Thankful

I had an idea last week. I thought about it often - how I would write a blog entry each morning during Thanksgiving week. I would write each day about something for which I am thankful - a blessing in my life for which I am grateful.

The week came....and the week went. Even Thanksgiving day came and went without my writing a thing. I thought often about how thankful I am but I never typed anything.

Now that the week is over and I have caught up on several things, it is time to share my thanksgiving with you.

I am thankful for what is happening at Mount Vernon Place. I consider the opportunity to watch this historic church be restored from top to bottom to be a rare privilege - a once in a lifetime opportunity. I am excited about our getting back into our sanctuary next summer. It is truly amazing to see the structure being restored - to see the outline of the new chancel floor or the new walls being put in place. I can hardly wait to see what God has in store for this church.

While the building is exciting, it is even more exciting to see the congregation developing. We have an amazing group of new members at the church. There is a renewed emphasis upon serving the community in a variety of ways - we have raised over $2400 this year for a homeless day program. We delivered new blankets to another shelter today. Many people have volunteered to serve dinner at this shelter on a monthly basis. And, the mother of one of our new members knitted 25 scarves for the residents of the shelter - scarves that were delivered this past Sunday. I love the energy - the passion - the new ideas - that are surfacing each week at the church. God is clearly at work.

I am thankful for Craig. Over a decade ago the Indigo Girls recorded a song with a line, "The best thing you ever did for me was to help me take my life less seriously. It's only life after all." Craig helps me take life less seriously often - in the best of ways. He makes me laugh. He makes me smile. He has an uncanny ability to celebrate and seize the gift of life - helping me do the same. He shares life with me - all of life - whether it is listening to my stories, unloading my dishwasher, or reminding me that I am working too hard. Craig adds beauty, delight and joy to each day. I am thankful for him, for our upcoming marriage and for the lifetime that awaits us.

I am also thankful for the gift of living in Washington. My family was in town last week, and I played the role of tourist again. I journeyed along the National Mall, taking in the Vietnam War Memorial, the FDR Memorial, the Lincoln Monument, the White House, the Washington Monument, and Tidal Basin. I was reminded often of what a gift it is to live in this city. I was also reminded of how blessed this nation has been, and I gave thanks for the incredible men and women who have provided great leadership to our nation. I was struck, once again, by the things President Roosevelt stood for, and I gave thanks for his willingness to stand up for the poor. I gave thanks for President Lincoln's leadership - a leadership that brought equality to all people. And, I gave thanks for the men and women who have faithfully served this country as members of the Armed Services. May we continue to fight for the poor, for the equality of all people, and for the veterans returning from war.

And, I have given thanks for the gift of family. My father is one of the funniest people I know. He has a zest for life, a strong work ethic that has been passed down to his children, and an ability to make people laugh...hard. There were several years when I did not have a relationship with my father - when I kept him locked outside of my life, unwilling to hear his side of my parents' divorce or forgive him for what he had done. I am thankful for the gift of reconciliation and forgiveness. I am thankful to have him in my life. And, I am thankful for our visit last week. It was great to have him, his wife, and my little brother here - all four of us in my 537 square-feet home.

God is good. I am thankful. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

What are you thankful for?

Everything Communicates

On Friday and Saturday of last week, I traveled to Atlanta to spend time going over grant applications with an organization I greatly respect. Some of the deliberations were easy and others were quite difficult. In the midst of our conversations, one of the employees of the foundation shared with me how their director of communications reminds her often that "everything communicates." Who they fund communicates their mission. What they do communicates their motives. Every memo, decision, action, hire, grant effort, and activity communicates who they really are.

Everything communicates.

I am a pastor. Everything I do communicates. My actions on Sunday morning communicate - I am judged by whether or not I go out of my way to greet a first-time visitor and whether or not I remember their name when they return next week. My sermon communicates - hopefully it communicates the Good News of Jesus Christ but it also communicates whether I am liberal or conservative, open or closed, joyful or tired, and what kind of a church I visualize in my mind. Our church building communicates. Right now it is being restored. The restoration process communicates that we want to be an active presence in downtown Washington in the years to come. We want to serve our community, provide a space for authentic relationships to be lived and restored. We want to tell children the stories of Jesus. And, we want to celebrate God's presence in our lives in a sanctuary where the windows tell the stories, along with the beauty of the space. The way I spend my time communicates. If I go and visit the sick and the shut-ins, then I am considered a compassionate pastor. If I neglect to show hospitality to the stranger or our members, people will think there are problems. Everything communicates.

But as Christians, our entire lives communicate. I am amazed at how many of the books written today about how God is not great or why religion is wrong have been written out of disgust over the church. The authors of these books are disillusioned because the church has not been the church. Rather, the church has been too much like the world. Christians have preached one thing and done another thing. They have said they believe in a Savior who called for love of God and neighbor and then hated their neighbor. They have heard the call for justice and done everything but working for it. The church's communication - their actions and their words - has been a raw, empty communication. It has been a communication filled with more hatred than love.

I wonder what we communicate at Mount Vernon Place.

I am hopeful that we communicate a Gospel that is open to all people - young and old, rich and poor, gay and straight, Caucasian and African American, believers and doubters. I am hopeful that when people enter our temporary space that they feel welcome to come on in - just as they are. I am hopeful that people experience joy when they worship with us and that they receive the presence and the power of the living God. I am hopeful that people are given a reason to want to come back - a reason to get out of bed early on Sunday morning and spend a couple of hours at church. I am hopeful that people see a group of remarkable individuals who are trying to figure out how to be more faithful. I am hopeful that people see sinners and saints, and people who are working towards the latter. And, I am hopeful that people see a congregation filled with individuals who are more concerned about God's needs and desires than they are the church's needs and desires - that we focus our time and our attention on what is happening outside the doors of the church instead of inside.

Everything communicates.

God, forgive me for not always communicating your love and grace. Forgive me for coming up with names for some of the people around me that are outside of what you call them - beloved children of yours who are made in your image. Forgive me for preaching the Gospel with my words more often than with my life. Help me to communicate better your message of hope and salvation. Help me to be a better ambassador of your Son who preached good news to the poor, release to the captives and recovery of site to the blind. Amen.

Front Page News

Last week, I opened my newspaper. It was Wednesday - one of my favorite days to open the newspaper pack because of the store ads. But this Wednesday was a little different. When I opened the paper, I found something a little unusual on the front page of The Washington Post. The front page had pictures of the usual suspects - Senator Obama and Senator Clinton. John Edwards was photographed beneath them. And then, at the very bottom of the front page, there was a picture of me in front of the church's office trailer and construction project, along with an article on churches that are developing their property.

I have been in the newspaper several times since arriving at Mount Vernon Place. Never, however, have I been on the front page. Needless to say, it was an exciting day - a day on which I bought newspapers at 7-11, Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts and CVS before dropping lots of quarters and dimes into several newspaper machines around the city. I also heard from a lot of people last Wednesday - people I have not heard from in a long time. It was great. I loved it! I loved it until one night this week.

On Sunday evening I was leaving the church. It had been a long day, and the sun was starting to set. I was walking through a small park in front of the church when a man stopped me. The man is someone I see often. He often dwells in the neighborhood - sitting in this park or on the benches outside the place where we are currently worshipping. He always has something to say - though he has not and will not tell me his name. Instead, he comments on what I am wearing or what I am doing. This time he said, "Front page news, huh?" He then proceeded to ask how a church could ever spend so much money when there are so many people just like him - people who are homeless and living in the streets. "What are you going to do for me?"

His question haunts me.

I think often of the endowment that could have been created with the money we are spending on the restoration of the church and the building of another space. It is a huge amount of money.

