What we learn about the news....

Our reactions to the news teach us more about ourselves than the public figures who are making the news.
I, for example, learned this week that I am thoroughly, hopelessly old-fashioned.

I applaud President Obama for hosting a conversation between the Harvard professor Gates and the Cambridge law enforcement officer Crowley. The world would be a better place, I am convinced, if more people sat down together for face-to-face conversation after a volatile exchange. That's a great model. People make mistakes and we need to learn from mistakes and move on. I am very happy about the model of the meeting.
But did they have to drink BEER?

I've got to tell you -- and I'm not embarrassed about it--I wish the President had chosen something else. Am I hopelessly naive? Maybe so. But I just don't think it is a good model to sit down over a beer.
I recognize the roots of my reaction. God bless my mother--a saint on earth if ever there was one! A moral dilemma for my mother took place when someone threw a beer can in her yard. She didn't want to pick up the beer can and put it in HER garbage. (The garbage man might get the idea that someone in OUR home had been drinking. That was unthinkable.) But, if she left it in her yard, it violated her impeccable standards of cleanliness and was a constant reminder that SOMEONE was drinking beer. A true moral dilemma.
But back to the president. I don't think he should be meeting over a beer.
I know that millions of people do it. But I just wish he'd choose something else.
Meet over pie. Meet over coffee. Meet over dinner. Whatever. But beer became the focus of this conversation for reconciliation. And that's too bad.

We live in a world where people desperately need to learn the art of reconciliation, learning from mistakes and moving on. God knows we don't do much moving on in our lives, our families, our churches or our culture. We are terrible offenders to the gospel. We don't reconcile with those who have hurt us, we complain about them. We don't learn from our mistakes -- we just turn to sympathetic friends to replay how badly we have been done wrong. We don't move on. We go over and over and over and over the sound bite mistakes of others. We rally support. We keep things stirred up. We ignore the gospel mandate to love others as Christ loved us. We defy Christ's command to love our enemies. We desperately need to get back to our theological roots here!

But, please, let's don't do it over a beer.
I hope that I can live into my beliefs and be a model for reconciliation. But you aren't going to read about me meeting with opposing parties in a church over a beer.
I'm not trying to be part of the vulture, find-something-to-criticize culture.
Like I say, we learn more about ourselves in our reaction to the news than we learn about the news makers. I'm all for reconciliation, new learning and creating open doors for forgiveness. But leave the beer out of the mix.

How confusing can this be?

I am trying to be patient.
Granted, patience is not my natural inclination.
But I am trying to be patient.
Maybe patience isn't such a virtue.
What--pray tell--is so confusing about the idea that United Methodists are part of a connectional system not Southern Baptists in a congregational system?

For the second time in two years, I've gotten a call from a longtime United Methodist in JULY saying that the preacher had to move. Both times, the preacher has not done anything wrong. Both times it was from churches where the Pastor Parish Committee had not requested a move. Sometimes, when I am listening to these phone calls, I pinch myself. Surely I am asleep and having a DS nightmare.
What United Methodist doesn't know that we have a METHOD for moving preachers? Even strangers to our church know that we our METHOD (as in the name METHODist) has a regular, annual schedule. Except for emergencies, we do not deviate from the schedule. Having someone mad at the preacher is not an emergency. (Trust me on this one: being mad at your preacher is not an emergency.)
The annual schedule is this: early in the calendar year (usually January), every church has a chance to request consideration for a change of pastor. This is called an appointment advisory. It is called an advisory because it is just that: advisory to the cabinet. Every spring, the cabinet considers all the requests of pastors and churches...along with the needs of churches and pastors across the conference. The cabinet makes a set of appointments, consults with pastors and churches and, at the close of Annual Conference, the bishop FIXES the appointments. United Methodists everywhere: there is a reason we use that word "fix". It means that, except for emergencies that come up, appointments are set for the next conference year. One more time: getting mad at your preacher will not constitute an emergency for the cabinet.
Who could be a longtime United Methodist and, in the absence of an emergency (remember, hurt feelings do not constitute an emergency!) call for a change of pastor less than 30 days after the moving day of the Annual Conference? How does that happen? Have we failed so miserably in educating our laity about the METHOD of METHODist life that they think they can fire a preacher anytime they get mad?
And this is the tragedy: our orderly system is designed to help everyone in the church move toward spiritual maturity. If you like your preacher, great. Enjoy, appreciate, honor that person. Glean the most you can from your time together. If you don't particularly like your preacher, great. You belong to a church that moves preachers. No need to kick up a fuss and show your less-than-flattering, mad-as-a-wet-hen self. Use this time to grow in your spiritual maturity. Relax. In just a few months, every church will have a chance to give an opinion about the pastor's appointment. There's an open system in place for constructive concerns and a discernment process for unfair criticism. Church members -- whether they like the pastor or don't--can grow in Christ and stay focused on what really matters: making disciples for Jesus Christ.

