Some days are so discouraging

Some days are thrilling. I see God at work in marvelous ways and feel a new wind of the Holy Spirit blowing though the church.
And some days are too discouraging for words.
Today was one of those days when I just wanted to come home and cry.
In one situation after another, people were upset around the same issue: their personal feelings and preferences. They apparently believe that a pastor is a failure if he doesn't make people happy and do what they want. This blatant self-absorption is especially disheartening in the season of Lent. How could church-going people miss the reality that following Jesus is a way of self sacrifice?
Instead, people have it completely backwards.
The church and the pastor are supposed to do things their way -- even if their way is contrary to the United Methodist way or even good common sense. It's my way or they'll pay. So the letters come in. Ugly letters. Hateful letters. You just wouldn't believe what people will write. All kinds of personal attacks invariably signed at the end: "Love in Christ". That's what I call taking the Lord's name in vain.
People who say they "are not being fed". (If they go to worship with the critical mindset of the letter, there's no room for God's loving Spirit to move.) People who say their preacher is all over town but not in the office. (Which, of course, is a compliment to the preacher in my opinion. Preachers who spend all their time in the office are not out doing God's work in the world). Then, of course, there are complaints about the preacher preaching too long (although, God bless 'em, the people hang around and visit after church for another 30 minutes) and the preacher who told people they needed to change and hurt their feelings. (Did it ever occur to them that the preacher who DOESN'T call people to change is the failure?)
And people aren't only mad at the preacher. They are also mad at each other. Fighting about money. Arguing about expenses. Mad because decisions get made by a handful of people in the parking lot instead of at the official meetings. Constant carping.
Tonight, I heard the inspiring story of Bethanie Hamilton. Five years ago, she was attacked by a shark and lost her left arm. She nearly died. But now, she is surfing again. When asked how she could go back to surfing after surviving such a vicious attack, she said, "Well, it all comes down to this: my love for surfing overcame my fear of sharks."
That descibes perfectly an essential ministry skill -- being grounded and guided by love instead of ruled by fear. Some days, it's tough.

I should be a better person...

I know I should be a better person.
But basketball brings out the worst in me.
I grew up in Kentucky during the Adolph Rupp glory years. I didn't even know there was a major college sport until December. But once we kicked into basketball season, we did so with a vengeance. (Kentucky fans are the only fans on the planet who can be more impossible than Carolina fans. In my humble opinion.)
So, when we moved to North Carolina in 1984 -- a state known for its love of basketball, I knew I would fit right in. From the beginning, North Carolinians made it clear -- to really be part of the culture, you had to choose one team and stick with that team all the way. Since Duke was having great success (I prefer winning to losing) and since Duke was a Methodist school, my choice was easy. As the years went by, with two daughters and 3 Duke degrees later, my allegiance only intensified.
No, I didn't wear black today after Duke's disappointing loss last night. But I didn't have a very Christian attitude when a colleague of mine came to our cabinet meeting wearing a pale blue tie today. If I were a good Christian, I would have said, "Good luck" for the Carolina game (and meant it). But there I was, stuck between knowing I should be gracious and a burning desire for Carolina to lose tonight. And not just lose. Lose by 20 points. Or more. Actually, the more the better.
Now I know that doesn't make sense.
Carolina is now the only ACC team left in the tournament. It is our neighbor school. What is wrong with me? Just because my team is out, why should I wish the same misery on others?
Maybe it doesn't make sense, but it is reality. This is one of those choice points where we have to learn that the CULTURE way is not the CHRISTIAN way. At least I recognize that this profound bias is an unredeemed part of my life that has some distance to go in the moving-on-to-perfection department.
In terms of Christian faith, we are one family. All on the same team. Our basketball rivalries are fun (at least they are fun when my team is winning. Not so fun this year). But basketball rivalries are pretty much the opposite of the message of God's love for all and, since our season is over anyway, maybe this is the time to get some perspective. Maybe, through God's help, I could eventually get above the rivalry enough to say a genuine blessing for the Tarheels. Maybe I can get there. Probably not tonight.

Never lose sight.....