Still, I get excited every time I go inside the church and see the work that is being done. I think often about all of the amazing ministries that will take place inside the building. I imagine lots of people coming together for a meal or a cup of coffee. I visualize people's lives being transformed through small groups and Bible studies. I think of the different kinds of worship we can have - in a small chapel, a huge sanctuary, a theatre, and a fellowship hall. It is going to be fantastic space - space that will enable people to celebrate God's presence, grow in faith, connect with one another, serve the community and share the good news. I cannot wait!

I also cannot stop asking the question, "What are we going to do for him?"

The Parent of a Rock Star

Last Wednesday night, on Halloween, Craig and I went to see The Bravery at the 9:30 Club in Washington. The Bravery is a band that formed within the last few years, and they have become very hot. Faces of the band members have appeared on the cover of magazines throughout the world. Their songs can be heard on several television and radio commercials. They have two albums for sale. And, they have performed on several of the late night television talk shows.

It was my first Bravery concert. While I have been invited to see the band several times, this night is the first night my schedule permitted me to go. I now wonder why I waited so long.

It was a great concert. The band members are fabulous entertainers and know how to work the audience. While the sound level was loud enough to cause my ears to ring, the music was good. It was very good. Yet, no matter how good the music was, the best part of the concert was watching two of the individuals standing next to me.

The mother of one of the band members is a member of the church where I am a pastor. Abbie sings in our choir, and Abbie is the one who taught her son, the lead singer, to sing. We have heard a lot about the band as part of the regular "joys and concerns" time that proceeds our prayer time on Sunday mornings. As a congregation, we have prayed for safety on their travels, for wisdom as they make big decisions, and we have praised God for their success. However, I never realized the impact this child is having on his parents until I stood next to them at the concert.

The parents took absolute delight in their son. They sang along the words of his songs. They danced when he danced. Abbie even waved at one point to her son during the concert, her son waved back, and Abbie remarked, "He waved at me" just as a 16-year-old fan would do. Abbie reacted to the crowd filled with many people who are clearly fans of the band. Abbie and her husband were mesmerized by watching their son perform - by watching their son do what he loves to do.

At some points during the concert, the words spoken from the mouth of the son were not the words a parent loves to hear. When this happened, Abbie covered her mouth as if to imply, "Oh my." But when the band started to play again, she would become overtaken with delight once more.

I keep thinking about Abbie and the concert. And, I wonder if this is how God responds to us.

God created us. God is both our mother and our father. God knows everything about us and loves us. God keeps an eye on us and longs to see us doing what we do best. God longs to see us using the gifts that God has given to us. And, I wonder if there are times when God is dancing right along with our dance in life - when God is smiling down upon all that we do. I also wonder if there are times when God responds, "Oh my" to our words or our actions. Yet, no matter what causes the "oh my," God keeps on loving us, keeps on supporting us, keeps on desiring to be with us - to wave back at us.

Thank you, God, for loving us.

The pictures posted here were downloaded from flickr.com. They are not my pictures but were rather taken at a concert in London.

Hope

Perhaps no other story has impacted my life more than the story of South Africa. South Africa's story is one filled with pain and hope. I do not recall efforts in the United States to impose sanctions upon the country years ago. I do not remember my eyes seeing much on the television regarding the struggles of the country. Perhaps I was too young to notice. More likely I was involved in other things. Fortunately, however, my eyes were opened through a South African professor who taught at Duke Divinity School for several years, including the time when I was a student.

Peter Storey taught two classes: "The Local Church's Mission in God's World" and "God and Caesar: The Church's Role in Ending Apartheid." I enrolled in both of the classes during my final year of seminary. My entire body was awakened. Then in 2004, as an administrator at Duke, I traveled with the Storeys to South Africa for a "Pilgrimage of Pain and Hope." My life has not been the same since.

I experienced a new calling while in South Africa and began to pray a prayer, "God, please take me out of my place of comfort and success, please give me a heart for hurting and broken people, and please make me more prophetic." I returned home from South Africa, told the dean of the Divinity School that it would be my last year in admissions and continued praying this prayer. It is this prayer that led to my appointment at Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church in 2005.


The story of South Africa is filled with pain. It is filled with great lines of separation, barriers that were seemingly impossible to break. The lines and the barriers separated black from white. The lines were all based on a person's skin color. Whites were in a place of privilege. Blacks were sometimes in a cage like animals. Whites were treated as children of God. Blacks were treated as anything but made in the image of God. There were times on the pilgrimage where all I could do was to cry when I realized this horrible hatred, and how each of us has within us the capacity to hate - to torture - to tear down instead of build up.

I preach about South Africa often. I use the story of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to talk about what real reconciliation and forgiveness look like. I read books about South Africa. And, I try to take advantage of other opportunities I have to learn more about the pain and the hope of this nation.

On Sunday night, I went to see, "My Children! My Africa!" at the Studio Theatre in Washington. This play, written by Athol Fugard, is undoubtedly the most powerful play I have seen. The play has three characters, and each character tells the story of the pain of apartheid. Anela Myalatya (Mr. M) is a teacher who is assigned to one of the schools for black children. Isabel Dyson is a white student who visits the black school for a debate. Thami Mbikwana is a black student who is the star of Mr. M's class and debate team. Soon, Isabel and Thami develop a friendship. Mr. M then recruits them to enter into a debate contest together. Things run smoothly for a while but the struggle is always apparent. Isabel speaks of her family's response to her spending so much time in a black township. Thami talks about the political uproar developing around him. And, Mr. M continues to speak of hope.

Mr. M wants nothing to do with the political machine that feeds upon hatred. He chooses instead to stay in the classroom. He speaks lovingly of the power of words - words that unite, words that build up, words that provide a glimpse into another world. He yearns for his students to use the power of words over the power of stones and guns. His hope is that apartheid can end - not with brutal fighting but with the power of words.

Mr. M teaches, against all odds, because he has hope. Mr. M has hope that apartheid can end through the power of words. Mr. M seeks to impart his hope upon his students. His commitment is unwavering.

Mr. M has also left an impact upon me this week. His vision for hope keeps returning to my mind as I think about why I do what I do. There are many times when I love being a pastor. There are times when I think this role is the most amazing role any of us can play. It is a privilege for which none of us is truly worthy. There are other times, however, when I wonder how much longer I can do what I do. I yearn for rest. I yearn for projects to be completed. I yearn for a Saturday and a Sunday when I do not have to work - when I can enjoy a weekend like the people around me. Still, when I start thinking about all the other things I could be doing with my life, I come back to this hope within me.

I have this hope, a hope imparted to me by my professor, Peter Storey, that things in this world can be different. I have this hope that the rich and the poor can dwell together. I have this hope that people can take what they have and share it with others. I have this hope that a life that seems to be drowning can discover purpose again and be transformed. I have this hope in a Gospel that sets the prisoner free - the one who is in bondage to sin, addiction, and despair can be absolutely liberated because of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I have this hope that the Spirit of the Lord gave to Jesus when he said, "I have come to preach good news to the poor." I have this hope that people will discover that the greatest blessing is not taking care of ourselves but taking care of others. I have this hope - a hope that comes from a light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never overcome it. I have this hope that people can see that their greatest worth is not in the title on their business card but in the fact that they are a beloved child of God - made in God's image, precious in God's eyes. I have this hope that the church - every church - will see that it exists not for its own members but for the people outside - for the transformation of the world. I have this hope that the people who gather inside a church will resemble the creative nature of God's hand - that a congregation is called to be reflective of the extraordinary diversity God created. I have this hope that the church will be the church - a place very different from the rest of society - a place whose doors are open to all people.

I have this hope....and I would not trade the opportunity to share it for anything in the world.

Bright Beginnings

I attended an Open House earlier this week at a place not far from the church. I have been invited to Bright Beginnings before, and I am not sure why I waited so long to visit.

