Money on the Table

I had the joy of spending three and one-half days in Atlanta last week at a training for a program being piloted by the Fund for Theological Education (FTE). I have had the the privilege of working with the FTE on different conferences and grant proposals for several years now, but this event was the first training session I have participated in with them. As expected, I returned home with pages of notes and a mind that keeps thinking in anticipation about the journey our congregation will be taking together in Lent of 2010.

Teams of three people from five congregations gathered last week to hear about a new program of Vocation Care - a program in which congregations create a culture of noticing individuals and their gifts, naming these gifts, and then nurturing these gifts to full fruition. A significant part of this program is the art of storytelling - of making space where stories can be told and teaching individuals how to listen and respond. By modeling this practice often last week, we were able to hear and to share many stories. Several of the stories are still haunting the corners of my mind.

I first met David, an incredibly gifted and remarkable individual who was trained as an attorney and peacemaker before responding to a call and entering seminary. He has traveled the world, met with diverse groups of people in hopes of bringing opposition together, is a competent and effective preacher, and radiates wisdom from his entire being. David was a candidate for ordination in the United Methodist Church. Upon graduation from seminary, he had a distinct call. He and another colleague felt called to create a new kind of faith community in Georgia - a community where people of all colors could come together in worship. It would be a new church start in the United Methodist Church - a church that would be created to be intentionally multi-racial and multi-ethnic. In excitement and anticipation, David shared his dream with his bishop, hoping that doors would be opened so that kingdom building could commence. The bishop listened and then responded, "Not in my Georgia."

David is no longer a United Methodist. He's thriving instead in another denomination. Throughout last week, I was reminded each time he opened his mouth of how much the United Methodist Church is missing through this gifted servant. He was ready to serve, armed with a vision of biblical proportions, and the bishop shut him down immediately.

One of the members of our team from Mount Vernon Place was Bill. Bill has already shared a portion of his story with you on my blog through a testimony that I posted on the day he joined the church. Bill is extraordinary - a hymn writer, a talented musician, a gifted speaker, a gentle soul, a patient listener, a laughing partner, a lover of people and the world, and the list goes on and on.

As we told our stories last week, a part of Bill's story that had to be told was about how his call to ordained ministry was shut down. He shared with many people how he had experienced a call on his life, enrolled and completed seminary, was appointed to the local church, and then found himself unable to serve because of his sexual orientation. He's now an extraordinary layperson - an incredible gift that overflows to many pockets of our congregation - but I still cannot help to think about how much our church is missing out on by not allowing Bill and others like him to serve as pastors of our churches.

Businesses talk all of the time about the money being left on the table. Businesses do whatever they can to make sure that all profits are maximized, that no area of revenue is left unturned. They maximize every gift in their team and every possible area that is revenue producing. This notion of money being left on the table was mentioned once last week, but it is one of the key learnings that is sticking with me.

In both of these cases, there is money that was left on the table. Two individuals were presenting themselves as candidates for ordination with significant gifts and a heart committed to spreading scriptural holiness across the land. Two individuals were ready to go and proclaim the good news of the blind receiving their sight, the lame walking, the lepers being cleansed, and the oppressed being set free. One person was told 'no' by a bishop. The other person was told 'no' by a Discipline. And, there are countless others just like these two.

Why? Why is our church leaving so many gifts on the table, turning our backs on what we could be out of fear of what our eyes cannot see? Why is it that we have such a hard time embracing something new when Jesus was always doing something new? Why do we prefer the stone embrace of institutions instead of the Spirit-filled winds of a movement? Why do we prefer to stand in centers of power and stability when Jesus was always dancing in the margins?

How long, O Lord, must we wait before so many gifts are taken from the table and set free - set free to set your world on fire?

A Whole Lot of Tears

I have hanging in my home a small picture created by Brian Andreas, the artist behind Storey People that says, "She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short."

I have found myself crying often each day this week - not because I am sad, but because life is, indeed, so incredibly beautiful.

The last week or so has been overwhelming in many ways. We have raced to the finish line in order to close on the church's new property just in time for the building dedication last Sunday and then a large Urban Ministry Symposium on Tuesday. Each time I behold the new ministry space, I realize just how much God has given the small congregation that meets on the corner of 9th and Massachusetts - and more importantly, just how much God has given to the people of Washington, the United Methodist Church, and the church of Jesus Christ around the world.

Four years ago, I was told often by people at Mount Vernon Place how there was nothing more to do. The congregation had tried everything to make their church grow again. They had held on tight to one another, and taken care of one another, but few new people were coming in the doors. It would be easier to spend the money doing what they had always done, and when the money was gone, the doors would close.

Last Friday morning, I came to the church early in the morning to see furniture being delivered and set up in a wonderful, light-filled fellowship hall. I watched as our furniture angel worked with the delivery people from her company. I remembered how generous this angel has been with her time, her knowledge and her company. I watched them work, and I could hardly hold back tears as I expressed my gratitude to her once more for what she has done for us.

On Sunday, I watched this same fellowship hall become filled with people enjoying lunch after worship in the sanctuary. We had 190 individuals in worship on Sunday - some of our partners from Wesley Theological Seminary, our bishop, our district superintendent, our architects, our new building partners, former members, and countless other people. In worship that morning, I watched as about twelve of the individuals who were with us in July of 2005 stood as we expressed gratitude to them for their courage to trade the known for the unknown, voting to sell a portion of the church's property more than four years ago. I then watched as the individuals stood who have come to Mount Vernon Place since this time - the fifty plus individuals who have discovered Christ again through the ministries of our congregation.

On Tuesday, I watched as people came into the church to learn about Urban Ministry. That night, I stood at the lectern and looked out to see individuals from two very different churches coming together for worship - distinguished ushers from Asbury United Methodist Church were shepherding people into the sanctuary. Mount Vernon Place people were greeting and handing out bulletins. Individuals from Wesley Seminary were sprinkled around the building. Three institutions - three very different institutions - one seminary, one church founded by African Americans who got tired of sitting in the balcony of another nearby church and who faithfully and prophetically left to build their own church less than two blocks away from Mount Vernon Place, and one church founded by Southerners who believed in the institution of slavery and built a grand monumental church calling itself Mount Vernon Place - all coming together - planting seeds for what might be accomplished together in the future and opening doors for a much needed process of healing to happen that I pray will happen.

Mount Vernon Place is now two days away from our annual charge conference, an annual meeting of the congregation where we vote on certain things. At this charge conference, we will vote on my compensation for 2010 and our list of lay leaders for the new year. We'll also have the joy of voting to approve two incredibly gifted individuals to continue on the path towards ordination in the United Methodist Church. And, we'll have the opportunity to vote on becoming a member of the Reconciling Ministries Network in the United Methodist Church - adding our church's name to the list of faithful, risk-taking churches who proudly proclaim that our congregations are going to openly welcome, love and extend Christ's welcome and love to all people - regardless of their physical ability, their economic income, the color of their skin, their educational ability, their ethnic background, or their gender or sexual identity. We are voting to open wide our doors - to be the people who not only say with our lips that the United Methodist Church is a church with Open Hearts, Open Minds and Open Doors but to be these people - these people who desire so much to see what God can do when all people are welcome and beheld just as we are - encouraged to do all of the things that we in the majority get to do.

I cry often these days. Not because life is sad - but because the church is beautiful - especially on the corner of 9th and Massachusetts. You should come see what God is doing - come look at the extraordinary generosity of God that is so apparent in the new ministry space and then see the stunningly beautiful makeup of the body of Christ who worships here.

Bring a tissue - you might find yourself crying, too.

Dedication Day

I am far behind on my blogging, gathering a list of things to write about instead of actually writing about them. I promise to write soon. In the meantime, I want to offer you a glimpse of what has been happening at Mount Vernon Place. We closed on our new ministry space on Friday and dedicated it yesterday. Here are some shots from our wonderful celebration.

