The Membership Gap

I serve as a pastor in a shrinking denomination. Our church, the United Methodist Church, has been losing members for decades. The loss is significant enough that four out of five geographical regions, things we call "jurisdictions," are being required to eliminate a bishop. Bishops are often not easily eliminated. A lot of people want to be a bishop! This step means that things are serious - that the continuous decline is forcing some tough conversations.

While many people say we should not focus too much time or attention on numbers, I must confess that I think a lot about church growth. I spend hours daydreaming about how to bring more people into the church and how our church's ministry can play a role in God's never ending efforts to change and transform lives.

Last week, I attended a conference organized by members of my denomination titled, "Prodigal Worship." The conference was designed to showcase different ways in which our worship can attract prodigals - individuals not currently affiliated with the church, people not currently following Jesus. At Tuesday's Conference, Michael Slaughter of Ginghamsburg Church taught us about preaching and videos, stage design and other strategies. The folks from Midnight Oil offered a powerful presentation on the importance of metaphor. It was extraordinary and offered insights we will definitely use.

Throughout the day, the worship featured many singers standing around microphones. A couple of people played electric guitars. There were two kinds of drums and a couple of keyboards. Nothing was traditional. Everything was contemporary.

I left having been given the impression that unless our churches have rock bands and a screen, then we might as well not expect any young adults to come into our doors. I left having been given the impression that it is worship - and little else - that brings young people into our doors.

But...my experience has been quite different.

In the March 15, 2010 edition of Newsweek, Robert J. Samuelson offers statistics that we who are leading churches need to read. He writes in an article titled, "The Real Generation Gap," what millennials and Gen Xers do, think and feel. Millennials are individuals 29 and under. Gen Xers are people age 30 to 45. These two groups are the very groups many of our churches are missing.

Samuelson writes, "Surprising (to me): almost two-fifths of millennials (38 percent) have tattoos, up from a third (32 percent) among Gen Xers and a seventh (15 percent) among boomers. Not surprising: millennials are the first truly digital generation. Three quarters have created a profile on Facebook or some other social-networking site. Only half of Gen Xers and 30 percent of boomers have done so. A fifth of millennials have posted videos of themselves online, far more than Gen Xers (6 percent) or boomers (2 percent)."

Later in the article, Samuelson states, "Every generation shows more racial and sexual openness. Half of millennials favor gay marriage; among boomers and older Americans, support is a third and a quarter, respectively. Only 5 percent of millennials oppose interracial marriage, down from 26 percent among those 65 and older" (page 18).

How do we expect these individuals to come into a church that is sending an entirely different message?

I am not sure it is our worship style that is keeping people out of the church or bringing people into the church. I serve as the pastor of a church where we sing from a hymnal and are accompanied by either a piano or an organ. When I look out at our congregation, I see a congregation in which 75% of the people have come in the last couple of years, most of whom are under the age of 40. I serve a church that is growing - growing with young prodigals - growing with people who once wanted nothing to do with the church. Our church is growing - without a band and with technology that is all there but not often used.

A few weeks ago I was meeting with a couple preparing for marriage. One of the individuals goes to church occasionally and would like to go more. The other person wants little to do with the church. When we were talking about religion, I inquired of this person what it would take to get him going to church again, "What kind of church would you go to?" His response, "I would go to church if I could find a church that was not hateful or judgmental."

Our churches, many of our churches, are surrounded by young prodigals. Some of them have been told that they are not welcome because of how they live or how they love. Some of them have been looked at in a not so accepting way because of how they dress or perhaps even the tattoos on their body. Some of them have been given everything but a positive picture of the church - the body of Christ.

Yes, our church is growing. It is growing with people who want to be in a place that really is, "Come just as you are." It is growing with people who want to see a congregation seeking to faithfully engage and serve the needs of its community. It is growing with people who want to offer their time and other gifts to meet the complex needs of a city. It is growing with people who believe that all should be welcome - that all should be accepted - no matter what. This is the kind of church I serve. I love my church. If I were not pastoring this church, it is the kind of place I would want to come as a 30-something young adult.

It takes more than a rock band and an edgy video to get people in the doors. If the doors are shut, if they are even only partially open, then prodigals will never find their way home.

Missing Lent

I missed Lent this year. I started the 40 days with high hopes for how my life would change - for the discipline that would enter my diet, my exercise routine, and my spiritual life. I had high hopes for how I might be different come Easter. But, I did not see much real change throughout Lent - not much change until this week.

I missed Lent this year. Instead of journeying with an Adam Hamilton study focused on the final hours or a cross-shaped Bible study, our congregation entered into a Season of Storytelling. The conversation was rich. The ability to sit and listen was a gift. But, I don't feel like it brought me to the cross.

I missed Lent this year. Unlike my parishioner Mary Elizabeth who can hardly wait to eat a cookie and some candy come Sunday because she has not had it for 40 days, I did not let go of one specific thing that I love.

I missed Lent this year.

At least I thought I did. I thought I had missed it until this Holy Week commenced. I now realize where Jesus has me, and it is one step closer to the cross.

My eyes have been awakened this week to all the places where his name is still crucified. I have listened many mornings to the beat of a drum outside my office window, a drum that keeps marchers on step as they go around a circle arguing for better wages from a drywall company doing work in the building upstairs. It's a fine argument to make. But not when the argument is being made by homeless people who are marching for a union and being paid anything but a minimal wage.

I went to the cross on Tuesday. My spirit was already vulnerable as I had been working on my Good Friday sermon. There is something about preaching on this day that is so real and so painful. My mind was at the cross as I exegeted a passage and sought to discover how the final words from the cross, "into your hands I commend my spirit" could be made tangible in the lives of those who will gather downtown today. But I soon found my spirit coming to the cross, too.

At some moment on each day this week I have been working for equality in our United Methodist Church. I have been working, praying, and communicating for ways in which doors that are currently shut might be opened to LGBT United Methodists and those who will soon come to our churches. Each day, through emails and conversations, I have been aware of what a struggle this is - of how strong the opinions are on each side. Each day, I have been aware of the hurtful comments that are made - how mud is sometimes slung back and forth from both sides of the aisle. And, each day this week I have been reminded how even people who stand on the same side of the issue can somehow figure out how to oppose one another - to discourage one another instead of encourage one another. There have been times this week when I have wanted to toss my hands in the air and let it all go - not my call to this struggle and not my love of God - but my love of an institution. The struggle is so painful. But, I am reminded that there are thousands of people who have been struggling a lot longer than me. They have not given up. I am also reminded of how my life has been much easier - I am a straight, white person who has always been accepted, after all. And, through the push of Jesus, the journey to the cross, the shouting voices that call us to do justice and love mercy and walk humbly with God, I am not giving up either.

The cross is such a mysterious place. My colleague in the city has done a sermon series on all the theories that describe what happened there. There are a million of them. We can disagree on what exactly happened and the reasons behind it. But this I know. I know in my heart that Jesus came and showed us how to live - how to love extravagantly, how to go to the margins, how to let go of our lives so that God could have our lives. I know that Jesus willingly went to the cross. He went to the cross to show that death would not have the final answer. He went to the cross to show who was in control. He went to the cross, and he preached prophetic words even from that place - telling a thief, yes a thief! - that even the thief could enter God's kingdom that day. He went to the cross and continued to share words of love even from the place of crucifixion. He went to the cross and demonstrated to us what it looks like to embody the words, "Take up your cross and follow me." He was crucified - not for being bad - but for being so incredibly good. He was crucified for taking something - for taking power away from the fists of this world's ways.

And then he rose. And his resurrection is what tells me that no matter what might be happening today, there is always another way. No matter how many people walk without the basic necessities or the care or the dignity they respect, there will come a day when all of God's children will have shoes! No matter what today holds, I know that the ultimate tomorrow is held by God.

I've journeyed to the cross. I'm ready to stand with him there from noon to 3:00 today. I'm ready to go to Golgotha. But God, when it's all over, please, please give me the courage and the wisdom to not just walk away and celebrate Easter but to take up the crosses you continue to call me and our church to carry. Show us, once more, who is in captivity and waiting to be freed. Show us, God, who needs your resurrection power - the power that shows us who really is in control. Take us to the cross.

