As I Leave This Role....

     Bishop McCleskey will vouch for me.  I was clearly surprised to be appointed as a District Superintendent.  When Bishop McCleskey summoned me to his office in February, 2008 to give me the news, in the course of our conversation, he said three times, “You look surprised.”  Surprised hardly covered it.

     I was not surprised to have a chance to talk with the Bishop.  Due to some painful communication dynamics the year before, my District Superintendent, George Thompson had asked Bishop McCleskey to talk to me directly about my appointment.  Getting the call to come to see the bishop, to tell no one (emphasis on NO ONE) about time with the bishop was not a surprise.  I knew the bishop didn’t have time to talk to every pastor who had an appointment concern.  I was given careful instructions to drive around the side of the building, come into  a side entrance that, until then, I did not know existed.  The emphasis was repeated:  do not talk to anyone about this.   As I said before, I knew the chance for conversation with the bishop was out-of-the-ordinary.

     When I walked into the Bishop’s office and saw that my superintendent was not present (as he would have been for a conversation about my appointment) I had about 15 seconds to figure out that I was not there for what I had expected.  And the bishop was right.  I was surprised.

     I love the local church with all my heart.  I love being a pastor.  I truly never aspired to connectional ministry beyond the local church.  My father—who served as a DS—always said it was a lot more fun to make appointments when you are not on the cabinet.  I have found that to be true. J

     In addition, I have lived in remarkable – but very difficult—times as the church often reluctantly and slowly embraced the leadership of women.  Things have both changed and not changed.  Prejudices have been overcome and prejudice still exists.  And in that rough-and-tumble struggle to be the open, inclusive church which reflects the love of Christ, there have been a lot of disappointments along the decades for women.  Cabinets have been the source of hope and disappointment through the years.  Holding on to hope through the disappointments has been a challenge.  I would not have described the cabinet (as a group or a process) as a beacon of light and hope. 

      I do not remember that I was ever one who said out loud that the cabinet must have gotten drunk and thrown darts at a board to come up with the appointments as they filtered out.  (And, when we are honest, every preacher has had the thought:  how in the world did they ever come up with THAT?)  Certainly I never envisioned myself as part of the company of those who made the appointments.  The shift was head-spinning.  It was exciting and terrifying.  Could I make a difference for clergy and churches who depend on the knowledge and perspective of the cabinet? 

     I also had apprehensions about being able to speak freely.  I knew myself well enough to know that, especially in a place of making decisions about the lives of others,  I needed the freedom to have my say.  I do not need people to agree with me (good thing) and I do not need the final decision to be my way (another good thing).  But I knew that at the core of my ability to serve would be an atmosphere to speak my heart and convictions freely.  Did that happen on the cabinet?  People from the outside can’t know and people sitting around cabinet tables through the years have had different experiences.

     I leave the cabinet with deep gratitude in regard to the two things that mattered the most to me.  One is the first-hand certainty that the bishop and cabinet are committed to a mission-focused, inclusive church where the gifts of clergy are valued, supported and affirmed.  The commitment to support of clergy across gender and racial lines is a foundation of all discussions and decisions.

      The bishop and cabinet would be the first to know I am not criticizing them when I say that appointment-making is not a perfect process, especially with a system swamped with location, family and economic preferences/needs.  There are disappointments and people get hurt (not because, as some speculated, the cabinet got drunk and threw darts at an appointment board).  But I leave the cabinet certain that we are served by leaders committed to an openness that was only a dream when I came into the ministry.

      And as I reflect back across the cabinet conversations, I had the great lifeline of having my say.  I did not always get my way  J  but none of us always got our way.  Because of the spirit of collegiality, a commitment to openness and a LOT of patience, I had the freedom to speak my convictions and observations.  No Christian (in any capacity) has the right to say whatever they want to say.  (Which is a fundamental truth that too many church members have not grasped.  Christ-committed people have a higher standard:  speaking the truth in love.).  So I didn’t say in the cabinet whatever popped into my mind.  But I consistently felt the respect and freedom to speak my prayerful, thoughtful convictions freely.  Our cabinet had a rich diversity of perspective, experience and background.  I believe that because of the respectful expression of different perspectives, we made better decisions than we would otherwise have made.

     These are the take-away experiences I cherish.   Living out these realities on the cabinet only deepens my hope for these central dynamics to become intregal to the life of church at every level:  an openness to the leadership God has called (even/especially those other than what we are used to) and the free and respectful sharing of different perspectives as decisions are made.

     I was surprised.

    And, as I leave,  I am grateful – oh, so grateful—and immeasurably enriched for the experience.

      

Cherishing each gift

     Sunday's celebration of the Statesville District will always be a high  moment in my heart.  The thoughtful people in the District went above and beyond in making a memory for us all.  The gifts of a "Day of Tranquility and Peace" at a spa, the exquisite full set of liturgical pottery by a Catawba County potter and, of course, the one-of-a-kind "Email Champion" trophy are all visible treasures of the kingdom-building joy we have shared together.
     These visible gifts will remind me of the many heart gifts that have been exchanged as we have shared ministry together.  I cherish most highly the churches that have found strength through their struggles and health through hard times.  I am proud of the constructive members of churches who braved criticism and conflict because of their love for their church.  I have been so inspired by the ways churches have taken on the challenge to share Christ in new and vital ways:  alliances with schools, community meals, community gardens, bridge events to reach out to people in the community, service projects, wood-cutting ministries, prayer shawl outreach: a multitude of bright spots.
      I treasure all the ways that we have grown -- recognizing imperfections, admitting shortcomings, hungering to learn new ways to share Christ, developing healthy practices for leadership, deepening commitment to stewardship and embracing (instead of resisting) the way the world has changed.
     I appreciate the thanks from laity and clergy across the district for the way God has been able to do a healing, building work among them.  Every time someone said, "Thank you", I knew that other people were really the ones responsible for equipping me to be able to do the work I have done:  my parents who raised me in the church and taught me to stay grounded when people are at their worst;  those laity who encouraged me and blessed me and affirmed me and did what was right for the church when times were tough;  a bishop and cabinet colleagues who have a firm commitment to supporting pastors and laity who take a stand for Christ.  Those are the people who really deserve the thanks for any good I have been able to do.
     Just as those people and experiences equipped me for the work of superintendency, my prayer is that what we have shared together in the Statesville District will continue to bear fruit of inspiration and encouragement and hope and help as new challenges come.  Let us go into life's new challenges with grateful hearts.

