Superwoman

For the last two weeks, I have been running around trying to do it all.  I have been a student in a Doctor of Ministry program in preaching at Wesley Theological Seminary.  I have been the pastor of a church that is about to make a major transition as we move from borrowed space back into our home sanctuary following a major renovation.  I have been a member of the Baltimore Washington Annual Conference that met this past weekend at the National Harbor.  I have been a friend and fiance.  And, I have been a wedding coordinator, finalizing many details for a June 28 wedding that is fast approaching.  I have done many things, trying my best to succeed.  I have been many things, wearing a variety of hats as I try to check more things off of the list.  And, I have often neglected the core of center - my relationship with Christ - in the process.

I have been Superwoman.  And, Superwoman is very tired.  Yet, Superwoman is also thankful that somehow I made it through these difficult weeks and find my heart restless to find itself centered on God once again.

This morning, I turned to the pages once more of the small devotional book, "Bridges to Contemplative Living with Thomas Merton," where I found these words:

"Our meditation should begin with the realization of our nothingless and helplessness in the presence of God.  This need not be a mournful or discouraging experience.  On the contrary, it can be deeply tranquil and joyful since it brings us in direct contact with the source of all joy and life.  But one reason why our meditation never gets started is perhaps that we never make this real, serious return to the center of our own nothingless before God.  Hence, we never enter into the deepest reality of our relationship with God."

Merton then continues, "'Finding our heart' and recovering the awareness of our inmost identity implies the recognition that our external, everyday self is to a great extent a mask and a fabrication.  It is not our true self.  And indeed our true self is not easy to find."

All this stuff I have been doing, as much as I like it, is a mask - a fabrication.  All of this stuff I am doing - no matter how important it makes me feel - is not important.

And so, I awaken myself once more today.  I admit that while I am so thankful for all that is going on in my life, I am exhausted.  I am tired.  

I am going to sit this morning as my true self - one that would long to stay home all day and do nothing but sit alone with God - one who longs to dance with God - one who longs to rediscover where my core is.  It is not in trying to do everything while praying that a ball I am juggling does not fall to the ground.  It is not trying to please someone by accepting more invitations to do things than I can possibly get done.  At my core, at the center of my being, is the fact that I am a beloved child of God - whether I am finishing a doctoral of ministry program or not, whether I am seeking to be the best preacher or not, whether I am planning a memorable wedding worship service and reception or not, whether I am trying to please everyone or not.

God loves us.  God longs to be in relationship with us.  God longs for us to put God first. 

God, awaken my center once more.  Enable me to be poured out for you.  Amen.

His Eye is on the Sparrow

When we arrived at the Carnegie Library Building on Sunday morning for worship, I kept hearing the sounds of a little bird. I could not see the bird - I just kept hearing the bird. It was clear that a bird was stuck in the building. Following worship on Sunday, the bird had come down far enough where we could see it. It was sitting on a window ledge, looking as though it would do anything to get outside.

I saw the bird. I heard the bird. But I did not think much else about it when I left the place on Sunday. People had opened the door in an effort to try to get the bird out. Nothing was working, and I did not put much time or energy into the effort.

On Monday, there was a message on the office machine that has made me think a lot, however. One of our church members left a message about the bird. She went into detail describing the bird to me - telling me how the bird was sitting on a window ledge, how it was a brown sparrow, and how the bird could not get out. She explained how she had stayed up thinking about the bird. She wanted us to do whatever we could to get the bird out. She wanted to make sure that someone in the building knew about the bird and would do what they could to get the little brown sparrow out of the building.

This woman noticed something that many of us did not think much about. Many of us had concluded that there was nothing we could do - that the bird would be okay - or shamefully that life would be okay without one little sparrow should the sparrow die in the building.

But this woman took time to notice the bird, to do what she could to get the bird out of the building, and then to remain concerned about the bird the next day.

What if we all had eyes like hers?

What if we noticed the parts of creation around us that were trapped in something they were not designed to be in?

What if we looked - really saw - everything and everyone around us who is crying out for our help?

What if we saw the wounded veteran on the street asking us for money and then continued to allow his image to stream through our head at night, forcing us to really think about what we could do to help him?

What if we saw the man sitting underneath a plastic wrap that he built in a park more than a year ago and then tried to do something to get him out from under the wrap and into a shelter with more permanent walls?

What if we noticed - really noticed - places of pain around us and then took time to call people to find out what could be done to help?

This week, I am taking a class called "Hearing the Voice of the Poor in the Bible." My first assignment was to write about whether this is an appropriate title for the course. I concluded that it absolutely was an appropriate title. I know how many years I went to church without ever being asked to hear the voice of the poor. I know how many times I have read the text without allowing myself to be touched - without allowing myself to be penetrated in such a way that I need to get on my feet and out into the world.

My church member heard a little bird that I had decided was insignificant. She heard the bird and then went to see the bird. She then went to see what could be done to get the bird out.

There is a song about how God's eye is on the sparrow and so I know God watches me. God's eye is on every living thing. Who is God calling us to place our eye on today? Who is God calling us to see? To hear? And then to help escape?

Parental Instincts

I have several window boxes on my condo balcony where I planted flowers last year. The flowers added a great deal of beauty, making me smile each time I saw them. This year, however, I was a little late in my planting. The flowers did not get planted until last week. I was able to plant flowers in four of the five window boxes. The fifth box, however, is one I cannot currently touch.

You see, a bird chose to make a nest in this box. A mama bird chose this box as the place where she would give birth to her next baby. For the last few weeks, I have watched as this bird has sat and sat and sat in this box. When she went away once, I ran outside to catch a glimpse of the egg. She soon returned and kept sitting on the egg, and I kept watching her. Nothing seemed to be changing. There was nothing new in the window box until Friday morning.

On Friday morning, I noticed that the mama bird had a piece of shell in her mouth. She seemed to be chewing on the shell that once held her baby. Soon, she flew away, and I caught a glimpse if this tiny baby bird. It is the smallest little bird I have ever seen with a body covered with hair. It is amazing, and I feel so privileged to be a part of the process - for her to have selected my balcony as the place to give birth (it shows you how much I use the balcony!).

This process has also made me think a lot about parental instincts and especially the ways in which God, our parent, works.

The mama bird is currently sitting on top of her baby. She has not left the nest once when I have been watching. She is doing whatever she can to protect this little baby. When I open the door to the balcony, her eyes immediately turn to me. When I move by the window in my home that leads to the balcony, she immediately hunkers down, providing the baby with more protection.