Creating Hospitable Space

During the season of Lent, our congregation at Mount Vernon Place piloted a program for the Fund for Theological Education. The program, VoCARE, is designed to help congregations notice, name and nurture the gifts of God in each individual. We gathered each Monday night to take time to listen, ask self-awakening questions and reflect theologically.

For our listening, we were guided by a series of "Touchstones for Creating Hospitable Space." These touchstones were adapted by Parker Palmer's Center for Courage and Renewal and offer such grace and guidance.

This morning, in the midst of thinking about how best to create dialogue in our denomination over very contentious issues, these touchstones surfaced again. I wonder how different our conversations would be if we were guided by these touchstones.

1) Be 100% Present, extending and presuming welcome. Set aside the usual distractions of things undone from yesterday, things to do tomorrow. Welcome others into this place and presume you are welcome as well.

2) Listen deeply. Listen intently to what is said, listen to feelings beneath the words. As Quaker Douglas Steere writes, 'To listen another's soul into life, into a condition of disclosure and discovery - may be almost the greatest service that any human being ever performs for another.'

3) It is never 'share or die.' You will be invited to share in pairs, small groups, and in large circle. The invitation is exactly that. You will determine the extent to which you want to participate.

4) No fixing. We are not here to set someone else straight or to help right another's wrong. We are here to witness to God's movement in the sacred stories we share.

5) Suspend judgment. Set aside your judgments. By creating a space between judgments and reactions, we can listen to another person, and to ourselves, more fully.

6) Identify assumptions. By identifying our assumptions, which are usually transparent, we can set them aside and open the sharing and learning to greater possibilities.

7) Speak your truth. You are invited to say what is in your heart, trusting that your voice will be heard and your contribution respected. A helpful practice is to use 'I' statements.

8) Practice confidentiality care. We create a safe space by respecting the nature and content of stories shared. If anyone asks that a story shared be kept in confidence, the group will honor that request.

9) Turn to wonder. If you find yourself disagreeing with another, becoming judgmental, or shutting down in defense, try turning to wonder: 'I wonder what brought her to this place?' 'I wonder what my reaction teaches me?' 'I wonder what he's feeling right now?'

T-Shirt Sales

If I were in Durham today, I would have been one of the first people in line to buy a new t-shirt. I don't need a new t-shirt. Still, I would have gone to the Duke Store to pick out my favorite NCAA Men's Final Four shirt. I've stood in line at the Duke Store often on Mondays like this - eager to support the Blue Devils in a tangible way. I'm not in Durham, however, and I am still trying to figure out if $6.50 for shipping is too much for a $17.95 t-shirt.

The scene at the Duke Store today will be matched on three other college campuses across the country. Individuals will have lined up in at West Virginia, Butler, and Michigan State. I am willing to bet that all but one of the schools were prepared for the madness associated with a Final Four appearance. Most of the schools have been there before. But, this is an entirely new game for Butler.

I hope the folks at Butler are prepared for the attention that will come their way. Not only will thousands of dollars be pumped into the University in exchange for t-shirts and hats, but the admissions office will see a spike, too. Prospective students who never before considered going to Butler will call or email, requesting an application and more information. The website will get more hits than it has before. People, like myself, will now know that Butler is in Indianapolis, a fact we never knew before.

I spent four years as the Director of Admissions at Duke Divinity School. When I first arrived in this position in 2001, I quickly learned the value of a NCAA National Men's Championship. The statistics prior to my arrival showed that some of the best years in terms of applications and prospective student inquiries were in 1991 and 1992. Coincidence? I think not. These years were the years that Duke first won the NCAA Championship. I was rather fortunate to start this job in 2001, just as the men had won another championship. I came in with interest peaking and people calling the Divinity School from all over.

When I shared these statistics with my father, my dad laughed. He did not really believe me. He could not understand how the Divinity School could benefit from a men's undergraduate tournament championship. I literally had to show him the statistical report for him to believe me. And, I have not forgotten the value of such a victory. A trip to the Final Four is invaluable to a school. Schools could never afford the advertising fees it would take to get as much attention as they get with a trip to the Final Four. A championship is more priceless than Master Card could ever explain.

When a team, a team of a dozen or so students does really well, their school benefits. All it takes is for one of the many teams a university has to do exceeding well and the school sees unbelievable results.

But why am I writing about this?

I'm writing because I think the church can learn a similar lesson.

In Acts 2, we have a beautiful picture of the early church. In this picture, we see Peter preaching a powerful message. In response to his message, people ask what they are to do. Peter responds that they are to repent and live a changed life. And the people keep coming. They keep observing the life of the early believers. They see the early believers take what they have and share it with anyone who has a need. They see the early believers worship, celebrating God's presence in their midst. And, they see countless signs and wonders being done among this group. As a result, thousands of new coverts are added daily to the number of those who are being saved.

It was a small group who lived their faith exceedingly well. It was a small group who took their discipleship seriously. It was a small group that radiated the message of Jesus Christ. And as a result of this small group, countless individuals wanted to be part of the church. All it took was a small group of committed people really living out their faith, and the number of people doing the same grew.

I am convinced that if we as Christians were constantly striving to do the same, then something similar would happen to our churches. If we love like Christ, then people cannot help but to sense the wondrous love of Christ through our lives. If we forgive like Christ, not just once but seventy times seven times, then people cannot help but to be curious about the power that enables us to do this, just as many of us were completely captivated by the Amish community following the school house shooting a few years ago. If we accept others like Christ, then others will be able to see something extraordinary - something remarkable - something that is worth taking a second look at.

There have been days at the Duke Athletic Department that were not all that good. Not long ago, there was a lacrosse scandal that captured the attention of the entire country. At the time, many people looked down on Duke. Many people questioned whether it was the right school for them.

The same thing happens to the church. All it takes is for one person to claim they are a Christian and do something awful in order for ten people to be sent away. For some people, one story of hypocrisy can send a dozen people away. For other people, the way we feel about a particular group of people can send a multitude away. The church's tendency to be judgmental, hypocritical and anti-homosexual have placed a huge dent in the church. If you don't believe me, pick up a copy of the book, "UnChristian: What a New Generation Things about Christianity and Why it Matters."

What we do matters. What we do not do matters. People are watching us all the time. A small group of committed folks can bring in a hundred more. A small group of not so loving folks can send away a thousand.

What does your life say about Christ? What does our discipleship say about our church? Are others coming because of the light radiating from our lives?

The Golden Rule

A few months ago, I was attending a meeting in Columbia, Maryland. When I walked out to find my car in the very crowded parking lot, I noticed a note on it. "Please forgive me. I accidently hit your car and broke the light cover. Here is my insurance information."

I was so stunned to see the note. I suppose my faith in common humanity is not that high - not high enough to expect someone who hit my car to leave a note. The damage was minimal. A tail light cover was cracked. The entire cost of repair was around $150 when the insurance check arrived. It was a small thing. Yet, the gesture was invaluable.

My car has been swiped numerous times. Parking in an underground garage is not always good for a car. In an effort to make money, garage operators typically seek to fill the garage as full as possibly. My bumpers and a few other places on my car show the impact of parking in such a place for several years now. No one else has ever left a note when they have swiped my car or my bumper. But this person did. This person recognized what he did and got out of his car, leaving his entire insurance card on my windshield.

This afternoon, I was running errands. When I finished grocery shopping, I stopped at the Post Office to mail a couple of packages. The parking spot that was available was a parallel parking spot on the driver's side - not always a side I am accustomed to parking on, and the spot was rather tight. While parking my car, I accidently scratched the car in front of me. It is a small scratch - but it is a scratch, nonetheless. My first reaction was to listen to my heart beating. My second reaction was to wonder what to do. I paused for a few moments, and then I remembered what the other person had done for me. I got out of my car and stuck my business card on the windshield with a note explaining how I had bumped the car. I apologized. I then got in my car and drove home. I now wait for the person to call.