Can we freeze-dry you?

Dear Connor,
You are having a special weekend with Aunt Christi and Uncle Will. My house was the hand-off place (a treat for me because I got to see you all!).
Uncle Will and Aunt Christi have been looking for special things to do with you during your big-boy weekend...and one of your activities will be a trip to a tiger reserve. Grrrrrrrrr....
In order for you to go, your Mommy had to sign a permission slip and she jokingly said, "Is this in case Connor gets eaten up by a tiger?" Knowing how protective we ALL are, we all laughed.
Then you said, "Eaten by a tiger? Yay! That would mean that I would go to heaven and get to be close to God."
Of course, I can hardly stand the idea of your playing football (your current desire) or being stung by a bee...much less be eaten by a bear...much less your going to heaven.
While I was catching my breath, I was grateful for your pure heart: going to heaven? Yay! that just means being able to be close to God.
I would like to freeze-dry that profound child's trust.
It tells me that you have been paying attention to one of the church's richest contributions to life: no fear of death. My own parents taught me all my life not to be afraid of death and that is a great, great gift. This faith is one of the unique gifts the church can give and, when we are honest, people of all ages in this dangerous world need this precious, grounding, abiding confidence.
You had better not get eaten by a tiger tomorrow. But for all your tomorrows, I hope you maintain the deep truth that you accessed so easily as we were playfully bantering about your adventure.
Yes, going to heaven is -- as you said--a good thing. It "just means being able to be close to God." I hope that trust can be freeze-dried and cemented in your heart forever.

Wishing for just one thing...

If there was just one thing I could do for my recovery, I would do it without hesitation.
Healing is just not that easy.
I would be glad to take a pill if it would take care of the pain. Don't misunderstand me. I am thankful for medication and meds have been a blessed part of healing for me. But only a part. Recovery is more than taking pain medication. Exercise heals. Diet makes a difference. Sleep matters. Drinking enough fluids is a part of getting all systems back on go. Breathing -- yes, breathing--deep, mindful breathing is part of the answer. Routine is a big part of getting the body back on track.
I spend a lot of time balancing all these things. No wonder I long for one simple solution!
Over and over again, I hear this same longing from churches recovering from decline. I hear from people who turn to simple (but not accurate) diagnoses that would, in their opinion, fix the lack of vitality of their church. Most often, in my present work, that is to blame the preacher for the present and fantasize that a new preacher is the answer to the problem. (Usually the simple remedy is a 30 year old preacher with 25 years' worth of pastoral wisdom and experience...)
Sometimes, a different preacher is PART of the answer. But, just like healing the physical body, recovery is not a simple, do-just-one-thing-for-instant-results answer. Recovery is a multi-faceted approach that takes time, patience, persistent practice and constant balance.
Add patience to the list of things that are essential for recovery...undergirding a renewed conviction that recovery and healing requires multi-faceted, balanced vigilance--in bodies, in relationships and in churches or in our world.
One simple thing will not usually fix significant problems and needs.

My joyful hymn of praise

When I was a child, I thought the hymn "For the Beauty of the Earth" lasted forever. It reminded me of a child praying for every conceivable thing to keep from having to go to sleep at night. Every time the one-line refrain came around, ("Lord of all to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise..."), I knew we were one verse closer to the end.
Reflecting back on the last two weeks of recovery from surgery, I am caught up in the deeper essence of the hymn: an overflowing grateful heart. My list includes everything I have sung through the years...but my personal application makes the 6 verses of the hymn-in-the-hymbook look pitifully short.
For surgeons, nurses, hospitals and pain medications;
For the marvelous intricacies and healing nature of our bodies;
For the healing presence of loved ones;
For supportive and patient family members;
For help -- and offers of help--in times of physical weakness;
For expressions of love, support and prayers that nourish and sustain a recovering spirit;
For the many ways that pain is ameliorated --
a simple walk; resting in a comfortable chair; slip-on shoes; a warm shower; music; soft
clothes, blooming flowers, the balmy-but-not-hot weather, the clear sunshine.
For going to sleep in the majesty of thunderstorms and waking to the singing of birds;
For healthy food which nourishes and sleep that restores body and spirit;
For the love of others that is not dependent on what you can do for them;
For staff persons who carry on the work and devotedly protect my time to recover;
For the rich privilege of watching my body heal -- a visible, personal hope;
For a beautiful place to call home -- comfortable places to sit inside and outside
to pray and rest and soak in healing grace;
For the prayers of others linking love on earth with the riches of God's resources in heaven...

"Lord of all," this is just the beginning of my "hymn of grateful praise."

Small rearrangement of letters describes it all....