The view inside the four-story glass atrium that connects the historic church building with the new space:

Our new fellowship hall:

Waiting to get inside:

Cutting the ribbon:

Changing Perspectives

I saw them again on Wednesday morning. They were walking rather briskly, three girls dressed differently from the rest of the early morning crowd. One had on the doll-like outfit that I have seen her in many time before. Another had on a dress that was designed to cover her front but leave nothing to the imagination in the back. Still another had on a short leather skirt and tall leather boots to match. I saw them. But this time I saw them with different eyes.

I used to see them as women who had made this choice for their lives. I saw them as individuals who had chosen to spend the nights walking the streets, waiting for their next client to pull over and shepherd them into the car.

I now see them so differently.

I see them as victims. I see them as girls, some as young as 12 or 13. I finally notice how young they are. I see them as individuals who have been taken captive and have a hard time getting out. I see them - not as prostitutes but as people who are being prostituted. I see them as individuals who are being trafficked. I see them as people who need help.

After searching for different options for how our congregation can be more involved with all of our neighbors, including these individuals, two of our members found an organization called Courtney's House (www.courtneyshouse.org). Founded and led by a survivor herself, Tina is an extraordinary leader, speaker and visionary. She knows the life these girls are living, and she knows that it is not easy to get out. She is pouring all of her time and energy into providing a way where there is seemingly no way.

Tina estimates that there are 1000 pimps working in Washington, DC alone. These pimps have control over boys and girls, some as young as 11 years old. Tina has opened our eyes to just how painful their world is and to the realities of the business. Pregnant girls are more valuable than non-pregnant. Breast milk sells. The younger the girl, the higher the amount can be earned. A typical one-night quota offered by the pimp to the girl is $1000 to $2000. Beatings happen regularly when this money does not come in. 95% of the girls have been sexually abused. The average age of someone coming under pimp control is 12 to 14 years old. An average night includes sleeping with 12 to 15 men.

And, we're trying to help. Last Saturday, Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church was able to host a group of 26 women who are willing to help - willing to be trained in how to work with these boys and girls. Soon, our church will become the office location for Tina and her assistant. We're trying to play a part in providing ministries of mercy and justice.

I keep thinking about how much my perspective has changed. My entire vision has changed since I have learned more about this issue and the stories behind what I see. My outlook has changed to one of disgust to one of compassion. My heart has been taken captive in a whole new way.

I wonder.

I wonder what might happen if we all took time to listen to the stories of others - to not be so quick to conclude who a person is or why a person lives a certain way, loves a certain way, talks a certain way. What if we were to first take time to hear the person - to hear their heart, their mind, their background, their hopes, their dreams, their fears.

I wonder then if we might all have a change of perspective - towards the people who work the streets at night, towards our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters, towards the homeless man who sleeps on the church's porch at night, towards the person in line before us at Safeway who is using electronic benefits.

I wonder.

God, give us eyes to see and ears to hear. Help us to see the people around us as you see them. Forgive us for being quick to judge and slow to listen. Help us, Lord, to be more like you. Amen.

Draw the Circle Wide

We welcomed five new members at Mount Vernon Place yesterday and had the privilege of baptizing two of these individuals. It was a beautiful day - one of my all-time favorite worship experiences in this place. As part of worship, I asked two of our new members if they would be willing to testify - to share a glimpse of why they were excited about joining Mount Vernon Place and what brought them here. Both of the witnesses were extraordinary - offered with love, grace, passion, and excitement. It was a blessing to hear their words.

I asked one of the individuals if I could have a copy of his words to share on my blog. As I read them, my only prayer is that God will continue to keep us on this path, and that God will show us how best to further open the circle that has powerfully been opened to so many people already. What a blessing it is to serve in this place!

Here they are for you to read:

I remember an afternoon when I was 16 years old. I was sitting in a meadow in front of the chapel at Camp Aldersgate – our United Methodist Church camp in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State. A pastor speaking to a group of us shared this simple poem:

They drew a circle that shut me out;
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win,
We drew a circle that took them in.

As a Christian who also happens to be gay, I have known the hurt and despair of having circles drawn that shut me and those like me out in ways that keep us from experiencing the fullness of life and faith in the very communities of faith in which we were raised and once nurtured. My guess is, there are others here today who perhaps for the same or for different reasons have shared similar experiences.
But after a few short months here, in this place, I stand to give witness to what I sense is happening at Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church; and why, today, I seek to be a part of this community of faith. Something is happening here that captures my imagination and convinces my heart: the God of Abraham and Sarah, of Moses and Deborah, of Paul and Priscilla is a living God who is walking among us today – speaking new words of hope to those both inside and outside these walls, and leading us all to new places of promise that encourage greater strength of community, healing and depth of faith. Something is happening here!

Today the five of us seeking membership in this congregation are linking hearts and minds with a community of believers who have taken an incredible leap of faith as you seek to be faithful disciples of Jesus Christ – reaching out into our city and our nation in bold and creative ways to meet neighbors in need. Drawing circles around them that included – that incorporate them into a shared life that provides for a greater hope and promise of well-being.
I sense this congregation to be a community of seekers: people who know that living a life of faith is like being on a journey. As God moves among us, so must we seek and be prepared to be led to new and different places in our ministries. I’ve said to others that one dynamic of this community that makes me want to be a part is the sense that “we are always becoming!” There are other places we all could be where the sense is “This is who we are! This is what we do! And this is how we do it!!” It’s a good thing to know who you are, but each day is a new day that presents new situations, and new challenges with opportunities to share our faith with those around us. I want to be a part of a community of faith that has this sense of adventure – a sense of “always having to figure it out,” always discerning where we are, and what God is calling us to do in this new day, this new moment.

In 1980, as a young gay man who had just spent four years in seminary preparing for ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church, I attended our General Conference in Indianapolis, IN. I was there as part of a group of gay and lesbian United Methodists with a new name: Affirmation. Needless to say, in those early days we were very much on the outside of “the circle,” well into the margins. At the opening of the Conference I stood in an outer hallway of the Convention Center holding a tall banner we had just made a few days earlier that read, “Affirmation: United Methodists for Lesbian and Gay Concerns.” The hallway where I stood was the path that all of our Bishops took as they processed onto the main floor of the convention center. They all passed by me and ‘my’ banner. One bishop stopped and said, “Get out of here. You must leave this place! ” I looked him in the eye and said “Bishop, I’m not going to leave!” At that moment my heart was more resolved than ever to speak honestly and openly about who I was as a person of faith, and to always search for that growing community of believers in Jesus Christ who understand that their faith compels them to welcome – to include rather exclude people.

So Bishop, here I am! I’m still here! And I give thanks for my sisters and brothers in this place – for the way you welcome me; for being the people of God that you are; for being the people of God that you hold promise to become; and for being a people of God who have a passion for drawing circles that include people rather than keep them out. Thank you for embracing the five of us this morning and bringing us into this community. We want to draw circles with you.

William J. Matson
Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church
Washington, DC
September 27, 2009

The Breaking of Bread

I purchased a book yesterday in one of the museum shops. The book is filled with pictures of paintings that portray the Lord's Supper. I am fascinated by different artists' interpretations of this sacred meal. I am awed by the paintings that tell the story - of how Jesus appeared, of who was at the table with him, of how Jesus broke bread. We know that this meal is what led the disciples to recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread following his resurrection.

I saw Jesus last night. Jesus came to me in the breaking of the bread.

Craig and I were dining in one of Florence's oldest restaurants, celebrating Craig's 40th birthday. We knew ahead of time that we would arrive at the restaurant, get in line, and then be seated with strangers. We followed the wisdom of the hotel staff, and did exactly what they suggested we do. We were seated at a table, and within a matter of moments, another couple was seated with us. A man named John sat down next to me. John's wife, Rosemary, sat down next to Craig. We sat down as perfect strangers.

Soon food started to arrive on the table. Italian meats came first. Then came some tripe (which I said, "no thanks" to). We then had a lovely salad. Pasta arrived next. The pasta was followed by a plate of meat - four different kinds of meat. When the meat was enjoyed, a plate filled with different desserts arrived. All of this food was washed down with a huge jug of red wine that sat in the center of the table. We all shared the meal together. We all enjoyed one another's company. We laughed. We told stories. We contemplated life. We dreamed about the future. And, all I could think about was the Eucharistic feast - the Great Thanksgiving.