For the last ten years, this yard rock has been one of the first things placed wherever I lived. This is something I hand-carry in the car and carefully place where I will see it most frequently. For me, one of the saddest verses in the Bible is Jacob's realization, "Surely the Lord was in this place and I wasn't even aware of it!" (Genesis 28:16) How easy it is to rush through life without appreciating what is most important! So, when I am home, I see this reminder every day: Surely the Lord is in this place.

A couple of days ago, I realized that I was missing my sign.

With the blossoming of spring flowers, my yard rock was overwhelmed.

Spring always brings me joy -- but, especially this year, it has been a special thrill in my new home to see where bulbs have been planted. So I have loved the daffodils. But, sure enough, they covered up the yard rock that speaks to me of God's presence.

And I think life is like that.

The overwhelm of heartache and adversity can keep us from recognizing God's presence. But it's not just the negative things that can obscure our ready recognition of God in our midst. The good things can grow like my daffodils and take away our clear view that God is with us.

The presence of the Lord is not the issue. Our recognition of that precious presence...that's the question. Surely the Lord is in this place...spring, summer, fall and winter 24/7 no matter how overwhelming life can be.

Reflections on appointment-making

I've had a personal investment in the appointment process my whole life.
I can remember as a teenager praying that my daddy didn't get moved before I graduated from high school. Daddy served only 2 ten year pastorates during my growing up years so I didn't actually move a lot. But every year, as decision-time approached, the possibility that we would be moved was a miserable feeling. Our lives were in the hands of "the cabinet"and, quite frankly, we didn't think much of them.
When I was growing up, the cabinet made the appointments at Annual Conference late at night after the Conference sessions. The appointments were read out at the last session of Conference. And that's how we learned whether we were moving or not-and, if we were moving, that's when we learned where we were going. Would preachers kids and their families should get consideration in the appointment process?
As a youth delegate to conference, I (and other young people) would stand outside the building where the cabinet was making appointments. We could see the lights on in the room where they met. We wondered what they were going to do with the young ministers who were our heros. Would these bright, dedicated young ministers ever be recognized for their gifts? I always thought they should be.
As a woman who came into the church when clergywomen were new to most churches and conferences, I constantly heard how difficult it was to appoint a woman. "The churches just won't accept a woman..." If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times. Would women ever have a chance to be welcomed as assets and not resisted as liabilities?
I thank God that I have lived to see the day when those questions are answered in the affirmative. Preachers' families do get consideration in the appointment process. Especially in this economy, the jobs of clergy spouses were priorities in cabinet conversations and decisions. The preachers' kids matter now, too, I am proud to say. Preachers' kids have all manner of education needs and medical proximity needs as well as location needs for custody arrangements. They are important factors in the consideration. And now, family needs are broader than wives and children. Clergy husbands are in the circle of concern...as well as aging parents and a wide range of other family caretaking needs. Yes, the day has come. The families of our clergy matter greatly in appointment-making.
And yes, the day has come when gifts and leadership get priority consideration. The church is in a day of great opportunity and crisis. Great leadership -- from clergy of all ages--is essential. The church cannot continue the old system of "paying your dues" and gradually working up to leadership. The demands for leadership in the church are too urgent. Gifted people of all ages need to be placed where those gifts can be most fruitfully, effectively employed. Yes, the day has come. Gifts matter in appointment making.
And, yes, the day has come when we--at least on the cabinet--have stopped automatically classifying ministers as problems because they are female. We have--at least on the cabinet level--gotten to the day when we embrace diversity in gender and race. We know that the diversity on our cabinet contributes to the wisdom and creativity on the cabinet in a unique and powerful way. While there still are churches that still say "We don't want a woman". (And, God bless 'em, they don't have any better sense than to say that to women DSs). But the attitude of the cabinet is now, "They can get over it." Yes, the day has come when gender -- or race--doesn't automatically go to the problem list.
So that day I have longed for is here just in time for appointment-making to be more complicated than ever before. And it is more complicated than anyone can describe.
This week's work with the cabinet was inspiring, discouraging, exhausting. And, as the bishop has written, a "perfect storm" of circumstances has left us with an unprecedented challenge: finding appointments as well as deploying those credentialed for ministry. We began early and we worked until late at night. The work was prayerful -- not just a beginning polite jumping-off prayer. But significant prayer morning, afternoon and evening.
And the work was hard. It was worse than hard. It was agonizing. Tough choices and tough realities. Complications upon complications. And yet, this is the day I prayed for. I prayed for the time when families mattered and gifts mattered and inclusiveness mattered. That has made our work more complicated...but those complications, as vexing as they are, still are in the direction of moving us toward perfection.
Even though we will not be able to give churches their projected appointments as we had originally scheduled this coming week, we will be getting that information to people as soon as the work can be completed. No one will learn about their appointment following the Sunday morning service at Annual Conference. And as an appointment-maker, the agony of appointment-making doesn't go away. And at our best, we are imperfect superintendents with an imperfect bishop making appointments of imperfect pastors to imperfect churches. And yet, we have the best imperfect system I know of. Keep us in prayer. We know we need it.