I like to believe that God works the same way. I believe that God, the one who is our ultimate mother and father, does whatever God can do to protect us. When God sees something coming our way that could harm us, I believe God's hand of mercy outstretches even further to try to protect us. I believe that God's eyes are always upon us and the things around us. I believe God is always with us - God is always wanting what is best for us, God's children. And, more than anything, God wants to protect us, to keep us from harm.

Yet, just as this mama bird cannot protect the baby from everything, there are times when she has to leave the nest to go get food or drink, so we cannot be protected from everything. We have the gift of choice. Some of the choices we make bring good while others bring harm. There are times when bad things happen despite how much God is with us. We cannot be kept from harm's way at all times. Still, God is with us. God has promised to never leave us or forsake us. And this promise is enough to prepare me for the week ahead. I go out into this week knowing that God is with me - that God's hand will never ever leave me.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Snooze

I am getting married in exactly 66 days. And, like most brides I am very, very excited while also doing things that I normally don't do. I am spending more money than I thought I would spend. I am getting china that I never thought I would own. And, I have started to exercise more regularly. I have dropped 20 pounds and want desperately to lose another 15 before June 28. I can visualize a few more defined lines on my arms. I want a waist that is a bit smaller. I want a chin that shows no signs of being doubled. I want it all, and I started a bit too late. Still, I have been going to the gym often and walking with a neighbor when I can.

Joy and I made plans to meet this morning at 6:00 a.m. to walk. I first woke up at 5:10 a.m. My thought was to get out of bed, write a note and go put it under Joy's door. The note would explain how I was just too tired to get up or had a headache or pushed myself too much last night in step aerobics' class. I wanted desperately to sleep longer. I did not want to walk. I could think of a million reasons why I needed to sleep more than I needed to walk. Still, I knew that Joy would be waiting for me. I had made plans with Joy to walk with her. We had made a commitment to be in the lobby at 6:00 a.m. for our walk.

Needless to say, I got out of bed at 5:45, put on my gym clothes, tied my tennis shoes, and walked out the door. We walked to the National Zoo and back. I saw turtles and animal life before the sun had risen over Washington. I was refreshed. I was invigorated. I was ready to face my day.

But I almost did not go. Had it just been me, I would have easily gone back to bed.

So often I set my alarm early in an effort to have quality study and prayer time before I get in the shower. I want desperately to have a set time each morning in which I spend time going to God, giving God thanks for a good night's rest and turning over to God the concerns on my heart. All too often, however, I push snooze so many times that I leave very little time for God. I too often have just enough time to get myself ready, pack a lunch, and head out the door.

Still, God is waiting. God has made a pack with me that God will never leave me nor forsake me. God is always ready to hear from me. God knows everything about me and longs to be in relationship with me. Just as Joy was waiting in the lobby this morning for our walk, God is always waiting for me to turn to God and say, "Good morning," or "thank you" or "I need you."

Why is it that we so often keep God waiting, pushing snooze instead?

"Red"

By far, the one event that has had the biggest impact on my life is my parents' divorce. My parents were married for 23 years before they split - a happening that came as a big shock to me when I was in junior high school. A lot of healing has happened since then, and I now feel so fortunate to have a beautiful relationship with both of my parents and their spouses.

My mother married James in the summer of 1998. She had dated "Red" as we all affectionately call him for years before they finally decided to marry. Dating was a big deal for my mother. She did not want to do anything to mess up the relationship she had with my sister and me. She devoted all of her time and energy to the two of us before she ever thought about finding another man. Yet, Red came into our lives and immediately grabbed a part of each of our hearts.


Red taught agriculture at the local community college for just under 40 years before retiring. Ranching was once a passion, and it had become his profession when he and Mom married. He had hundreds of Black Angus cattle, a lot of Quarter horses, and thousands of acres of land. For years he taught livestock judging, and his team was always the best in the nation. Red could tell you every name of every member of every judging team he ever coached, along with the years in which they were on his team. He had a memory that seemed to be photographic. He never forgot a name. Details were always stacked in his head, one after another.

The last couple of years have not been easy for Red. Nearly two years ago he was kicked by a bull and suffered a broken hip. At the beginning of this year, he fell while crossing the street and broke his other hip. He had recovered and was doing well, but he has been forgetting things. He forgets to eat, forgets to go to the bathroom, and cannot remember every person's name, let alone the years they judged cattle with him.

Yesterday, Mom and Red got news that any family hates to hear. Red has an advanced stage of Alzheimer's. Nearly 1/3 of his brain cells are already gone, and the physician told Mom that she should be prepared for Red not to recognize her or other members of the family at Christmas.

Out of all of the diseases and illnesses known to man, I cannot think of anything any more cruel than Alzheimer's. I do not understand why anyone should have to suffer by watching their loved one's mind disappear. I do not understand why anyone should have to go through a time when the love of their life no longer recognizes them. I cannot fathom the pain of this disease, and I would give anything if it would just go away. Is there any kind of suffering that is any worse?

A part of me wants to be angry with God. Why would such a gifted, amazing, kind, good person be stricken with such a terrible thing? God, why would you allow this to happen? My mother's heart has been broken once, why would you break it again?

I do not know the answer to these questions. However, when I opened the pages of my Bible this morning, the words of Psalm 16 touched me again:

Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

I say to the Lord, "You are my Lord, I have no good apart from you."

...Those who choose another god multiply their sorrows;

their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out or take their names upon my lips.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

I have a goodly heritage.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

in the night also my heart instructs me.

I keep the Lord always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices,

my body also rests secure.

For you do not give me up to Sheol,

or let your faithful one see the Pit.

You show me the path of life.

In your presence there is fullness of joy;

in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

My GPS

My mother is visiting this week from Southeastern Colorado. She lives in a community where it is rather easy to get around. There is not much traffic in her town. There are several stoplights but not too many. She seemingly always knows where to go.

I do not always know where I am going.

Our church members live all over the area - in Virginia, DC and Maryland. I remember in my first weeks as their pastor, when I was going to visit someone in Fairfax, I arrived to a very disappointed face. I had gotten lost on my way. I was very late. In the process of my finding the member's home, the souffle had fallen. She had tried her best to prepare a grand lunch, and I nearly missed it.

For all of these reasons and more, I was thrilled when Craig purchased a GPS system for me for Christmas this year. I love my GPS. I love how it always knows where I am, how it knows when I have made a wrong turn, and how it can always get me back on track again.

My mother had never seen a GPS until this week. She is amazed. I punched in the shopping center on Monday, and it navigated us directly to the parking lot. I punched in Target, and we were soon inside the store. I then hit, "Go Home," and it led me home. Mother keeps saying, "That is just amazing."

It is amazing, and it reminds me often of God.