What I did today was not easy. It would have been so much easier to look around, conclude that no one saw me bump another car, and then continue on my way. It would have been easier to pretend that nothing happened and to go about my day. Yet, the person who left a note on my car showed me what is right. He went out of his way to demonstrate integrity and honesty by acknowledging his mistake.

I wonder. I wonder how much different this world would be if everyone reacted like the person who hit my car a few months ago. What would be different in this world if we readily admitted our mistakes, our shortcomings, our failures - no matter how costly the mistake? What if we all sought to do what is right - when people are looking and when no one is looking?

I have screwed up so many times and found it easier to seek to move on with my life instead of confronting my shortcomings. And while I can pretend to have buried these shortcomings or failures deep in the ground, they still have a way of resurfacing at times.

Today, I bumped a car. I scratched the bumper of someone's Honda Accord. I hate that I did it, and I don't think many people will even notice it. But, just in case...just in case, I left a note. I admitted my mistake. I asked the person to call so I can apologize and take care of it.

Thank you driver in Columbia, Maryland who hit my car. Thank you for restoring my faith in common humanity. Thank you for teaching me how to respond in similar situations.

It was one of the first things I ever learned in school. Always do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

60 Miles to Solitude

I'm back from spending four full days in solitude. Last Monday afternoon, I arrived at Holy Cross Abbey a few minutes after 4:00 in the afternoon. I consumed two chapters of one book before dinner at 6:15 and was in bed by 9:30. A pattern of days centered on rest, prayer, long walks, contemplation, and reading would continue until I left the monastery on Thursday evening. While the abbey is a mere 60 miles from my home, it might as well be a million miles from Washington. Each year, I savor my time there, and each year, I return home having learned many lessons from the monks and the lifestyle they live at Holy Cross.

In a nutshell, this is what I learned:

1) Mountains are one of God's greatest creative works. Time in the valley of the Shenandoah Mountains reminds me often why the Psalmist was led to write, "I lift my eyes to the Hills, from where comes my help. My help comes from the Lord."

2) There is something wonderful about being tucked in by your husband every night at home. At the abbey, there is something wonderful about offering the same prayers each night before being sprinkled with holy water. Each night, the monks offer the same prayer, "God, grant us a restful night and a peaceful death." They are then given a tangible sign of God's presence through the water, a gift of being able to remember their baptism each evening.

3) I read a total of seven books last week. I consumed some of them and pondered others. I read some of them at a snail's pace and devoured others like they were chocolate. After reading these books, I could not help but to start putting sermon ideas down on paper. I am convinced, once again, that reading a lot is one of the best gifts I can give my congregation. Pastors should always make time for reading. We cannot keep our preaching fresh and full and faithful without it.

4) There is something about the sound of monks chanting. I hope and pray that heaven is filled with the sound of Gregorian chant. In the meantime, this part of worship at the abbey is, by far, my favorite part. I'll return again and again just to hear them chant their prayers to God.

5) I can come up with a million excuses for why I do not exercise. But, at the abbey I walked at least an hour each day. The exercise gave me more energy than I have had in a long time. Why do I not spend at least an hour exercising at home?

6) The monks gather for prayer and worship at 3:30 a.m., 7:00 a.m., 2:00 p.m., 5:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. We should all worship and pray this often.

7) The monks eat their larger meal at noon and then have a simple, often vegetarian meal at dinner. I like this pattern.

8) Solitude is nothing, and solitude is everything. All of us should take time to go away and rest for a while.

Thank you, God, for the gift of last week. I am so grateful and ready now to journey with you and these people through the waving of Palms on Palm Sunday, the remembrance of your last meal on Holy Thursday, the agony of the cross on Good Friday, and the celebration of the resurrection on Easter. Thank you, God, for rest, for renewal, and for a husband who not only allows but also encourages time away for these gifts. Amen.

Return to Me

"Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing." John 2:12 - 13.

Stacks of carefully selected clothing are piled neatly on top of the bed this morning - a couple pair of jeans, several pairs of socks, a pair of sweats, my favorite flannel pajamas, several t-shirts, one sweatshirt and two sweaters. Along with the clothing, there are stacks of books everywhere. A large bag in the car already holds about twenty books that I pulled from my office shelves yesterday afternoon. Sitting in front of me is a stack that includes Thomas Merton's "Book of Hours," Colon and Field's "Singled Out," Escamilla's "Longing for Enough in a Culture of More," Braestrup's "Here if You Need Me," Gawande's "The Checklist Manifesto," Miles "Jesus Freak," Cohen's "My Jesus Year," and Okrant's "Living Oprah." The later two will be read and compared, with the thinking of how differently we can pattern our days. The others will be read for both enjoyment and mental stimulation while always keeping an eye out for the possible sermon series to feed myself and the people who gather for worship at Mount Vernon Place.

After a trip to the gym this morning and lunch with my beloved friend and God-daughter in Reston, I'll continue along the road journeying West until I arrive at what has become my favorite part of Lent - five days at Holy Cross Abbey, a monastery sustained by brothers who make creamed honey and fruitcakes as well as hosting weary disciples longing for rest.

It is at this place that I return to the Lord not with a few moments of the day but with everything that I have for a few days. I allow the noise of a stream to invigorate me instead of the sounds of NPR or the Today Show. I allow my updates to come from the pages of scripture instead of from logging onto Facebook a half-a-dozen times a day. I allow my sustenance to come from simple meals consumed in silence instead of from what is boxed and frozen in my work refrigerator or easy to cook for my husband and me after returning home from a long day. I allow my mind to be filled with good things - with creative thoughts for the sermon series that will happen in the year ahead, with wonder of how the Lord is working in my life, with words of praise and thanksgiving for all God has done, with the prayers of the Psalmists spoken from memory by the brothers who gather for prayer several times a day. I'll long for the end of the day, when the abbot will sprinkle me with holy water once more, bidding goodnight with a tangible reality of God's presence in the darkness. I'll allow my fingertips to touch the holy water each time I walk into the chapel for prayer, remembering my baptism each time.

In the next five days, I'll take long walks with no particular end in sight. I'll go to bed early and rise early on some days and later on other days. I'll read scripture, journal often, and find myself staring at a wooden cross in my room where Jesus is still hanging, pondering the meaning and significance of it all, realizing that the moment on the cross and especially the triumph over the grave are the most amazing acts in all of history. I'll seek guidance and direction from God for how I am called to continue to lead the people I have been called to serve. I'll pray for the needs of others. I'll go to the bookstore and stock up on cards that can be mailed in the months ahead. I'll allow my mind to turn to praise, to wonder, to confession, to gratitude, to direction, to the future.

This week is the week in which I most am able to return to the Lord, allowing God to really search me and me to really search for God.

I'm ready. I'm ready to return to the Lord with not just a part - but with all my heart. Thanks be to God.

Preaching for Change

Who, Me?
Exodus 3:1-12 and Luke 10:25-37
March 7, 2010

It was February 1, 1960. I can imagine that the counter at the Woolworth’s in Greensboro, North Carolina had experienced a rather typical day: a few cups of coffee had been spilled, the sugar container had been emptied and refilled three times, and residue from a customer’s bacon and eggs was still on the edge of the counter. It was an ordinary day that became extraordinary when four African American college students studying nearby walked in and sat down. Today, we know that their peaceful demonstration led to change. As a result of their sitting down and countless others following them on the same stools, change came. The counter at Woolworth’s was open to all people six months later. Four people sat down in order to stand up for what they believed was right, paving the ways for thousands of others to have equal rights.

In a piece that aired on NPR, Franklin McCain, one of the four men who first sat down, remembered the many emotions that went through his head on that Monday afternoon. He shared how fifteen seconds after sitting down he "had the most wonderful feeling. I had a feeling of liberation, restored manhood. I had a natural high. And I truly felt almost invincible. Mind you, [I was] just sitting on a dumb stool and not having asked for service yet." McCain continued, "It's a feeling that I don't think that I'll ever be able to have again. It's the kind of thing that people pray for … and wish for all their lives and never experience it. And I felt as though I wouldn't have been cheated out of life had that been the end of my life at that second or that moment."[1]

The person who has had the most profound impact on my life is a former bishop in the Methodist Church of Southern Africa named Peter Storey. I was Dr. Storey’s student for two semesters where I was able to sit at his feet and hear stories of similar resistance. I have heard countless stories about the efforts of clergy and laypeople to fight against the evils of apartheid in South Africa. Dr. Storey was appointed to very large, all-white church at the height of apartheid. It did not take him long to start pushing the boundaries in that church. He started to question why the congregation was going along with the status quo of both the government policies and the church’s Discipline instead of living like Christ. He started to preach the gospel – a gospel without walls. Soon, more than half the congregation left. The worship services that were broadcasted across the nation were yanked from the airwaves. But Dr. Storey kept on preaching.