Bright Beginnings is a beautiful childcare center that serves 92 children in the District of Columbia. The children range in age from infants to pre-K, and I am told that there are some 30 -50 infants on the waiting list for their services. The space Bright Beginnings occupies is covered in bright colors. The smell of orange juice and peanut butter sandwiches filters through the air. Tiny toilets can be found in each bathroom. Bright Beginnings appears to be like every other childcare center in the city. However, Bright Beginnings is different.

The children at Bright Beginnings are all homeless. None of them have a permanent place to call home. They are residents of shelters in the city. They sleep on a relative's couch at night. They stay in transitional shelters. And, seeing these little faces smiling back at me elicited a myriad of thoughts in my mind.

I think of the great care many of my peers undertake when expecting a child. Many of them paint the color of the baby's room yellow, blue or pink. We buy special furniture. We purchase special laundry detergent to get all of the baby's little things clean before we bring the baby home from the hospital. We go on Consumer Reports time and again to see who manufactures the best car seat or stroller. We purchase five different kinds of diapers until we find the one that works best for us. We get the baby everything she or he might need. (It is interesting that I have even thought about how Craig and I cannot have a child until we can afford a larger house since babies need their own rooms.)

But what would it be like to have a child and not have a place to call your own, let alone a separate room for the child? What would it be like to depend upon the city or a distant cousin for a bed at night for you and your child or children?

Too often we think that the only people who are homeless are men with substance abuse problems. We look at the people on the streets who shake a can in our faces and assume that every homeless person is the same, and we conclude that it is their fault that they are homeless. "Can't they just get a job?" we ask ourselves.

Last weekend, the people at Mount Vernon Place raised money for Rachael's Women's Center by participating in a mini-walk for the Fannie Mae Help the Homeless Walkathon. Two staff members of Rachael's shared information with us prior to our walk. Their statistics are startling. They told us about the homeless population many of us do not always see - women and their children. And, they helped us to see how hard it is to make ends meet in a city like Washington when the cost of housing is so high. An individual making minimum wage who has a child cannot possibly afford to live in this city. There is a huge difference between a minimum wage and a livable wage.

The conversations with the people at Rachael's Women's Center and Bright Beginnings have recalled to mind a time in my life when I, too, was forced to leave the place I called home. My parents had recently divorced, and my mother was doing everything within her power to keep life as close to normal for my sister and me. She was teaching at a college, adding an extra course each semester to her already full load, and working at a women's clothing store at night. She wanted desperately for my sister and me to have the opportunities that we had always had. Still, it was tough to stay afloat. The bills were larger than the income and dollars coming in. Not enough changes had been made. It was like treading water, and the water became too deep.

An eviction notice was served, and we must have thought that it would go away. We pleaded with the landlord to help us one more month, but it did not work. Individuals dressed in orange from the county jail arrived one day and moved all of our belongings to the sidewalk. My furniture. My clothing. My prized possessions. My pictures. Everything was at the top of the driveway.

Fortunately, it did not stay there for long. We had people who we could call, and they immediately came to our need. We were able to move into another duplex that day with the help of a friend who owned a moving company.

I have never written about this time in my life before. It still haunts me.

I see evictions happening in the neighborhood where I live all of the time. It is not unusual to come home and see a pile of stuff on the side of the street. Each time I see this, I say a prayer for the one whose stuff my eyes can see.

But we must do more than pray. We must continue to educate ourselves on why people are homeless. We must continue to ask ourselves why some people have so much why others have so little. We must look with compassion upon every person we see - the man at the edge of the lawn whose body and belongings are covered in plastic, the people who sleep on the grates outside of the city-owned building where we have worship services, the coworker who has recently gone through a divorce and seems to be having a hard time juggling everything.

If you live in a city, then you have plenty of opportunities to confront individuals who are struggling through life. It is an enormous responsibility to see so many people with significant needs and then read the scriptures where we are told that we will be judged - held accountable - for how we treat the hungry and the homeless.

I am grateful for what my eyes have seen this week. I am grateful for Rachael's Women's Center and Bright Beginnings. May the visions not escape my mind nor the words my ears. May I allow what my heart has experienced to penetrate into actions that will make a difference.

I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat.
I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink.
I was homeless, and you gave me a place to lay my head.

Restoration

There is an amazing process of restoration taking place at Mount Vernon Place right now. If you walk through the 1917 historic building, you can see the original brick walls, along with the metal casing for new walls that will be installed. It is quite remarkable to see the building being turned from something so old into something seemingly new and spectacular.

In addition to the interior of the church, much of the exterior is also being transformed and restored, including the lights.

The existing lights were all removed a few months ago, and a sample photo of the restoration was recently returned. It is amazing to see the difference.

It seems as though layers of paint and other chemicals have been added to the fixtures through the years. The paint was intended to help the fixtures - to make them look better. Yet, the paint covered the core of their beauty. The paint prohibited the fixtures from shining.

I have thought a lot about the fixtures as I share the photos with people who come to my office. I wonder what else the church has covered - how many layers have been added on top of the original state or purpose of the church.

The church exists for the transformation of the world. The church is Christ's body in the world and is called to be a vehicle through which real change occurs as we seek to love God and neighbor with all that we have, all that we are, and all that we do. Yet, somehow this core is too often covered with other layers of stuff. The stuff is intended to help. It is intended to add to the structure. Yet, the stuff has little to do with what it means to be a church. It often takes away from the church's original purpose - from its original, spectacular beauty.

We had a lot of 'stuff' happening at Mount Vernon Place when I got here two years ago. There were several activities, concerts, performances, meetings, and events happening nearly all of the time. Yet, new people were not coming in. Lives were not being changed, touched and transformed. The church's core purpose had been covered with all kinds of stuff - but the stuff was not necessary (or had little to do) with the proclamation of the Gospel.

When I come to Mount Vernon Place now, I see all kinds of beauty. I see beauty in the diversity of the congregation - in a community where all are welcome and accepted just as they are. I see beauty in the 25 people who raised over $500 for Rachael's Women's Center on Sunday by participating in a mini-walk to Help the Homeless. I see beauty when people come and study the scriptures for the first time. I see beauty when we go and serve at Calvary Women's Center one Sunday night a month. I see beauty when a baby smiles as I preach while people pass him around. I see beauty when a 93-year-old woman nearly dances in the front row to "This Little Light of Mine." I see beauty when Larry plays his violin, offering a wonderful gift to the congregation.

I see beauty - not because we are entertaining others or taking care of ourselves or doing what we have always done before. I see beauty because we are trying to remove all the layers of paint - the layers of things that do not matter when it comes to being the church - the body of Christ in the world.

There is a spectacular beauty that shines when we gather - a powerful light that shines, and the darkness has never overcome this light.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Wendell Berry

Last week, I attended Pastor's School and Convocation at Duke Divinity School. This event is hosted annually by the Divinity School and provides a wonderful opportunity to see old friends and learn something new. I learned a lot last week - not new things, necessarily - but things I needed to hear.

The event was headlined by Wendell Berry, a Kentucky farmer who has authored over 30 books - mainly fiction and poetry. Several of Mr. Berry's books were assigned to me when I was a student at Duke. Other books have crossed my desk after being highly recommended to me. Some of the books have resonated with me. Yet, I must confess that I never really understood or appreciated his poetry and his writing - not until now - until hearing him and seeing his witness.


Mr. Berry is in his 70s. He rarely leaves the state of Kentucky. His comfort zone is on the farm, and his community is his family, his neighbors and his characters. In fact, one of the individuals who shared the stage with him said that while most of this society is attached to prestige and money, "all the things the minor prophets denounced...Wendell is still attached to his family, children and grandchildren." While he was introduced at Duke by Time magazine's "America's Best Theologian," Mr. Berry is filled with humility, and he captivated an entire audience of preachers and budding scholars. He captured us with his ability to talk about rest - about living the Sabbath - about keeping life holy - and about being the church Christ has called us to be.

