Neediness

I celebrated my birthday yesterday by treating myself to a massage and haircut. The combination consists of two of my favorite things, and a last minute special by my favorite day spa brought even more joy to the experience.

It has been a while since I have had a massage. The masseuse informed me that she had not worked on my back in six months, and I have had only one other massage in between while on vacation in Florida. It had been a while since anyone had really kneaded my back, and I had no idea how much I needed a massage.

A typical one-hour massage includes time for the back, the legs, the shoulders, the head, the arms and even the hands. My experience yesterday was all about my back, however. Within moments, the masseuse discovered knots all over the top of my back. There were so many knots to work out that my back is literally sore to the touch today. She spent almost an entire hour on my upper back, working diligently to break up small knots - knots that I had no idea were there.

My job is stressful at times. But I had no idea how much stress I was carrying in my back. I needed someone else to reveal the weight of the stress being carried. I could not see it alone. I needed someone else to help discover it. And the discovery is making all the difference today. I needed help to see what I could not see on my own.

We need help in a lot of places.

We need people in our lives to help us see what we cannot see.

I am reminded often of how much I need what my former boss refers to as "holy friendships." Greg Jones, the dean of Duke Divinity School, says we all need friends who can point out for us the sins we have grown to love while also naming the gifts we have been afraid to claim. We need people to hold us accountable. We need people to be truth tellers in our lives. We cannot follow Jesus alone.

As I finish my fifth year at Mount Vernon Place this week, I realize how some members of my congregation now provoke me to a greater level of discipleship. They push me to do things that I might not be ready to do on my own. They help me to see things that I might not be able to see on my own.

I also have clergy colleagues who do the same - who point out for me my gifts and ask why I am not using them or who tell me when I am doing something that I probably should not be doing. My colleagues tell me when I am being narcissistic and in need of humility. They also tell me when I should be shining more. We cannot follow Jesus alone.

Sunday worship - our time of coming together in order to celebrate God's presence in our lives, confess our sins, hear God's word read and proclaimed, and receive the sacrament - is the beginning of a life together. I believe worship is central in terms of our being able to acknowledge God's presence in our lives while also embodying practices that demonstrate our reliance on God. But I am not sure worship is enough.

For years I chose to worship in a university chapel. I went because of the amazing preaching and incredible music. But I also went because I could worship there without any sense of accountability. No one knew when I was there and no one really knew when I was missing. No one asked me to pledge a portion of what God had given to me. No one pushed me to think about how I was sharing my God-given gifts with the community. I could go to worship and receive an encounter of God but I was never led to a deeper level of discipleship.

We need accountability, and we need community. It's one of the many reasons I believe in the power of small groups sometimes called covenant discipleship groups. I need to be asked, "How is it with your soul" by people who are not going to accept "fine, thank you" as a response. I need people to ask me if I am giving at least 10% of what God has given to me away. I need people to inquire about whether I have been practicing the means of grace - reading my Bible daily, setting aside time for prayer each day, spending time with the poor, and experiencing holy conversation. I need people to help me confess and turn away from sins I have grown to love while also fully using the gifts God has given to me.

We cannot be disciples on our own.

What about you? What are you getting away with that you would not get away with if you had someone regularly seeking to hold you accountable?

Encouraging the Church

I love the church. For as long as I can remember, the church has been the place where I have discovered community - a circle of people who provide friendship, laughter, accountability, growth, support and companionship through life. The church has been a place I have run from once or twice in life but more than anything it has been the place that I have run to when a few things in life seemed to be shaky or falling apart.

I now have the privilege of providing leadership for a church. I have the precious responsibility of ordering the life of a congregation and helping to guide people towards a fuller relationship with Christ. I have the daunting task of discerning how best individuals can be formed, shaped and transformed and then equipped as saints carrying out the ministry of Christ in the world. There are times when I feel like I have a strong handle on how to do these tasks, fulfilling the responsibilities bestowed upon me at ordination. There are other times when I am absolutely terrified - when it feels like I have made too many mistakes in laying the foundation or when I am overcome with feelings of doubt about how I could possibly get us moving forward again. There are times when I feel like I know exactly what I am doing and there are other times when I wonder how I could possibly be the one God is asking to move a people forward.