When it came to marriage, Dr. Storey was strictly forbidden from marrying a white person and a black person. It was something that the government and his church forbid him from doing. It was an offense that was punishable with time in jail. But, Dr. Storey did not listen to the government or to his church’s teaching. He listened instead to the voice of Jesus crying out from the pages of scripture – to the voice of a savior who said that the Spirit of the Lord was upon him to proclaim release to the captives.

This week, much of my attention has been captured by the momentous change that happened in our city when 151 couples arrived at the city courthouse to apply for a license to marry. On Wednesday, not only men and women were allowed to sign on the dotted line, getting the paperwork needed to stand and say, “I vow to be with you always,” but on Wednesday, this right to marry was given to all couples who are committed to being together in good times and in bad times, for richer for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do them part.

I’ve wrestled a lot this week because as a United Methodist pastor, I am strictly forbidden from presiding over a same-sex union. But this week, I have wrestled mightily with the words found in the Book of Discipline, the words found in scripture, and my understanding of Jesus Christ. I have also pondered the actions of a colleague and another United Methodist Church in this city who have publicly declared to offer radical hospitality to all people, creating a statement that reads, “Today we affirm that God’s grace is open to all,” and ends with “We will honor and celebrate the wedding of any couple, licensed in the District of Columbia, who seek to commit their lives to one another in marriage.” As I have read this statement and spent hours on the phone this week with other United Methodist Clergy in this city, I have thought about how this colleague is putting it all on the line. And still, there is not a doubt in my mind that God has led her to this place – that she, along with the four people who sat at a counter in Greensboro in 1960, and my colleague Peter Storey who put his very life on the line in order to fight against apartheid, are all following a call of God on their lives.

At the start of Exodus 3, Moses is keeping the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro. Moses and the sheep have wandered far, beyond the wilderness, all the way to the mountain of Horeb. It is here, at the Mountain of God, where Moses sees a burning bush. A voice beckons from this bush, “Moses, Moses.” God then instructs Moses to come no further, to take his sandals off because he is standing on holy ground, and then God names the reality Moses is all too familiar with.

God says, “’I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.’” These words are beautiful words. I can imagine Moses was excited and delighted to hear these words, to know that God had a plan to deliver the people.

But, God does not stop here. God keeps talking.

In verse 10, God says, “’So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.’”

Come, Moses.

I am going to send you.

You are going to be the one to lead my people out of Egypt.

I am not sure any of us would welcome these words, and Moses does not either, at least initially.
Moses responds, “’Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’” God then offers the only response that is ever needed, “’I will be with you.’”

God has seen the misery of the people. Moses is familiar with this misery. And God calls Moses by name, appointing him to partner with God, leading the people out of Egypt.

Moses was faced with a challenge. He knew the misery of the people and how they were longing for the Promised Land. Moses was faced with a choice. He could respond to God’s call and do as God said or walk away, remaining a shepherd the rest of his life. But the challenge and the choice presented by God could also have two very different outcomes. The people could, indeed, be led into the land flowing with milk and honey or the people could remain in bondage.

I am convinced that we are surrounded by similar choices today. There are people all around us who have not yet been given access to the land flowing with milk and honey.

I think of individuals who live in this country – immigrants who know no home other than this one – but people who are not able to live fully and freely because they lack the necessary documents required for this freedom.

I think of victims of prostitution who are held under pimp control in a city where the pimp is so often protected from prosecution, rarely arrested, while the victim suffers as she goes from hotel to hotel room and gets arrested while the one holding the keys in his fur coat and sports car with very tinted glass is never arrested.

I think of people who have to choose between food for their children and the prescribed medication for their physical ailment because they lack access to affordable health care.

We who live in this city do not have to go far to discover someone living in bondage – someone yearning for the milk and honey of the Promised Land but faced with the scarcity of the wilderness.

In the story of the Israelites, God knows well the present circumstances of the people, and God is prepared to act decisively. God is prepared to bring the people out of Egypt and into that land of promise. God has a plan, but God cannot execute the plan alone. And this is why humans so often have the precious privilege of being caught up in God’s mighty acts of salvation no matter how scary or daunting or uncertain the act might be.

Walter Brueggemann explains, “In one brief utterance, the grand intention of God has become a specific human responsibility, human obligation, and human vocation. It is Moses who will do what Yahweh said, and Moses who will run the risks that Yahweh seemed ready to take. The connection of God and Moses, of heaven and earth, of great power and dangerous strategy is all carried in the statement ‘I will send you.’ After the massive intrusion of God, the exodus has suddenly become a human enterprise. It is Moses (not God) who will meet with Pharaoh. It is Moses (not God) who will ‘bring out’ ‘my people.’ It is Moses who acts in God’s place to save God’s people. Again, this is the odd joining of God and human history. The joining is done, however, through the vulnerable, risk-taking body of Moses, on whom everything now depends.”[2]

I wonder what would have happened had people in this country not stood up or sat down for an end to racial segregation.

I wonder what would have happened had the church and its leaders, people like Peter Storey, not taken a stance against a nation’s policies in South Africa, decrying time and again that apartheid was wrong.

I wonder what would have happened if pastors like John Rustin had remained silent on the sins of our own denomination – on this church’s policy of standing for slavery instead of saying that all people were and are created equal – that all people are created to be free.

And I wonder. I wonder what will happen when people like my colleague Mary Kay continue to stand up and say that the time has come for the United Methodist Church to stop holding people back from reaching the fullest expression of their humanity, when people like Mary Kay go against the Discipline while others work hard to change the Discipline.

God’s call can be so uncertain at times. And still, I believe we are all called to something. Every single person in this room has a call to do something.

I again quote Walter Brueggemann who writes, “An uncalled life is an autonomous existence in which there is no intrusion, disruption, or redefinition, no appearance or utterance of the Holy. We may imagine in our autonomous existence, moreover, that no one knows our name until we announce it, and no one requires anything of us except that for which we volunteer. The life of Moses in this narrative, as the lives of all people who live in this narrative of faith, is not autonomous. There is this One who knows and calls by name, even while we imagine we are unknown and unsummoned.”[3]

My brothers and sisters in Christ, we have not been called to be autonomous. We are here and our being here is designed to throw us off-kilter. We are here in the presence of God and a fellowship of people who are trying hard to figure out what it really means to be faithful and as a result of our being in such company, we might find our lives being intruded upon or disrupted or redefined. We might experience a change – because this is the kind of God in whose name we worship and in whose presence we stand.

God has come down. God came down and spoke with Moses through a burning bush. And God came down again in the fully incarnate Jesus. Jesus is the one who has called my name. Jesus is the one who has disrupted my life. And Jesus is the one who I believe is still calling us to disrupt the ways of the world and sometimes the ways of our church so that all people can experience the gift of disruption – the gift of seeing chains fall off and bonds loosened.

Who is it that we have left on the side of the road?

Who is it that is not yet free?

What is God saying to us – to you, to me, and to all of us as a congregation – on this day?
[1] http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18615556
[2] Walter Brueggemann, New Interpreters Bible, Volume 1, Nashville: Abingdon, 1994, 713.
[3] Brueggemann, 719

Amazing Grace

As part of my Lenten discipline, I have been seeking to incorporate different readings into my morning devotional time. As a result, I have discovered new treasures. A book by Ann Weems titled, "Putting the Amazing Back in Grace," has quickly surfaced to the place of favorite. This morning, I was particularly struck by these words:

I was warned years ago that nobody likes

poetry and certainly nobody buys it!