I have mentioned this to a developer friend before, but each time I think of the amazing power of the GPS, I think even more of the amazing power of God. The Psalmist who penned Psalm 139 wrote about how God has "searched us and known us" even from afar. He continues to state how there is no where that we can go that is beyond the range of God's love. Furthermore, God knows everything about us before a word is even on our tongues. God knows everything!

The GPS system knows where I am at all times. When I turn the wrong way, it says, "recalculating." It shows me when I am off track. It is always ready to return me to the right path. And, it can always lead me home.

Our living God knows all of this and more.

Thank you, Lord, for always knowing my whereabouts. Thank you for seeking to lead me along the right path. Thank you for getting me back on track when I have made the wrong turn. Thank you for always telling me how I can get back home - into your all-embracing arms - arms that are always ready to welcome home that which has been lost.

Interior Changes

The process of renovating the sanctuary at Mount Vernon Place is nearing completion. We'll be back in the building in less than four months, and I can hardly wait to have a worship space of our own once again. I can hardly wait to show up on Sunday mornings with the candles already in place, knowing that everything that needs to go on top of the altar is already there. I am excited. I am very excited.

I love what is happening inside the building. I love the new windows that cast light inside. I love the new bathrooms with shower facilities. I love the walls. I love the new stairwells. I love the openness of the new entry to the sanctuary - a door in which all will enter whether in a wheel chair or on two feet. I love the openness of the chancel area. I love how the completely white walls showcase the stained glass windows. I am excited. I am very excited.

Yesterday, the chair of the Steering Committee and I took a group of church members through the building. Don and I have worked countless hours on the building. We love walking inside and seeing the changes taking place. We were excited about taking people in the building to show them what is happening - individuals who have not been inside the building in a year.

We were excited. We were excited until we realized that not many positive things were being said. The individuals with us seemed more ready to point out what is different - what is missing - than all of the great changes that are happening. They said that the hallways look more narrow. They wondered why some ceilings have been lowered. They commented on how much space the new energy-efficient heating and air conditioning system takes. They then continued to focus on gold paint missing from the sanctuary - paint that was not part of the original structure and paint that eventually turns black.

It was hard not to be discouraged. It was hard not to be frustrated. We were so excited. They had little positive to say.

Why is it that we always look for the negative instead of looking for the positive? Why is it that we are so good about sizing something up by its appearance instead of looking deep within? How is it that we are so quick to draw a conclusion without taking the time to search within or find out more information? And, why is it that we too often prefer the past instead of embracing the future?

Our current sermon series at Mount Vernon Place is "UNconventional Wisdom." We are looking at the unconventional wisdom of God - wisdom that says the people who are considered the lowest in society are the ones who are blessed, wisdom that welcomes on the inside all who are on the outside, wisdom that is based upon a cross where one was crucified, wisdom that describes the good life as having nothing to do with power or possessions. I love being reminded of the unconventional wisdom of God because it is so different from what we are accustomed to. The unconventional wisdom of God tells me to look for the good in every person and every situation - something that is not always easy to do - but something that always reaps great rewards.

Dear Lord, please help us to be more unconventional.

The Contemplative Life

Two weeks later, I am still thinking a lot about my time at the monastery. A trip to the Washington National Cathedral this weekend brought forth this deep thirst for the holy again as I perused the bookshelves in the store, looking through books about this holy longing. I then visited the Botanical gardens where the orchids - all kinds of orchids - brought forth reminders of the gift of new life that is emerging all around us.

I could not help but to praise God.

I long for the contemplative life.

I long for more time with God.

In my quest for the holy, I opened a book this morning that I purchased at the abbey's bookstore, "Bridges to Contemplative Living: with Thomas Merton: Two: Becoming Who You Already Are." The book is designed to be used in a small group study, and I can imagine the power of its words in such a place. For now, I am journeying through it on my own.

The book includes words from a Psalmist, words from Merton, and words from another source. Today's "another voice" is Anthony DeMello who writes:

I imagine that today I am to die. I ask for time to be alone and write down for my friends a sort of testament for which the points that follow could serve as chapter titles.

DeMello then provides the following outline-

1. These things I have loved in life (things I tasted, looked at, smelled, heard, touched):
2. These experiences I have cherished:
3. These ideas have brought me liberation:
4. These beliefs I have outgrown:
5. These convictions I have lived by:
6. These are the things I have lived for:
7. These insights I have gained in the school of life:
8. These risks I took, there dangers I have courted:
9. These sufferings have seasoned me:
10. These lessons life has taught me:
11. These influences have shaped my life (persons, occupations, books, events):
12. These scripture texts have lit my path:
13. These things I regret about my life:
14. These are my life's achievements:
15. These persons are enshrined within my heart:
16. These are my unfulfilled desires:

I am going to start writing my responses. Perhaps I'll share a few.

What are your responses?

A Holy, Holy Week

Last week was the most amazing Holy Week I have ever had. I continue to be awed and amazed by all of the ways in which God showed up - the resurrected Christ who stands in our midst, calling us by name. As I reflect back upon the week, I am reminded of many things that stand out, making it very distinct and special.

Last week, I prayerfully wrote three sermons. Starting with the task on Monday and finishing by Thursday afternoon, I wrote sermons for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter. I diligently searched the texts, but I also prayed the texts. This work was focused work because I told people what was important to me. I did not do anything building related last week. I refused to meet with anyone on the property development or building detail. Instead, I focused fully and abundantly on being a pastor.

I now wonder how many other weeks during the year need to be spent without meetings on the building but only things that are necessary - only things that give life - visits to the shut-ins, prayers at bedsides, personal notes written for encouragement, lots of study, lots of prayer, lots of sermon preparation. Why is it that we pastors allow ourselves to get so distracted on things that were never mentioned when the Bishop laid her hands on us, ordaining us to a ministry of Word, service, sacrament and order?

On Thursday evening, I preached at Mount Olive Baptist Church, the church of one of my colleagues in the Doctor of Ministry program at Wesley. Mount Olive is a large, African American Baptist Church in Arlington, and this congregation provided me with the most amazing preaching experiencing I have ever had. I am so thankful.

On Friday, I gathered with individuals from the downtown community at nearby Asbury United Methodist Church for the Seven Last Words of Christ service. As always, it was a blessing to share in this sacred space on this most sacred of days.

On Sunday, we had a glorious Easter celebration at Mount Vernon Place with the largest crowd of people that I have seen in my nearly three years at Mount Vernon Place. Last year, we let go of some of the things we always do - like passing the peace and asking people to share their joys and their concerns - in order to save time on Easter. But this year, we did what we always do - we tried our best to faithfully be the Body of Christ - an authentic community of faith. I hope and pray that all who came were blessed.