United Methodists have the gift of a METHOD. And the method has a blessing and a challenge and a purpose for everyone. And when you have joined a United METHODist Church--a thoroughly connectional church-- stop complaining like you are from a congregation-based denomination. Hopefully, someday soon, our new and long-time members will appreciate the call to maturity that our METHODist way of life offers.

Unbounded joy

I am reading a wonderful book, Leading on Empty by Wayne Cordeiro which I highly recommend. As helpful as the book is -- with many insights to benefit veteran preachers --but the title i s wrong in describing my life. I'm not so much leading on empty. It's more like I'm leading on full. Too full. Overwhelm is still overwhelm.

This week, I had the great joy of hearing that there is no sign of the thyroid cancer I've been fighting all year. That would be joy a-plenty. But last Sunday, I also had the chance to worship as my daughter served her first Sunday as a United Methodist pastor. That was overwhelming joy of its own.

Christ UMC in Chapel Hill, NC where Christi is an associate. July 12, 2009

There are so many ways that both my daughters have made me proud and filled my heart with joy. On Christi's first Sunday, I was so completely proud of her. But I was also struck at how the world has changed since my first Sunday as a pastor 27 years ago. The changes I have witnessed in my life takes my breath away.

We have not arrived -- but we are so much farther down the path to godliness than the years of my growing up and early service. The hardships -- and there were many--have been worth the sacrifices and persistence. And not only gifted women like Christi -- but the church--will move on toward perfection in dimensions of holiness that earlier times prohibited.

I pray for Christi and for all the ministers -- male and female--who are beginning their ministry. The church needs all the excitement and exuberance and gifts and goals that they are bringing to us in these challenging times. Christ UMC has modeled the best kind of welcome and I have been blessed to be able to see it firsthand.

The most important healing grace...

Nobody has better doctors than I do--a very gifted internal medicine doctor who has detected two life-threatening conditions in the last two years; two extraordinary endoctrinologists (one in Statesville, one at Duke) and brilliant surgeons in Charlotte and at Duke. It's the best medical training and practice anyone could ever hope for. And in addition, my physician sister reads, evaluates and advises me every step of the way. I have absolutely the most abundant blessings imaginable when it comes to medical care.
I have seen first hand the best of medical technology/equipment/facilities both in Charlotte and at Duke. From a simple marvel to swallowing a camera to take a movie of my damaged vocal chords to innovative surgery techniques to high-tech scans. I have had the best.
I am grateful. I am SO grateful.
Don't think for one minute that I lack gratitude when I say that these exceptional blessings are gifts I cherish -- but not where I base my hope.
I have trusted my medical doctors. I have followed their advice to the letter.
As grateful as I am, the healing that grounds my life goes beyond the best doctors and medical technology. Yes, my life has, literally, been saved these last two years. And I plan to make the most of this gift.
But the save is temporary. All the best technology, the best team of doctors and all the prayers in the world cannot save me from the temporary nature of life. And that's why the ground of my grateful life isn't resting in even my most extraordinary doctors. The strength of the healing I've experienced reminds me of the vulnerability of life. God has been an integral part of the remarkable healing experiences of my life. And, when medical science comes to its inevitable limits--whenever that it-- God is going to continue to heal my life beyond this world in greater ways.
The ground of my hope, the foundation of my life, the sure and certain anchor of my soul is the Great Physician. And, from that great ground of love, I say thanks for the physicians, medical technology and prayers that have extended my life.

Talent and torment

Noting the connection between talent and torment didn't start for me with the death of Michael Jackson. I have long noted that the people who are the most talented are often people who are most tormented. Michael Jackson just gives an example of extreme talent and extreme torment.
That dynamic is backwards from what we would tend to think. The talented people -- the people who seem to have everything going for them--would seem to be the people who would be the happiest. People with fame, fortune and gifts would, logically, be on top of the world. More often than not, those are the very people who have profound unhappiness and deep inner anguish. It's often the talented people who self-destruct and disappoint. And that's not just a show biz problem.
How sobering and sad that it is often the most gifted Christian lay person or pastor who destroys their own lives and the lives of those who care about them. In the church, we don't just lose the people who are "losers" (by some cultural definition). We watch those who are most successful forfeit their respect, betray their families, and squander their gifts. Those who have gained the most and have the most to lose are often the ones who throw their lives away.
We spend too much energy in envy.
When others are especially gifted, that should be our signal to pray for them more fervently. The struggles they are facing often don't surface until they are tragedies. But when people are gifted, you can be sure the struggles are there. Success -- in any terms: financial, professional, relational, spiritual, educational-- is dangerous to balance and humility. Be careful who you put on your pedestal. The more talented people are, the more tormented they often are.