What worried me then, what worries me

still, is how easily we in the church

forget the poetry of God,

how easily we in the church

extract the amazing from grace,

how easily we turn

Hosanna into ho-hum and

belief into bureaucracy and

righteousness into rules.

Addicted to our agendas,

bound to our budgets, we fail to

remember that the Love of God

is written upon our hearts...,

not in the Book of Order.

When we worship process,

we obliterate poetry.

We cover our eyes and our ears

against the beautiful red words,

the amazing words of the Word.

Jesus told the people to love their enemies,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to have compassion for strangers,

and the people were amazed.

He overturned the tables of the moneychangers,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to pray for those who persecuted them,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to set the captives free,

and the people were amazed.

He broke the rules, and healed on the Sabbath,

and the people were amazed.

While we in the church are spending

our energy on arguing,

who will bind the wounds?

And who will free the oppressed?

And who will feed his sheep?

Ann Weems, Putting the Amazing Back in Grace, Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1999, 9-10.

Heartbroken Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It's a great day to be a resident of the District of Columbia. On this day, countless couples are lining the steps of a courthouse a few blocks from the church with $35 dollars in hand to exchange what once seemed like only a dream for a new reality. On this day, countless individuals are being given the precious privilege of doing exactly what I did nearly two years ago when I went into a room in Durham, North Carolina, clinging to the hand of my fiance, in order to apply for a marriage license. No one looked at me twice on that day. And on this day, many of my dear friends are being given the same opportunity. On this day, the District of Columbia has proudly taken a stand to allow all people in committed relationships to marry - whether they are of the same sex or opposite sexes. It is a great day to be a resident of the District of Columbia. But, it is the most painful day, to date, that I have experienced as a United Methodist pastor.

I am heartbroken between a rock and a hard place.

With all of my heart, I believe that all people should be given the same rights I have been given. I believe that my gay and lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters should be able to marry, and I believe they should be able to lead a church, to be able to answer and respond to the claim God has placed upon so many of them when God called them, spoke out loud their names, inviting them to enter ordained ministry.

The God who called my name is one I know best as Jesus. When I read the scriptures, the thing I love most about Jesus is his ability to encounter all people - meeting them right where they are. Whether it was a woman at a well who had been married several times and was living with a man who was not her husband or tax collectors or hypocrites, Jesus was able to encounter people exactly where they were, calling them by name, changing and transforming their lives forever. When Jesus had a word of criticism to speak, he spoke more about rich people than anyone else. He was always going to the margins, and he has taken me to the margins so many times. I love Jesus' ability to see - to really see people just as God has created them to be.

I have preached several times on homosexuality and the Bible. You can read one of my sermons here and another one here. I have preached several times about how I feel about people who are gay, lesbian, transgendered and bisexual. I have preached many times about how I completely disagree with my own church's teaching on this subject. And today - today I cannot be silent. Today I want to shout it from the balcony of my office that the United Methodist Church is behind, wrong, and lagging when it comes to being the prophetic church it once was and the prophetic church I believe Jesus is calling us to be.

You see, the Book of Discipline of my church clearly states that I, as an ordained United Methodist pastor, "can be tried when charged with one or more of the following offenses: (a) immorality including but not limited to, not being celibate in singleness or not faithful in heterosexual marriage, (b) practices incompatible with Christian teachings, including but not limited to: being a self-avowed practicing homosexual; or conducting ceremonies which celebrate homosexual unions; or performing same-sex weddings ceremonies..." Paragraph 2702, 2008 Book of Discipline.

These words make me cringe. These words, along with words that state how homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching, make me want to scream, to protest, to go running to another denomination or to an independent church. At times, these words make me want to hang up my ordination altogether and start selling real estate or go into the wedding planning business.

But...I love being a pastor. And...I love being a pastor in the United Methodist Church.

Serving as a pastor in this denomination is the only thing I can imagine doing with my life. This church is the one that baptized me, the one that taught me the stories of Jesus, the one that confirmed me, the one that cultivated my gifts, the one that ordained me, and the one that has enabled me to flourish in ordained ministry. This church, the United Methodist Church, is the church I love. I love our emphasis on grace, our belief that grace is infused in all people whether they believe it or not. I love how our table is open to all people - how the Lord's Supper is a means of grace and can be a converting ordinance. I love our connectional system - our structure of being appointed and guided by bishops while also being in relationship with other churches around the globe. I love the United Methodist Committee on Relief - an organization that was in Haiti long before the earthquake and one that will remain there long after others have packed their bags and returned home. I love the teachings of our founder, John Wesley - his commitment to the poor and those in the margins, his commitment to seeing this church not as something that would be static but as something that would be a movement, his commitment to stand against slavary long before others were standing against it. I love the sense of practical divinity - how our faith is to be lived out in all we do and all we are. I love this church.

But, on this day, I am heartbroken - heartbroken between a rock and a hard place.

Earlier this week, I was meeting with one of our candidates for ordained ministry. She came floating in my office, sharing as if she had just read one of the most amazing novels ever. But, she had not been reading a novel. Rather, she had been reading the Social Principles of our denomination. She had read our church's understanding of countless different issues ranging from crime to military service to slavary to abortion to church and state relations. She shared how she was so surprised to find what she read. She was so surprised to discover how progressive our denomination is - how progressive we are "on everything but homosexuality."

When Jesus first stood in the temple, he unrolled the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and shared how the Spirit of the Lord was upon him to "preach good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free." I believe Jesus is still in this business. Our church, however, is holding some people captive, pulling them back from being the fullness of who they were created to be. Our church has lost some of its progressive power - its prophetic witness.

God, please continue to grant me your spirit of discernment in knowing what it means to faithfully be a disciple of your son, Jesus Christ. God, please be with our church and all who will next have the power to change our Book of Discipline. God, please enable us all to seek to listen and hear one another. God, please show us what it means to be your body. Please always guide my path, showing me when I should be faithful to you and when I should be faithful to a denomination. Amen.

Michelle Obama Arms

A few weeks ago, I arrived early for a 6:30 p.m. exercise class. The class that began at 5:30, Sports Circuit, was still in session. Each member of the class, covered in sweat, was lying on their blue mats, curling their bodies as their abs grew stronger by the minute. I watched several members of the class, each appearing to have a different level of physical fitness, and then I watched the instructor. The vocation of the instructor was written all over her body. Her body was one of the most defined I have ever seen. You could tell just by looking at her that she was a physical fitness buff. Her arms had lines in them. Her legs showed each muscle. Her body was lean and fit. I kept watching her, coveting that body as I watched.

I do the same thing with Michelle Obama. I cannot see the First Lady on television without admiring her arms. You can tell by looking at the First Lady that she lifts weights - that she cares for the body she has been given.

And I keep asking myself a question. What does my body say about me?

In his first letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul writes, "Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body" (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

If you look at my body, it does not look much like a temple of the Holy Spirit. Rather, it appears as though I have done a lot of what I want to do. I have consumed more sweets than vegetables. I have sat on the sofa with my husband more than I have gone to the gym. I have worked longer hours than really necessary. I have allowed the busyness of the church and life to take over. I have failed to exercise discipline. While my arms were on their way to looking like Michelle Obama's arms in the weeks leading to our wedding, those days have past. Eighteen months have gone by and some 30 pounds have been added since I walked down the aisle.

But my body, this body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. And, I would like to think that this body can keep going for a long time. I would like to think that people can see my vocation - not just when wearing a white alb on Sundays but through the life that I live. And, it's time to start treating this body a bit differently. It's time to treat it as a temple - giving it my very best instead of what is left over at the end of the day.

And so, my Lenten Discipline is to do just this. My Lenten journey will be focused on cultivating the practices that lead to embodying the Holy Spirit. During these 40 days of journeying in the wilderness, I intend to let go of what I have grown to love in order to become more like the person Christ is calling me to be.

My goals for this Lent are: t0 spend at least 30 minutes in scripture reading and praying each day, to go to the gym at least 4 times a week for one hour and exercise a minimum of 30 minutes at home on the other days, to reduce my sugar intake and stay within my allotted points for any given day, to not work on Fridays - but to save them for the purpose of Sabbath, and to reserve Saturdays for Craig.