Mr. Berry is a no-nonsense kind of person - not the kind that puts others down - but the kind that wants the best for others and for this land. He lives his faith, and he wants others to live their faith, too.

He started his part of the conversation last week with the words, "You can't practice Christianity just in church. Sometimes I don't know what you do in the church other than just letting your mind wander." He then described for us what a neighbor really is - what authentic Christian community looks like - what the church is called to be when we practice our faith faithfully.

People in community are not just people who live near each other. They are people who need each other.

Loving your neighbor as yourself is supposed to be a virtue which is the most boring subject. If you love your neighbor as yourself or have the sense to act like you do, the result is you have a neighbor in the operative sense, and if you have a neighbor in the operative sense, then you have help. The key is you have to keep your neighbor close to yourself.

What a blessing to think about these words - to imagine a people who need each other and who help each other. Too often the church is filled with people who come in and go out. They meet for a weekly gathering and then go off to do their own thing during the week. I prefer to imagine a church filled with people who need each other and who help each other.

I imagine my friend Louie who is in the hospital today - how he needs our prayers - and how his wife needs our support - how she needs someone to take her to the hospital to see her sick husband and how she needs people to call her so that she can talk about how hard it is to see him so sick and to not be able to communicate with him. They need us.

I think of the woman who has lost both a cousin and a college friend to death this week - even though they were both in their 20s. This woman needs our support right now. She needs us to pray for her and to journey with her during this difficult time. She needs us to listen when she is mourning the loss of these individuals and when she is shouting out her anger or doubt with God. She needs us.

I think of the individuals in our church who are no longer able to get out. I know how much they love to be visited and how they would take delight in our stopping by more often - with communion or a word of cheer. They need us.

And, I think of how we all need one another on this journey called faith. We need to learn from each other. We need to hear how God is at work in each other's lives so we can see more of God in our lives. We need people to hold us accountable. We need individuals who know everything about us (or almost everything) and love us in spite of it all.

On the second day Wendell Berry spoke, he said this, "When the people have made dark the light within them, the world darkens." He's right. We all have a light to shine. Some of us share our light with others - going out of our way to share our God-given light and gifts to those around us. Others prefer to keep the light to themselves, hoarding it away, keeping the world around them a little dark. Yet, if we are all living in community - in authentic community - we cannot help but to allow our light to shine. What a powerful image!

I'll continue to think about this kind of community while working hard to see how we can better embody it at Mount Vernon Place. In the meantime, I am also reading Mr. Berry's poems on Sabbath - on working for six days and resting on the seventh - so that I might better see God at work in my life and in the world around me.

Thank you, Mr. Berry, for leaving your farm in Kentucky in order to share your time with a bunch of pastors in North Carolina.

A Week in Review

I admire people who update their blogs on a daily basis. It is a discipline of sorts - one that requires getting up early, constant creativity, and instant inspiration. It is a discipline I think of having - but I don't have it yet. Yikes! It's been 10 days since I have written anything - other than two sermons and lots of reports for the annual charge conference.

I have lots of good excuses for not writing on the blog, however...

My sister visited last week from Colorado. It was Dana's first visit to Washington since I moved back in 2005. She arrived on Thursday, and we made a quick trip to New York City where we saw "Grease" on Broadway and walked all over the city. It was wonderful. Dana also got to visit Mount Vernon Place for the first time on Sunday. It was the perfect day to visit. It was one of the best days I can remember in a long time, in fact.

We welcomed 11 new members into the church on Sunday. Their age range spans over 60 years. Several of them are new to the church - not just our church but any church. Two of them came back after being at other churches more recently. Many of them live in the neighborhood and walk to church. One of them was baptized. All of them make my heart soar to new heights. They represent the fruit of our labor and are a testimony to how God is at work in this place. It was absolutely wonderful to welcome these new people into the life of our congregation. I am so excited to be their pastor. I'll write more on them later...

Following worship on Sunday, we made our way to North Carolina where I participated in Convocation and Pastor's School at Duke Divinity School. Wendell Berry spoke, and it is a rare privilege to see and hear Wendell Berry. I'll write more on him later...

The best part of being back at Duke was the joy of seeing so many people who I know, love and respect. A few of them said, "welcome home," and I realize that Durham will always be a bit like home. Many of them reminded me of the privilege I had to be the Director of Admissions for four years. Several of them demonstrated to me again that the church is in very good hands under their capable leadership. It is always good to be in a place that is like home.

It's been a great week!

Her Shoes

One of my favorite movies of all time is "The American President." In this 1995 film, Michael Douglas plays the star role of President Andrew Shepherd. President Shepherd is an extraordinarily popular president with very high public opinion polls. He is also a widower who is ready to start dating again. His attention is captured by a lobbyist named Sydney Ellen Wade. The two start to date, and the president's friends and family have a variety of opinions to offer the moment the president starts seeing this woman. Lucy, the president's daughter, also has advice to offer. One evening, the president is about to go out on a date and Lucy informs her father that he should compliment Sydney on her shoes. "Tell her you like her shoes. Girls love that stuff."

My friend, Tracy, loved shoes. She had amazing shoes. She had plaid pumps and the newest open-toed shoes. She had strappy sandals and shoes with very high heels. She had the latest fad shoes and she had classy, timeless shoes. She had tennis shoes and running shoes. She had a lot of shoes. She clearly loved the ability of shoes to add one more detail to her finished look.

However, I never recall looking at Tracy's shoes. I never remember walking down the street with her saying, "What great shoes." I do not recall ever complimenting on her shoes. I did not even know that Tracy had big feet like me - with her feet being a size 10 and mine being a size 11. Of course, the majority of the time I was with Tracy was on the weekend or at church where there was no need to "pull out all the stops." Still, I had no idea how many times she must have thought, 'These are great shoes," or heard the words, "I love your shoes," until the shoes were in a box in Tracy's apartment, ready to be loaded into her mother's car. I had no idea until it was too late.

At Tracy's memorial service, one of her friends who spoke shared how she had selected her outfit for that day because she knew that Tracy would have approved of her dress and her shoes. This friend expressed how Tracy had one day told her that she needed to wear higher heals to make her legs look not so short. Tracy noticed details all the time. And in Tracy's absence, I have realized how often I miss the small details.


One of the many marks Tracy's life now has on mine is to try to notice the small things and to do the little things that make a big difference. I am trying to write more notes to friends - notes that tell them how much I appreciate them. I have picked up the phone to call people more often, just to say "hello." I have met friends for lunch, coffee, or Happy Hour more in the last few weeks than I have in the last year. I am trying to make time for more people in my life.

Tracy has been gone over two months now. I have presided over dozens of funerals and memorial services before, and I cannot remember the specific day on which any of them died - I can only remember the month or the season of the year. Yet, I am not sure I'll ever forget July 31 - the day Tracy died - or her smile or her organized apartment or her shoes piled into a box.

Compliment someone on their shoes today. Women love that stuff.

A Full House

My office is in a trailer. Each morning, I report to work, unlock a padlock, pull open a large fence, walk up a ramp, and enter the space. The trailer sits on the edge of the church's lawn, on space that actually belongs to the city. It is a humble space. It is the only space that we have access to at the moment on a regular basis without paying rent.

When we first ordered the trailer, we thought we would be having worship services at 11:00 on Sunday mornings in the trailer. We were not expecting much then. We anticipated having about 25 people on a Sunday morning, offering a different experience to others on Sunday afternoon. We did not expect to grow much until we got "home" to our big building after the renovation.

We soon learned that the Sunday afternoon experience was not that great because the beauty of our community was missing. It was hard to attract newcomers without the old timers. We therefore made some changes and started to rent a great theatre across the street from the church. Our worship attendance has grown since we have been in the theatre. We have had to order new hymnals because we did not keep enough out of storage. And, we get to welcome new people into our midst nearly every Sunday.

