opposite of them.  Three women were across the street, and the three women were not dressed like everyone else walking the streets at 7:30 this morning.  Everyone else had on enough clothes.  These women had on tiny skirts that barely covered their bottoms.  The women were clearly women of the streets - prostitutes gathering after a night's work.

I saw the women, and my heart felt like it was tearing again.  My heart breaks every Sunday morning when I see these women gathering on a nearby corner.  But, I have never seen them during the week - when so many other people are around.  I watched them walk towards a hot dog stand and buy bottled drinks, and I crossed the street.  My heart was breaking and yet I could not muster up any strength to go and approach them - to hand them my card and invite them in for a conversation - for a cup of tea - for an encouraging and supportive ear. 

I then thought again about the collar I was wearing.  As a pastor, my reaction should have been to walk up to them - to go out of my way to speak to them.  But, I instead pulled my arm up around my neck, hoping no one would see me as most eyes gazed at this threesome.  I wanted to hide the collar instead of hiding behind it.  I had what I needed to be clearly marked to these women, and I choose instead to be marked like everyone else - to join the gawking crowds instead of being the one to stop and offer help.

I did it again later today - I covered my neck - at a stoplight when someone was asking for money while holding a cardboard sign that said, "hungry."  If they see my collar, then I'll have to give money, I thought to myself.

I blew it.  I missed two opportunities to be the kind of disciple, let alone the kind of pastor, I want to be. 

I preached a sermon on being a risk taker yesterday - on being one who is filled with so much faith that they can do anything because God is leading them.  Somehow this sermon escaped my memory today.  Somehow my ability to take risks shrunk just as I tried to shrink in my seat or behind my arm instead of behind a collar that tells others how I have been set apart to do faithful work with and through the Holy Spirit.

I invite you to please pray for your pastor.  Pray that I'll be a more faithful risk-taker.  Pray that God will continue to break my heart every time I see these women until I am finally so overwhelmed that I know nothing other than to approach them and offer my card - an introduction.  Pray for these women.  And please pray for our church - that we can somehow find a way to be in relationship with them.

God, forgive me.  God, help me.  Help me be the one who heard what I preached yesterday - and then has the courage to follow.  Amen.

Practicing Our Faith

It's Lent.  For me, Lent is always a time to try to re-program my life.  Similar to the start of a New Year, I try to spend the days before Ash Wednesday thinking about what in my life needs to be fixed - restarted - reformatted.  Most of the time, I begin Lent very aware of how out of balance my life is.  It seems as though this season of intentionally moving closer to God has a way of uncovering just how many layers in my life there are - layers that need to be pulled away, one after another, until I find myself in perfect balance with God once again.

In an effort to move closer to this balance, I dug out a book that I first purchased in seminary, "Practicing our Faith: A Way of Life for a Searching People."  In this book, Dorothy Bass edits a powerful collection of chapters on different spiritual practices: honoring the body, hospitality, household economics, saying yes and saying no, keeping Sabbath, testimony, discernment, shaping communities, forgiveness, healing, dying well and singing our lives.  At times, my mouth starts to water just thinking about these practices - about a life in which these practices intentionally shape and form every waking hour.

Bass starts the book by sharing an account of perfect balance.  She tells the story of a retreat center high in the mountains where her family journeys each year.  At this center, each family member gets to do what they love most from fishing to hiking to reading.  More importantly, the family discovers the balance for which they were intended.  Bass writes, "When we are there, we slip into a way of life that comes pretty close to our vision of how things are supposed to be.  As staff members, we work; we consume appropriately, eating lower on the food chain and doing without the goods and gadgets that usually clutter our lives; we worship daily.  In other words, we enter a community shaped by shared practices that make sense, and as we adjust to them, we feel ourselves becoming a little different, a little better" (Practicing our Faith, ed. Dorothy Bass, ix).

Journeying with a small group at Mount Vernon Place, we are trying to discover this way of life once more - this community "shaped by shared practices that make sense."  Many of us are gathering for a 40 minute time of worship on Wednesday mornings at 7:00.   We are working to put God and God's ways first in our lives once again.  It is a journey - one that I long to stay on - one with a clear end goal in mind.

What are the practices that shape you?  What is it that you need to shed in your life and what is it that you need to take on?