As I look back upon last week, the time that stands out to me more than any other is Maundy Thursday. I keep thinking about the mandate Jesus gave to us on the night before he was crucified. On this night, Jesus got down on his feet and washed the feet of his disciples. On this night, Jesus wanted to teach the disciples what people in the church - what his followers should do - what kind of love they should embody - so Jesus washed feet - on his knees. The mandate given to us by Jesus is that we should love one another as Christ has loved us - serving one another as Christ has served us.

Can you imagine a church filled with people on their knees?
Can you imagine a church filled with individuals who want to serve like Christ?
Can you imagine a church filled with men and women who are willing to wash feet - to wash the dirtiest part of a person's body?
Can you imagine what it might look like if we really lived this mandate?

As I sit in the construction trailer where my office is now located, my desk vibrating because of the machinery that is working on our church building just outside, I keep thinking about everything that could happen in that building.

We will have showers. Who will we wash?
We will have a kitchen. Who will we feed?
We will have a nursery. Whose children will we welcome?
We will have a sanctuary with lots and lots of doors. How wide will we open them?

"This is my commandment," Jesus says, "that you love one another as I have loved you."

Come to the Easter Party!

I think on Easter morning we should throw confetti in church!

No?

What about a little fanfare?

A deafening drum roll?

A three minute standing ovation?

What?

Have we had the drums beaten out of us, that we in the celebrative community can’t really get excited about God’s aliveness

About God’s love given to us unconditionally?

Have we given Easter to the lily bearers, the bunny rabbits,the patent leather shoes?

Let’s face it: We live as though we don’t believe in Easter.
We’re the crowd- easily swayed, easily scared,easily calling for blood.

We’re the good church people who can’t believe Jesus meant love one another-

Not all the one anothers, not drug addicts and criminals.

We hate injustice when it’s injustice towards us.

We love mercy when it’s mercy for us.

We walk humbly with our God when it’s convenient.

We’re babe believers who resist the resurrection;

We’re Christmas Christians who are very good at celebrating Christ’s birth.

We can cling to the babe.

We’re even Crucifixion Christians, agonizing, sympathizing,relating to the hero on the cross.

We can rock a baby; we can weep for a Dead Man;

But what can we do with a 33-year old who won’t let the story end?
Easter scares us

because we’re the people who can’t believe that God gives us abundant life.

We think we have to earn it.

In our pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-bootstraps society

It’s hard to remember that God doesn’t buy the self-made person.

So we in the church spend our lives showing God

What good people we are,

What achievers we are,

How much we deserve God’s love.

We want to pay our own way but Easter says it’s already been paid!!
Easter says, no matter how prodigal, we can go home again!!

So come to the Easter party!!

Let’s celebrate the amazing grace that in Christ’s resurrection

We are still loved even at our most outrageous.

The Lord has given us the music, all we need to do is dance!

Come to the Easter party!!
© Ann Weems in “Reaching For Rainbows”

More Wisdom from Brother Mark

This entry is the fourth entry about my time at Holy Cross Abbey last week. You may want to start at the first one if you are reading for the first time and then read up instead of reading down.

Brother Mark is 89 years old. He was a practicing physician prior to entering the monastery, and he still has an active medical license. He is funny. He smiles often. He laughs at his own jokes. And, his wisdom continues to inspire me as I think about my spiritual life and my vocation as a pastor.

After teaching me about the five kinds of prayer, Brother Mark proceeded to tell me what the three S's stand for that he had written on the piece of paper. "The first S is for 'spiritual reading.' You need to be reaching as much scripture and theology as possible," he explained.

"The next S is for 'sacraments.' I won't get into that with you, you're a pastor, after all," he said.

And then he said, "The final S is for self denial." It is here where a rich lesson took hold of me.

Brother Mark's words on self denial are life giving. He quoted a saint who said, "Every act of pure obedience is an act of pure adoration." He then said that we must deny ourselves for the sake of something greater than ourselves.

"Do you know what the definition is of a professional?" Brother Mark asked. "No," I responded.

"A professional is someone who does their work well regardless of the circumstances. Look at Tiger Woods. Tiger Woods plays golf well whether it is raining or the sun is shining. He plays golf well at all times because this is his profession." Brother Mark then continued, "Do I want to get up every morning at 3:00 in order to be in the chapel by 3:30? No, damn it. But I do it because this is my profession. I am a professional."

I wonder how many times I have complained about something that is part of my profession of pastor. I wonder how many times I have not done something to the best of my ability - creating the liturgy, visiting an older adult, praying, preaching, or teaching - because I did not feel like it that day.

I am a professional. I am a professional pastor. Whatever I am called to do this day - tend the sick, write the Easter sermon, respond to some emails, pray for people who are hurting, be interrupted countless times, look at the recent financial statement, think about next year's student intern, talk with our administrative assistant, proofread the bulletin one more time - I need to do it well. I need to do it with thanks. This is my profession.

And, if I deny myself of what I would really like to do or how I am really feeling - then something amazing might happen. If I deny myself of some extra sleep or extra time surfing the Internet, then more people might be blessed when I try to faithfully interpret a Biblical text on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday or Easter Morning. If I let go of a little of myself, then quite possibly, this entire church might be blessed in some way.

Let it be so for me and all who gather in this place on Easter morning!

Brother Mark

I went to Holy Cross to find God again. I went seeking an encounter with the Holy One. I wanted to feel God in a tangible way and to fall in love with God again.

The mountains provided my initial introduction to God's majesty and power. I could not help but to recite the words of the Psalmist over and over again, "I lift up my eyes to the hills." The glorious sunsets made me want to linger outside each evening as the heavens told the glory of the Lord. I could see God in this place, away from the hustle, bustle, traffic and crowded streets of Washington. Still, I knew that I needed to work harder to take part of it back with me. I knew that I wanted more spiritual depth - a depth that would continue to find a lot of time for God upon my return. It is for this reason that I placed my name on the appointment schedule for time with one of the brothers.

My appointment was scheduled for 11:00 on Thursday morning. I went to the place where I was to meet the brother. The door was still closed. I paced back and forth for a little while. I went back to my room. I picked up a book. I went back to the library. It was now 11:10, and the door was still shut. "Why is he keeping me waiting?" I asked myself. I then got up from my chair, walked over to the bulletin board and crossed my name off the schedule. My return to the room did not last long, however, as I found myself going back down the hall to the room where I was to meet the brother. Finally, the door opened at 11:15, and I went in.

"My name is M - A - R - K," the brother told me. "Now what can I do for you?" he asked. We set down, and I asked, "Will you please tell me about your call to this place?" I thought that if he told me about his call, I would hear about how his heart longeth after God - about how God is so alive in his life, and that I would then be able to capture some of this passion.