Still, people cannot believe that we are operating out of a trailer. When a reporter from The Washington Post met me on Wednesday afternoon, he was amazed to find me in a trailer. He walked back to my office and was so surprised to see my worship vestments hanging in the corner. He looked from one end of the trailer to the other end and said, "This is it? This is all you have?" "Yes, this is all we have," I responded, "in addition to the space we are renting on Sunday mornings."

Later that night, I was reminded again of all that can happen in a trailer. I presided over the Lay Leadership Committee in my office. A group of five gathered together to think about who can best lead our church in the coming year. We had a fantastic meeting as we prayed, discerned and talked together. We reviewed what has happened this year and talked about how best to get our new members involved, making sure that there is a balance of the old and the new on each committee. It was a blessing to talk with each other about all that God is doing in our midst.

Meanwhile, another group met in the larger area of the trailer. This group is one of two new community groups that are off and running. They are organized by neighborhood and are inwardly growing and outwardly focused groups who gather together to eat, study, share, grow and serve in our community. The room was filled with laughter. And, each person in the room was not at Mount Vernon Place a year and a half ago. Each person was new, and one of the individuals will make her first profession of faith when she joins the church a week from Sunday.

The longtime members filed out of my office as our meeting ended first. As they walked out, they were greeted with the sound of laughter and the site of authentic community being formed. It was a full house.

It is God's house...even though it is just a trailer.

I'll be the first to tell you that you do not need a church building to build the church.

Construction

We toured the historic building last week with Bishop Schol, the bishop of the Baltimore-Washington Conference. It is amazing to see all of the work taking place inside the building. While the sanctuary is still recognizable, it is hard to discern what was in every other space prior to the start of the restoration work. We are 9 months away from a grand celebration. We are 9 months away from the time in which we will return to our church home. In the meantime, take a look at how things appear today:

The site of our future chapel. We can imagine many people coming inside this open door off of K Street for 7:00 a.m. services of morning prayer, noontime services of praise and celebration and evening vespers. We can imagine all kinds of people walking in these doors - the people who work in hotels nearby, the individuals who are employed by law firms across the street, our neighbors who live on the lawns nearby, and the people who live and work in the buildings all around us.

These steps have caused the church problems for decades. The water sealant was stripped long ago, creating a great deal of water damage underneath. The steps are being stripped so that everything can be resealed again. It is a long, tedious process and the final solution has not been found yet.

The window restoration has been a subject of intense emotion and debate in the congregation. Bids for the work ranged from less than $200,000 to more than $700,000. We selected Lynchburg Stained Glass for the work after scrutinizing the proposals of several other artists and workers. When the sanctuary was first built, almost every window was made of stained glass. The windows are stunning, telling the stories of Jesus to people coming inside and out.

Bobby, one of our neighbors on the lawn, took this photo of the four of us who toured the building last week. Nathan, one of our interns from Wesley is on the far left, followed by Bishop Schol, myself and Don Graham. Bishop Schol has been supportive of the project from the beginning and has become a valuable mentor. Don Graham is the chairperson of our steering committee. He has given hours of time to the project, and we have learned so much together.

It is a blessing to be at the National Music Center for now. But we can hardly wait to get home again!

Practice What You Preach, Preacher

The words, "hell," "fire," "damnation," and "judgment" do not normally fill the pages of my sermon manuscripts. The pages from which I preach most often are filled with words like "love," "grace," "forgiveness," and "serve." I do not like the subject of judgment. I do not enjoy hearing preachers preach about how God really feels about us. Yet, when preparing a sermon series on "theology 101," I knew that I could not escape the subject of judgment, just as I cannot escape God's judgment.

On Sunday morning, I tuned my radio to a Christian station as I traveled the two miles to the church. The radio preacher was preaching on judgment. He had lots of images of hell to share with his listeners. The glimpses of his sermon were nothing like the one I was about to preach, however. His sermon was all about choosing Christ. He led me to believe that if I would simply allow Christ in my heart, then everything would be okay.

My sermon was based upon the passages found in Matthew 11:20-24, Jeremiah 26 and Romans 2. I also referred to the judgment scene found in Matthew 25. Jeremiah tells of a God who is filled with both love and wrath. Paul tries to make sense of judgment in Romans. And, in both Matthew passages, Jesus makes it clear that judgment has nothing to do with accepting him but all with how we serve him - how we serve him by what we do to the poor living all around us. Judgment has to do with whether or not we are putting God before everything else. And if we are putting God in first place, then we naturally will be doing the things of Christ - seeking the lowly who need to be exalted, giving the hungry something to eat, befriending the lonely, and forgiving those who have hurt or betrayed us, to name a few of the Christlike character traits.

On Sunday morning, I arrived at the church office extra early. I read my sermon a few more times and then led our new member class (we have 14 people in the class - thanks be to God - but that is an entirely different story), and then looked at the clock. I had less than ten minutes to grab everything and get across the street to our temporary worship site. I was in a rush. I normally like to be there at least 20 minutes early. Time was ticking. I walked out the door with several of our prospective new members, crossed the street, and encountered another person coming to church. I stopped to hug her and then approached the doors of the National Music Center where we are currently worshipping. Right there in front of my eyes was a man who clearly needed some help. He was babbling as though he had consumed too much strong drink or was mentally ill. He was reaching out his hand to those who were entering, and I was taken back by it all. Truth be told, I was a little annoyed that this person was nearly blocking the doors to our church. I did not speak to him. In fact, I walked inside and asked a member of the Trustees if we should ask him to leave - if we should move him over instead of inviting him in! (I am even more ashamed of my actions as I write this post.)

Again, I was about to preach on judgment. I was about to preach a sermon in which I would tell others and myself that we will be held accountable for what we do to the least of these around us. And, I failed the test miserably before worship even began. I failed the test when I passed by this man, failing to even look him in the eye and say "good morning." I failed the test because I was so concerned about what others would think of this person. "Will he scare people away?" I thought. "Will people still come if they have to walk so close to him?"

Oh God, forgive me. Forgive me for not practicing what you teach and what I preach. Slow me down, Lord. Help me to see what is really important. Give me the courage and the wisdom to be like you. Help me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Create in my a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me.

There is a passage in scripture that is similar to the one I have described. A beggar sits outside the gates of the temple all day long. People pass him on the way inside the temple - on the way to worship God. They pass him on the way to worship a God who yearns for them to love God and love their neighbor as themselves. Still, no one stops.

A significant part of my vision for Mount Vernon Place UMC is that we will be a people who exist for others. We will be people who are inwardly growing in our faith and who are constantly looking outside our doors to see who we can clothe, feed, befriend, house, forgive, and welcome. I long for us to be a prophetic church. I long for us to be a community of individuals who look and act like Jesus - who stop and say "good morning" to the person sitting outside and welcome them all in - regardless of what they have done, how they are dressed, what they are saying, or how 'different' they appear. This kind of community is one that I visualize often.

I only pray that the leader of this congregation, the pastor, has the wisdom to lead the way - to practice what she preaches.

Wide Open Spaces

There is a door at Mount Vernon Place that is wide open right now. It is a large hole that has been cut by the construction crew as part of the renovation work. There is currently nothing covering the hole. In fact, the church seems rather open (once you get inside the fence) to people, animals, or birds. It appears that anyone could walk right inside. Someone has been visiting our church all summer after moving here from the Northwest. She came to Mount Vernon Place by accident. She intended to visit a church a few blocks over, but she could not find a single door that was unlocked. It was Sunday morning, but the doors of the church were locked. Either the security guard had stepped away or someone failed to completely unlock the doors. She was locked outside. As a result, she walked down the street and found an unlocked door at Mount Vernon Place, and she has since become part of our worshipping community.
As a church, are we better at locking doors or making them appear as though anyone can walk inside? Are our doors locked or unlocked? Are people coming hoping to find an unlocked door and then being turned away only to go to another place - perhaps not even a church?
Fridays are my day off at the church. And while I recognize that the purpose of Sabbath is to rest and worship, I often find myself doing different things around the house and in the neighborhood. And, grocery shopping is something I normally do on Friday mornings.