There is something extraordinary that happens at the table. People sit down as strangers. But they leave as friends. When bread is broken, community is formed. When a table is shared, barriers are broken. When individuals come and offer what they have, others are blessed. Craig and I experienced this kind of fellowship last night. It was amazing.

At the end of the meal, the check arrived. We were prepared to share the cost - to split the cost of the 180 euro meal. John, however, immediately got out his wallet. John treated us - telling us that he wanted us to enjoy marriage as they had enjoyed marriage - all 30 years. He wanted Craig to have a special birthday. He wanted us to experience generosity. Meanwhile, his wife, Rosemary, sat back and said, "This is just the way he is."

It was grace. Extraordinary grace.

And, that's just the way the one is who hosts us at his banquet feast each time we come to his table to participate in the Eucharistic Feast.

It's just the way he is, and we encounter him often in the breaking of the bread.

Climbing to the Cross

I have spent the day looking at incredible art. While in Florence, we have visited the Uffizi Gallery and the Academia. I have marveled at David. I have seen so many pictures and statues. But, I have been amazed even more at the theology behind some of the works of lesser known artists.

Luke 23:50-53 reads, "Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectandly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid."

I have never before thought about who took the body of Jesus down from the cross or how these people got the body down. I have never thought about it until I saw so many pictures with ladders. So many of the Italian artists have created the crucifixion with ladders - with ladders that extend to the top of the cross - ladders that people can climb in order to get the body of Jesus and the other two people down from the crosses.

Ladders. I have never thought about people actually climbing to the top of the cross in order to remove the body of Jesus - to carefully untack the hands and the feet of Jesus. But, I saw the ladders today as portrayed by Italian Rennassiance artists. I cannot stop thinking about these ladders. And, I cannot stop thinking about Joseph of Arimathea.

We are told that Joseph, though a member of the council, did not agree with the plan and action of the council. Joseph, an insider, chose to be an outsider. Joseph chose to stay close to the cross. He chose to put a ladder against the cross - a ladder that would extend to the top of the cross.

I can imagine the pain and ridicule that came Joseph's way. I can imagine that his colleagues questioned why on earth he would be carrying a ladder to Golgatha - why on earth he would be placing that ladder up against a cross - why on earth he would be removing the body of one who was crucified. Still, Joseph went. He went, he carried a ladder, he climbed the cross, and he removed the body.

When I am rediculed, questioned, or criticised, it is so much easy for me to back down the ladder than it is to climb the ladder. When people question what I do in the name of my faith or my prodding of the Holy Spirit, it is so much easier to give into their criticism, and to stop what I am doing, than it is to continue on my way.

Joseph, however, did not stop. Instead, he carried a ladder to Golgatha. He placed the ladder up against the cross. He removed the nails in Jesus' hands and feet. He brought the body down and laid it in a tomb. He brought the body down that would rise again in three days.

I wonder.

I wonder even more now that I have seen these ladders in so many paintings today, what might happen if we did not back down in the face of criticism. What might happen if we continued to climb the ladder. What might happen if we continued to climb the ladder and talk with those with whom we disagree? What might happen if we tried to always stand for Christ - for Christ's ways, Christ's love, Christ's grace - even if we are going against what others are telling us we should do or think or say or feel.

Joseph climbed the ladder. I saw him climb it in so many paintings today. He climbed the ladder - even though he was a member of the council who fought for the cross - he climbed a ladder when the council's actions were over. And, in the paintings, he is not the only one who climbed the ladder.

Many others were there with him.

God, help me to climb the ladders you have placed in front of me. Amen.

Cussing in Church

I got cussed out today, and it happened in a very unlikely place. I was not driving on I-395 into the city. I was not in the Costco parking lot, competing with 25 cars for the two remaining spaces. And, I was not in a grocery store that is always crowded on Sunday evenings in Washington. I was, in fact, at church.

At Mount Vernon Place, we have a regular practice of sharing our joys and concerns. It is a central part of who we are as a congregation. We seek to be real and authentic with one another, truly sharing the things that are giving us joy and the burdens we are carrying - the things that are causing us hurt and pain. Several people shared joys that are happening in their lives today. It then came time for concerns. After a few people shared, I got up, stood at the microphone, and asked for prayers.

I shared with the congregation how we need to pray for our country. I talked about how I was in downtown Washington yesterday and happened to get caught in the traffic as mobs - thousands upon thousands 0f people - were gathering in Freedom Plaza for an anti-tax, anti-Obama, anti-health care demonstration. I shared how as I sat in traffic, so many of the signs broke my heart because many people held a sign of hatred in one hand and a sign with scripture printed on it in the other hand. I then shared how my heart broke yesterday morning when I read an editorial in the Washington Post. The editorial is written by Colbert I. King and is titled, "A Dangerous Kind of Hate." In his editorial, King writes about pastor Steven Anderson's sermon of August 16 - a sermon preached in a Baptist Church in Tempe, Arizona in which Anderson focused an entire message on "Why I Hate Barack Obama." In this sermon - a sermon preached in a Christian Church, Anderson preached, "'I'm not going to pray for his (Obama's) good, I'm going to pray he dies and goes to hell."

King goes on to write, "There's something loose in the land, an ugliness and hatred directed toward Barack Obama , the nation's first African American president, that takes the breath away" (Colbert I. King, "A Dangerous Kind of Hate," in the Washington Post, September 12, 2009, page A17).

My breath was taken away yesterday morning, and while I did not quote this specific line of King's, I did talk about Anderson - how I did not understand how anyone could be filled with so much hatred and still call himself a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I then invited the congregation to pray - specifically saying that whether we sit on the right or on the left, we are to pray. I said that no matter what our views are, we need to pray for the unrest that is so real, so apparent, so rampant in our nation. I asked that we pray for our leaders - all of our leaders.

During the closing of the final hymn, I noticed that two women who I had never seen before were no longer singing. In fact, they were standing with their arms folded in front of them.

When the benediction was over, I stepped out to the front portico as I always do to greet first time guests who come filing out first. One of the two women came marching up to me, looked me in the face, and shouted, "You are a God-damned liar." She then went on to shout something about tax dollars and abortion. Her friend soon walked up behind her with tears in her eyes and handed me a note written on the inside of an offering envelope. It read,

Pastor Donna -

As we sat through the first hour of the service today, I was touched by the kindness, love and compassion that was all around us - thus, the shock and dismay that I felt as you referred to me as divisive and full of hatred was akin to a kick in the gut. You see, my friend and I took part in Saturday's march. We did not have signs of hatred - we walked in prayer - praying for the future of our country - praying to be understood and not stereotyped. Thus - I leave the church this morning weak with anger and cannot understand why you hurt me so - Yet, I love you in Christ's name.

Lis from Naples Florida

I've never been called a God-damned liar in one breath and told that someone loves me in Christ's name in another breath. It just does not add up to me. I did not know what to do - I stood there in dismay as they walked away.

I did not stereo-type anyone. Rather, I invited people to pray for the hatred that was evident in the sermon quoted by King and in the signs I saw people carrying. I questioned how people who follow a peace-filled Jesus could be filled with such hatred - could wear the t-shirts that some were wearing, could carry the signs that some were carrying, could pray death upon anyone. This is not the Jesus I know and follow.

King's right, there's an ugliness loose in the land - an ugliness I have never seen before. I'm praying - for the safety of our leaders, especially our president who has people wishing his death. I'm praying - that one day people who follow Jesus will also fight for the things Jesus taught us to be concerned about. I'm praying - that this unrest ends soon.

God, help us.

The Lost Language of Vocation

The Lost Language of Vocation
1 Samuel 3:1-19 and Ephesians 4:1-16
September 6, 2009
Rev. Donna Claycomb Sokol
Mount Vernon Place UMC, Washington

It is that age-old, timeless question that keeps being asked over and over again. Elementary school students ask the question. Individuals keep asking the question once they get to junior high school. While in high school, guidance counselors are trained to help students explore the answer to the question. We continue to ask the question while in college. At the mid-point of our lives, we resume asking the question. It is an important question – perhaps one of the most important questions we ask. And, countless individuals and voices around us seek to answer the question for us.