Brother Mark looked at me with a perplexed look on his face. "What are you, a reporter?" he asked. "No," I responded. "I am simply an exhausted pastor who is having a hard time making space for God in my everyday life. I desperately need to be refocused," I said.

"Oh," he said. "Now I understand what you are looking for." With these words, Brother Mark took a pad of paper from the bookshelf next to him and started to write four letters. He then handed it back to me. I glanced at the paper which read:

P


S


S


S

Brother Mark then said, "Now, start taking notes." With that, Brother Mark started to tell me how I could find more of God.

"P is for prayer. There are several different kinds of prayer," he said. He then said, "Please draw 5 lines. The first kind of prayer is thanksgiving. This one is rather easy, especially here. I see a glorious sunset, and I say thanks. I see the mountains, and I say thanks. I also say thanks when I see the ocean from time to time.

The next line is for reparation. This is a reactive kind of prayer. One of our brothers goes through the newspaper each day, looking for people to pray for. He seeks to make reparations for these people through our prayers.

The next line is for adoration. This one is rather simple.

The next one is for petition. We pray for people and situations here all of the time. We petition God on their behalf.

The final line is for meditation. I encourage you to set in your room for 20 minutes each morning and 20 minutes each night. I want you to sit on the floor and cross your legs. Close your eyes and say over and over again, 'I love you, Lord or 'Jesus I love you.'" Brother Mark then continued to tell me how his former Abbot, Thomas Keating, taught him this method. "You have to make room for God - to adore God. And, don't always expect God to show up, just keep praying," Brother Mark said. "You must spend 20 minutes doing this twice a day."

"All of these principles are like plowing the field. You never know when something might be successful - when something might sprout, but we keep plowing," brother Mark told me.

I have yet to set aside 20 minutes, two times a day for mediation. I can imagine such a life, of course. For now, I am trying hard to offer my thanks over and over again, to make reparations for myself and the world, to adore God, and to pray for others.

I can't wait to tell you what else Brother Mark taught me.

Almost Empty

Each month, I gather with other clergy members from this annual conference for what is called "Discipler Group." We gather to talk about how best we can lead our churches to celebrate in worship, connect as one, serve like Christ, develop as Disciples and share our faith. There are times when the gatherings are very rich and beneficial. Like anything, there are other times when I would rather spend my Tuesday morning somewhere else. One of the best things about the gathering is the individuals who I get to see on the first Tuesday of each month.

When we met for the first time this fall, our group discerned how best we would covenant with one another for this journey. One of the things that became important for us was to create space where there was no room for B.S. - but where we needed to be ourselves - to name everything that was happening in our lives - to bring it all to the table. We talked about how if we are trying to create authentic community in our own congregations, then we, too, needed to be authentic with each other. This desire to be authentic pushes and probes us in different ways - typically with difficult questions.

At the end of our time together on the first Tuesday of this month, our guide (who is our District Superintendent) asked a question, "Now, what is it that you are not saying?"

We had been talking about where we found ourselves in the middle of Lent, what was happening in our lives, and how we were growing. The guide continued, "What is it that no one knows yet?" The question pierced me, and I found myself opening my mouth.

I am spiritually dry. I have not had a regular prayer time or devotional time in months. I am thrilled by what is happening at the church, but I am exhausted. I yearn for time with God.

I then continued, "You know, it is so easy to say that we are pastors. We tell others that we are pastors, and people automatically assume that we are close to God. We stand up and pray in the midst of the congregation each Sunday, and people assume that we pray all of the time. But, I am having a hard time balancing it all with the development and the time it takes, along with everything else I need to do."

I was exhausted. It had been months since I had experienced a real Sabbath. It had been weeks since a church member did not call me on my Sabbath - on a Friday to ask questions that could have waited until Sunday (Why is it that people cannot understand that pastors, more than anyone else, desperately need a day away from the church and the people of the church?). It had been months since I had taken a 24-hour break from checking my email. I could not remember the last time I spent a Friday resting, worshipping and seeking renewal.

And so, I went to the Abbey - the week before Easter. I went to the Abbey to find myself again - to discover a life of prayer. I went, telling my congregation to not call me but to call the person on call. I went, and God pulled me back one more time. The Good Shepherd lifted me up, put me around his shoulders, and carried me back into his fold.

68.2 Miles

Early Monday morning I was with a group of clergy who had met to continue planning the opening worship service for the Baltimore Washington Annual Conference. I explained to them how I could meet with them that day but how I could not attend the meeting on the following afternoon because I would be on retreat.

"You are going on retreat the week before Easter?" one of my colleagues asked.

"Yes, I am going away this week. Everything is going to be crazy after Easter," I explained. "Once Easter is over, everything needs to be calculated to prepare us for our move back into the historic church."

My rationalization made sense to me. There is so much to do after Easter. There is so much to discern, to pray about, to think about and to prepare for as we think about moving the congregation from rented space to our permanent home after a very expensive and extravagant renovation. Still, there was more to the story. The real truth would come out in the days ahead.

The idea came up at a recent meeting of the Staff Parish Relations Committee. With new members participating in their first meeting as a committee member, I was explaining to the group that their chief purpose was not to respond to problems that come up with the pastor or staff. Rather, their chief purpose as a committee is to support the pastor, the staff and their families. With this explanation, one of the new members on the committee asked a question, "What are we doing to take care of our pastor?"

What are we doing to take care of our pastor?

It was a refreshing question to hear. I had not heard anyone ask it before.

The committee members continued to talk, with the older members adding information about vacation and continuing education. This newcomer added something else, "But our pastor is getting married. Our pastor is working hard. What are we doing to make sure she is taken care of - that she is taking care of herself?" She then continued, "I think we should require that she find time for a spiritual retreat between now and her wedding. We need to make sure that she goes away and takes care of herself."

At this point, I started to pinch myself. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. After some discussion about how I already had time off for vacation and continuing education, followed by an explanation of what a spiritual retreat is, the committee agreed that I needed to go away.

On Tuesday morning, I drove 68.2 miles to Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville, Virginia. It took me just over one hour to arrive at a place described by one of the other retreatants as "just an inch or two below heaven."

And, I cannot wait to tell you more about what I discovered this week.

What a difference 68.2 miles can make.

Finding a Familiar Tune

We resurrected another ministry at Mount Vernon Place last week when women from our church gathered for lunch. The men in our congregation have an abundant, life-giving gathering every other Saturday morning when they gather for fellowship and a discussion on discipleship at a nearby Starbucks. The women gathered when we were in our old building. However, with the loss of parking, this ministry was also at a loss.

Thanks to the passion and energy of several new members at Mount Vernon Place, our women met again last Saturday. We gathered not in downtown Washington, but at the favorite restaurant of one of our members, the most amazing 95-year-old that I have ever met. There was plenty of parking. There was a lot of laughter. And, there was a great mix of longtime members and newcomers to the church. It was a blessing.