When people ask about the transformation that has happened at Mount Vernon Place, how we have gone from a congregation that had been in decline for fifty years to a growing church that is reaching out to its community, I often tell them that the one thing that has made all the difference is a sense of authenticity that pervades all we do.

Five years ago, we had a glorious sanctuary that was engulfing us. We had a hard time finding each other in the sanctuary, let alone in the day to day struggles of life. When we started to redevelop the property, we had to vacate this sanctuary, moving into much smaller and less than glorious space. It was in this more intimate, plain space that we rediscovered the precious gift of community.

The theatre seats on which we sat forced us to come closer together, and we then started to share specific practices that cultivated our sense of togetherness. We started to break bread together at the end of each service, sharing coffee, cookies and other goodies. And, we started to share the joys of life and the burdens of our hearts. We began to make space in each service to share with one another what was making our heart to sing and what was causing our heart to be heavy. It did not take long to begin to see the Spirit at work in these ancient practices.

"What is it that has turned your church around?" people ask. My most common response is, "Seeking to be a place of real authenticity in a city where authenticity can be hard to find." I then go on to explain how the first question we ask at Mount Vernon Place is never, "What do you do?" but rather, "Who are you? What makes your heart sing? What causes your heart to hurt?" This authenticity has made all the difference in the world.

This week, I have been struggling a lot with what I perceive to be hints of brokenness in the body. There are several people who have not been to worship in a while, and it makes me sad while also causing me to wonder what we might have done to disappoint them. There has not been enough communication on some things, and a few folks have felt let down when their desire to do something new has not come to fruition. And it feels at times that we have lost our focus, including sometimes my own focus. It's in times like this when I feel hesitant - uneasy - doubtful - and sometimes even afraid. I wonder what kind of criticism is pointed towards me. I wonder how best to bring individuals back into the fold. I wonder what God is asking me to do now.

This morning during my quiet time, two passages of scripture appeared on the same page of the devotional book I am using. The first passage is 1 Corinthians 12:26-27 which reads, "If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it."

This important work of rejoicing and suffering together is central to who we are. We have celebrated the arrival of new jobs and the loss of jobs. We have rejoiced at the birth of new babies and become saddened when another life ended in miscarriage. We have given thanks for new homes and grieved together when homes were hard or impossible to find. We have sought to be the church together - to share the fullness of life with one another - and it has been powerful and life-giving. And I wonder how anyone can get through life without the assurance of having a community of people to journey through life with. I wonder if this message is powerful enough to bring all kinds of people back to the church or into the doors for the first time.

The other passage of scripture I read is Hebrews 10:24-25, "Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another."

The verses appeared as a gift from God. It was almost as if God wrote directly to me in response to what has been on my heart. Our call is to spur one another on toward love and good deeds. We are called to encourage one another. We are called to be together. We are called to do what we can to propel one another to continue being together - when we are getting a lot from the experience and when we are getting little from the experience - when we are seeing God show up often and when God's face is hard to find - in good times and in bad times - in sickness and in health - when the pastor and the lay people are leading in ways we love and when the pastor and the lay people are leading in ways that we would not choose to lead if we were in charge - when the church is singing songs we love and when the church is singing songs that we despise. It is a covenant, after all.

Laurence Hull Stookey adds this prayer to the devotional book, "This Day: A Wesleyan Way of Prayer."

O God of hosts: You are never alone.

Even when you seem to us to be solitary in your splendor,

you yourself live within the community

of your triune being.

As you are never alone,

so you provide that we shall not be alone.

Increase our appreciation for your gift of the church,

imperfect though it is because of our many faults.

By the unifying power of the Holy Spirit,

visit us and bind us together as those

who know themselves to be your people;

through Jesus Christ, whose promises we trust.

Amen.

A Church with Showers

A church with showers is a wonderful thing - especially in the heart of the city. Having showers at Mount Vernon Place was something I thought about before I arrived - part of the vision God gave to me when I was given a few select details about the church I might be appointed to serve.