What should I do with my life?

We take tests that inform us of our key strengths. We ask individuals to tell us what they think we should do. We go to graduate school with a plan in mind at times and uncertainty at other times. We long to have the answer brought to us on a silver platter – for God to somehow show us the direct path we are to take. But finding the answer to the question is not always easy. And even when the answer comes, we often work hard to place the answer aside, doing other things instead.

Howard Thurman, the man who was once dean of Howard’s Rankin Chapel before going on to the same position at Boston University, presented a baccalaureate address called, “The Sound of the Genuine.” Like many baccalaureate addresses, Thurman had plenty to say about one’s life work. Thurman said on this occasion, “There is in you something that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. Nobody like you has ever been born and no one like you will ever be born again - you are the only one. And if you miss the sound of the genuine in you, you will be a cripple all the rest of your life.”[1]

The sound of the genuine is that which gives us joy. It is that perfect mix of our gifts – the gifts God has given to us – the unique qualities and characteristics that make us who we are. And, Thurman points out the danger of what can happen when we are unable to hear this sound, when we somehow find ourselves crippled because we are doing something that we are not called to do.

He writes, “There is something in every one of you that waits, listens for the genuine in yourself—and if you can not hear it, you will never find whatever it is for which you are searching and if you hear it and then do not follow it, it was better that you had never been born. You are the only you that has ever lived; your idiom is the only idiom of its kind in all the existences, and if you cannot hear the sound of the genuine in you, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.”[2]

There are sounds all around us. Already today, we have heard hundreds of sounds if we have been careful enough to listen. There are also voices all around us, and many of these voices tell us what we should be doing. Many of us were taught as children that if we wanted to be really successful in life then we should consider two vocations, being a doctor or being a lawyer. Others of us were told to follow the family footsteps and do the same thing our fathers and grandfathers do. The Army told us that enlisting was the way we could be all we could be. Most voices told us to try to make as much money as possible. Other voices taught us what it means to be successful. Today, many of these voices sound promising. Many of these voices tell us that the only thing that matters is money and status. We are taught that fun is for the weekends, and joy is reserved for Saturdays and Sundays but not Mondays thru Fridays. And we are tempted to give into these voices, to heed their call, to sign on to being puppets on a string. We are tempted to give in to the voices around us instead of listening to the sound of the genuine. In fact, we often cannot even hear the sound of the genuine because there are so many competing voices and sounds speaking to us.

We are trained early in life to ask the question, “What do you do for a living?” But what exactly is “living?” What if we were to ask instead, “What do you to for life?” and believe that life – real, abundant life – could be found in what we do for a living – that the two are not mutually exclusive?

We spend so much time in our jobs. And some of us do things that we love on any given day while others of us do things we hate. Some of us rise up singing, ready to go to work while others would do anything to stay in bed and avoid work. Some of us have a job. Others of us have discovered our calling. We have found our vocation.

Frederick Buechner writes this about vocation, “Like ‘duty,’ ‘law,’ and ‘religion,’ the word ‘vocation’ has a dull ring to it, but in terms of what it means, it is really not dull at all.” He continues to write that vocation “is the work that we are called to in this world, the thing that we are summoned to spend our lives doing. We can speak of ourselves as choosing our vocations, but perhaps it is at least as accurate to speak of our vocations choosing us, of a call’s being given and lives hearing it, or not hearing it. And maybe that is the place to start: the business of listening and hearing.”[3]

We turn, then, to our Old Testament lesson for the day. Samuel is the son of a woman who was barren for a good part of her life. Samuel’s mother, Hannah, was a barren woman who desperately wanted a child. She made a deal with the Lord that if she were to conceive, she would set apart her child as a nazarite until the day of his death. She promised to set him apart as one who would not shave his head or drink wine or other strong beverages. The Lord eventually hears the cries of Hannah and grants her request. Hannah conceives a child and gives birth to Samuel.

And, Hannah keeps her promise. She keeps Samuel close to the temple. When Samuel is still a child, we see him dressed in a linen garment, ministering to the Lord under Eli the priest in the temple.

The story read today begins by telling us that the word of the Lord was rare in those days and visions were not widespread. There might be many other voices speaking, but God’s voice is hard to hear.

We are also told that it is nighttime. Eli is lying down in his room with the lamp of God burning nearby. Samuel is lying down in the temple. And here, in the temple, Samuel hears the word of the Lord. The Lord calls Samuel by name but Samuel supposes the voice calling him is that of Eli. Samuel runs to Eli saying, “Here I am,” but Eli explains that he has not called him. Samuel returns to the temple and lies down again only to hear his name being called once more. Again, Samuel runs to Eli, and Eli again tells Samuel that he is not calling Samuel by name. When the call comes a third time and Samuel presents himself to Eli, Eli realizes what is happening. Samuel is being called by God. It is God who is speaking to Samuel, calling Samuel by name. Eli then instructs Samuel how to respond. Samuel is to say, “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.”

The Lord calls again. With Eli’s help, with Eli naming the voice of God for Samuel, Samuel hears the voice of God, and Samuel finally responds. Samuel is able to hear the voice of the Lord because Eli tells him God is calling him. Eli is central to Samuel being able to hear, to Samuel being able to discern God calling him.

Let’s review the story again. Samuel has been set apart for the Lord’s service since birth. Samuel is in ministry regularly at the temple. He even sleeps at the temple. But, for whatever reason, no one has told Samuel that God might call him. No one has prepared Samuel for the voice that might call him into ministry, summoning him to play a key role in fulfilling God’s plan. When the Lord calls Samuel, Samuel believes it is a familiar voice – the voice of Eli. And Samuel is unable to hear the voice of the Lord until finally Eli realizes it is God who is calling Samuel and then encourages Samuel to both listen and respond.

No one was expecting to hear God’s voice. No one was expecting the voice of the Lord to come. Again, we are told in the first verse of this chapter that “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” Even the people lying in the temple were unable to hear the voice of God. Even the evidence of a miracle, the son of a barren woman who poured her heart out to God only to have God answer could not hear the voice of the Lord.

And while we might also believe that the voice of the Lord is rare today, God is still speaking. I spent four years working in seminary admissions, reading and hearing thousands upon thousands of stories about the ways in which God had spoken to someone – calling them away from politics and into ministry, away from a successful business and into ministry, away from teaching and into ministry, away from nursing and into ministry, away from law and into ministry, away from their original plans for life and into ministry. God’s call showed up in all kinds of places. God is still speaking, but we, too, have a hard time hearing the voice of God. And, we, too, often fail to enable others to hear the voice of God in their lives. God is calling all of us – some of us to heed God’s call and be set apart for ministry and others to help people respond to this call – to be Eli’s – individuals called to help others to be able to hear and respond to the ways in which God is speaking to them.

A few weeks ago, I had the joy of reconnecting with my childhood pastor. Charles Buck is the pastor who confirmed me when I was in the sixth grade. When he was here, he reminded me of a fascination I had with a bishop while attending the Bishop’s Confirmation Retreat as a twelve-year-old. I was so captivated that day by the Bishop’s leadership and abundant joy that I asked the bishop how much money he made. You see, I had been taught all my life that money was important, and I wanted to see if his salary fit in with the expectations that had been placed before me. While my call to ministry might have been started at that moment, no one really said anything to me.

While in college, I rarely went to church but I would occasionally visit the chapel from time to time on Sunday evenings. On two occasions, the college chaplain invited me to preach. I accepted her invitation both times and enjoyed it, but the chaplain never asked me if God was calling me to ministry. Everyone at college knew I was bound for a life in law and politics – that I had been set apart for something “great” – something that was certainly not ministry. No one ever asked me about considering seminary. No one ever asked me if God was speaking to me. I had gifts for ministry. Others saw these gifts. They invited me to use these. But no one ever said to me, “I think God is calling you to ministry.” No one was willing to get in the way of my plans in order to awaken me to God’s plans.