Finding a blend between what is old and what is new is not always easy to find. I am told that some of our longtime members sometimes feel left out. I have been criticized often for not asking the longtime members what they want or don't want at the church. Still, I recognize that the most life-giving moments we have as a congregation are the times when everyone is present - the twenty-somethings and the ninety-somethings, the people who can tell you what has happened in the last year at Mount Vernon Place and the people who can tell you what has happened in the last sixty years at Mount Vernon Place. One of the best things about our congregation is its beautiful mix - its diversity - of people.

I have been reading a lot about church transitions lately and how best to provide leadership in times like this. I was struck by something that Barbara Lundblad writes about in her book, Transforming the Stone. She writes:

At a recent Lutheran churchwide assembly, a bishop came to the microphone at the closing session. He hadn't come to make an amendment or call for a vote, but to ask for a point of personal privilege: "Could we all rise and join in singing 'A Mighty Fortress Is Our God?' His request didn't come after a particularly division session, but out of a deep personal longing. During that assembly, we had sung in Spanish and clapped the rhythms of South African freedom songs, and we had heard new images for God lifted up in prayers. The bishop hadn't heard his heritage lifted up in prayers. The bishop hadn't heard his heritage lifted up or celebrated in ten days of meetings. He wanted us to sing a song he knew before going home.

No doubt some will say, 'That's too bad! We've spent fifteen hundred years singing his songs!' Many at that assembly delighted in the Pentecost diversity of language and music while others, like the bishop, felt the church was moving on without them.

Lundblad continues to ask how we can make sure that we remember everyone in our preaching - those who are new and those who feel estranged in the church of their birth, the prodigal son and the older brother standing in anger, everyone.

We are trying hard to strike this balance at Mount Vernon Place. We are seeking to honor the past while embracing the future. Who knew this balance would be so hard to find! And still, it is happening, slowly but surely. And may I add one more thing - the beer bottle in the middle of the table and the martini glass at the end of the table do not belong to any of the "younger" women!

A Slippery Church

There is an article on the front page of today's Washington Post titled "In Major Poll, U.S. Religious Identity Appears Very Slippery." The article is about recent research done by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life. According to the Pew research, some 40 percent of the individuals polled have changed their religion. Only one in six individuals still belongs to the church or denomination of their childhood. Some 24 percent of individuals polled are individuals who were Catholic in the past but who are no longer. And, the percentage of individuals who claim to be Protestant is now 51 percent.

The church is slipping away. The Christian church is having a hard time holding on to its members. While my parent's generation rarely changed jobs or religious affiliation, there is something about other generations that yearn for or even demand change. And while many people my age fall into this category of wanting change, I believe that the church cannot simply say, "Oh, it's just this generation." It is time for the church to wake up and start being the church once again.

My father was raised in the United Methodist Church. He comes from a long line of United Methodists. Everyone in the family is buried next to a United Methodist Church. Most people have been married in a United Methodist Church. The only church my father ever knew was the United Methodist Church...until my parents went through a painful divorce after twenty-three years of marriage. When my dad was going through the divorce, he was in a new apartment in a new community. My sister and I were not speaking to him. He was alone in many ways. And, he went to church - to the United Methodist Church - in his new community hoping to find community and support. No one spoke to him on the day he visited, however. No one reached out to him or welcomed him. He went to another church the next week, and he is now a member of the Disciples of Christ denomination.

My mother was raised in the United Methodist Church. Her father was a United Methodist minister. Her mother was a lover of the United Methodist Church. My mother has faithfully supported the United Methodist Church all of her life...until about three years ago. A new pastor came to town with little passion or energy. Mother was no longer being fed in worship. She stopped going to the church for a while, and no one reached out to her. The pastor never called to ask why she stopped coming to worship. Mother found a new church home in a Pentecostal church down the street. The church is led by a dynamic pastor and the worship is filled with passion, especially when it comes to music. My mother has a faith now that is stronger than I have ever seen it.

The Methodist Church has lost both of my parents - lifelong Methodists.

Most of my friends no longer go to church. While it seems as though we were all raised in the church, many of my peers have discovered more meaningful things to do with their Sunday mornings even if it is just catching up with household chores. If you walk through many neighborhoods of this city on a Sunday morning, you wonder if anyone goes to church. And, still, I don't see many churches making the changes necessary to bring new people in.

My beloved United Methodist Church has spent millions on a marketing campaign called, "Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors." Yet, all the while the church has argued over who can come inside. There are still numerous churches who remain closed to people who do not look or act right. There are still too many churches who have not opened the doors wide enough - especially to the poor, the outcast, the gay and lesbian community, and the list goes on and on.

The Catholic Church has lost the most members according to the Pew research. Many people have turned their back on the Catholic Church in the wake of the clergy sexual abuse scandals. Still, the Catholic Church has not made any changes on how to ensure that this abuse does not happen again. The Church continues to refuse to ordain women or allow men to marry.

The church I serve is surrounded by young people. We have people in their twentys and thirtys all around us. Still, there has been an unwillingness for a long time to try new things. As we prepare to move back into our historic building in July, there is more talk amongst our older members about bringing back what used to be - even though the programs were not reaching new people - than talk about what can be. This slope is the slippery slope on which many of our churches appear to be walking.

I love the church. I love Jesus. I believe that the Gospel of Jesus Christ still has the power to transform lives - that there is hope offered through this Gospel that gives us strength for today and promises for tomorrow. I believe that the kingdom inaugurated by Jesus Christ is the very kingdom we hunger and thirst for today - it is the kind of kingdom being promised in the rhetoric being espoused by our political candidates - a kind of place where all people are being cared for. And, I love this church - Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church.

So, if you are one of the many people out there looking for a new church, a new denomination, or a new community, let me tell you why I believe in this particular church:

1) You are invited to come just as you are. In last week's worship service, we had people in their very best suits and people in jogging suits. We do not care what you wear. Come just as you are. You are welcome here.

2) I do not care what you believe or what you do not believe. I do not care who you love or who you have failed to love. I do not want to know what you have done or what you have failed to do. You are welcome here.

3) We are part of a denomination that has long joined faith with service. From its very beginning, the Methodist Church has sent people out into the world to serve. We are trying hard to not keep our faith confined to a Sunday morning. Instead, we are trying hard to serve this community - in small ways right now - but in ways that we hope are faithful.

4) We have this amazing group of individuals that range in age from 1 - 100. Many of our most active members are people who have been in Washington since "the war" - since 1940. They are amazing! They make me laugh often. They teach me about life all of the time. When you combine this uncanny group of people with the newcomers - a wonderful group of young adults - then you have a fantastic community of faith.