A few years later, the showers are here. There are two showers in the men's room and two showers in the women's room. There are lockers and space to change, too. The showers are here - available for the church to host overnight guests and also for others to come in and receive a simple necessity of life - something most of us take for granted when we stumble into our bathrooms eyes half-closed, mumbling how we would rather still be in bed.

A year or so ago, several people in the church started to investigate what we could do with these showers. They visited shelters, churches and other facilities blessed with spaces where others could come inside and shower, having their dignity restored in the process. A policy was created and past by the Trustees. The showers opened four months ago. Each Tuesday morning, the showers at the church are available from 6:00 to 8:00. Anyone can come inside and shower.

The ministry has been going for four months. I have read about it and heard about it. However, I had never seen the ministry in action until this week. I have plenty of reasons - at first it was a standing commitment each Tuesday morning from 7:15 to 8:00, I then got excited about something happening at the church that I did not have to be at (it's powerful to be a pastor and see the laity embracing their call to be the priesthood of all believers), and I then allowed long days at the church to dictate why I could not be here at 6:00 towards the start of the week. I realize now that while these are valid excuses, perhaps I allowed some of my insecurities and fears to really keep me away. It's messy business, after all, when you start to take the gospel seriously. It's easier to stand at a distance than to get involved. It's easier to see people than it is to take time and listen to a person's story. And, it's certainly easier to separate ourselves into "us" and "them" than it is to seek to bridge the divide - something our lay leader spoke more eloquently about on Sunday than I am writing about here.

Thankfully, however, I finally arrived at the church a few minutes after 6:00 on Tuesday morning. I placed all of my belongings in my office upstairs and then came downstairs to the lobby near the doors to the showers. And, I saw grace the moment I walked through the door.

My eyes were captivated by a table filled with many things - men's boxers and briefs of all sizes, women's underwear in several sizes, socks, shampoos, conditioners, towels, clean shirts, tooth brushes and paste, and several kinds of deodorant. Everything was there on the table - everything was available to be taken. Opposite of this table was a table where hot coffee was being brewed and granola bars and fruit were being set out. Everything was being carefully prepared, readied for our guests.

Soon our guests started to arrive, and I am not sure I have been the same since. I wrote these words to the coordinators of the ministry yesterday afternoon:

You are both good at sharing your reflections with others after being here on Tuesday mornings. I want to share my reflections with you – and mainly express my deepest sense of gratitude and respect.

I experienced grace the moment I walked in. Perhaps it was good to be a few minutes late as I walked in and saw a table filled with necessities – with things I take for granted all the time – but morsels that people carefully selected and took into the shower room this morning. I was reminded of the Syrophoenician woman who responds to Jesus about how even the crumbs that fall from the table are blessings. It was a powerful display for my eyes to see.

I think I was particularly touched and transformed by one of our visitors, Sipea (sp?) this morning. She will be heavy on my heart this day, causing me to reflect and think often. I was touched by her saying how a shower was just what she needed. I was struck by how she bowed before so many of us expressing thanksgiving. I was struck by how she wanted to give us $5. And, her appearing to be so incredibly alone will haunt me with the questions of what more we can do. She’s entered my heart, for sure.

Gregory was typical Gregory. He drives me crazy, and yet, I enjoy hearing him say, “You know, Miss Donna?”

And, there is something powerful about watching people select a pair of clean underwear – something I’ll think about when I open my dresser drawer and see a collection of dozens of pairs to select from – and the power of being grateful for one clean, new pair – one pair – not dozens of pairs.

All of this is to say, thank you. Thank you for providing me with an experience of grace this morning. Thank you for allowing me to see God’s goodness in my life and in the lives of those around me. Thank you for your commitment and organization and passion that continue to propel this ministry.

I am sincerely grateful, and I look forward to continuing to work with you as we discern our next faithful steps together.

Have a blessed day.

Glad to be your pastor,
Donna

This afternoon I was walking down the street when I heard someone calling my name, "Miss Donna, Miss Donna, Miss Donna!" I looked over and saw Gregory sitting on a bench in a park. I said, "Hello" to Gregory, and Gregory shouted again, "Miss Donna, I got to go to the dentist today!" I smiled and shared, "That's great." I then chuckled as I watched the people around me gaze at this man yelling to me on the sidewalk. As I continued to walk, I realized again how much I love this community.