I don't know how those under the care of physicians got called "patients". I'm sure some google search engine could tell me. As I was staying up last night so I would be on schedule for my medications, I was laughing to myself (in a tired sort of way) how much "p-a-t-i-e-n-t-s" need P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E.
A nurse-friend on Facebook had just admonished me to be a good patient. My instinctive reaction was that, to be a good patient, I would need patience. Of all the kind things people have said about me through the years, outstanding patience with myself has never been high on the list. And here I am in a very important time of life where patience is a core practice. Patience for patients is not just one among many attributes. Patience for patients is essential.
Going into surgery catapults normal people into a new realm -- a temporary and healing way of life--but a shift from what is familiar. It requires patience. I didn't say that patience is a happy, optional attribute to have. I'm saying that in recovering from surgery, patience is absolutely necessary. Oh dear.
Recovery is a new routine that requires listening to yourself, following instructions and living with constant reminders of vulnerability. I don't score high on those characteristics either. I do well in listening to others, giving kind and wise advice and gratitude for the gift of each day. So I am finding that it works well for me to just give advice to myself. As it turns out, I have learned first hand that the advice I have often given as a pastor is healing guidance indeed. Nice to know.
"Be a good patient" is not only good advice for me as an individual recovering from surgery. "Be a good patient" is a generally good reminder to all physicians of body and soul -- notoriously the worst of all patients. Wise to notice...
I love to see people live into grace space for themselves. And now, for a couple of weeks while my body requires rest and I am not allowed to drive, I am going to live into intentional grace space for myself--praying that this experience will not only allow for healing--but deepen my heart to be a better pastor. Patients need patience. Lord, I am working on it--or, more accurately, life is working on me to become more patient.

A grateful goodbye? A hopeful hello?

Yesterday, the General Conference made an historic shift for the United Methodist Church in removing guaranteed appointments for elders. Ever since the vote, I have been flooded with memories and emotions.
All through my life in the church, I have seen that claiming the authority of the Discipline rarely is the trump card that changes people's hearts. Especially as a District Superintendent, an important part of administrative ministry is to teach and apply the disciplinary covenant which is at the core of connectional life. When the Discipline speaks, all United Methodists--bishops, superintendents, pastors, laity--are in a good-faith covenant that the provisions of the Discipline are to be the standard of practice in church life. A perfecting process is available every 4 years-- The General Conference-- open for input from all. United Methodists live in covenant to the larger wisdom of General Conference action. So all the General Conference actions are big decisions.
Eliminating the guaranteed appointment for elders was an easy change for some. My heart, however, was remembering that I would not have had the opportunity to answer God's call in ministry except for the mandate of the Discipline. The night before my ordination as a deacon (the long-ago first step to ordination), my bishop resisted. While I was gathering in excitement with my family, the bishop was consulting with the conference Chair of Ordained Ministry to see if the ordination could be avoided. I have never stopped thanking God that the bishop was advised that my approval had been in conformity with the Discipline and that the bishop had no choice but to honor it. So my partiality to following the Discipline has personal roots.
Although the Discipline had specifically included women in all provisions applying to the ministry since 1956, twenty years later, women clergy were rare. As far as I could tell, what was written into the Discipline had not warmed hearts toward the change. Opposition to women in ministry was open and widespread. Adversity did not end with ordination. Time and time again, women had a chance to serve a church only because the Discipline guaranteed the appointment of elders. When I received my first appointment to a church, a District Superintendent from a neighboring district said in a conference meeting: "I hope she falls flat on her face." The experience of serving a church far exceeded the hurt of opposition. The guarantee of an appointment had opened a door and God blessed it abundantly.
I came into ministry in a most remarkable time in history.
I have stories and experiences that younger women will not have. Along with the hard experiences are a treasure trive of heartwarming and hilarious stories. Clergy sisters from my era remember getting chased out of clergy parking spots at hospitals by diligent parking attendants who did not believe that women were clergy. And the big dilemma of how to address a clergywoman -- when "Brother" obviously didn't fit. Every experience deepened my dependance on God's love. Every valley reassured me of God's presence, comfort and calling on my life. Every rejection was a challenge of love and renewed focus on living out grace to everyone.
Now, thankfully, much has changed in the church and in the world. It's been years since I have heard of a female clergy being refused a parking place or admittance to an ICU in a hospital at sheer disbelief that a woman could be a pastor. And for years, the cabinet has said that appointments will be made without regard to gender (or race or age).
In some ways, my heart is cheering that General Conference delegates would think that the church has come so far that guaranteed appointments are no longer necessary protections. That's the new day I have dreamed of and worked toward my whole ministry. That's the grateful goodbye I am glad to say...a hopeful hello to a new future where the mission is more important than traditional barriers that have divided us.
I'd be glad to be at the front of the line to welcome that new future.
My heart, however, is not quite sure we are there.
I am remembering that even this spring, I had a Pastor-Parish Committee tell me that, nothing personal, but they did not want a woman pastor. (How could such a claim be made in 2012? And how could people look at a female superintendent and say that their conviction was "nothing personal"?) I assured them that they did NOT want to continue that line of conversation with me. We worked through it together.
But this is 2012. That conversation -- and similar stories repeated around the cabinet table--nag at my heart. Is it too soon to remove the guaranteed appointment? Is the progress foundational to this vote more illusion and wishful thinking? That's the unanswered question. With all my heart, I hope the answer is yes. That same heart says, "Wait and see..."
One of the greatest blessings of living through these decades of being a first is that I recognize--and appreciate--every small step of progress. I am thankful for things that my father and male colleagues would naturally -- and understandably--take for granted. My heart gravitates to gratitude. I have received every appointment -- even with the guaranteed appointment--as a blessing and with a sense of wonder.
Now, my beloved United Methodist Church will show how far we have come. If, through the provisions the Discipline provided for decades, hearts have been opened, I will be the first one to celebrate. I will not be pessimistic.
I am, however, cautious. And I am praying that God will continue to open our hearts for sharing His love in the most abundant, Christ-focused ways possible.

Telling it like it is....

My precious "Tell-it-like-it-is" 4 year old looked at my bloomed out azaleas and said, "Grammy, these aren't looking so good."