In the book of Ephesians, Paul says in the passage read earlier that Christ gave gifts to people so that they might be apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers. Paul then says that these people were given gifts for a specific purpose. Paul writes that these individuals were given gifts “to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.” Certain individuals were given certain gifts for one reason – to equip others for ministry and to build up the body. Part of the reason Paul is begging the church at Ephesus to live the life worthy of the calling to which they have been called, “bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” is for the building up of the body – for the strengthening of the body. The body requires that all parts work together. And the body must continuously be strengthened. And our body, the church of Jesus Christ, is in need of individuals who can be equipped for the work of ministry and also equip others for this important task.

For some time, the Lewis Center at Wesley Seminary has been conducting research on the age of United Methodist clergy. In an extensive report, the Lewis Center shares that out of the 18,000 fully ordained individuals in our church, individuals we call elders, only 5% are under the age of 35. At the same time, 45% of our elders are over the age of 55. The church is facing a potential crisis of leadership. Half of our ministers will retire in the next 10 years and very few individuals are entering ministry at an age where they can give their life to the church – at an age where they can creatively and energetically and passionately devote their fresh eyes to the needs of the church, equipping saints for ministry. The church is in great need of gifted young people who are willing to offer their lives to the church – to building up the body.

Paul calls the church at Ephesus to work together to build up the body of Christ. Samuel is able to hear the voice of God but only through Eli who enables him to hear it. And so I have a few questions for us as a congregation.

Could God be calling us to point out the giftedness of others? Could God be asking us to not conclude that the voice of the Lord is rare but that the voice of the Lord is speaking to many people? Could God be inviting us to help others discover their vocation – their lives’ call – that place where they discover real and deep gladness intersecting with the world’s need? Perhaps we are called to look around our congregation – to examine the lives of people sitting in the pews with us – and to ask the question, “Who is God calling?” and “How can I help this person to see the ways in which God has gifted them, to see how God might be speaking to them?” I do not know of a single person who has been able to hear a call from God on their own. It takes a community of people to form a pastor.

Buechner asks, “What can we do that makes us gladdest, what can we do that leaves us with the strongest sense of sailing true north and of peace, which is much of what gladness is? Is it making things with our hands out of wood or stone or paint on canvas? Or is it making something we hope like truth out of words? Or is it making people laugh or weep in a way that cleanses the spirit? I believe that if it is a thing that makes us truly glad, then it is a good thing and it is our thing and it is the calling voice that we were made to answer with our lives.”[4]

What is your thing?

What does the voice of the genuine say to you?

What is your vocation?

And who is God calling here in this place?

God is still speaking! The voice of the Lord can be heard often in these days.

[1] Howard Thurman, “The Sound of the Genuine,” http://eip.uindy.edu/crossings/publications/reflection4.pdf.
[2] Howard Thurman.
[3] Frederick Buechner, “The Calling of Voices,” in Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons, New York: HarperCollins, 2006, 36-37.
[4] Buechner, 40.

For the Love of the Church

My mother is the mayor of a small town in Southeastern Colorado where I spent a week last month. During my time with her, much of my mother's heart was captivated by an explosive conversation occurring within the community. The town, like many small communities, is suffering from the economic downturn. There are several empty storefronts on Main Street. Many citizens in the town are struggling with their small businesses, loss of jobs, and the changing economic landscape.

A couple of years ago, the town did a nationwide search to find the right administrator for the city. They found their ideal candidate - someone who shared creative ideas for what could happen in their community, someone with a proven track record of making a big impact on a similar community in Florida, someone with tremendous passion to bring about much-needed change.

The administrator was hired. He moved his family across the country. He unveiled a plan for urban renewal, an extensive plan for how to bring more commerce to the community by making simple changes in the community that others would find more attractive. The man has poured his heart and soul into the position, yearning to bring his experience, his dreams, his visions, and his ideas in order to bring about the change he was hired to bring. My mother has been filled with excitement, along with many members of the city council. But, two years later, the administrator has announced an early retirement. He has been accused of having self-serving ambitions. He has been called a liar. People have worked hard to push him out, to stop the change from going any further. Vicious, vicious things have been said about him in an online forum attached to the town's newspaper website.

And now, every morning, my mother sends this person an email that says, "Do not let anyone steal your joy."

My mother has been repeating the same thing to me this week. "Donna, do not let anyone steal your joy."

In response to my last entry, I received an incredibly helpful email from a dear colleague who is in ministry several states away. My colleague wrote and shared how she was filled with the pain of labor, how she was working so hard for something new to come about in the congregation she serves, and how the labor pains are excruciating. She then offered helpful advice to me on what mothers do after they give birth, suggesting that I do some of the same - that I hold the church tight right now, that I sit back and admire this precious gift, and that I take delight in the gift that has come. Her email was a blessing to me.

But, I keep thinking of her labor pains, my labor pains, and the growth pains that I am currently experiencing. I spent a week with this colleague back in May at a conference in Atlanta. There were three of us sharing a hotel that week - three women clergy who love the church, three women clergy who are in churches that have the capacity to explode, three women clergy working far more hours than is probably healthy, three women clergy having to explain often to our spouses and partners as to why we are not going to be home until after 9:00 yet again, three woman clergy sharing our hopes and our dreams and our love of the church. And, this week, all three of us have expressed the enormous pains associated with being a pastor - the criticism, the lack of trust, the second guessing of our every move, the desires of our congregations to be comfortable with the present and uncomfortable with the not-yet.

We all love the church. We responded to a call to ministry because we saw the church as this dynamic agent of change. We know the church as an organization that has the capacity to transform lives from the inside out and to make a huge impact on the community. We have seen the joys of ministry - the incredible gift of spending time with people who confess their darkest sins, who are encouraged to live new lives, and who make changes in their lives in the name of the gospel - who let go of some things in order to journey into the unknown future of discipleship. We love our positions. We love Jesus and his call to serve the least of these. We know the power of amazing grace and long to open others to the grace at work in their lives. We are aware of what unhealthy churches look like and what healthy churches look like. We have been exposed to growing churches and declining churches. We have been mentored by all kinds of remarkable people who have shared with us how to be the most faithful pastors that God can enable us to be.

We have also been exposed to all kinds of people who work to steal our joy. We have all been accused and criticized for similar things. We have been questioned about things we have said and things we have written. We have been criticized for messages God has given us to preach and for showing too much enthusiasm for things God is doing. We have been chastised for doing some things and questioned for not doing other things. We have all experienced our share of pain, and frustration, and heartaches.

But, again, we all love the church. We all have the same hopes and dreams for what this body can become and be and do and serve. None of us came into this occupation with self-serving ambitions. We all know that it's too painful of a place and that we could do a million other things with our lives if we really wanted to be self-serving. Again, we are here because we love, love, love the church!!!

For four years, I had the precious privilege of working in seminary admissions, listening to the hopes and dreams of individuals who had heard God calling their name. In almost every conversation, I also heard about the dreams people had for Christ's church - the ways in which people were eagerly anticipating the ability to bring about change and transformation in the name of Jesus Christ. Individuals had been exposed to the power of the Gospel and the gift of this Gospel being embodied in the life of the church, and individuals wanted to be part of a healthy, dynamic community of faith where others could experience this same gift.

Our seminaries do the very best that they can to train these individuals to serve Christ's church as faithfully as they can. They are then sent out where they quickly discover that it is not easy to be a pastor. As Greg Jones, the dean of Duke Divinity School, often says, "We too often see our most gifted graduates appointed to pastor in churches where they are least likely to succeed." What he means is that people who are just graduating are often sent to smaller churches, many of which are in decline instead of experiencing growth. They are sent to places that are not eager for change, places where people are quite comfortable and do not always cling to the passionate new pastor who comes with countless ideas for what the church is called to be - the Body of Christ working for transformation in the community.

Again, I do not know of a single pastor who responds to their call in order to be self-serving, in order to change things for the sake of change, in order to upset the status quo just for the heck of it.

So, why do so many congregations accuse us of this nonsense? Why is it that the church has so much trouble with change when the basis of our faith is found in a book that tells us of the story of Jesus who came and never allowed anyone or any person to be the same - Jesus who called his church to be his body on this earth - Jesus who preached good news to the poor more than anything else - Jesus who invited all people to his table - Jesus who confronted the way things were in the temple so that something new could emerge - Jesus who was radical and brought about radical ideas.