Usefulness

I was shocked to see today that Tipper and Al Gore are separating. A couple who seemed so happy throughout their days of being in the public eye, a couple who seemed so together when the marriage of President Clinton seemed so shaky, a couple who kissed for what seemed to be several minutes on stage at the Democratic National Convention, is splitting up, calling it quits after 40 years of marriage.

How is it that people can stay married for 40 years and then give up?

This question is the one I asked earlier today when I posted my frustration and sadness on Facebook. My friend, Cynthia, answered with a comment that is making me think.

She wrote, "...But it also made me think of a group I was involved with that stopped getting together and meeting because "it had run its course of usefulness for us." And I wonder how we have turned our relationships into commodities whose only requirement for existence is their "usefulness" to our personal lives--within marriage, within our churches, *with* our churches, with any other group where relationships get difficult and require more work than we think we can give."

I've given up on such relationships before. There have been many times when I let go of something because it no longer seemed useful. I used to meet with two nearby clergy every single week. These two individuals are the people who got me through the really hard first year at Mount Vernon Place when I wanted to quit more often than I wanted to stay and be a pastor. However, when our time together turned from a time of sharing about life and the church to a time of studying the lectionary together, I decided it was no longer useful. It was no longer useful for me to spend an hour or so of my time with these two clergy friends. A few years later, one of them has moved away and the other one is only three blocks away, but I never see her. I miss her friendship deeply. There are many times when I wish I would not have given up on that sacred small group. My deeming something unuseful resulted in a near loss of relationship with someone who is responsible for getting me through the toughest year of ministry.

Certainly we all have an experience of determining that something is no longer useful. I am guessing that we also all know what it feels like when someone has determined that spending time with us is no longer useful.

What would it mean for us to take every single covenant we have made and see it as something we have to work hard to keep no matter what? What would it mean to see the commitment we made as the reason we stick with everything instead of whether or not something is still useful in our lives? Would we then see the church that was useful when we were lonely and needed friendship as the place that might be able to use our gifts today to provide fellowship to others? Would we then see the church that nurtured our children when they were little as a place where we are called to serve today - to ensure that other children have the same experiences as our children? Would we see the Bible study group that was useful to us when we were going through a horrific divorce as a place where our gifts can be utilized because someone else might be going through a difficult time? What would it mean for us to approach our relationship with God as not something we use only when needed - when we're on our knees and crying out to God in the midst of a major disappointment, or one door having closed after another, or an illness or loss - but something that we enjoy because we are a covenant people bound to God who promises to always be with us? What if we always remembered the promises made at our marriage - to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, until we are parted by death - as promises made for life and not just when being with our spouse seems useful?

What about you? What have you let go of because it no longer seemed useful? What might you be called to take up again whether useful or not?

Strangely Warmed

It's Aldersgate Day. It was May 24, 1738 when a reluctant John Wesley entered a meeting room on Aldersgate Street in London. He did not want to go. He went unwillingly. And yet, something extraordinary happened when he arrived.

Someone was reading Martin Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. John Wesley listened and felt the story taking hold of his life. He felt his heart strangely warmed. He wrote in his journal, "I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death."

Wesley did not want to go but he went. He did not want to be there but the message still caught up with him. The reluctant Wesley experienced something that enabled him to believe that salvation was by grace and grace alone and that Christ really had died for him. This belief continues to penetrate the hearts of Methodists who have followed him for the last two centuries. This message has continued to set hearts on fire. And it started with someone not wanting to be there.

I was recently having a conversation with someone in our church who shared with me how it sometimes takes everything within a person to get to worship. She went on to explain how our members live busy lives and that another commitment on Sunday can be just too much. She sought to justify some of our members not being in worship for weeks because of the busy demands of life in Washington.