He was, of course, right.

The bushes which had been gorgeous in full bloom were now laden with blossoms well past their prime. They aren't looking so good.

This bloomed-out, wilted look is, however, just a slice in the seasonal life of the azalea. I got to tell him about the big picture: this azalea bush is healthy and will bloom again. He looked at those dead blossoms and he looked and me and said a doubting, "Ok, if you say so."

The thing that caught Tyler's attention is true for right now. But it is just a phase. The azalea bush that looks terrible now is going to be a lovely green through the summer and fall and then be full of blooms again next spring.

Our little exchange reminded me how important it is to get the big picture and to take action or reassurance based on what that big picture is--and to learn to trust that God is working out something beautiful, even when it's not looking good right now.

"Grammy, these aren't looking so good."
"That's right, Tyler. But they are going to be beautiful again, just you wait and see."

Now you can breathe....

"Take a deep breath. Blow it out. Hold....."
Once you have been surprised by a health crisis, there is never any such thing as a routine CAT scan again.
When I went back today for a long-scheduled, "routine" follow-up, my head was reminding me that this same medical test is the diagnostic gift that saved my life five years ago.
The familiarity of the place spoke a different kind of memory: the sound of my physician's voice when she called me to come to her office, the sobering, drastic diagnosis of a pancreatic tumor, the uncertainty until post-surgery pathology could confirm the nature of the tumor, the overwhelm at the prospect of major surgery for someone who was, until then, only in the hospital to pray for others. Those heart memories flooded my heart in excruciating detail as I signed in for today's followup.
Nothing routine about a medical procedure once results have turned life upside down at some point.
The mix of head and heart was not a question of faith. It wasn't a question of faith for me in 2007 when I got the news of a pancreatic tumor. There was no question of faith for me today. Nothing I have been through diminished my confidence in God's presence or love or power. I was clear that no medical test would change God's faithfulness--or my confidence in the God who has been my rock and salvation.
The imprint of a crisis -- and the reminder in every follow-up procedure-- is that life is a gift: a gift that is both stronger and more fragile than we usually recognize.
"Now you can breathe" the voice in the speaker said.
And, gratefully, I took another breath after each sequence of pictures.
I drove home thanking God that the natural apprehensions of a followup could be put aside. Life could be celebrated freshly and fully.
I take each breath thankfully and pray that all I have experienced helps me hold others in love more richly.

Daily Fountain of love

My mother taught me that love is best experienced and understood in consistent, daily doses. That's the way she undergirded my life with love and that was her practice of love to God and her family every day of her life.

In my mother's care, I learned that God's love is absolutely dependable. No matter what the circumstances of adversity or hardship or challenge, Mother showed me that God was loving and providing and that faith would see us through.

Mother grew up on a farm in the northwestern part of Kansas. Tending the farm was a daily process. There was no doing chores when you felt like it. There was no such thing as feeding the chickens or milking the cows every now and then. The work was daily. Nourishment was daily. Faith had to be daily, too.
How perfect that, years later, Earth Day would be commemorated on the same day my mother was born. She lived a beautiful example of Christian life each day. She loved, cherished, nurtured and tended the world and the people in her sphere. I am enriched every day by her love.
I believe because of Mother's daily tending that I have known in my core that a worship service on Sunday, no matter how great, is enough to sustain faith for the challenges of each day. Her life and the consistent biblical witness is that it takes time for people to process and apply faith. Even when the news is great -- like the resurrection--figuring out the personal impact takes time. Patience is a lifeline to living the love of Christ.
Every day is a fresh faith walk. Thanks, Mom, for trusting God's mercies are new every morning and for showing a life that blossomed with a fresh and full application of God's love every day.

Listening for the alleluia....

I spent a joyful Easter worshipping with two of my favorite little men, my grandsons. I wish I could say their excitement was about God's great gift of resurrection, but the more accurate reality is their energy had more to do with too much Easter candy.
Bright young 1st grader that he is, my 7 year old Connor can read well enough to follow the words of the hymn on the screen. 4 year old Tyler, on the other hand, was just non-stop, sugar-fueled energy. Maybe he had eaten jumping beans for breakfast.
I love the traditional "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today". Luckily for my busy little guy, each line of every verse ends with the same powerful word: Alleluia.
"Christ the Lord is risen today...alleluia.
Earth and heaven in chorus say...alleluia" etc.
So I would lean down to my energy-exuberant grandson and say, "Listen for the alleluia..." And he did. Just as soon as the congregation got to the end of the line, he jumped in enthusiastically with the sweetest alleluias I heard.

As we were singing, I was just trying to engage a busy boy. Afterward, I have been thinking that my words of anticipation are good by-words for life: "Listen for the alleluia." This week, in the stress of appointment-making, I have found myself listening for the alleluias as worship spilled over into real life.
Moving forward, how important to remember that Easter is the one Christian celebration that is not confined to a day -- or even a season. Every single week, we have an Easter celebration on Sunday. Even during the more serious and somber Lenten season, Sundays are not included in the 40 days of Lent. Sundays-- even during Lent-- are mini-Easters. The resurrection is our joyful heritage/faith foundation for all our Christian experience. Resurrection is the powerful gift of God for us to celebrate every Sunday, all year.
The clamor is loud -- around us in the contentious culture and within us in our fears and anxieties. "Listen for the alleluia" is a life-giving way to keep Easter alive in our hearts. Hopefully, we can join in as enthusiastically as my little 4 year old did once he heard the "alleluia" begin.

There's more than one Judas....