There is a Giant Food Store up the street, and the sale advertisement for Giant now starts on Fridays. As a result, the store is not always easy to navigate on Fridays. Yes, the produce aisles are well stocked. And, I can always find the foods that are on sale before they are sold out. However, I have to navigate my cart around the large carts that the Giant employees are using to stock the shelves. And, while I know the Giant employees are doing their job - trying to be helpful, the Giant employees sometimes leave the carts in such a way that no one else can get through the aisle. They sometimes stand around laughing instead of helping other customers. I have even noticed the managers having a long discussion the middle of the aisle, unaware of how they were blocking the aisle from the full use of customers.

I wonder how often we in the church do these things...

I wonder how often we block the aisles, preventing someone from truly navigating the waters of faith, worship and spirituality. I wonder how often our efforts to keep the shelves stocked with "things we have always done" prohibits others from experiencing the Living God. I wonder how many times others have been turned aside because the people on the inside were standing around talking, unaware of the person who is begging for someone to speak to her or sit by her. And, I wonder how our actions can lead others to believe that they are not welcome - that the doors of the church are locked to them - because of who they are, what they have done, what they have failed to do, who they have loved, who they have failed to love, or even what they are wearing.

There is a door that is wide open at Mount Vernon Place. This door will not be kept wide open for long, however. As the construction project moves along, it will be filled and covered.

However, I hope we will do whatever we can to make sure that the doors of our church are always wide open to all kinds of people - to everyone in our neighborhood - the homeless man who sits outside, the woman who awakes from the grate where she has been sleeping, the people who work as attorneys across the street, the young adults who are trying to decide whether to take a long run or come to church on Sunday, the people who have always been there, the people who are amazed that they have actually come to church, the people who are filled with faith, and the people who are filled with doubt.

May our door be open. May the space be wide open for all people to come and experience the presence of our Living God. Amen.

Trouble in the Bathroom

Like many of you, I have been very troubled by the reports of Senator Larry Craig's (R-ID) arrest in an airport bathroom. The reports of what happened disgust me. It would be one thing to have an openly gay Senator who has always voted to give all people the same rights despite their sexual orientation. It is quite another thing to have a Senator tapping his foot, reaching his hand under the metal wall, and pleading guilty to a lesser crime when the Senator has voted against every piece of legislation that would have treated gay and lesbian people the same as every other individual in this country.

While Senator Craig is innocent until proven guilty, he already said he was guilty. He entered a guilty plea. He now is trying to reverse this plea. Today's news story is that he may change his mind and stay in the Senate. He has hired Stan Brand, the attorney who represented Major League Baseball in the steriod cases, and Billy Martin who represented Michael Vick in the dogfighting case. He has hired two people to stand by his side who are used to standing with people who did something terribly wrong - something they knew they should not have done.

The report in today's paper also tells of a family that has forgiven him. His children are standing by his side, telling all that their father was a victim of circumstance. The children are filled with grace - something we are all called to be filled with as we are called to forgive one another - and something that seems difficult to find in this case.

The best piece I have seen on Senator Craig's situation is an op-ed that appeared in Monday's Washington Post. Written by James McGreevey, the former New Jersey governor who found himself in a similar situation, the article tells of the pain and the shame associated with being gay. McGreevey writes of the quest to stay in the closet and the desire to run for public office as an effort to build another closet. It is a powerful statement - one worth reading.

I have watched too many friends almost suffocate in the closet. I have had too many friends come close to choosing death over life as a gay man. I have watched friends go to seminary, hoping that seminary and ordination would be the closet that would cover "it" for life. I have watched friends get married, thinking that this vow would make "it all go away." And, I have watched these same people continue to suffer - through depression, through pain, through what appears to me to be a living hell.

If you have read my blog this summer, then you know that the mantra of this season is making room for people to be who they really are. I do not want to lose another friend because she or he is dealing with something that cannot be shared. I do not want another person to leave ordained ministry because the church cannot accept who he or she really is - a gay man or a lesbian woman. And, I do not want to watch another person fall from power - whether it is the leader of a large church in Colorado or a United States Senator from Idaho - because of the choices they make regarding their sexual passions.

Our sexuality is a complex, beautiful gift from God. Sexuality is also a gift that can cause us to do things we might never have done before. The rise and ease of internet pornography is allowing people to enter places they could once only create in their minds (see the cover article of the current edition of Christian Century to see how many pastors are entering this place). The stress of being in a position of power where everyone thinks you have it all right can cause one to bundle up everything else on the inside and not tell a soul what is really happening. And, despite how good we think we are, none of us are perfect.

Senator Craig, I don't know if you are gay or straight. I have a hard time believing that you are a victim of circumstance - that your tapping your foot or reaching under the partition were not intentional. I am praying for your family, and I am trying to also pray for you. But I also pray that this story - this situation - will open your eyes to the pain of people around you - the ones you have voted against time and again. I pray this situation will also open the eyes and the hearts of your colleagues as we all ask ourselves, "I wonder what kind of pain, burdens, secrets or closets other people are carrying in this place, under this dome, in this city. How can I help them? How can we all seek to be more authentic?"

James McGreevey ends his op-ed with these words, "I pray that the tide of American history continues to sweep toward the inevitable expansion of freedom that recognizes the worth and dignity of every individual - and that mine is the last generation that is required to choose between the affairs of the heart and elected office" (James E. McGreevey, "A Prayer for Larry Craig," Washington Post, September 3, 2007, A15).

A Work in Progress

One of our architects sent me great pictures this week of our sanctuary at Mount Vernon Place. The building is being restored from top to bottom, and the first picture was taken before any work had started in the historic building. The second picture shows the work in progress as the chancel area is transformed.

BEFORE:
IN PROGRESS:

Grief

I was walking to worship on Sunday morning with Eddie, one of our church members. On our way across the street, Eddie replied to my inquiry about his weekend. He said, "I am just so sad. I miss Tracy. I still feel so sad."

"Yes, Eddie," I replied. "I also really miss her."

She has been gone almost a month, and the tears still come without notice. I'm still sad.

Dear Lord, please continue to touch the dark places left by our loss. Please continue to provide peace in our places of pain. Provide hope in our places of doubt. And remind us that from death comes resurrection. Blessed are those who mourn. They shall be comforted. Amen.

The First Day of School

The public schools in Washington, D.C. are back in session today. Traffic was heavier this morning as school buses became part of the mix. Backpacks have been purchased. Pencils have been sharpened. Butterflies have appeared in stomachs. The newspapers have published stories on the many faults and shortcomings of the public school system. The mayor has made new promises that things will soon be different. Here we go!


Individuals from Mount Vernon Place joined a team of people from Asbury United Methodist Church on Saturday morning, participating in the DC Public School Beautification Day. We planted flowers. We pulled some weeds. We met the principal. We met some parents of the students who attend the school. We met some of the students who attend the school. And, we saw firsthand glimpses of what the newspapers have told us.

When we arrived at the school, it was the principal who greeted us. None of her team was there. No teachers were there to assist us. None of the other school employees were there. It was the principal who was alone - trying her best to make sure that all of the bulletin boards were covered in every classroom. She was also sifting through the many books that had finally been delivered to the school - discovering that while there were plenty of some books there were other classes that would definitely have a shortage of books. And, she was doing her best to welcome us and offer her appreciation to us.

Still, the entire time we were there, I kept asking myself, "Where is everyone else? Where are the teachers? Does anyone care about the students as much as this principal does?"

I recognize that we were volunteering on a Saturday, and that weekend time is precious time - particularly the weekend before school starts. Still, something was missing. The leader of the team was present - but everyone else on the team was missing.