This morning, I started my work week by having breakfast with another church member who is eighty-eight years old. Mary Elizabeth missed church yesterday. She started her journey from Arlington to downtown Washington and then encountered roadblock after roadblock of people bicycling in an event in downtown DC. After running into several roadblocks, Mary Elizabeth and the two members with her discerned they were not going to make it to church, and they turned around to go home. Mary Elizabeth then continued to tell me how much she missed church. She shared how she can hardly make it through a week without worship. Worship is the place where she is renewed and receives what she needs for the six days ahead.

I have been thinking a lot about the two perspectives shared with me. There are times when we are convinced that our lives are our own - that everything we have - our time, our talents and our resources are because of us - what we have done or what we have earned. There are other times when we are able to be won over, when our hearts and minds begin to comprehend that we are nothing on our own - that all that we have is because of the goodness of God. We live and move and have our being because of God. It is from this understanding that we arrive at the place where we cannot get through another week without worship.

I yearn for the faith life of Mary Elizabeth. I want people to knock on my door and find me reading the Psalms. I want to read scripture by heart and not always by sight. I want to offer at least 10% of every dollar I have back to God. I want to invest in the lives of others, providing scholarships and other forms of assistance. I want to live and breathe God - God's goodness - all the time.

I had my heart strangely warmed today. It would have been much easier to go directly into the office and face the dozen things on my "to-do" list. It would have felt more productive to tackle the tasks at hand than to sit and sip coffee for an extended time. But, my morning started with an experience of having my heart warmed - of knowing without a shadow of a doubt that God is with me and that God is blessing me. I was reminded again today of what is important and that a life in which God is first and not me, my goals, my priorities, my checkbook, my schedule - is the best life possible. I lingered for a moment, and I was able to see how worship and God always have to come first.

I wonder what would happen if we simply committed to putting ourselves in a place where God can touch us. What would happen if we committed to being in worship unless we are physically unable to be there - to showing up no matter what? What if we pushed ourselves and said that being in worship is more important than sleeping in, or enjoying a hobby, or getting to the office, or going on a run, or meeting friends for brunch, or anything else? What if we put ourselves in a place where we always demonstrate to God how God is first in our lives - beginning on the first day of the week, bringing to God the first fruits of what we have?

A very reluctant John Wesley went to a meeting room in Aldersgate. He did not want to be there. But God met him there. And those of us who are United Methodists still follow his teachings and form our beliefs on his faith today.

When have you last experienced your heart being strangely warmed?

When have you been willing to give yourself over to God - showing up even when you don't want to be there?

How can we better show God that we understand how God is the source of all that we have?

Getting it Right

During the season of Lent, Mount Vernon Place was privileged to be one of five congregations to pilot a new program for the Fund for Theological Education. Based in Atlanta, the FTE works to ignite a sense of excitement and provide opportunities to exceptional young people who might be interested in pursuing a call to ministry, individuals who are already in seminary, and African American doctoral candidates.

The work on this particular program of empowering congregations to notice, name and nurture people in our congregations through creating space for storytelling began last summer. At that time, a wide range of pastors and church leaders were invited to Atlanta to share thoughts on the ideas being presented and to talk about how to broaden the reach of the FTE on this and other programs. In November, each of the five congregations was invited to travel to Atlanta for an extensive training on the program and an opportunity to experience the power of storytelling. We then returned home, started to publicize the program in our congregations, and carefully followed the training manuals given to us for five weeks during Lent.

The program worked on some levels and failed on other levels. There are some things about the program that we loved and other things that continue to puzzle us. Some of the congregations attracted a large number of people to the program and other congregations, like the one I serve, could not keep people interested. I learned about how the program worked in other places this past week when representatives from our five congregations again gathered in Atlanta to talk about what had been done.

For 30 hours this week, we went through a deliberate time of reviewing the process. Using post-it notes of all shapes, sizes and colors, we were all given an opportunity to comment on what worked and what failed - on the things we loved and the things we would leave behind - on the pieces that were effective and the pieces that were ineffective - all in an effort to assist the people at the FTE with developing a program that will be user-friendly, accessible and really assist congregations and campus ministries in this important work of providing space to discuss vocation - to notice, name and nurture the gifts of each person so we can all discover that place where our deep gladness meets the world's deep needs. The FTE will now take our learnings and continue to tweak the program until it is right.