Good Friday is the eternal reminder of the depth of Christ's sacrifice on our
behalf. On the way to the cross of Christ, the people, teaching and events of Holy Thursday can get lost in the Holy Week shuffle.
Holy Thursday is the opportunity to remember that Jesus was betrayed by one of his inner
circle. That's very sobering to me. He wasn't betrayed by pagans or
unbelievers. He was betrayed by a disciple---a disciple He had chosen and
called --- a disciple who had left everything to follow Jesus. A
disciple who was so trusted that he was the treasurer, the keeper of the
money. And, at some point in Judas' discipleship, something went terribly
wrong. And the double tragedy is that he realized too late that he had
done something terrible and it was too late to make it right. That is one
of the saddest stories of all.
I think we have Judases in the church today, too...
One of the greatest gifts of Lent is its insistence on honest self-examination.
Christian faith-at its best-never loses sight of the temptation of humans
to stray from God's best. Through the ages, people have come up with all
kinds of speculation about what went wrong with Judas. We would rather
talk about Peter or John or Andrew or someone else among the twelve. The
awful truth of Holy Thursday is that something disappointing went on with all
of those closest to Jesus. They all let Him down. Judas betrayed
Him, the disciples fell asleep on Him when He asked them to stay awake as He
prayed in Gethsemane, Peter denied Him and they all deserted Him-a very sobering,
unflattering picture of those who were closest to him.
Holy Thursday is the time for who are close to Jesus to personally and
prayerfully reflect on our capacity for sin. What a blessing it could be
for us to remember that good people-- Christ-following people-- have the
capacity to make terrible choices that have drastic, destructive
consequences. And, while missing the high calling of love by an obvious mile, folks -- often folks who are longtime church members--are absolutely convinced that they are right in what they are doing.
Our United Methodist emphasis on continued growth in
holiness is anchored in the reality that all of us can be Judas. That is
why accountability is such a high priority for United Methodists. No
longevity of church membership, no level of financial contribution, no title
of church office exempts anyone from the need for accountability. At its
best, the healthy practices of our denomination help everyone keep check on the
ego and complacency and our destructive tendencies that are common to
all. Being honest and aware of the sin-capacity in every disciple can be
just the foundation we need to stay grounded in the humility that can be a
correcting lifeline.
Maybe the most astounding gift of Holy Thursday is that the failure of the disciples did
not stop the giving heart of God. Even though the Scripture is clear that
Jesus knew that Judas was going to betray Him, Jesus did not let that stop Him
from washing Judas' feet. And after the disciples fell asleep on Him in
the garden, Jesus did not give up on them. After Peter denied Him and the
disciples abandoned Him, no human failure stopped Jesus from giving His life
for our redemption. We dare not take that for granted.
The Holy Thursday invitation is the challenge to radical, personal
honesty about the ways that we are capable of getting off track. Just
because we are following Jesus doesn't mean that God will find us doing the
right thing. The honesty/ humility check is vital in every
stage of the Christian walk. Holy Thursday is also the invitation for
disciples to receive and extend the love of Christ which transcends the
worst of human sin. Jesus loved those who hurt him most deeply. On
this Holy Thursday, can we do the same?

Making a memory

March 2, 2012 a devastating 120 mph tornado demolished the small town of West Liberty, Kentucky. News reports and pictures of the aftermath looked like a war zone. A small, close-knit community was torn apart in a matter of minutes.
My hometown, Frankfort, Kentucky is a couple of hours away from West Liberty.
My family moved to Frankfort in 1961 when my father was appointed to be the pastor of First United Methodist Church. He served there for 10 years and now, at age 90, is still on staff as their Minister of Residence. This is the church where I was confirmed. This is the church where we held my mother's funeral and Daddy's 90th birthday party. With a treasure-trove of precious memories, I always look forward to worshipping there. It's like a family reunion.
Today was so much more.
Just before the worship service, I got to see one of my favorite young adults there. She was getting a trailer unloaded and there were stories swirling everywhere.
Amy Nance is a vivacious, passionate young woman who has been galvanizing mission involvement in the church as long as I have known her. Amy has a heart to make a difference -- especially for disadvantaged young people. So I was not surprised when she told me about getting Frankfort First to sponsor a new outreach called "Cinderella's Closet". Cinderella's Closet provides prom dresses and accessories and encouragement to young girls who would otherwise not be able to go to their prom. First UMC Frankfort has taken on the outreach with donations and volunteers--making memories for three years now.
When Amy learned about the tornado in West Liberty, her heart and her vision got bigger. Even though Cinderella's Closet had become quite a big undertaking in Frankfort, Amy decided to take it on the road -- to take Cinderella's Closet to tornado-devasted West Liberty. Yesterday, Amy--with vehicles loaded with volunteers and trailers of donated dresses, accessories and sewing machines took hope to the girls of Morgan County High School. The volunteers from my home church went to West Liberty prepared to outfit as many as 200 girls for their prom.
Girls came with their families and boyfriends. Many of them had lost everything in the tornado. Some girls still had visible physical injuries. All of them had stories. And every one of them got outfitted for their prom. No girl was turned away. Girls who didn't find a dress to fit were measured and will have a just-right dress delivered to them next week. First United Methodist Church Frankfort delivered more than dresses yesterday. They brought Christ's love, hope, concern and personal support to girls whose lives had been torn apart. They made a memory that will last a lifetime. I have never been more proud.
Today was more than a wonderful Palm Sunday worship service. Today, I saw a living example of the church at its best.

Checking priorities...