Retribution...

I guess it serves me right.

For years, I have mocked the oft-heard line of district superintendents, "You know, this is really a tight year..." It always seemed to me like it was a requirement of a DS to be able to say, "It's a tight year..." When I lived at Lake Junaluska, which hosts the week-long new DS training, I used to say, "How long does it take to teach a new DS to say 'It's a tight year"?

Like someone without children vowing to NEVER say ________ to THEIR children, I always said I would never say "It's a tight year." Well, guess what?

Here I am, first year DS in an appointment round drastically affected by the economic downturn...and (although I vowed not to say so), it IS a tight year. It is a drastically limited year. That's not just DS whine. That's the reality of salary losses (1.1 million dollars for the coming conference year) and position losses (15 minister positions eliminated with downsizing).

Oh dear.

I have great confidence that we will do our very best...that we will do so prayerfully, thoughtfully and compassionately...and hope that all will be praying for us.

Encouraging news...and celebrations

(Aunt Christi and Tyler have a good time at Christi's family birthday supper...)

Going back to Duke Medical Center was surprisingly hard for me last week.

The last time I walked out of there, I was radioactive. I have been grateful for a "normal" life (if you can call my life--especially as a DS-- normal in any way). At least it has been treatment free and surgery free! I could viscerally feel my dread as I threaded my way through the clinics back to the endoctrinologist at Duke.

The preliminary news is good. Did the radioactive iodine tumor get all the cancer cells? It's too soon to be certain. But in the initial lab work, there are no discernable signs of the tumor. I go back to the surgeon for scans in May and then they will collaboratively schedule a week of followup tests that will give the more definitive look at whether or not we "got it" all.

So there was good news to celebrate...along with my daughter Christi's birthday....and having our family together. Whenever we get together, it is a joyful thing.

(Mary Allen and Tyler play peek-a-boo)

Oh, sooooooo much to be grateful for!!

Grace is like snow...

(the back patio of my home in the Sunday night snow, March 1)

Last Sunday night was one of the most exquisite evenings I've ever had. I was grateful to be home safely after driving back on sleet-covered highways. Grateful to be safe and warm and oh, so blessed. And then the snow started. It was one of the most beautiful snows I have ever seen. And my back yard -- already full of spring flowers--was transformed.

I felt a holy hush as the snow was pouring down---big, beautiful flakes. And as I stood on my back patio, I felt covered by a breathtaking, poignant, rich silence as God beautifully transformed everything I could see into a lovely winter wonderland. And, once the snow had fallen, everything looked different.

I believe grace has that same transforming power. We United Methodists -- of all people--should be the experts on grace. We are well versed in the Wesley theology of the grace that goes ahead of us (prevenient grace), the grace that covers our sin (justifying grace) and the grace which continues to call us to a whole and holy life (sanctifying grace). Grace, like snow, covers everything. And grace, like snow, is tansforming.

Once we have experienced grace and received grace, everything looks different. Receiving grace changes the way we see ourselves and others.

And maybe grace is like snow in one other way -- we apparently don't have receive it very often. Like snow, I believe grace shows. And our constantly ungraceful lives betray how little of God's amazing, abundant grace we allow to cover our souls.

Once the snow had fallen, everything looked different -- beautiful in a new way. Once grace covers our hearts, our outlooks are transformed with beauty, too. The difference is a wonder-filled beauty. Something that shows.