And, in the midst of it all, I was led to give thanks for the church. While it is easy for some people to believe that the pastor is responsible for everything, I cannot imagine being the only one available and ready to welcome people into the church whether it is a Monday, Tuesday, Saturday or a Sunday. Seeing the principal all alone on Saturday has reminded me of just how thankful I am for the people of Mount Vernon Place who continue to claim their gifts and share them with others - the people who live out the claim placed on their life at their baptism - when we become part of the priesthood of all believers.

Thank you, Michael, for making coffee and making sure that the details of the fellowship hour are always tended to.

Thank you, Beth, for organizing opportunities to faithfully serve in our community.

Thank you, members of the choir, for offering your voices as joyful sounds to the Lord.

Thank you, Anne, Ariana and Greg, for standing at the door yesterday, saying to all who entered, "Welcome to Mount Vernon Place!"

Thank you, volunteers, who are taking meals each night this week to a couple who were in a car wreck.

Thank you, Barbara, for writing down every single joy and concern that was expressed in worship on Sunday and for being willing to faithfully pray for each person.

Thank you, church members, who brought cookies for the children under the care of the Baltimore-Washington Conference Board of Childcare. And, thank you, Annie Lou, for delivering these cookies.

Thank you, men and women, who brought food and served with us at Calvary Women's Shelter last night.

Thank you, Megan, for putting signs outside before church yesterday morning.

Thank you, Theon and Nathan, for helping to take everything down following church yesterday.

Thank you, the faithful community of Mount Vernon Place, who are trying to be like Christ in downtown Washington.

Gracious and Loving God, thank you for the joy and the privilege of learning. We give you thanks and praise for schools, for teachers, for leaders and for students. Please be with the people in this city on this day as they start a new school year. Open the ears and the minds of students. Instill within teachers courage, insights, wisdom, patience and understanding. And, show us how we can be better partners with the children, men and women who educate and are educated in this city. Amen.

Do You Need Healing?

Earlier this month, an advertisement covered the back page of the free newspaper given out at Metro stations in Washington. I have since tucked the paper away, placing it in the middle of a pile of papers on my kitchen table because the advertisement is so thought-provoking to me.

The top line reads, "Do you need healing?" I suppose that the majority of the people getting on the Metro on any given day need healing. People need healing from their headaches. People need healing from broken relationships. People need healing from ankles that have been twisted, alcoholism that has robbed their spirits, cancer that has entered their bodies, and other illnesses. We are all in need of healing - healing of some kind.

However, there was a limited amount of healing being offered. One of the tools for healing being offered on August 2 was olive oil from the Holy Land, Jerusalem. Yet, the advertisement alerts all who read to "call now and reserve yours." There is a limited availability. Not everyone gets the total package being offered.

There are many things in this life with limited availability. I am reminded each day that hundreds of people in this city have a limited amount of food. There is a limited amount of shelter, too. There is also a limited amount of health care coverage. There is even a limited amount of textbooks in the public schools of this city. There is not, however, a limited amount of healing.

The God I know and love longs to heal anyone and everyone of whatever ailment we are facing. God lingers close, promising to never leave us or forsake us. God knows everything we are facing, no matter how painful it is, because God has also felt it, experiencing the most intense pain of all - the death of his own child. And while the healing God offers does not always come in the package we imagined, I believe God is constantly healing us.

God heals us of our past. God heals us of our brokenness. God heals us of our disease. And this healing does not run dry. There is an unlimited supply. And you can call now. You call by saying, "Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh upon me again this day. Renew me. Touch me. Transform me. Penetrate through the places of brokenness and decay in my life. Heal me. Amen."

Thanks be to God.

The Design for a Dream

Following is the sermon I preached on August 19. It is the final sermon in a series on "The Discipleship Adventure" and is based upon Acts 2:37-47 and Matthew 28:16-20. It is a sermon that instigated a tremendous amount of comments and feedback. As you will read, I continue to reflect on Tracy's death and all I have learned from it:


I received an email from a friend earlier in the week. It was filled with good news as a baby has been born. The baby is the first for the couple, and they are elated. The father of the child could hardly wait to share what had happened in their life. They have been given a child. He wanted to share the good news as soon as possible.

Craig calls often to tell me about certain sales or deals that come to his attention. We both love getting a deal or finding a good sale. There are times when he cannot wait to tell me about a deal, promotion, coupon or sale. He calls with the news of his discovery because he is so excited about it. He wants to share the news as soon as possible.

There are times when we cannot wait to tell people about good news. When I got engaged, I sent an email to many of my friends and family. When we have a child born in our lives, we send out birth announcements. If we get a new job, we often call people and tell them about it. If we buy a house, we send out pictures of the house on a change of address card. We like telling good news. We enjoy sharing with others the good things that happen in our lives.

It should come as no surprise to any of you that I spend a lot of my time thinking about how I can tell others the good news of Christ. Many of my thoughts are focused upon the future of this church and how we can best offer to new people an experience of the resurrected Lord. In my mind, I can picture a sanctuary filled with people of all ages, nationalities, economic backgrounds, beliefs, lifestyles and races. I can picture this congregation going out into the city often, serving people in a myriad of ways through its ministries and faithful service in this community. I can visualize us baptizing infants and adults, welcoming into our fold people who have always been a part of a church and people who are discovering the power of a personal relationship with God and the gift of being in an authentic Christian community for the first time. I can imagine a building filled with people at all hours of the day and night, giving people a place to belong, a place to serve, a place to grow, a place to exercise, a place to learn, and a place to enjoy the company of others. These are the details of my dream.

In 1960, there were over 4500 people on the membership roster of this church. In the 1940s and 50s, we filled the sanctuary to a capacity so large that it would make the Fire Marshall angry if he came to worship. Today, however, we can easily fit everyone into this space that seats 150. And, and a year ago we were thinking of having worship in the trailer on the front lawn of the church.

When I arrived here two years ago, many of you told me that you had voted. You had voted to spend whatever money was in the church coffers, and then you would hand the keys to the church over to the conference and say, “That’s it. We’re finished. We have done all that we could do.” You were tired. You felt as though you had done everything and still nothing seemed to bring new people into the church’s doors. At the rate of spending, we were forecasted to close two years from now. Rather than dedicating space in a beautiful office building in 2009, Mount Vernon Place would be slated for closure. Times have changed, however.

Something rather exciting and remarkable is happening here. While this area was once filled with crime and decay, we now sit on the edge of one of the most vibrant communities in the city. An advertisement for a new condominium development reads, “Move into Madrigal Lofts this year and be part of the emerging scene in one of DC’s most sought-after neighborhoods.” Madrigal Lofts is a few blocks down the street. The sought after neighborhood is right here.

There are condominiums and apartment buildings being created all around us. One development down the street will hold 441 condos and 244 apartments. Its advertisement reads, “Dine here. Shop here. Picnic here. Swim here. Work out here. Live here.” Well, my friends, I want the people living in this building to go to church here!

A colleague of mine who has done an extensive amount of research on this area claims that 60 to 80 percent of the 136,000 people who live in downtown Washington – are either dechurched or unchurched people. Approximately 92,000 individuals living around us are not currently involved in a worshipping community. My friend, Paul, writes, “If you have ever taken a stroll thru the café culture of Dupont Circle on a Sunday morning or seen half the world out walking their dogs in Capitol Hill, you are left wondering if anyone goes to church in this city.”[1] The harvest is plentiful, and the laborers are few.

