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."