The 40 days have begun. I am excited about my journey. My arms might not look like Michelle Obama's by the end of it all, but I hope to be more fit - more fit for the calling placed upon my life, more ready to provide a place for the Holy Spirit to dwell.

What about you? Where are you journeying during this season of Lent?

Winning Me Over

The Wednesday newspaper is my second favorite newspaper of the week. While Sunday's edition leads the way because of all the advertising inserts, the Wednesday Washington Post comes in a close second because of the grocery store advertisements. I love grocery shopping. I love pouring through the weekly sale ads, looking to see what is on sale, and then going to my coupon file to see how much money our family can save on groceries each week.

While there are three grocery stores within a mile radius of our home, I almost always chose the local Harris Teeter. It is within walking distance to our home. If I drive, they have underground parking. The store is always well-stocked. The people who work there are almost always helpful. And, the lines are often rather short. I love Harris Teeter. It is my favorite grocery store chain. However, Safeway has been winning me over in recent weeks.

For some time now, Safeway has been doing whatever it can to lure me into their store. For several weeks, I have received a postcard with coupons for Safeway. Many of the coupons offer me free things if I purchase $25 worth of groceries. Through these coupons, we have received free taco shells, free ground meat, free salsa, free pasta sauce, free lettuce, free pasta, and the list goes on and on. In addition to the free stuff, they have offered me $10 off any purchase of $50. The deal has seemed just too good to pass up. And, they lured me in again last night with a $15 coupon in the Washington Post, offered to anyone who would come in and spend $100. Craig and I carefully created last night's list, trying our best to hit the $100 mark - which we did just fine.

But, I have also noticed how Safeway is not only doing what they can to get me into the door, they are also doing what they can to get me to come back. Their shelves have been well-stocked - even with the loss-leader sale items. The clerks have been extra friendly - the man working the seafood counter last night even told me to "have a blessed day!" And, the store has been clean with super fresh produce. I realize each time I go that I am becoming a Safeway shopper.

And I wonder. I wonder what it would take for the church to learn a few things from Safeway. What is it that the church can do to invite people into its doors? How can the church extend warm welcomes, enticing people to come in? Are our buildings welcoming? Are their markers that enable people to see what doors should be used? Is there someone there pointing the way? Is there ample parking? What is it that we would need to say in order to grab someone's attention and get them to finally come inside? What kind of 'deals' are we offering?

We do, indeed, offer all kinds of free stuff each week. God's grace is a free gift - abundantly infused within all people. The fellowship found on the inside is free. The weekly message is free. The transformation offered by our Savior is offered without price - all you have to do is repent and seek change in your life. We offer all kinds of things, never charging admission, only inviting people to return a portion of what God has given to them. How is it that we get this message across to the people on the outside?

And, once people come in, how do we get them to see that they cannot live without what we are offering? What do we need to do to make sure they come back? I have found that if someone goes out of their way to welcome me, I'll be more likely to come back. If the pastor follows up with me via email or mail, I'll be more likely to come back. If I had children and the nursery was clean with an ample supply of toys or books and friendly people ready to care for my children for an hour or two, then I will be more likely to come back. If the message is relevant, and I can take at least one thing away from it, then I will be more likely to come back. If the order of worship is clear and the bulletin free from typos, then I'll be more likely to come back. If restrooms are easy to find and clean once I get there, then I'll be more likely to come back. If the entire thing feels genuine instead of production-like, then I'll be more likely to come back. If I sense real community and diversity, then I'll be more likely to come back.

What about you? What got you into the doors of a church? Or, what would get you to come inside the doors for the first time? And, what would it take to get you to come back?

Safeway executives, thanks for all the lessons you're teaching me. And the free food, well, we love it.

Prophetic Words from Peter Storey

My mentor and friend, Rev. Dr. Peter Storey, sent me a statement over the weekend. Knowing my own struggle to do whatever I can to make our church more inclusive and welcoming of all people, providing people who are LBGT the same privileges and rights that I have, Dr. Storey sent these reflections. It is a statement he made on behalf of a fellow clergyperson serving the South African Methodist Church who has been put on trial because of her sexual orientation. They are powerful words, and they are words that need to be prayerfully pondered over and over again.

My hope and my prayer is that people of faith on both sides of this issue will continue to come together, to pray, to dialogue, to hear one another's stories. I hope and pray for the day when we will all respect each other. I also hope and pray for the day that all people can be afforded the same opportunities that I have been given as a straight woman - the opportunity to proclaim God's word as an ordained clergyperson and the opportunity to stand at an altar and be married with the church as witness and support.


‘THERE COMES A TIME’
Address at a Service of Solidarity to mark the Trial of Rev. Ecclesia de Lange
by
Rev Prof Peter Storey DD.LLD.DHL
Rosebank Methodist Church, Cape Town, 8 February, 2010


There comes a time. It’s as simple as that.
1.
There comes a time when a new mind settles over the human family, when almost imperceptibly, people begin to think a new and different thought, making the old thought no longer thinkable and the world a kinder place to live in. One of our hymns - used often in the apartheid days - reminds us that to every person and nation- to all of us -there comes a ‘moment to decide.’ One of its lines is particularly apposite today:

‘New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth,
they must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.’[1]

Jesus brought a new mind to our world. It included a radical hospitality of the heart that threatened a host of ancient shibboleths. Broken and needy people heard him gladly but his wide open love was resented by the religious of his day; for them it was more important to be right than to be good. They didn’t understand that being good becomes the ultimate right. His love was too big for them - too big for any of us. Even the way he was killed nailed his arms forever in wide embrace. After his Resurrection, his first Jewish followers struggled with the breadth of his welcome; his Holy Spirit had a relentless hospitality that left them punch-drunk. He seemed to want to include everyone. The Acts of the Apostles became the story of one barrier after another tumbling before this relentless hospitality.

The Holy Spirit is God’s promise to haunt us, to confront every prejudice of the devout, no matter how respectable or how carefully wrapped in dogma. Time and again since, the Spirit has taken the Church, sometimes gently, more often by the scruff of the neck, and shown us that what was once revered as an ancient good has become uncouth and untenable. The Spirit still has lessons to teach and we have lessons to learn. When we have listened, the Spirit has used the Church to be the conscience of the world – as some churches were used in the dark apartheid years – but when we have been obdurate and blind, then God has used the world to be the conscience of the Church. Right now is one of those times because, when it comes to how we treat people of different sexual orientations, the Constitution of South Africa seems to be more in tune with the mind of Christ than the attitudes of the Methodist Church.

So, let me say now that there will come a time when the Methodist Church of Southern Africa will declare its ministry open to persons in faithful same-sex relationship. It will honour and bless their love with the same blessing given to all marriages everywhere. That is as certain as day follows night. When this will happen, we do not know, but when it does, it will not be primarily because of Constitutions or grand declarations; it will be because of the courage and faithfulness of people like Rev.Ecclesia de Lange and her spouse Amanda. Alan Walker says, ‘Always advance comes by a man here, a woman there, being faithful in a particular situation to a great truth.’ Ecclesia, your simple words of witness have moved us deeply. You have said:

‘I desire to serve Jesus. I desire to be true to myself. I desire to minister within the Methodist Church of Southern Africa with integrity and to be faithful to God’s call on my life …’

What could be more simple, or more honourable? But we know strong forces resist this simple answer to God’s call. You have also said:

‘I have reached the point where I can no longer be silent. I have come to see that it is better to be rejected for who I am than to be accepted for who I am not …’

I wonder if you know how close those words are to the words of Anne Hutchinson, put on trial by the 17th Century Puritans of New England for being a Quaker. As she exited the church where the trial was held, she said: ‘Better to be cast out of the church than to deny Christ’

Which is why … there comes a time …

The Holy Spirit has waited long enough. It is time for the Church to recognize, repudiate and reject what William Sloane Coffin calls its ‘last respectable prejudice’[2] - homophobia. If that is too much to digest all at once, then the time has come for at least a full place at the table for people with a new and different mind. As a well-wisher wrote to Ecclesia, ‘Gay ministers are not going to go away and more of us will want to be married[3].’ So today we are here to say to those who differ from us, ‘Hold your views if you must, but we are not prepared to see one more person – this person - sacrificed on the altar of wrongful exclusion.’