5) We have learned a lot about what it means to be the church when we do not have a church building right now. The church has nothing to do right now with a glorious sanctuary or stained glass windows. The church is the people. And, the church must be the church. We must exist for the transformation of the world.

The church is far from perfect. We have to remember that the rock on which Jesus built the church was a man named Peter who seemed to be filled with more doubt than faith. Still, the church has so much potential. The church has so much to offer.

Good God, come and give us the courage to make the changes necessary to stop this slipper slope!

The Power of Study

When I was preparing to come to Mount Vernon Place UMC nearly three years ago, I was told that my job would be two-fold by someone who knew the church but whose life has been spent in the academy. This individual told me that basically all I had to do was to hold the hand of the members who had given their life to this church and who are now in their 80s and 90s while also working to start a new church at the same time. This individual said to me, "You are basically a Hospice chaplain on one hand and the pastor of a new church start on the other hand."

While I listened to this individual's words when they were spoken to me, recording them in my mind for future reference, it did not take long for me to realize that this person was completely wrong. This individual's advice was about as inaccurate as a doctor telling someone to put salt on a wound.

Yes, of course there are plenty of people in any church who have not opened a Bible in a long time. There are several people in every church who have forgotten the vows they made when they joined the church - vows to faithfully support the church with one's prayers, presence, gifts and service. And, of course, Mount Vernon Place is like every other church. Yet, one of the things that continues to awaken my spirit is the growing faith and spirituality of many of the people at Mount Vernon Place - especially a group of people who are in their 90s.

Each week I am privileged to gather around a table with a group of individuals who range in age from the mid-70s to 99. We gather for one hour each week to study the Bible. We have spent a lot of time in the Old Testament and in the New. The conversation has been rich as a week with Paul's words on homosexuality in Romans led to the question by a 95-year-old as to why we have to put labels on anyone. Last week, a 99-year-old said, "I want to read a passage to you." He then proceeded to read 1Corinthians 16:20 which states, "All the brothers and sisters send greetings. Greet one another with a holy kiss." He added, "That sounds good to me!"

Last week, our study took us to Ephesians 4 where we talked about what it means to be the body of Christ and how damaging many of our actions can be. In this passage, we are instructed to "lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."

This passage led to a beautiful discussion about how split our churches can be - how we can fail so often to be patient with one another, saying terrible things about others instead of doing whatever we can to build up the body of Christ. We then continued to talk about what it means to speak the truth in love and how we can best be the church. And, before we ended we committed to read this passage together each day, asking God for the wisdom and patience needed to live it out.

This group of individuals that I was instructed needed only a little hand holding is leading the church in becoming the church - the body of Christ. This group of individuals is struggling with me about how it is with our souls and how we can grow closer to Christ. This group of individuals reminds me each week of what a joy it is to be a disciple of Christ.

Following Bible study, I went to visit another 99-year-old member of Mount Vernon Place. This individual does not get to church often anymore. Yet, she tells me that she prays for us all of the time, and I know she is telling me the truth. Before I left last week, I asked her how I could pray for her. She then prayed for me. She reminded me of the awesome privilege I have and then she asked God to give me all that I need to share the hope we have with those around us. She prayed that Mount Vernon Place would continue to be a blessing, and that we would bring all kinds of people into the doors of our church in order that all might be spiritually enriched.

These people are amazing! There is no dust on their Bibles. What a gift it is to be their pastor.

A Demand for Change

There is a great demand for change happening in our country. The pages of the Washington Post are covered with quotes from people seeking change. Our television programs are intercepted with candidates promising us this change. And, after every caucus or primary has ended, the results show that what people want more than anything else is change. This change is producing three very different frontrunners for the Oval Office: a wounded veteran, a woman, and an African American. I love the diversity of the race. For the first time, there is a very good chance that our next President is either going to be a woman or an African American.

People want change. People are demanding change. And, the political machines are listening. Every candidate is trying to promise a little change or a lot of change.

Change is the one constant in life. Our bodies change as we get older. Our eyesight changes. Our jobs change. Our children change. Our neighborhoods change. Our schools change. Our grocery stores change. Our diets change. Change happens. Yet, not everyone or every organization is willing to change.

The church seems to be the one institution where people fight against change instead of adapting a willingness to change when needed. And, I believe that many people have sought change within the church. They have asked for changes to be made that would make the church more accomodating, more passionate, more hospitable, more open, more joyful, more relevant. Few churches have been willing to listen. Many of the churches that have made some necessary changes are growing while the majority of the churches that have refused to change are declining or even about to close because people are holding on to the programs that mean something to them while failing to meet the needs of the new neighbors. Worship styles are held hostage by musicians who have been directing for decades. And, the people on the inside have forgotten that the reason they exist is for the people on the outside - that they are called to serve the people around them.

I have just finished a book, Why Christian, written by Douglas John Hall. Hall writes,

"So far as the church is concerned, what is lost in highly institutionalized Christianity is inevitably the movement-quality biblical church. As the word established itself suggests, in the established church it is precisely movement that has to be avoided. Most people do not want to belong to something that is moving, changing, in flux; they want to be part of something stable and staionary, steadfast, permanent. In fact, the establishment of religions is always partly the result of the human desire to have, in teh midst of life's changes, something that seems solid and constant. That is why so many Christians today (and not only Christians) are upset by changes occurring in the churches.

But life is change; and when the churches refuse to change they always tend to cut themselves off from life. More importantly, they are likely to cut themselves off from the living God, whose love toward the world requires constant attention to the here and now...So "movement" is not only a matter of the church's structure, it is bound up with its very message and mission. When the church opts for institutional forms that deny or impede movement, it is putting a stumbling block in the way of God's communication with the world."

Perhaps Hall's words resonate with me because I serve a church that failed to change for decades, losing 90% of its membership as a result. One would not have known that the membership had dropped so much by looking at the programs, staff or budget, however. The church hung on to the things that meant a lot to them, failing to see that no one was responding to the programs - that lives were not being transformed. Many of the programs had to go as a result of the building program, and the church has experienced more growth in recent months than it has in a long time - with the smallest staff and budget and absolutely no building.

Lives are being transformed.

Change is happening.

But, we had to let go. We had to make room for God. We had to take a cue from the Early Church's playbook - preach the Gospel as passionately as you can, enjoy fellowship with one another, make sure that everyone knows they are welcome, care for anyone around you who has a need, invite people to repent - to change their life, and watch as people are added to the congregation.

To borrow the words of my colleague, Paul Nixon, "I Refuse to Serve a Dying Church." The only way a church can stop dying is to change - to let go of what is making it sick and to embody the practices that lead to health and wholeness.