The Power of Honesty

I have just returned from my second 'retreat' as a member of our Conference's Board of Ordained Ministry.  I spent two days this week interviewing candidates for ordination and one morning discussing and voting on the candidates.  As a result, I have been, once again, consumed with thoughts on how best to form the next generation of clergy leadership.  How is it that we can cultivate calls to ministry within the best and brightest in our congregations?  How is it that we encourage young people with significant gifts to not only consider using their minds to heal people in a doctor's office or influence policy with a law degree, but to be a healing agent of change through pastoral ministry - by leading a congregation and exposing people to the transformational power of Jesus Christ.

When I returned home, I was sharing some thoughts with one of my clergy colleagues.  Both of us have high hopes for the church.  We set the bar high for ourselves and those around us.  We believe with all our hearts that the Gospel still has the power to change and transform lives. And, we cannot stand mediocrity masquerading as faithfulness in our churches.

When I shared with her glimpses of my week along with probing questions about how we can improve this process and better shape individuals preparing for ministry, my colleague shared with me some thoughts on her role as a mentor for a seminary student.

She wrote, "He is the nicest guy in the world and a very willing and hard worker when it comes to setting up tables, etc, but a minister?  I just cannot see it!  And I'm having this awful moral dilemma - because I'm his supervisor.  Do I tell him, 'You have no emotional expression.  You're paralyzed by anxiety which renders you incapable of making a decision.  You are a tedious and boring worship leader.  Your sermon presentation is dreadful.  You lack the most basic leadership skills.  You do not take initiative.  You are not creative.  You have tunnel vision and cannot think outside the bold line.'  Do I write this in my final evaluation?"

What is the role of a teaching congregation?  How honest are we supposed to be with the students we are privileged to work alongside of, helping to shape with practical experiences that go alongside of their classroom work?  Is it better to tell the truth, the whole truth, or should we pat someone on the back, "Saying good job," trusting that somehow they will figure out their need to improve - that someone else will point out the deficiencies?  And, what is the role of our screening bodies - our District Committees on Ordained Ministry and Conference Boards?  Even more, what is the role of our seminaries?  Should we be accepting any warm body because we have country churches lacking pastors or seminary budgets that will fall short if everyone is not accepted?

I am aware - fully aware - that there are people in seminary who should never be pastors.  I am also fully aware that there are people serving our churches who should not be pastors.  And, I take all of this a little personally because neither of my parents are United Methodists anymore.  While both were raised in the United Methodist Church - my mother was the daughter of a United Methodist minister - both of them have left the church in their middle ages.  And, my mother left the church just a couple years ago because of a lack of clergy leadership.  The pastor of her local United Methodist Church worshipped the congregation down from 120 to 80 to 50 to now less than 40 people.  The local United Methodist pastor proudly proclaimed how she does not believe in the resurrection.  The local United Methodist pastor should have never - NEVER - been ordained.

Our churches are declining.  Many of them are almost dead.  Thousands of people are unchurched or dechurched.  It is going to take exceptional leadership - creative leadership that thinks outside the box - to change the current sinking ship.

What is our role?  How honest are we to be?  What is the definition of a good pastor?

What do you expect in your pastor?

Please note that this pastor values your honesty.  How is it that I can be better?  Where am I not meeting the bar?

Quite the Contrast

An article on the front page of today's Metro section reads, "D.C. school officials have registered about 462 homeless students this year, twice as many as the same time last year.  Schools in Fairfax County, one of the country's most affluent areas, counted 1,314 homeless students early last month, up 20 percent from the same period last year." (Maria Glod, "Schools Face Sharp Rise in Homeless Students," in the Washington Post, Sunday, February 8, 2009, C1.)

The article shakes me to the core of my being.  I cannot imagine trying to learn as an elementary school student and at the same time not knowing where I would sleep that night.  I cannot imagine being a mother trying to make ends meet without a place to put my child to bed at night.

As I pondered the sadness in the article, I was reminded of Millard Fuller who passed away last week.  Millard once said, "'There are sufficient resources in the world for the needs of everybody but not enough for the greed of even a significant minority" (Frances Romero in Time, February 16, 2009, 15).

Almighty God, forgive us.  Help us.  Fix us.  Amen.