My brothers and sisters in ministry, please do not let anyone - ANYONE - steal your joy. Stay close to the one who called you and journey with the voices found in the Psalms and other places in scripture.

My brothers and sisters who sit in the pews, please, I beg you to think long and hard before you stand in the corner of the narthex whispering about what your pastor has done to upset you, please think twice before you question her motives or her moves, please pray for your pastor each day, please talk to her if you do not understand something or are concerned about something instead of gathering around a lunch table talking about her, and please, whatever you do, please do not offer her heavy criticism just before she enters the sanctuary for worship on Sunday.

Changing Lanes

My role is changing. Mount Vernon Place UMC has made the transition. We have gone from a church that was very close to closure. Just four years ago, we had an average age of 82. We took in one new member in a good year and none in many other years. There were times when six weeks would pass without a first-time visitor. Our chair of staff parish relations was 97. The lay leader was 90. The finance committee chair was 93.

Today, our worshipping congregation has doubled. Our average age is around 35. Some 50 new individuals have joined the church. Not a Sunday passes without a few first-time visitors being in worship. And, most of the time they return a second week and a third week and a fourth week. We have an amazing mix of lay leaders - old and young. We have an incredible congregation of babies to 101-year-olds. I love these people! I adore them.

For four years, I have been the engine behind most of the new things, many of the emerging ministries, several of the different ways of doing things. I have been in the birthing room time and again, waiting to see what might come out. It has been incredibly hard at times (actually, downright painful) but amazingly rewarding now that I look back upon it.

We have made the transition. We are no longer declining but growing - becoming more and more alive each day. The place has changed - in beautiful ways.

But, in the last week or so, I have been struggling to identify my place. I seem to have lost the chair that is most comfortable for me. I have been the recipient of emails telling me about new ministries that are starting instead of part of the process of helping the congregation to birth new ministries in healthy ways. I have let go of things that were once really important for me to do, waiting for someone else to do it and if no one steps up, being okay with letting it go.

I do not know how to faithfully make the transition from being in the birthing room to standing at the door, waiting for my high school student to come home.

And so, I am wondering. Those of you who have made this transition, those of you who have shepherded a congregation from decline to growth, how do you do it - how do you keep finding the reason that brought you there? Are there books you found helpful? Are there things you can teach me during this time? What is my role? How do I adjust to these changes?

If you have nothing to offer, I covet your prayers. I am struggling with how to change lanes - the road on which we are traveling has definitely changed.

An Unlikely Disciple

A member of our church handed the book to me recently and suggested that I read it. I opened it on my flight home from Colorado last week and continued to read it through the next day until I was finished. The book is "The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University." The author, Kevin Roose, is a Brown University student who takes a leave of absence from Brown in order to attend Jerry Falwell's Liberty University.

Roose goes to Liberty thinking that he's collecting data for his book, seeking to gain a rich experience in a foreign land. Roose travels to Lynchburg with the idea that he'll be turned off completely by what happens at Liberty, that Jerry Falwell has few good qualities about him, and that the students in his classes will have little in common with him. After a semester at Liberty, however, he leaves a changed person. When he returns to Brown University, he finds himself praying on his knees. His mind often reverts back to the ways of life he encountered at Liberty.

He writes, "A few days after I left Liberty for the last time, I tried to peel the silver Jesus fish emblem off the bumper sticker of my Honda. The metal part came off easily, but a brown fish-shaped residue remained on the bumper, and no amount of scrubbing or scraping could get it off. I appreciated this on two levels. First, it meant that when I gave the car back to my dad - I had borrowed it from him for the semester - he was forced to drive around our ultra-liberal college town with the outline of a Jesus fish on his car, drawing worried stares from our friends and neighbors.

Second, the indelible Jesus fish provided me with the world's easiest metaphor to describe my transition from Liberty back to the secular world. Namely, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quite scrape it away. Even when I was back at Brown full-time, caught up once again in the flood of papers and seminars and parties on the weekend, something about Liberty kept nagging at me. I kept having flashbacks of my time there..." (page 310).

There is something about the power of community. Roose discovered that the people at Liberty started to rub off on him. Their way of life became seeped into his mind and his spirit. While he wanted to be conducting an experiment only, he found himself caught up in the middle of it all - living a life like the Liberty students.

I've been thinking a lot about the indelible marks left on us. I learned again last week that when I am with someone who orders a salad for lunch, choosing a healthier option, I am more likely to make the same choice. Weight Watchers has tons of data that show you how their members lose more weight when they come to weekly meetings because they need to be held accountable and encourage one another together. Part of the power of Alcoholics Anonymous is that one is never alone - the community of individuals who also struggle with addiction is part of the healing power that is discovered. And, as Christians, we cannot learn and grow as disciples alone.

At the beginning of the summer, I traveled to Atlanta for a conference with colleagues. I noticed how disciplined they were. They were regularly praying and reading scripture. I had my Bible with me; but it did not get opened nearly as much as my colleagues' Bibles. I got up early - but not always to pray. But, after spending four nights with these women, they rubbed off on me - they left an indelible mark on me.

At Mount Vernon Place, we fell upon the power of community groups almost by accident. A former intern and woman who used to worship here became part of a conversation about what could happen if we had a couple of small groups. We bought three individuals a commentary on 1 Corinthians and sent them out to gather with others. We did no training. We hardly had a foundation in place. But, we knew there was power in being together.

A couple of years later, about one-third of our worshipping congregation is involved in a small group that gathers weekly for prayer, Bible study, accountability, sharing, food, and at least one monthly service commitment in the community. Through these groups, individuals are growing as disciples. Indelible Jesus marks are being placed on them. They are being encouraged to pray more, study more, give more, and grow more. They are rubbing off on one another. Many people are joining our church long after they have been a member of one of these groups.

There is power in community.

We exercise more often when someone is waiting to walk with us. We lose more weight when a classroom erupts in joy over the .8 pound we lost last week. We eat more vegetables when the people with us are eating more vegetables. And, we grow into more faithful disciples when the people around us are practicing faithful discipleship.

There is power in community.

I, too, have become an unlikely disciple.

Statement of Welcome

We have a new statement of welcome for Mount Vernon Place. The statement is the result of hours of work by our Reconciling Ministries Task Force and then many people from our congregation who spent an afternoon at the church brainstorming on how we can convey to individuals outside the church that all people are welcome here. It was passed unanimously by our Church Council last Sunday.

As part of the conversation, some people in our congregation have asked why we would need such a statement since "we are and have always been welcoming of all people." The people who have asked this question are right, in part. We have been very welcoming of all people for some time. However, not all churches are welcoming.

There are many places where one is not welcome unless they are dressed a certain way. There are many places where one is not welcome unless they believe a certain thing. There are countless churches where one is not welcome if they are gay, lesbian, transgendered or bisexual. There are plenty of barriers created by the church - by people who follow Jesus whose arms were wide open to almost all people (he did have a few things to say to the rich).

We want to be truly welcoming of all people. We want people who are outside to know that they will not hear a message of hate or judgment here. We want all people to know that we are seeking to be a grace-filled people who truly want to embody the love of Christ which knows no boundaries.

So, here is our statement of welcome. What does it say to you? Would you feel welcomed here?

Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church
Statement of Welcome

Just as Jesus Christ invited everyone, so we seek to faithfully extend Christ’s life-giving welcome to all people.

Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church recognizes that diversity is one of the greatest expressions of God’s creativity, presence and grace. As a congregation, we are grateful for the many differences apparent in our community and in our experiences of God.

We welcome all people into the life of this church, and celebrate and give thanks for our diversity of race, ethnicity, citizenship, gender, sexual orientation, age, physical and mental ability, faith background, economic status, appearance, marital condition, political persuasion, education, and life experience. We hope you will join us as we continue to discover how we can most faithfully include, learn from, and grow with all people in our community.

Gracious God, help us to see what you are doing in your kingdom, and enable us to be part of it. Amen.