2.
Before going further, because this gathering is not just about opinions, but about real people who have been - are being - sacrificed, we must make confession:

Some years back I was speaking at a conference on inclusiveness in a church in Lancing, Michigan. The day was enriched by a magnificent choir – the Lancing Gay Men’s Choir. As he introduced their first item, the Choir Director said that he had had to work very hard to persuade most of his singers to agree to perform in a church. Too many of them had been hurt by the churches they had grown up in. He then apologized for being late. At the last minute, he said, when it came to actually passing through the church doors, two or three of his choir had simply frozen. They couldn’t take that step. The trauma of what they had suffered at the hands of the church was just too much. ‘So, we’re short of a few voices today,’ he said. ‘We apologise.’

But it is we, the church, who must apologise. This apology must be a wide one, embracing every person who has been hurt, rejected, excluded and wounded by the Christian Church because of his or her sexual orientation. It must be deep, reaching down into centuries of wrong. The church’s long compromise with slavery, our blind acceptance of racism, our stubborn exclusion of women from leadership and ordination - these are sins from which we have had to be delivered, but John Cobb would remind us that in this particular, we may have done worse: whereas in most forms of suppression the church has given at least some support to the oppressed, in the case of homosexual persons, the church has been the leader in the oppression[4]. I confess this sin on behalf of my church - the Methodist Church of Southern Africa today. We stand in need of forgiveness – from our God and from those we have hurt.
Ecclesia and Amanda, I see your action, which has brought us together today, as a gift: it is an opportunity for the Church I love and serve to right a great wrong.

3.
Sadly … though I pray it will do so, I fear it may not. There are many reasons for this, but I want to lift up just one. It takes clear vision and great courage to recognize and reverse a centuries-old, deeply rooted prejudice. It takes an even greater leap of bravery and conviction to repudiate what has been given to us as sacred teaching and to declare that, ‘time has made that teaching uncouth. We need to move on from it.’

I recall the electric moment at the Rustenburg Conference of 1990 when Prof. Jonker of Stellenbosch Kweekskool, made his historic apology on behalf of the Dutch Reformed Churches for their collaboration with the wrongs of apartheid. We knew that his courageous turn-around would bring difficulties for his church, but we had no idea how great. The backlash was ferocious, and one of the most common protests was from devout Dutch Reformed members who accused their leaders of betrayal : ‘You are the ones who taught us that apartheid was Biblical, moral and Christian. How dare you suddenly change your minds, making sinners of us all?’ You will recall that Prof. Johann Heyns, who shared with us in the writing of the Rustenburg Declaration, was assassinated soon after. If some of us are tempted to denigrate those who cannot agree with us, we need to pause and remember how hard it is to abandon a life-long prejudice, especially when you’ve been told that God shares that prejudice too. And lest any of us ‘straight’ supporters here be tempted to self-rightousness in our critique of more conservative Christians, perhaps we ought to recall that most of us held similar views once, and our journey to greater openness doesn’t makes theirs any easier.

I hope that we will stay in conversation with those who differ from us. Past experience tells us that a way forward may be found – together. Remember those words from another time and another struggle, written by black and white Methodists after Obedience ’81?

‘We have experienced how hard it is to abandon long-held prejudice and long-felt bitterness. But we have seen God work this miracle in us. It happened because we continued to search for each other even at our time of deepest division and despair.’[5]

4.
So, there is hope, but hope is not enough: there is also urgency, because … there comes a time.

The Methodist Church of Southern Africa has acknowledged that we are divided between two opinions. That is true. The difference can’t be papered over:
· Those who defend the closed door cannot open it without believing they betray Scripture.
· Those who have opened the door cannot close it without believing we betray Jesus, the Lord of Scripture.
Our minds are unlikely to meet soon and the Methodist Conference has therefore invited us to ‘journey together’ in a way that ‘both respects and holds in tension differing views among our ministers and people.’[6] Well and good, but if this journey is to have integrity there is one important condition: the same rules must apply to both travellers on the road. Our Church cannot claim to respect our views, and then punish those who, like Ecclesia, live out those views in practice. Holding the conversation open must not be another way to keep the doors of Christian marriage and Ordination for married gay people slammed shut.

Because there comes a time …

Let me say this very directly to our friends who differ from us: we will be patient in debate but no longer in suffering. You must understand that your opinion has real-life consequences for colleagues who we have come to love and honour. The pain and rejection they suffer is inflicted by the opinion you defend. Hold onto it if you will, but we cannot let you hurt people anymore. ‘‘There comes a time,’ said Martin Luther King Jr., when the cup of endurance runs over.’[7]

To our bishops and spiritual leaders, let me say this: Your task is not easy: in this matter you preside over a divided church. In the days of apartheid our leaders faced similar divisions, but while they wrestled with difficult debates, they were crystal clear about what was right and what was wrong - that the most damnable thing about apartheid was that it hurt people for something they could never change – the color of their skins – and for that alone it stood condemned in the councils of God. That was the bottom line. The rest was detail.
Today, we long for you to lead. You do not have to wait for any Conference to say what is right and what is wrong. We long to hear you declare lovingly and firmly that our beloved church cannot and will not any longer reject gay people for something they have no power to change. Please lead us. Let no more Ecclesia’s suffer. It would be a glorious day if at this time, because of your lead, God’s Ecclesia, God’s called people, were able to spread wide our arms and our hearts - before the Holy Spirit had to prize them open.
There comes a time … and the time is now.


Simon’s Town, February 2010.
[1] ‘Once to every man and nation,’ James Russell Lowell, MHB 1933, No 898.
[2] William Sloane Coffin, Homophobia, the Last Respectable Prejudice, the 1997 Schooler Institute Lecture, Methodist Theological School in Ohio (unpublished).
[3] E-mail from Rev.Suzanna Bates, British Methodist Church, 14 December, 2009
[4] Ibid. Quoted by Coffin
[5] The Charter of Obedience ’81, adopted by the most representative gathering of Methodists ever held in SA – Auckland Park, 1981
[6] MCSA Yearbook 2008, p81, para 2.5.1
[7] Martin Luther King Jr, Why We Can’t Wait, Signet Books, 1963/4, p.82

Church Mail

With a snowstorm last Saturday and another one on Wednesday, the church has not received any mail from the U.S. Postal Service this week. No catalogues or bills or offering checks have arrived. Only one piece of mail has come. It was not stamped or carried by a postal service employee. Rather, it was hand delivered. And, my colleague, Chris, brought it to me yesterday.

The outside of the envelope reads, "To: The Owner of the Church, Mt. Vernon Square."

Inside the envelope, written on a small piece of paper, were these words,

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Dear Sir:

Is is O.K. if I sleep on your porch at night?

I have nowhere to sleep. I am homeless.

Sincerely,
Mr. Brown

P.S. The reason I came to sleep was, I saw some fellows sleeping on the porch and I thought no one cared. Mr. Brown

It's quite a letter, isn't it?

I have never met Mr. Brown. I am not sure who he is, but I hope to meet him sometime soon. I'd welcome a conversation or a cup of coffee with him.

The envelope is addressed to the owner of the church. While we might think we own the church, no one here owns this church. It is God's church - God's building and God's resources. We are merely stewards of what God has given to us. We know how God feels about the poor. If you have read the gospels, then you know that Jesus has more concern for the poor than anyone else. Time and again, Jesus has a word to say about the poor being blessed and how those who are rich are to share with the poor. We know how the owner of the church feels.

But what about we who are stewards of the church building and its resources? Is it okay for anyone to be sleeping on the porch of the church at night? Does no one care?

What are we doing to make sure that no one is sleeping on the porch at night because everyone has a place to call home? What is your church doing to end homelessness? What is the body of Christ doing to make sure that people Mr. Brown know we care?

How would you respond to his letter?

Mount Vernon Place, what will our response be?

And on the Seventh Day...