Our country is demanding change in the White House.

I believe many are also asking for changes in our churches. May we, as clergy and laity, have the wisdom to listen to their voices and to open wide the doors. There is way too much at stake for us to remain silent or continue to adopt the status quo.

Ash Wednesday - A Day of New Beginnings

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent.  Today is one of those days that I yearn to arrive.  It seems as though the marking of ashes on this day and the beginning of Lent always bring so much hope within me.  

"Beginning Wednesday, I am definitely going to pray for an hour each day."

"Come Wednesday, I am going to no longer push snooze."

"Starting Wednesday, I am going to give up Diet Coke."

"This Lent, I am going to turn a new leaf.  I am going to become more like Christ each day."

Lent is a season of new beginnings.  T.S. Eliot once wrote, "What we call the beginning is often the end and to make an end is to make a beginning.  The end is where we start from."

We start from wherever we are - right now.  Whether we are filled with sin or having a hard time thinking of what sins are alive within us, we start here.  We examine ourselves, asking God to point out the places in our lives that need to be corrected.  We seek God's wisdom in our lives, praying that God will illuminate the places of darkness so that with God's help, there can be more light within us.  

The Psalmist writes in Psalm 51:  Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.  For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.  Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgment.  Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.  You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.  Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.  Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.  Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.

This is my prayer for this Lent.  What I desire more than anything else is a clean heart and a new and right spirit modeled after the teachings of Christ.

This is a day of new beginnings.  No matter where you are, what you have done, what you have left undone, who you have loved or who you have failed to love, the promises are for each one of us.  Thanks be to God.

"They," "Them," You Know, the "Other"

I spent a portion of Saturday afternoon in a glass shop. It was not part of the plan. In fact, there were four things on Saturday's agenda: drop off things at Goodwill, pick out bridesmaid dresses, make time to enjoy rest with Craig, and go to a birthday party on Saturday night. While three of these things were accomplished, the time for rest with Craig was replaced by Craig taking me to get my car window fixed after I discovered one of the windows had been busted sometime on Friday night.

It is the third time that someone has tried to break into my car in the two and one-half years that I have lived here. The first two times someone tried to break the locks, toying with the passenger side first before assaulting the driver side lock. The second time I went out to my car on a Sunday morning and found it running. Someone had again busted the locks, broken the key hole off and got my car started but was unable to drive it because of the Club lock. And, on Friday evening, someone broke the back window of my car, reached inside to unlock the door and then rummaged through my glove box. Nothing was taken. It appears that they were following the lead of a GPS cord in site and assumed that the GPS monitor was in the car; it was in my purse, however.

I spent much of Saturday talking about "them." "They did it again," I told my friends and family. "They have once again busted into my car, costing me a $100 insurance deductable." This conversation continued at the glass shop with a woman who was waiting for her car. "They" had gotten into her car, too. "They" had broken their glass.

By Saturday night, I had done a lot of thinking about "them." I began to realize how much I had allowed my mind to construct who "they" are. I concluded quickly that "they" were probably linked to the young man sitting in his car in front of me when I parked it on Friday night. He was sitting there in a hoodie sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up. He seemed to be watching me, and my instincts told me to find another parking spot, but I was tired. So, I waited until the street was filled with cars, got out of my car, and rushed to my home. "They" were certainly not the people who live in my building. "They" were the other - the people who do not look like me. "They" were the people who banter the employees at 7-Eleven, crowd the corners of the neighborhood, and skip school to wreck havoc.

"They" were people for who I needed to seek forgiveness as I realized that my cultural context had once again told me that somehow I was not like "them" even though I am the minority in this neighborhood.

I then went to a viewing of film, "The Bible Tells Me So" yesterday afternoon at Calvary Baptist Church where my friend, Amy, is the pastor. I had heard a lot about this film, but it was my first time seeing it. For nearly two hours, I watched the stories of five families who have struggled with what it means to have someone in their family who is gay or lesbian. I watched as a former presidential candidate talked about his daughter. I heard things from the parents of Gene Robinson that have made me see the split occuring in the Episcopal Church in an entirely new light. My eyes filled with tears at times. My heart ached at other times. I wanted to weep. I wanted to clap. I wanted to go out and join some of these families in their quest to ensure that all people are considered equals - that the "they," "them" and "other" are no longer separated because of difference.

The viewing of the film was followed by a panel discussion of three area clergy: one Jewish rabbi and two Protestant pastors. These three individuals all lead congregations that are inclusive of everyone - actively inclusive. They all spoke passionately of their willingness to preside at same-sex unions and ensure that something like 'Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors' does not hang on a shingle outside the place of worship without being practiced inside the place of worship. And, their words touched me.

Any group that gives privilege to one group does so at the expense of another group.

If there is any oppression of any kind, it burdens everyone, it is a burden to oppress someone.

We need to always remember that we were once slaves in the land of Egypt. We were once hated by everyone.

This is a civil rights issue.

If your congregation votes on whether or not you will be fully welcoming of gay. lesbian and transgender people then you are voting on the humanity of an entire community.

Any kind of exclusion is always contrary to the ways of our Lord.

We are so good at setting aside people who are different from us whether it is the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their age, their economic standing, their disability, and the list goes on and on and on.

And yet, the Bible tells us that we are all created in the image of God. We are all called to create a culture that reflects the character of God. We are all born into this world in the same way: with nothing. And, we all leave the world with nothing.

Why, then, are we so good at separating ourselves - at putting labels on people - "they," "them" and "other." And, why does the church seem to always be the leader in this separation? The hypocrisy that is detailed in this film is real and ugly.

I love my neighborhood. I love the rich diversity that I see everytime I walk out my door. One of my favorite images is to see the children go on a walk from the nearby daycare center. They all take a hold of the same rope and if you look at the hands holding on to this rope then you will see about a dozen different colors - but they are all holding on - they are all connected - to the same rope.

I also love my church. I love the congregation that I am privileged to see every Sunday when I stand up and say, "Welcome to Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church." This congregation is young and old, Anglo and African American, Asian and Hispanic, rich and poor, housed and homeless, gay and strait, believers and doubters, sinners and almost saints, fully committed and tipping toes in. This congregation is the body of Christ.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for too often labeling individuals as "they," "them" or "other." Forgive me for thinking that I am somehow better than anyone else because I am a privileged, young, white, heterosexual, educated woman. Forgive me for ever labeling someone as anything other than your child who is made in your image. Remind me often that we are all attached to the same rope; all holding on to life in your hands. And, grant me the wisdom and courage needed to do whatever I can to see that the church is always open to ALL people. Thank you for the privilege to serve and love you through being pastor to this amazing group of people. Amen.