I come by my basketball passions honestly: I grew up in Kentucky. That should be enough said. Anyone familiar with the Bluegrass State knows that basketball is more than a sport, more than a passion, certainly more than a pastime. Basketball in Kentucky is more like a state religion (I say this with all due respect to my family and state-of-origin.)
So I learned early to love basketball with intensity.
Moving to North Carolina almost 3 decades ago was like coming home when it comes to sports. Basketball is part of the language and passion of the state. I took to basketball loyalties like a duck to water. Early in my tenure as a North Carolinian, I was advised that a specific basketball loyalty had to be declared. Neutrality was unheard of. Being a good United Methodist, I chose Duke. And I have been headlong into basketball ever since.
Early this afternoon, before the game, I posted on Facebook that the Golden Rule was on the line and on my mind: Best wishes to the Tarheels.
Then I spent the afternoon wondering why wishing Carolina well was so hard for me
Memories through the years sprung to mind. There was one church member who could be depended on to be at worship whenever Carolina won. Sporting all kinds of light blue clothing and accessories-- and often leaving some kind of Carolina memorabilia in the pulpit--Don was as rabid a Carolina fan as I have ever met. In one pre-church conversation, he assured me that, once the NCAA tournament started, he cheered for all the ACC teams. I didn't really believe him. But he was sitting in the sanctuary when he insisted that he cheered for any team in the ACC. So when Duke got to the NCAA finals that year, I called him to say how good it was for us to be cheering for the same team for once. There was a brief silence at the other end of the line and then, contrary to his more generous spirit in the church sanctuary, he said there was no way he was cheering for Duke. Although this exchange happened during the early years of the war in Iraq, he said "I'd rather cheer for Sadaam Hussein". So much for cheering for the last ACC team in the tournament.
Someday I will write a book about keeping religion while serving people with such rabid basketball passions. I think the title will be "Dear God, Please Tell Them The Color of the Sky is Not Carolina Blue..."
Today, I was the one who needed to step beyond narrow loyalty. That shouldn't have been hard. Duke's season came to a miserable, early end and nothing about a Carolina victory was going to change that. UNC is the only North Carolina team left in the tournament. I live in North Carolina. My daughter serves a church in Chapel Hill. So why would I feel like choking before I said "Best wishes to the Tarheels"? That's crazy.
In my Facebook post, I said that the Golden Rule was on the line. As I have gone through the afternoon, I realized that it wasn't the Golden Rule that was on the line at all. It was my commitment to the Golden Rule that was on the line. I am quick to notice how people fail to live up to the Golden Rule when they come to me with all manner of complaints about their preacher and each other. But in the spirit of Lenten honesty, I have felt how easy it is to fail the Golden Rule--how easy it is to wish for the downfall of rivals. And if my spirit can be tempted away from mutual love with something like basketball, I'd say I have some soul-searching to do.
As it turns out, Carolina lost this afternoon. (Did I mention that my mother was born in Kansas?). But I know that my pleasure in their loss is not something for me to be proud of. There are too many ways that we get mired in narrow loyalties. That reality should sober us, especially in the season of Lent--which centers on Christ's unreserved love for all.
While giving up basketball for Lent might not have been much of a sacrifice for Duke fans this year, basketball has never been on my list of things to give up for the season. But, as a rabid basketball fan, I can say that nothing is more important than living out the principles of Christian faith. I would rather give up basketball than fail my faith--even in the best of seasons.
Lent is the time for us to learn to live out the largeness of God's heart. This afternoon, I let basketball trip me up. No sport or pastime deserves that kind of allegiance. The Golden Rule is not on the line. Whether or not we practice what we believe--that's what is on the line.

A simple but powerful witness

It was an intense conversation when I heard some words that have continued to ring in my ears: "I would say something, but it wouldn't glorify God."
The conversation kept moving, but this statement stuck with me like a song that you can't get out of your mind.
Someone had the wisdom to recognize that what they were tempted to say would not bring glory to God and so that stopped the comment. How rare is that?
One of the richest legacies of our country is freedom of speech. But just because we have the freedom to speak doesn't mean we have the moral right to say anything that pops into our heads.
I love Facebook. Yet, every day I read posts, I am reminded that with these marvelous instant technologies, the rush to make a comment often overrides wisdom, the Golden Rule or glory to God.
Freedom and access bring their own seductions to thoughtless speech. Since hearing this simple but powerful witness, I have been listening across the spectrum of communication -- my own inner temptations to say things that don't bring glory to God, family conversations, exchanges of church people and the cacophany of political communication.
I find it staggering to imagine how much holier life would be in families, in churches, in our communities and in our democracy if Christians took this simple sentence as a guide before deciding what to say.
"Would the words on the tip of my tongue bring glory to God?" What a difference that simple sentence might make!

God's life-giving work...

When I left for cabinet meeting just one week ago, there was no bloom, blossom or sign of life on this forsythia bush in my front yard. Noticing that I have seen forsythia blooming around town, I wondered if my bush of nothing-but-brown-stems had died during the winter.

When I came home, the brown stems were full of spring blossoms. For my forsythia bush, as with people and situations, there was more going on than the eye could see.

Each day I see these yellow blooms, I am thankful for God's life-giving power beyond what we can see...and pray for grace to trust more deeply.