Today is my fourth day of being home. The last time I moved my car was Friday morning. The last time I had makeup on or hair that was curled was Thursday night. The last time I spent any money was last Wednesday. And, I cannot remember the last time I had so much quality time to rest, to laugh with my husband, to read, to exercise, and to reflect. I have had a Sabbath.

Last Tuesday, I was reflecting with a colleague about life. Alisa asked the very Wesleyan question that often makes me eyes well up with tears, "How is it with your soul?" As a pastor, not many people ask me this question. It is a question that we clergy are good at asking and not necessarily good at answering. Alisa's question hit me in the gut - right where I needed to be hit. I responded with tears welling up inside, "Not well." I then continued, "I have been running from one place to the next. My prayer-life has been suffering. My devotional life has been inactive. It has been a long time since I have really had Sabbath." I then shared how I have a retreat at a nearby abbey coming up in March, but how I am not sure it is possible to get a year's worth of devotional time and Sabbath keeping done in one week.

Alisa responded as we departed, "I'll be praying for rest and renewal for you."

Rest and renewal have come.

In the last four days, I have had ample time to sit at the kitchen table and look out the window at the beauty of creation. I have seized the opportunity to catch up with former parishioners who are dear friends who have nourished my soul for almost ten years. I have read about ten issues of the Christian Century. I have savored my morning devotional time, even sharing a part of it with Craig. I have cuddled on the couch with Craig, laughed heartily through four different movies, and exercised until our muscles were soar as we took walks and shoveled snow. I have prepared balanced meals and sat down to dinner with him each evening. I have slept nine hours each night and have allowed my body to wake when it wants to and not when a buzzer tells me to wake up. I have experienced balance. I have experienced rest. I have been reminded again why the Lord has commanded us to rest on the seventh day of every week.

And, I have, once again, been reminded of the incredible gift of being a pastor at Mount Vernon Place. With the snow piled high and the above ground Metro not running, I did not make it to worship yesterday. Twenty-five people did, however. One member served as the security concierge since our employee who fills this role could not make it. Another member organized a time of sharing around the two scripture passages that had been selected for the day. Our Director of Music and the Arts made sure everything was ready and filled in on the instruments since our organist could not make it. Everyone made sure the other details were taken care of. And, I heard it was a powerful time of worship and sharing. I have been told by a few people how great the day was.

Many of my conversations with young adults who are working hard in the city have to deal with finding rest and renewal. The most common thing I hear from people who were not in church on any given Sunday is, "I'm sorry. I had to work again." Or, "Work is really getting to me. I just could not make it to worship today."

I know how often I tell my husband the same thing. "I'm sorry. I won't be home again until 9:00 tonight because I have a meeting." Or "I'm sorry. I cannot go to that function with you because I'll be at the church." Or "I'm sorry. I do not want to go to that party that you have been looking forward to attending because I am just so exhausted from the work of the church."

I am convinced that God does not smile upon these times. I'll never forget one Annual Conference when I sat next to a mother who shared with me how she and her husband were missing their child's sixth grade graduation because of the annual meeting of the church. What meeting of the church could possibly be more important than being present for a milestone marker of a child?

God created us to work hard for six days. God then invited us to rest and to worship on the seventh day. We have been called to work heartily for six days and to then set aside one day for God, for our families, for rest, and for renewal. Even God rested one day. Is our work more important than God's? How often our work becomes a false idol - I know I am guilty of this.

I need to remember this week. I need to remember how I am not always needed. I need to remember how the church does just fine when I am not there. I need to remember how one of the best things I can do is to take care of myself and my family. I need to recall how important it is to rest in God's arms, enjoying the gift of a Sabbath. It's a commandment, after all.

Thank you, God, for this precious time. Help me to take a snow day even when the grass is green!

When Visions Come to Life

Last night, a dozen people gathered in the church's fellowship hall. The individuals gathered around tables, enjoying a baked potato dinner before being trained on a new ministry starting at the church. The ministry is a shower ministry - a ministry created in response to the wondrous gift Mount Vernon Place has been given through this new building and in response to the many needs of the poor living around us. Next week, the showers that were installed in the historic building as part of the renovation will start being used. Next week, volunteers will arrive at 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning to give of their time in order that our unhoused neighbors might be able to enjoy a warm shower.

As I sat there last night, a myriad of things went through my mind. I pondered how much I have learned about the homeless since arriving in Washington - how there are no easy answers no matter what the question might be. I thought about the gift of the people in the room, individuals filled with so much passion for social justice. And, I gave thanks that this ministry has been created by individuals who have poured their heart and soul into researching other programs, creating the best policy to govern our ministry, and then train people to do the ministry. I gave thanks because I got to come to the training as a bystander - as a pastor who was able to watch the laity take hold of the gospel and do something wondrous with it - live it out in beautiful, life-giving ways.

And then I came home and went back to a document that I wrote more than five years ago. The document was drafted in response to an invitation posed to me. After someone told me about the future dream for what could happen at Mount Vernon Place, I was invited to pray and after praying, if I heard God's voice, I was invited to put together my vision for what could happen here.

This is what I wrote more than five years ago:

My vision for Mt. Vernon Place UMC

Love the people who are there. Be present to them and care for their needs.

Think critically and creatively about how all the pews can be full of worshipping, dedicated Christians who are eager to be transformed. My vision would be for every seat to be taken with a second service added.

Evangelize the people in the neighborhood. Invite them to worship and church activities. Be intent upon developing relationships with them.

Use the multi-purpose space of the church to meet the needs of the city and community. This could include child care, an after school program, a health clinic and a food pantry. Provide ministries of justice.

Teach the people about the gospel’s mandate to care for and serve the poor. What does it mean to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God?

Provide exceptional teaching and an environment conducive to learning and development for the Wesley students. Make sure that these students see worship and ministry that transcends mediocrity.

Provide a variety of Bible studies and small group opportunities including Disciple, Christian Believer, and others. Enable participants to feel a strong sense of belonging and connection through these groups.

Provide a place of stability and belonging in the transient atmosphere of Washington. This could be established through dinner groups, a Women’s Retreat and Men’s Retreat, coffees and other events.

Create a singles ministry. Many of my friends in Washington are spending hundreds of dollars trying to meet someone. Why can’t the church be a place where people with similar values and beliefs gather? How can the church attract a large number of young professionals? How can the church reach out to Capitol Hill staffers and interns?

Get involved with the students at Wesley. How can the church provide spiritual formation and friendship to them?

Make worship exceptional and exciting. Give members and visitors a reason to return week after week. Proclaim prophetic messages from the pulpit. Incorporate diverse worship styles and music. Celebrate the Eucharist. Enable all to claim the responsibilities of baptism. Make the church a place of glorious expectation and transformation.

Struggle with what it means to be diverse. What does it mean to be intentionally multi-ethnic and multi-racial? Where is God calling us?

What role can the businesses in the building play in the congregation? How can the congregation develop a relationship with the people who work in the building?

Make sure discipleship is taken seriously. Enable people to see that church membership is a commitment that demands the best of us.

Study what other churches are doing. Go and observe “best practices” at places like the Church of the Resurrection in Kansas. Enable the people to see all they can become.

Create and host a “Faith and Politics Forum.” Give people an opportunity to study issues such as war, homosexuality, housing needs, health care, abortion, U.S. foreign policy, and issues of God and country. Where is God in the midst of these issues? What does the Bible really say? Stimulate the minds and the hearts of members and visitors.

Make sure the church is a place of hospitality. Can showers be put in the multi-purpose space of the new building? These showers would enable the congregation to host youth or college groups doing mission work in Washington. Showers could also enable the congregation to host large groups visiting the seminary as prospective students. In addition, showers could enable the congregation to give dignity to the homeless living in the area.

Help people discover their gifts and find a place for these gifts to be put to use – especially for new ministries. Musicians can start a praise band that incorporates different music in worship. Those with compassion can take soup and bread to the sick and the homebound. How can the retirees be tutors in the after-school program?

Make sure the church is welcome to all of God’s people.

I have learned a lot since this document was formed. I have grown in ways I could have never imagined. I have also had the privilege of watching some of this vision come to life - some of these things start to take place. Last night was one of those moments.

I am incredibly grateful for the privilege of being a pastor, here at Mount Vernon Place.