As I think about this process - each step of planning, training, creating, offering, and evaluating, I realize how often we settle on the way things are instead of the way things could be. So often in the church we discern that it is better not to rock the boat and so we keep on doing things whether we like them or not. A ministry starts and even if it is attracting only a couple of faithful participants, we don't want to offend anyone by suggesting that we let it go. A new worship experience is offered and no one new really comes but we sometimes determine to keep doing it instead of moving a different direction. A system of committees and ministry teams that once worked starts to become ineffective but instead of doing something different, we determine that it's easier to continue to do what we have always done.

What if our churches worked hard to intentionally get the thoughts of a wide range of people inside our churches and outside our churches on how the church can better serve the needs of the community? What if we searched high and low to discover what people really need to enable them to experience more of God's presence and use the unique gifts God has given to them while serving the needs of our community at the same time? What if we then took all of these thoughts and carefully proceeded - not duplicating things that are already done, not starting things for which there is limited passion or people to assist, not doing things that we want to do over things that we need to do - but doing things that lead to life - abundant life for all involved? What if we focused our efforts on really getting it right and then asked people to evaluate what we are doing regularly - inviting people to offer their thoughts and then not being afraid or offended to step back and see that we might be missing a mark or two? What if we kept on working - long and hard - until we got it right?

I look at how much the FTE has invested in time and money in an effort to get something right that they have determined is important. Doing something once was not enough. They had to do it again and again. They had to let go of some things and embrace other things - all in an effort to further awaken God's call. They had to put their own feelings aside in order to listen to others. They had to let go in order to embrace something new.

I'm ready to order to sticky notes - post-it notes of all shapes and sizes.

Seeing Church

I saw the church at its best this week. I saw the church - not the big, fancy building in which millions of dollars have been invested - but a rather small yet sacred group of people being the body I envision Jesus called us to be.

Throughout this week, I have been privileged to share time with people who are willing to struggle in order to discern our call in the city. Almost every day this week I have been able to dialogue with people in an effort to discern what our role is with individuals who sleep on the front porch of the church. We have talked about what mercy is and what justice is. We have discussed what it means to offer money and what it means to offer life abundant. We have pondered what it means to offer people a few dollars here and there and what it would mean to literally accompany someone through the immigration process. The conversations have been real, and they have been hard. But, there have been people willing to dialogue and I have seen the church through this dialogue.

As the sun was rising yesterday morning I gathered with two church members for a 7:00 a.m. Bible study. We have been meeting together for several months now, studying the gospel of Mark and using a book by Ched Myers which pushes us to think prophetically - to really engage the text. We spent most of our time together yesterday talking about the changes happening at the church and then opened the pages of scripture. We read less than twenty verses - the verses which tell the story of Blind Bartimaeus being healed. As we read the passage together, I realized that one person was touched in a tangible way. The scripture passage had busted open any false pretenses and what followed was an honest assessment of life - of how hard it is when Jesus does not answer prayer immediately, of how hard it is to lose a loved one, of how hard it is to journey through life. In those moments of vulnerability, I saw the church.

As the day came to a close, my final appointment was with a group of three other women who were eager to plan a four-week Bible study on service during the month of June. We talked about the needs of the congregation. We discerned which biblical texts should be studied. We even had a closing prayer. And then when "amen" was spoken, another prayer request was spoken. One young woman shared a difficult situation happening in the life of a dear friend. It was a sad story filled with tears. I then watched as an older woman in the congregation tangibly consoled this young woman - with words and then with a hand that held on to her in such a way that both knew they could count on each other. In those moments of sharing and holding, I saw the church.