We look for a final time today at the church found in Acts 2. It is the first church, the beginning church. The people who have gathered have heard a powerful message proclaimed about Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. They respond by repenting of their sin and being baptized. They turn away from the ways of the world and turn towards the teaching of Christ. They devote themselves to learning as much as they can about Jesus, fellowshipping and breaking bread with the people who can teach them more about their faith. They radically hold in common all that they own, making sure that everyone is taken care of in their community – that there is not a needy person among them. They praise God with all that they have and all that they are. And something happens in the midst of these actions and reactions. When others see this community – a community that celebrates God’s presence, grows in faith, welcomes everyone into its midst, and serves everyone around them – especially those who do not have their basic needs being met – when people see the extraordinary, rare qualities of this community, other people want to be part of it. We are told that “day by day the Lord added to their numbers those who were being saved.”[2]

The church does not grow because of a mass marketing campaign, a new building or expensive programs. The church grows because its members are being like Jesus. The church grows because its members are embodying simple practices that Jesus taught them. They are doing the things Jesus showed them how to do – loving the Lord their God with all their heart, soul and mind and loving their neighbors as themselves. The church grows because its members have formed an alternative community with practices that stand in stark contrast to the rest of Rome, and people in the community are hungry for something different.

The Gospel lesson read this morning is often labeled “The Great Commission.” Jesus has been crucified and resurrected from the dead. He comes back, appearing to his disciples and offers them a final message. The message is rather simple.

“Go.” Go out from this place. Don’t stay here and expect people to come to you, but go out.

“Make disciples of all nations.” Don’t look for people who are from the same place as you or even the people who have the same background, values or lifestyle. But go and make disciples of all people.

“Teach them to obey what I have commanded you.” Teach them to put God first in their lives and to love their neighbors as much as they love themselves. Teach them to serve the poor, to give release of the captives and recovery of site to the blind. Teach them to be a radical community that stands in stark contrast to the ways of this world. But don’t always use words. In fact, preach and teach the Gospel with your lives, using words only when necessary.

“And remember that I will be with you.” Christ will remain with you and never leave you.
Go. Make disciples of all nations. Teach them everything. Remember I am with you.

As many of you know, we experienced a tragic death in our congregation nearly three weeks ago when a young woman chose to end her own life. Since Tracy’s death, I have done a tremendous amount of soul searching, thinking, praying and writing. My identity as a pastor has been shaped and reshaped as I have been asked to do things that I never imagined I would do. For the first time in my life, I have wished I owned a clerical collar because the work that was before me was so daunting – work that I could never have done without the understanding that I not only could go as a pastor but that I had to go. So many of the spaces where I have walked these weeks have been holy – ground that I am not worthy of walking on – but ground on which I have been called to walk, held up by the loving arms of God who has promised me time and again that God is with me.

But I have also learned a tremendous amount about the role and the responsibility of the church in the last three weeks. We live in a city that breeds success, beauty, perfectionism and wealth. In this city, people are called to be the very best – the very best attorney, the very best Senate staffer, the very best lobbyist, the very best staff assistant, the very best of whatever it is that we spend our days doing. As Beth Ludlum taught me a long time ago, “in this city, you are whoever you say you are.” We are directors of non-profits. We are Capitol Hill staffers. We are accountants. We are lobbyists working to change legislation. We are front desk managers. We are physicians.

Rarely, however, do we get a chance to say who we really are – people who are somewhat uncertain about tomorrow. Individuals who would like to do a variety of things in our lives including having children but have no idea how we can afford to do them. We are people who appear to have it all together even in the times when we are filled with doubt and despair on the inside. We are men and women who surround ourselves with people, gathering some twenty people for happy hour on Thursday while feeling all alone on Friday. Yet, we cannot tell people who we really are. We are afraid to tell others how we really feel. We choose to hide the messes in our lives from the people around us. What people want to hear about is our job title, our pedigree, and our successes – not our shortcomings, fears or our failures.

What has happened since Tracy’s death is a renewed awareness of the pain people carry. I have had conversations with people in the last two weeks who have told me about their wounds and their bruises – revealing more to me about the person than I ever knew before. I have had people send me emails about similar losses in their family and the scars that have been left. I have learned more about clinical depression and mental illness, struggling with why we can talk about any other part of our body that is sick but if our mind is sick, we cannot talk about it – we try to hide it. So much pain has been unearthed to me as the masks have been removed. And, I have started to take off my own mask. Instead of lying to people who ask, “How are you?” with a response like, “fine, thank you.” I have said, “I am really struggling.” When you give people this response, you can then discover who is ready to listen and who does not give a damn about how you are doing.

And, I have discovered again what I have known all along – that our first and deepest identity is as children of God, made in the image of God, beloved in God’s eyes. We are people who God knows so well that God even knows the number of hairs on our heads. We are the reason God’s heart beats and sometimes skips a beat. We are all beloved – even when the people in our life do not call us beloved.

And, an encounter with this God who knows me so well has changed my life. A journey with the crucified and risen Savior gives me hope for today and strength for tomorrow. The promise of eternal life is why I can get through the loss of Tracy or anyone else because I believe that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus – including death itself. This book has reminded me time and again that there is something more to this life than trying to be the best – but what this life is about is being in relationship with God and with others – humbly serving others – giving what I have away so that others can experience a better life. And if we believe that this news is good news, then why do we keep it to ourselves? If we believe that the Gospel still has the power to transform lives, then why would we keep this transformation from others? How is it that we can keep such good news – news that is better than a birth, a new job, a sale, or a marriage – to ourselves?

The Krewsons gave me a subscription to a magazine called Charisma. The most recent issue focuses on finding God on a college campus. Several different students are highlighted in the issue, and I was struck by many of their comments. One young woman writes, “The absence of college students in America’s churches is overwhelming. And it’s not because students don’t love God. It’s because they don’t have a place to connect. Students are searching for an authentic spiritual experience with depth and relevance…I don’t really want to become a carbon copy of my parents. I have different perspectives and different cultural influences than they do. I want to be me. I have dreams, ambitions, and hang-ups just like everyone else, but I need a place where I am loved and accepted anyway. For many college students, church is not that place. Churches are trying so hard to be relevant bastions of spiritual depth that they are missing the integral element of Christianity: love. After all, Jesus commanded us to love God and love people. If the church could really focus on this gospel, and actually live it out, the missing college students might start turning up.”[3]

Her desire is for a place where all people are loved and accepted regardless of who they are or where they have been, and a place whose first priority is to love the Lord our God with our hearts, souls, strengths and minds while going out and loving our neighbor as ourselves while also loving the person in front of us by asking how they are and not being satisfied with “fine, thank you” as a response.

And still, few churches are living this dream. So many churches are grasping to keep doing what they have always done, spending money on things that do not matter – things that do not change lives. Too many churches spend time arguing about parliamentary procedure instead of how best we are going to serve the people in this city. Too many churches spend time thinking about how to care for the people inside the church, forgetting that the people Christ calls us to encounter and serve are outside the church.

This place is the only place I have discovered in Washington where people who are twenty or thirty-something can develop a beautiful friendship with an eighty or ninety-something. This is the only place I have discovered in Washington where a person who has a mental illness and is known by many of the police in the neighborhood is just as valued as a visiting judge who was appointed to the bench by a United States President. This place is one of the few places where people ask me, “How can I pray for you this week or what is really happening in your life?” and then wait to hear the answer. We have so much to offer to the people living around us.

There are thousands of books that have been written on church growth. You and I could fly around the country this year, attending a seminar every single week of the year on how to bring people inside our doors. Still, the design for the dream of having a church filled with people was discovered 2000 years ago.

The members of the early church celebrated God’s presence in their lives, especially when they gathered as a community. They connected with others, providing places where people could come just as they are. They grew in their faith, trying to learn as much as they could about scriptures and God’s teaching. They went out and served the community, making sure that everyone’s needs were taken care of. And, day by day, the Lord added to the number those being saved.
Amen.
[1] I am indebted to research completed by Paul Nixon for these statistics.
[2] Acts 2:47.
[3] “God on Campus” in Charisma, September 2007, 27 – 35, 32.