An unexpected question

As I ate lunch, I was preparing myself for a meeting that afternoon that was going to require my best patience and wisdom. So I was startled when a young man sat down and said, "Are you a minister?"
To begin with, the question itself was kind of fun. The question I am more familiar with goes like this: "You're a minister? REALLY? You're kidding, aren't you?" After 30 years of ministry, a female preacher is still a new idea to some. So I considered it progress for someone to have the idea that I was a minister. Since he had already seated himself, so I didn't have time to follow that through.
"Yes, I am" I replied.
"United Methodist?"
"Yes."
"Good. The Holy Spirit has sent me over to talk to you."
Now that is an attention-getting conversation opener.
"What do you think about the future of the church."
This is an answer I already know in my heart: "I think the best days of the church are ahead of us."
Then it was his time to pause in the conversation.
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Why do you think THAT?"
"Because the challenges of the changed culture are opening doors for us to be the truly committed and compassionate Christ-followers that are hallmarks of our Methodist heritage."
This was not the answer he had expected.
He went on to tell me that the Bible was "out the window" of his church and that he and his Sunday School class had been lamenting the "downfall" of the church. I encouraged him to take heart -- that there has never been a day when the church has been more challenged to its best, most fervent, most loving witness in the world. It's a great day for the church and God is opening all kinds of opportunities for us to be in witness and service.
I got the idea that he had wanted to do more lamenting about the faults of the church. And I see those a-plenty. If anything, the ministry of superintendency keeps me painfully aware of the shortcomings of the church and people in the church. And yet, the change and the competition of the culture is giving the church an open door unlike any other time in my life: a demand that church be its best in worship, dedication and service -- and that Christians be the authentic, vibrant, giving, forgiving, loving people that make Christ's love visible in the world. What a gift that challenge is!
I know there are many who would rather lament and nostalgically wish for the days when the culture cradled the church. I celebrate the opportunity for the church to live beyond the routine to bring God's love to a needy world. People in this contentious, anxious, stretched-too-thin, always-under-pressure culture need the peace and joy and power of Christ's love. What great resources the gospel provides for us to share! The challenge for us to share at our creative best -- that is what I consider a welcome opportunity. Who wants to take a magnificent gift like the love of Christ and convey that great love in a half-hearted, routine or stagnant ways?
I was surprised at the timing of the question with my surprise lunch guest. But the answer was deeply planted in my heart. If we keep our eyes on Christ -- first and foremost and always--the best days of the church are ahead.

"I'll be right there, Grammy..."

Tyler has loved the flip pictures since he was just a little guy. Until this week, the turn-around display has been in the family room -- the general gathering room for visits . So I was surprised to see it on the table next to my bed. But Tyler knew exactly why it was there.

"I brought it in here," he said, "so that when you miss me, you can look at my picture and I will be right here. Isn't that great?"

Of course, he had captured exactly my passion for pictures. They are a way to make cherished memories live across distance. My walls and wallets and tabletops and bookshelves are full of the gifts of pictures.

At the essence of Lent--and the Christian life--is one central precious picture: the life of Christ. Our picture of Christ is not a photograph. The words of the four gospels paint us the picture, then blessed and confirmed by the personal presence of Jesus in our hearts. At the core of that picture is the sweet promise my grandson voiced: "When you look at my picture, I will be right there." More vivid than a photo, the picture of Christ comes alive in the words of the gospels and speaks individual comfort and challenges reminding us that Christ is right here, understanding our struggles and giving us hope. There need be no missing the picture of Christ. God has placed it where we can get it whenever we need light and inspiration and help.

The rotating pictures of my grandsons are going to stay right where he put them. It was his four-year-old way of wanting to reassure me he was still there when he went back home. And the deepest stream of that sweet love is in Christ who, after He went home, said, "I will be with you always...even to the end."

As Lent begins

Ash Wednesday 2012

In many ways, my first truly real Ash Wednesday was May 1, 2007 when my surgeon said, “Go home and get your affairs in order.”
I had, of course, led Ash Wednesday services for years…and loved them. Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite of all services of the church year. “From dust you came and to dust you will return” I said to each person who came forward…along with the challenge: “Will you repent and
be faithful to the gospel?”
That late afternoon in May, 2007, surrounded by my family in Dr. Iannitti’s office—in that surreal setting of a sudden, drastic diagnosis-- the mortality reality became personal in a different way.
I took Dr. Iannitti’s advice. I got my affairs in order. I’m pretty sure he was thinking
about the sobering statistics of pancreatic cancer—the deadliest of all cancers—which
often starts with a tumor like the one I had. He could tell me the size of the
tumor (about the size of a grapefruit). But only the after-surgery pathology could tell me if it was benign or the deadly, dreaded news of a malignancy. I had a pre-surgery window of 3
weeks to get my life in order.
I took on the challenge – writing out my funeral service, completing a host of legal
forms and speaking my heart to those I loved.
At the core, Lent is that kind of window--thankfully, grasping this challenge doesn't require a life-threatening diagnosis. Lent is twice as long as my 3 week window. The goal is the same: to get our lives in order. I am grateful that my funeral wasn’t needed in 2007, but—if I do say so myself-- it is going to be a wonderful service! Since then, I have carried a copy in my Bible. On every Ash Wednesday since then, I look it over and make some inspiring additions for what will be read and sung.
To be sure, I like to tell people what to do... But writing out my funeral is so much more
than that! I encourage everyone – no matter what age—to write out your funeral. What
scripture do you love most? What songs would you like sung? What witness of
your life do you hope is shared? ( This can go too far, I guess. So let’s be clear: I have not written the eulogy part! But I am aware that right now, my life is writing what will
be said).
Every Ash Wednesday is a time to remember that life is a gift, that we do not know what is next and that we need to make every moment count while we can. Death
is the one thing that we know for sure will take place. Christian faith prepares us to face the
fragility of life with hope and triumph. We can live honestly in a dangerous world without fear because of the resources of our faith.
I am so grateful that my parents instilled in us throughout our growing up years that we do not
need to be afraid of death. When sitting with my mother through her final days and hours, what a blessing it was to be clear of her great faith! As my father celebrated his 90th birthday, what a gift it is to know his lifelong preaching and personal faith that death is not to be feared – but to
be met as a gateway to new life. Faced with my own drastic and unexpected diagnosis, their lifelong witness of faith gave me a foundation.
That foundation is the core of Christian faith offered to everyone. Lent—of all times—is the time to be honest. The time to have hope. The time to take heart.
My funeral service is looking great. How about yours?
My hope is now to live a life that makes this great joy clear to others.

Bigger--and better--than Hallmark holiday....