Jeans in Church

I'm thinking of wearing jeans to church tomorrow.  I know that I won't, but I am tempted to trade my normal suit and heals for jeans and Uggs - for just one day.  

The congregation has been invited to come casual tomorrow and then stay after worship for a couple of hours, helping our Trustees clean out a room that has been filled with music, moving the music to the 4th floor where it belongs.  At the same time, we will be letting go of some of the furniture that was damaged in the move or no longer needed.  We have invited people, even encouraged people, to wear jeans to church.  And yet, I know that when some people wear jeans to church, other people complain.

Is this the way they dress during the week?

If they can wear a suit to the office all week, then why can't they wear a suit to church?

Would they wear that to their grandmother's church?

This, my friends, is not your grandmother's church.  Your grandmother's church is almost dead - or probably is dead - unless it has made some changes, adapting to the changing landscape of our communities and changing lifestyles of the people who live around us.

There is an article in today's Washington Post called "Bush White House Assails Obama."  The article is complete with a picture of President Obama and several of his staff members doing the God-forsaken thing of sitting in the Oval Office without their coats on.  It seems as though our new President and his staff work better without their suit jackets.  Dan Eggen, writer of the article writes, "And Andrew H. Card Jr., George W. Bush's first chief of staff, took Obama to task for allowing shirtsleeves and loose collars in the Oval Office - arguing that they are a clear departure from Bush's sterner sartorial rules."  Eggen quotes Card saying "'There should be a dress code of respect.'"

Now, I have to tell you that I believe in respect.  I believe that we are to respect our elders and also some time-honored tradition.  But, I also believe that people have a tendency to get all bent out of shape on ridiculous things - like young people wearing jeans to church and a young President not keeping his jacket on in the Oval Office.

I would much rather that the President roll up his sleeves and get to work on fixing the miserable mess our country is in right now.  I would much rather his staff wear what most suits their ability to work well.  I want the staff of the White House to be focused on fixing what is broken.  I want these individuals entrusted with power to think about the poor and not how to appear more powerful.  I don't want their energy consumed by how they should appear when they are in the West Wing or the Oval Office.

And, I want the doors of our church to be open to all - to those dressed like my grandmother dressed when she went to church and to those who do not own anything that nice.  I want the doors of our church to be wide open for those who appear to have it all together and those who appear to be falling apart.  I want the doors of our church wide open to those who wear ties and to those who wear sweatpants.  I want the doors of our church open to anyone who dares to come in - not matter what they wear or anything else!

Come on, people, let's focus on the big picture - both at the White House and in our houses of worship.

At Mount Vernon Place, you can wear whatever is most comfortable to you.  Come in what pleases you - come in whatever you want.

Maybe I'll wear jeans to church tomorrow.

Faithfulness

For the past several days, I have been amazed at the tax problems that have somehow surfaced before the Senate. First, it was Timothy Geithner who failed to pay $48,000 in Social Security and other taxes from 2001-04. The person who is now our Secretary of the Treasury - the one responsible for regulating financial issues for our country, did not know that he needed to pay estimated taxes while working for the International Monetary Fund!! Then, tax problems started to surface in the home of Tom and Linda Daschle. Over $100,000 was owed by Tom Daschle. The person spent many, many years in the Senate but did not realize that a car and a driver were more than gifts. While Geithner was confirmed, former Senator Daschle backed out today. Daschle withdrew his name from consideration as the next Secretary of Health and Human Services, not wanting to be a distraction to President Obama.

One man is confirmed in the midst of his many mistakes. The other man backs down, withdraws his name from consideration.

One man makes it through. The other one seems to acknowledge that there are standards - high standards - for the President's Cabinet.

For the last week, many of my thoughts have been consumed by the subject of clergy leadership. I spent three years as a student at Duke Divinity School and then four years as an administrator at the school. For seven years, I was consumed by the school's literature about "excellence in ministry." While working as the Director of Admissions, I labored hard to increase our number of applicants, pulling the acceptance rate down from 90%+ to 50%. We set new standards. Even though one had a 3.8 GPA, they might not necessarily get into the school. Even though one had a clear call to ministry and great letters of recommendation, they might not be accepted. We tried to recruit the best of the best, making the incoming classes as strong as possible, hoping that these individuals would go out and transform the church and the world. It was a privilege to serve in this capacity. But, my time at Duke forced my standards pretty high - very high.