(the view just outside my back door Monday morning, March 2, 2009)

Oh my! How will I ever adjust?

I used to say that it was a good thing to raise your children to be independent, resist-the-pressure-of-others, think-for-yourself kind of people. I'm changing my mind. To tell the truth, what I really meant was I wanted them to be self-starting, critical thinkers so they could resist the opinions of others. But that never meant resisting MY opinions.

And now, I'm going to have to live up to these ridiculous think-for-yourself principles. Something terrible in our family has happened. Those of you who have known me for a long time are going to laugh. But it is terrible. My four year old grandson -- my beloved, perfect, can-do-no-wrong (at least until now) little boy has decided that he is a Tarheel fan. Yes. It's true. Unbelievable.

How did such a terrible thing happen? Let me assure you, it's not because Connor's parents have failed him. They Duke grads and true blue Duke fans. And Connor was a Duke fan until he met Christi's boyfriend -- a light blue fan. And Connor realizes that saying he's a Tarheel fan gets quite a reaction from those of us who are leading him in the right path. So he doesn't waste any opportunity to say he is for the Tarheels.

I thought that I could talk him out of it. After all, he's my sweet, cooperative, adoring first-born grandson. He thinks Grammy is the best. But he is not going to change his mind about the Tarheels. I can't believe it. Like I say, this whole independent thinking approach needs to be revisited. As I have told NC congregations through the years, all good Methodists cheer for Duke. It's a connectional responsibility.

But, today, I decided to give up trying to win Connor back. I am going to let him be a Tarheel fan if he wants. (Can you believe I am saying that?) Today, he is the one who started picking at my loyalty. He saw a Tarheel banner at the restaurant where we were eating breakfast. He pointed to it and said, "Yeah, Tarheels!" And I said (in 4 year old terms), "Tarheels are yucky." And Connor started crying. I couldn't believe it.

So I quit.

The NC Tarheels are not worth crying about. They are certainly not worth making my little boy cry. Even if it means enduring abuse from him like I have from other Carolina fans, I am giving up trying to win him back. And, in some ways, I think it's a lesson that everyone needs to learn: this rivalry--no matter how intense-- is about a game. Just a game. It's not life-or-death...(remember, I am writing this just days before the big March 8 showdown...). But it is still just a game. And it is not worth crying about. And it's not worth hurting people's feelings about. And I'm going to stick to that even if that means that my beloved grandson is a Tarheel fan forever.

(I am, of course, hoping that it is a phase).

Serendipities of hope

This backyard bush of mine has a new name.

Now I call it the hope bush.

I'll tell you why.

For the most part, I love my life.

I have had a wide range of challenges -- big challenges throughout my life and that has especially been true for the past year. But I love challenges. Always have. The bigger the challenge, the better.

And all my life, I have enjoyed the great gift of life energy. I am a lot like the energizer bunny. Because I love life and my work so much, I keep going and going and going and going. And I almost always find new sources of life and hope and encouragement along the way.

But a couple of weeks ago, I had a personal version of the wonderful childhood book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day. I got lots of material for a sequel: The D.S. and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day. I know people talk about the superintendency as an influential role -- but it is also a place where you really see the underside of people and the church -- and people in the church. This work can be very, very discouraging. I came home and had a real sinking spell. My journal didn't have enough room for me to list all the things that had been discouraging about the day. So I went to sit in my swing in the back yard.

Just as soon as I started swinging and listening to the soothing, running water in my koi pond (what a wonderful backyard refuge I have!), I looked up and there was a cameillia bush in full bloom. And I mean full bloom. God as my witness, I had not even noticed that the bush had blooms on it. My sweet little grandsons had been with me all week. We had been outside ("Grammy, let's go check the pond!" "Grammy, I think we need to feed the fish!") And that bush was nothing but ordinary green leaves.

I don't have many days when I feel that discouraged.

But, when I did, it felt like God opened a window of beauty to help me get perspective.

Psalm 116 is my favorite psalm. "The Lord protects the simple. When I was brought low, he saved me. Return, O my soul, to your rest, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you..."

And, indeed, God has dealt bountifully with me.

Life throws great challenges. But God's nourishing is even greater. Always!