Earlier today, I shared Bible study with the normal Thursday group. Howard is almost 102. Lois is 96. Ruth is around 95. Another participant is in their 90s and the others are a bit younger by a decade or two. The 10:00 hour on Thursday mornings is one of my favorites because I get to spend it with these precious people as we read and ponder the Psalms together. This morning, it was one of our ministry interns' last time to be with the group. Following Bible study, the group took Jessica and me to lunch. There were 8 of us gathered around the table of a restaurant where the owner really does know everyone by name. Towards the end of the lunch, I listened as the group affirmed Jessica. They shared their excitement for her as she prepares to be married in June and then become a pastor of a church in July. They told her how grateful they are for her being with us. They offered the sweetest prayer for her before we ate. They built her up. They named her gifts. They nurtured her from the chapter of seminary to the place of being a pastor. In those moments of hearing one being noticed, named and nurtured, I saw the church.

I have seen the church this week - not in the beautiful building where I am privileged to work - but amongst the incredible people with whom I am privileged to serve, and grow and believe. I cannot imagine going through life without the church. Thank you, God, for allowing me to see the church you have called us to be throughout this week.

The Horse or the Rider?

Like many of you, I made sure I was in front of a television on Saturday evening. I was out with friends but made it a point to perch myself near a screen so I could see horses race at the Kentucky Derby. At the end of the two minute race, I stood in awe and wonder as Calvin Borel won his third Derby in four years at Churchhill Downs. Once again, Borel came from behind on a horse that was not the most favored to win in order to prove that anything can happen.

When the race was over and Borel had kissed what seemed to be everyone with whom he came in contact, I sat and wondered. Is it the horse or is it the rider? Is it the horse that enables one to win the Kentucky Derby or is it that rider that enables one to win the Kentucky Derby? Who is most responsible for the win?

Last year I was talking with a friend of mine whose son had recently been appointed to a different church. When I inquired about his son's appointment I was told, "He's serving a church that is in great need of resurrection and it is going to take a lot longer than three days for it to happen." I laughed. But, I cannot help but to think about these words.

When it comes to the church, there are all kinds of communities that are in need of resurrection. It is more common for a church to be in decline than it is for a church to be growing. Churches receiving new members are an exception and not the norm. And I wonder. Is it the horse or the rider?

I have often heard statements that lead me to believe that it is the horse. Many of my colleagues make statements about how there is no way a certain church is ever going to grow.
The people are too set in their ways. No one is moving in around our church. The neighborhood has changed. People just don't go to church like they used to. How can the bishop expect this church to grow? Seriously, this church is believed to be able to grow? I don't know why anyone would want to join this church.

Calvin Borel has demonstrated to the world of horse racing that anything is possible. Not once and not twice but three times Borel has brought a horse through the finish line earlier than the horse was believed to be capable of crossing. Borel has demonstrated great skill when it comes to communicating and motivating a horse. Borel has done what was thought to be impossible. It did not appear that he would win on Saturday...until the very end.

Can we as pastors learn anything from Borel?

The Membership Gap

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

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

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

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

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

But...my experience has been quite different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Missing Lent

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

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

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

I missed Lent this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creating Hospitable Space

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

T-Shirt Sales

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why am I writing about this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Golden Rule

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

60 Miles to Solitude

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

In a nutshell, this is what I learned:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Return to Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preaching for Change

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come, Moses.

I am going to send you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is it that is not yet free?

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

Amazing Grace

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

I was warned years ago that nobody likes

poetry and certainly nobody buys it!

What worried me then, what worries me

still, is how easily we in the church

forget the poetry of God,

how easily we in the church

extract the amazing from grace,

how easily we turn

Hosanna into ho-hum and

belief into bureaucracy and

righteousness into rules.

Addicted to our agendas,

bound to our budgets, we fail to

remember that the Love of God

is written upon our hearts...,

not in the Book of Order.

When we worship process,

we obliterate poetry.

We cover our eyes and our ears

against the beautiful red words,

the amazing words of the Word.

Jesus told the people to love their enemies,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to have compassion for strangers,

and the people were amazed.

He overturned the tables of the moneychangers,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to pray for those who persecuted them,

and the people were amazed.

He told them to set the captives free,

and the people were amazed.

He broke the rules, and healed on the Sabbath,

and the people were amazed.

While we in the church are spending

our energy on arguing,

who will bind the wounds?

And who will free the oppressed?

And who will feed his sheep?

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

Heartbroken Between a Rock and a Hard Place

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

I am heartbroken between a rock and a hard place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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