With the crush of time, energy and resources, so many people seem pressed just to find a Valentine's gift for their husband/wife.
The question I am hoping United Methodist Christians will consider is a broader opportunity for witness to the love of Christ for all...which is a cradle, a foundation, a blessing for romantic love -- but so much more. What can Christians – and our churches—do to share the love of Christ with friends and members who are single?
One of the things we know is that church congregations tend to be very oriented to married
couples. That is a very important part of our ministry and is a traditional strength of our church. Strengthening marriages is a continuing, ongoing emphasis for the community of faith.
One of the things we also know is that more people are single now than ever – single because of the death of a partner, single because of divorce and never married.
There are more singles in every age category. On the younger end, more and more young adults are waiting longer before getting married and, with people living longer, more people are
outliving their mates. How/if our churches welcome singles is crucial to a witness that God’s family is open to everyone. This is very important to our present members who already notice our couple-oriented congregations and is absolutely central to reaching new people. Single people are a big part of the mission field all around us.
This Valentine's Day, could the list be broader? Who do we know who is widowed, divorced or never-married who would be blessed by a thoughtful gesture from a Christian friend? Are our hearts big enough for Valentine’s Day to be a chance to reach out? I have made a list of people who have lost a husband or wife during the past year; some widows and widowers I know who still struggle with the loss of a mate; those who have been through a divorce recently and single mothers who heroically struggle to provide stability and guidance for their children and people of all ages who have never married. Who is thinking about the women living in shelters because of domestic violence or in our homeless shelters in dire financial circumstances? What a witness
if all our domestic violence shelters and shelters for the homeless had flowers on Valentines Day from churches or Christian friends with the message: You are loved and lifted in prayer. People whose names you do not know are thinking about you.
Valentine’s Day is a wide open, wonderful opportunity to reach out to bless others--one of those exceptional opportunities to reach beyond our immediate family circle to witness to the love of God for all.

Getting on with the game

My first grade grandson, Connor, plays basketball this year.
Basketball with 5 and 6 year olds is technically the same sport as ACC basketball. But the realities of the game are very different. Basketball for the starters goes pretty much like this: Get the ball. Dribble it across the line. Lose the ball to the other team and repeat going in the opposite direction. Occasionally there is a pass which is caught by a player on the same team. Less often -- but sometimes--there is an attempt at the basket. But mostly, it is dribble and lose the ball. My son-in-law is coaching Connor's team and Mark is just the right temperment -- patient, good-natured as well as having ideas that (when implemented) bring some success. Going to the game is a matter of support for the children--which is easy and fun to do.
At the last game, I saw an unusually interesting sight.
A girl who played on the other team got mad when her teammate didn't throw her the ball. So, when their team lost possession and ran back to the other end of the court, she stayed right under her basket--head down, arms crossed across her chest, scowl on her face, lip stuck out. What a sight she was! I would have taken a picture but didn't think that was appropriate...
I wanted to laugh -- but didn't know who her parents were and I was certain they were not laughing. There she was, planted under her basket while her team and her opposing team were playing at the other end.
Such a sight! Such a parable! I wanted to shout out to her, "Honey, you have to keep going. The game is going on without you! Get over it!"
So many times I have felt like that young girl! Mad about the way things happened and wanted everyone to know it. So many times I deal with church members like that young girl. They are mad about the way things happened, they want everyone to know it and they are not going to play--even if it puts their team at a disadvantage to pout.
How I wish we could learn to get over things and keep the mission of Christ moving! Doesn't it seem that the teaching and example of Jesus is more than enough motivation to keep us playing even when we are disappointed?
I'm sure this young player will learn better. Hope we all can.

A moment in time

I love St. Simons Island...the United Methodist sister retreat center to Lake Junaluska...home of the history memorabilia about John Wesley's missionary time in Georgia (not his finest years, but a building block for the transformation that would burn into the Methodist movement). This is a place of beauty and serenity bathed in the deep roots of Methodism. This week, District Superintendents from across the jurisdiction gathered for worship, study and fellowship. Learning to be leaders in this changed culture requires a lot of stretching. And we have been stretched this week.

The closing worship was a window into the adjustments and changes the church must make to be true to its mission. Bishop Mary Virginia Taylor was preaching for the closing communion when, all of a sudden, we heard the roar of a leaf-blower. She politely continued and I thought, "Now, isn't this just like life -- the church needing to compete with distractions..."

The leader of our design team discreetly left our worship and, shortly after that, the buzz of the yard equipment was heard no more. I was relieved. Worship continued and we could actually hear what the Bishop was saying.

There is a part of me that understands that the work has to be done for upkeep of a beautiful place like St. Simons. And, in one way, I felt bad about the maintenance people having to re-arrange their work day so that we could have worship. On the other hand, places like St. Simons exist for spiritual renewing experiences like our worship, not for the convenience of a dedicated staff. The people who love and care for the place need to be the people who make the accommodations to what moves the overall mission forward -- even if that means the longtime, everyday workers are the ones to accommodate to the visitors who come and go.

The same thing is true for the local church. It's the regular, dedicated, time-giving people who need to be sure to keep the mission of the church first and foremost. So if Trustees -- who are, in my experience, always deeply dedicated people who love their church--are reluctant for the church to be used for fear of marks on the wall or carpet, that's backwards. The mission of the church is to be fully engaged as a witness for Christ -- deepening the discipleship of its members and tirelessly reaching out to new people. If the building shows wear and tear from use that has moved the mission forward, that's cause for celebration -- even though it means more trouble and concerns for the trustees.

The longer we have loved the church, the more clear we ought to be about the church's mission -- and the more willing to sacrifice, accommodate and re-arrange to move that mission forward. God bless the maintenance people of our holy places...and may they always recognize the primacy of the mission when adjustments to the routine have to be made.