God's gracious gifts

Each day this week, I have walked in the Duke Gardens...a reminder of beauty in the midst of an emotionally turbulent week.

While it is hard for anything to be more of a favorite for me than the 23rd Psalm, this week, I have been living the psalm of my life: Psalm 116:

Especially with the good news of a clean body scan today. No detectable residual cancer!

Through many delivery systems of healing grace, God has saved my life yet again.

I love the Lord because

he has heard my voice and my supplication;

because he inclined his ear to me,

therefore I will call on him

as long as I live.

The snares of death encompassed me.

I suffered distress and anguish

Then I called on the name of the Lord,

"O Lord, I pray, save my life!"

Gracious is the Lord, and righteous

Our God is merciful.

The Lord protects the simple;

When I was brought low, he saved me.

What shall I return to the Lord

for all his bounty to me?

I will lift up the cup of salvation

And call on the name of the Lord.

I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people.

I am so grateful for the good report...and, with the culmination of these tests comes a tumult of emotions: I feel both stronger and more vulnerable; jubilant and exhausted, excited and apprehensive, humbled and blessed. Being free from the very restrictive preparation diet and the good news that there is no sign of cancer feels like being let out of prison. Now, what will I do with this freedom? How do I make the most of the life that God has saved for me?

As I was leaving the hospital, the title of a book caught my eye: The Bumps Are What We Climb On. This cancer has been a big bump. But it has given me a chance to climb into God's healing grace in a new way...not only healing me, but giving me a new gift of hope to share with others.

Upstaging the old woman who swallowed a fly

Nursery rhymes have a sweet, sentimental sing-song rhymes, but they don't usually have great endings. Humpty Dumpty, Jack and Jill, Little Miss Muffet, just to name a few. I was always particularly horrified by the tale of the old woman who swallowed a fly..."I don't know WHY she swallowed a fly, I guess she'll die..."

Well, today, I upstaged the old woman who swallowed a fly.
I swallowed a camera. Intentionally. No kidding.
And now I have a 3 minute movie of my vocal chords. (How did I ever live without THAT?)

Don't let anyone ever tell you that there's a "good" cancer to have. Thyroid cancer is not nearly as damaging as other cancers. The treatment is not nearly as hard as treatment for other cancers. But there is no easy cancer.
Today, I was swallowing a camera to determine the extent of the damage to my vocal chords from last November's life-saving thyroid surgery. It is, as I have often said, a miracle that my voice was saved. When Dr. Olson came to talk to my family, he prepared them that, in the course of the surgery, he had lost connection with the nerves to the vocal chords. In order to get the cancer -- which had spread widely--he had to cut through and, apparently, take out muscle surrounding the vocal chords. He was thrilled that I had a voice at all. I am certain that my voice is an answer to prayer.
And don't think I am not grateful to be able to talk! I was thrilled to report to him and the ortholaryngetic specialist that 2 weeks ago, I had preached 8 times in less than 48 hours (the UMW marathon) and had no trouble with weakness of my speaking voice. Yippee!
But, since the surgery, I have lost my singing voice. And, although I knew I loved music, I didn't realize how much I missed my singing voice until it has no longer been available to me. I find myself crying through the hymns at worship -- not because I am so spiritual--but because it breaks my heart for my voice to disappear on me for hymns I have sung all my life. People have come up and said, "I noticed you were deeply moved during that hymn". (I guess tears running down my cheeks has been a dead give-away). And it's been easier to not go into detail that once I could sing but that, with the cancer surgery, my singing voice has been lost. TMI for their concerned observation.
Swallowing the camera gave me some informed hope. The specialist thinks that therapy can make a difference. So that is encouraging. But the overwhelming feeling I had today was a very rich sense of blessing and peace and privilege. No, I am not minimizing what's involved with fighting cancer. But I have spent today seeing healing miracles and possibilities up close and personal. God's delivery systems for healing are mind-boggling and awesome. And, today, I felt a deep sense of humility and gratitude for participating in some of these amazing diagnostic and treatment options.
My throat is a little sore. But my heart is encouraged. Yes, I am fighting cancer. But people take so much for granted. I am blessed.

Moving was fun for me this year

Things are a lot quieter at my house this weekend.

Since Mark and Mary Allen moved this week, I hardly know what to do with myself.

I wake up on my own and miss the little voices at dark-thirty in the morning saying "Grammy, time to get up." Connor, at the wise age of 4, knows that it's best to be gentle in breaking the news of morning. Tyler, almost 2, is not so suave: "Grammy! Grammy! Grammy!" And then, the energizer bunnies are up and running and I'm lucky if I can keep up.

I had such helpers!

My backyard is such a great place to play

and we always look forward to bath time...with one or two bath toys!

Connor likes to go to my office and, truly, the Stateville District Office is never as much fun

as when the boys are there!