Craig Dykstra at the Lilly Endowment talks a lot about how much of our clergy leadership is "mediocrity masquerading as faithfulness." I believe Dykstra's statement is right on. More of our churches are declining instead of growing. Nearly half of our United Methodist Church's did not take in a single new member by profession of faith last year - there was not one new person who came to the faith in 50% of our churches. And yet, we keep on paying these pastors, even guaranteeing them an appointment for life.

After sitting through my first week of interviews as part of my Conference's Board of Ordained Ministry last week, I keep thinking about mediocrity and faithfulness, excellence and ministry. I keep thinking about how we can call forth the best of the best - how we can identify gifted people for ministry while in high school or college, how we can raise our standards, how we can make sure that every clergy person is offering their best - their very best. I keep thinking about how some people need to be stopped and others need to be encouraged.

I'm not sure that anyone who fails to pay nearly $50,000 in taxes should ever be our Secretary of the Treasury. I believe that Daschle did the right thing by stepping down.

There are some weeks when people in my church would be appalled at how little time I spend with God. There are other weeks when I might appear to be the picture of faithfulness. There have been some moments when I have been able to perfectly articulate my theology and other weeks when I was not sure how God really works. There are some days when I can tell you exactly what it takes to turn around a dying church and other weeks when I'd rather be reading the employment ads in the Washington Post. There are times when I offer my best and other times when I offer something far from my best.

I wonder how many people we have ordained who have something like a $50,000 tax payment owed. I wonder how many other people have gracefully stepped down - even though they had significant gifts that could be used in our church. I wonder if our process of calling forth and examining individuals is working like the process did for Geithner or like it did for Daschle.

What are the standards for clergy excellence? Clergy leadership? What do you expect from your pastor? Have you seen mediocrity masquerading as faithfulness or have you seen faithfulness - real, transforming faithfulness?

Do Unto Others

Mount Vernon Place UMC, the church I serve in Washington, has long been a staple in ministries of mercy and justice in Washington. The church has had a 'Social Concerns Commission' almost since its inception. At one time, this particular commission had some six subcommittees, one to work with prison ministries, one to work with the homeless, one to work on poverty, etc. Several decades ago, the church owned a camp - not for members of our church - but for children in our community who would otherwise not be able to go to camp. The church used to have several people on staff who provided a variety of social services. This church has long been the Body of Christ - a body of people who have been faithfully trying to discern how best to be Christ's hands, heart and feet in Washington.

Yesterday, under the leadership of two very passionate and capable individuals, our Serve Ministry Team met for the first time in 2009. We had 64 people in worship yesterday. Twenty - twenty! - of these individuals gave some time on Superbowl Sunday to gather after worship in order to talk about what service means and where we might be called as a congregation to serve in this city, this nation and this world.

The gathering started by people responding to the question, "What does serve mean to you?" Here are some of the responses people offered:

• transcending self-interest
• interacting with others so that all are accepted
• helping others to have a more normal life
• working for the restoration of God's kingdom on earth
• helping others to live the life God intended for them
• bringing the Kingdom of God to earth

Of the twenty people present, 14 are members of the church and six were visitors. Of the six visitors, one lives in a women's shelter. She knows firsthand the things that are helpful and the things that are not helpful. We learned so much from her as we want to take warm fried chicken dinners to the shelter but what she really need is something to deal with a horrendous bedbug issue. We want to provide food - but what she really needs is full length mirror because of all the shelters where she has stayed, she has never been able to see her entire body in a mirror before leaving for a job interview. We want to provide food - but what really nourishes her are good books at the day center's library. We want to give her something, but what she really needs is people willing to work on her behalf, fighting for more affordable housing and sanitary conditions in the city's shelters in the meantime.

It was a remarkable gathering. It was as if I had been to church - as if the people were feeding me - pouring the Gospel down my throat - when they defined service to me and then shared what service really means.

Can you imagine what this world might look like if we were all trying to transcend self-interest?

I hope you'll join us on the first Sunday of every month, beginning at 1:00 in the afternoon, as we seek to discern what exactly this means for us.