A Dangling Carrot

I'm away from the office this week, spending time with my mother in Colorado. I labeled the time away "Sabbath rest." When I left the office on Sunday, I was exhausted. I have been working too many weeks without real Sabbath, and too many days where breakfast, lunch and dinner are all consumed at the church. I left with weariness that had invaded my body, mind and spirit. I left, needing desperately to sleep long nights, to put my feet up in my mother's recliner, to do much of nothing.

But, before I could start to rest, I had an assignment to finish. The invitation to write liturgies for a new worship book arrived in my inbox months ago. It came from an editor I have written for before - turning in several different sermons for $100 a sermon. I stopped writing the sermons because I found that I, myself, could not really preach them. It is hard to preach something that is not really personal, that is not written with a particular community in mind.

But, when he emailed with an invitation to participate in a book, I was immediately drawn to the invitation. It was a lot more money and more responsibility. When I looked at the list of people being invited to write, I was impressed. At least one of the names was a very well respected author, Wesleyan scholar, and seminary professor. This person has written so many books, so many articles, and his name would be next to mine (rather, my name next to his). "Oh, think of the possibilities!" I thought to myself.

The assignment came in blocks. We could accept as many blocks as we wanted to accept. One block consisted of 6 calls to worship, 6 invocations, 6 offertory prayers, 6 prayers of confession and words of assurance, 4 litanies, 6 pastoral prayers and 6 benedictions. It seemed rather straightforward. I could do this. I accepted 4 blocks.

Weeks passed without my touching the assignment. Then months started to pass. I started it here and there, I wrote a few pieces every now and again, but I never made much progress. I realized, again, that I have a hard enough time getting my job done in less than 55 hours each week, let alone adding other responsibilities.

But the carrot was still dangling. The money and the success were intriguing.

The assignment was due on August 1. I begged for a few days of extension and was granted them. I had to turn them in by yesterday morning.

And so, my vacation started with 12 hours at my mother's table. For 12 hours on Tuesday, I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed. I got the assignment done, and I was exhausted.

We had a speaker last week at Mount Vernon Place who shared with us a presentation on "John Wesley and Money." Wesley taught that we should earn all we can, save all we can and share all we can. He was, however, very clear about how we should earn. We should not earn any money that causes us to hurt our family or our health.

I was completely seduced by this invitation. I saw the money involved and the impressive list of authors whose name I could stand alongside of. I was impressed, and I said, "yes." But, I am not sure that any of this really benefits me. Sure, the money will pay for our airfare to Italy and at least one night of lodging. But, I had to spend an entire day of vacation earning it. I had to ignore my family for one day in order to get the assignment done. Is this really worth it?

How many things do we do because a carrot is dangling? How seductive are the carrots in your life? How many pockets of change do we go chasing after at the expense of our own health and family? Is our desire to earn money hurting our health and impacting our family?

What are the carrots in your life?

The Lifeboat Station

We started a new Bible study at Mount Vernon Place on last Wednesday morning. To begin our discussion, we read a story that was given to me for discussion in a class I took at Duke Divinity School with Peter Storey. Here it is, "The Lifeboat Station," by Theodore Wedel.

On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur there was once a crude little lifesaving station. The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought for themselves went out day and night tirelessly searching for the lost. Many lives were saved by this wonderful little station, so that it became famous. Some of those who were saved, and various others in the surrounding area, wanted to become associated with the station and give their time and money and effort to support its work. New boats were brought and new crews trained. The little lifesaving station grew.

Some of the members of the lifesaving station were unhappy that the building was crude and poorly equipped. They felt that a more comfortable place should be provided as the first refuge of those saved from the sea. So they replaced the emergency cots with beds and put better furniture in the enlarged building. Now the lifesaving station became a popular gathering place for its members, and they decorated it beautifully and furnished it exquisitely, because they used it as a sort of club. Fewer members were now interested in going to sea on lifesaving missions, so they hired lifeboat crews to do this work. The lifesaving motif still prevailed in the club's decoration, and there was a liturgical lifeboat in the room where the club initiations were held.

About this time, a large ship was wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in boatloads of cold, wet, and half-drowned people. They were dirty and sick, and some of them had black skin and some had yellow skin. The beautiful new club was in chaos, so the property committee immediately had a shower house built outside the club where victims of shipwreck could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting there was a split in the club membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club's lifesaving activities as being unpleasant and a hindrance to their normal social life of the club. Some members insisted upon lifesaving as their primary purpose and pointed out that they were still called a "lifesaving station." But they were finally voted down and told that if they wanted to save the lives of all various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters, they could begin their own lifesaving station down the cost. This they did.

As the years went by, the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old. It evolved into a club, and yet another lifesaving station was founded. History continued to repeat itself, and if you visit the sea coast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs along the shore. Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but most of the people drown.

You're Invited

I don't fully understand what it happening at Mount Vernon Place. What I can tell you is that I have experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit in profound ways in recent weeks. It is so abundantly clear to me that God is at work in bold, powerful, somewhat scary and somewhat exciting ways. I have found myself preaching in a different way - putting a bold vision before the congregation of where God might be calling us. I have found myself turning down invitations to be part of something that might bring people and money into our congregation but that does not, necessarily, line up with where I feel God at work. And, I have found myself being available for tasks that I was never ready to be present for in the past. Clearly, the Spirit is working. A faithful conversation is percolating. New ministries are on the horizon.

To continue to get a sense of where and how God is working, we're starting a new Bible study on Wednesday morning. I'm calling it a pilgrimage of pain and hope through scripture. Unlike the Pilgrimage of Pain and Hope I was a part of in South Africa, we will not travel far geographically. But, we will travel into the depths of our church's community and into the depths of scripture. We will travel to the place where it might seem scary because God is inviting us to do such unfamiliar things. We will travel to the place where we open our hearts and minds wide to see how God might be asking to use us.

You are invited. You are invited to come downtown every Wednesday morning. I invite you to arrive downtown by 6:50. Walk around the church, peaking inside the nooks and crannies of the building, the porches and windowsills where people might still be sleeping. Walk around the area of 11th and K Street and seek to have your heart opened and then broken by the prostitutes who are waiting for their pimps to pick them up from a night of work. And then, come inside. Ring the bell and come up to the community room. Let's together open wide our hearts, the pages of scripture and our minds. Let's journey through the stories of pain where Jesus was fully present in the scriptures. Let's talk about what our eyes see when we arrive downtown early in the morning. Let's pray for God's guidance, wisdom and direction. Let's ask God for the courage to respond faithfully - to be a hopeful sign of God's kingdom on the corner of 9th and Massachusetts.

You're invited. The journey will likely not be easy. It will perhaps be painful or even lonely at times. But, after seeing the way that God is working, I am convinced that we cannot ignore this call, this movement, that is so abundantly real.

Come join us. Send me an email if you are interested. And, if you do not live in Washington, then journey with us through prayer or by reading the same scriptures.

You're invited. Will you come? Wednesday mornings from 7:00 to 8:00 a.m. in the community room at Mount Vernon Place. A pot of coffee will be waiting for you.

Our New Tenants

My husband, Craig, and I both bought one-bedroom condos in 2005.  We both purchased condos, not aware of the fact that we would earn the honor of having purchased them at the height of the market.  When we got married last June, we had more mortgages than we knew what to do with and more stuff than we could ever fit in a one-bedroom apartment.  We have downsized again, and we have found ourselves comfortable in his one-bedroom condo in Alexandria.  It has become our home over the last year.

In the meantime, we have been renting my old condo in Columbia Heights.  We were fortunate to have an amazing tenant this past year, a military officer who spends more time on the road than he does in DC.  Nothing has broken.  The rent has been paid early each month.  I only saw him twice - when he signed the lease and when he returned the keys last week.

During the last several weeks, Craig and I have been looking for a new tenant.  It was so easy to find our last tenant.  One advertisement in Cragslist led to two applications almost immediately.  Things have been a little more difficult this time around.  Just when we were putting the condo on Craigslist, several random acts of violence took place in the neighborhood.  Columbia Heights became a regular headline.  This particular article caught the attention of a young couple who wanted to move into my old home.

The young woman sent me an email, letting me know how much she and her boyfriend love the condo but how they were now uncertain about the neighborhood.  They asked for another week to consider.

Five days later, the phone rang.  It was her.  She shared with me how they had done their homework and were ready to sign a lease.  I met with her later that afternoon to learn that they had emailed our local Councilman to ask him what he is doing about crime in the neighborhood.  They had walked the streets of the neighborhood from 9:00 - 11:00 one night.  They had talked with individuals coming out of our building.  And, they had stopped a local police officer to learn his views on what was happening.  After all of this work, they discerned that they wanted to live in Columbia Heights.

As she was signing the lease she said to me, "There seems to be so much work to be done - so much need.  How do you suggest we get involved?"

I was blown away by her question.  I was humbled almost to my knees.  I suggested that she try a few of the churches in the neighborhood, letting her know that the Unitarians down the street, along with the Baptists, were trying to work hard.  I shared with her how many of the Church of the Saviour ministries are right down the street - less than four blocks from where she will be living.  

And, I keep thinking about her question.

What would it look like for every church to be asking this question, asking how we are called to get involved in our communities - how we are called to be part of the solution to crime, violence, decay, poverty, homelessness, etc.?  What if every business in the community started to ask the same questions?  And, then, what if the residents did the same thing?

I have this vision for our church's neighborhood - for the Mount Vernon Place neighborhood in Washington, DC.  I visualize a community of people working together - the Washington Convention Center, the people who occupy the old Carnegie Library, the Renaissance Hotel, the business people who work in 901 New York Avenue, the Embassy Suites, the people who will soon occupy 901 K Street, the residents of 1010 Mass, the people who live in the CityVista complex, Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church, and the unhoused population all around us.  I have this vision for what might happen if we all started asking the question, "There seems to be so much need around here.  How do you suggest that we get involved in the neighborhood?"

Imagine!  Imagine with me the possibilities.  There are so many resources, so much wealth, so many gifts, so many people, so many possibilities.  Imagine what might happen if we really took an interest in the place where we spend our work days, the place where we go to church, the place where our bodies sleep at night, the place that provides our paycheck.  Imagine what might happen if we saw all of the needs of the city as not someone else's problem but as part of our calling - part of our responsibility.

God, help us to ask the right questions.  And then, please, please give us courage to not only hear you but to obey you when you respond.  You're scaring the hell out of me by what you are doing - by the questions you are forcing me to ask and the questions our congregation is asking.  But, I cannot wait to see what is going to happen in this place.  It is so clear to me that you are at work - in abundant ways.  Help me - help us - not to be afraid of what might happen but to fully and faithfully trust you and then follow you, laying down our needs in order to pick up your cross again.  Amen.

The Journey Continues

I was brought on a journey last week - one that only God is capable of planning and executing. When I last wrote, I had reached my limit. My compassion was rapidly diminishing. My desire to escape was escalating. My sense of desperation was at a peak. Thankfully, God has gracefully brought me back around, reminding me of what it means to be a citizen of God's Kingdom.

So many people reached out last week, offering helpful feedback, encouragement, and ideas. A former colleague reminded me of how public bathrooms are hard to find in any urban area - even Starbucks requires a key. She proposed that we somehow figure out how to provide bathrooms for our unhoused neighbors around us.

A former parishioner reminded me of who I am and more importantly, whose I am. Kristin wrote, I have NO idea what you are going through my dear and the turmoil inside regarding the unhoused. I feel your torment with the safety of the church, the liability, the nuisance...but I also feel your heart aching for those that are bound by addiction and poverty. A question comes to mind. How do we as Christians treat the unhoused when they enter the church? Is it any different than we treat them on the outside of the church. They need to be hearing your "perky" sermons, they need to know a Jesus that is a greater high than any drug, they need to know a love that is pure and steadfast. Why do they come to the steps---is it merely convenience, or is it something else? Is it safe, warm, inviting...in Jesus? and how do you transcend what happens inside to the outside?It seems to me your options would be to keep the people, but give them responsibility or get rid of the people. You have modern day leapers--health hazard, liability, nuisance. Questions---has anyone from the church spoken to the unhoused? Are they the same folks every night? In your new facility, could you offer restroom facilities at a certain time (for them to clean up), could you have a "lawn event" for the church "pot luck" style? This is a chance for a new ministry that perhaps the downtown could unite in---they need to hear your message---you are a vessel of Jesus that overflows---someone on that porch is there to know Jesus. I think of your blog about the open door---people are touched by the grace of MVP.

Still another acquaintance wrote, Having outreach to individuals has to be the first step. Adding lights and fences may work, but at a cost to the aesthetics of the building and to your sense of openness. On the other hand, reaching out to your neighbors is not only good scriptural sense, it is also good survival sense. If there are options for housing, then it would be appropriate to have social workers assist them in achieving housing. All actions are answers to questions: how do I protect myself tonight, where can I meet the needs of my addiction, etc. Understand the needs that are being met by each individual using the church property and focus attention there. Addressing people as individuals with needs will help them to respect you and your property more. Having boundaries about what is unacceptable is very appropriate: no drug use on the property, no defecating on the church steps, etc. These are the big concerns. At the same time, it is important to recognize that people are using the church as a shelter because it is the best option that they perceive themselves as having. Official overnight shelters work for some people, but don't work for many others for various legitimate reasons. Peer outreach by previously homeless or currently homeless is often a good strategy. Many successful programs use the strength of champion community members. Those homeless who use the property can stand up for the firm boundaries listed above. I do not buy in to the degree of danger that was listed in the report. Staying on church properties puts individuals at little more risk, if any, than where they would be staying otherwise. Assault on the homeless occurs anywhere else that they might be staying. Pushing homeless away without reaching out to them just means that they will be victimized where you can't see, which is of no benefit to them, only to you.

We have so much to consider. I have been powerfully reminded of how little outreach we have done for the individuals who sleep here at night. We have been blessed with the privilege of serving at so many places that serve the homeless. We have many people volunteering on a regular basis at many ministry sites in DC. But, we have done little to get to know the people who sleep here at night. We have done no more than to say "hello," or bring them leftovers, or invite them to church occasionally.

We started a new series on the Lord's Prayer yesterday. The entire sermon will be readable later today on our website. But, here is a portion of what was preached:

Our church staff has been wrestling mightily with how best to interact with our unhoused neighbors who are sleeping around the church. A man named Charles has been sleeping on one of the window ledges for the past several weeks. Two brothers have been on the porch for several weeks. Robert, a man who recently lost his job, has also made a temporary home for himself on the porch. These are the people we know. According to these individuals, there are many other people who are making the mess that is causing us so much concern – leaving piles of feces and puddles of urine on the porch and steps and in ever nook and cranny around the building.
In the middle of last week, after picking up trash and hosing down this mess once more, I was ready to throw my hands in the air and say, “to hell with these people.” Let’s bring back the gates. Let’s post signs all over telling people they are not welcome. Let’s do whatever we can to keep the poor off our property.
But, God has reminded me that it is not my property and nor is it our property. You and I are people who pray, “Our Father” each time we gather. If we are faithfully following this revolutionary Jesus then you and I must respond like this Jesus. No where in the gospels does Jesus put up gates, especially to keep people from coming to him. No where in the gospels does Jesus put up with religious folks who are trying to keep the hurt and the pain of the world from him. Instead, Jesus leaves the religious people in order to go embrace and heal the pain of the world that is brought to him. Time and again, Jesus upsets the religious authorities because of the company he keeps. The nature of following Jesus is that we deny ourselves and take up the cross – that we let go of our needs in order to embrace the needs with which Jesus was concerned. If we are living this prayer, then the gates and the bars designed to keep the poor away are no longer an option – at least for any building that is seeking to be a sign of the Kingdom of God. The options, instead, are the ones that take a little more time, a little more effort, and a little more compassionate contact as we seek to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name.

Following the sermon, one of our members came up and said, "Why are we hiring a Director of Music when we should be hiring a social worker to work with the homeless?"

I am not sure where our journey will lead. I do know, however, that God is not finished with me, our congregation, or the children of God who sleep on the porch at night. We're on a journey. I hope you will journey with us through your prayers or your presence. We serve a mighty God, and I cannot wait to see where God will lead us.