When the heat is on...

I have always loved flowers.

And I especially love the beautiful yard that I have now.

But in the last couple of years, I realize that my passion for flowers has taken on a new dimension. In the springtime, planting has been therapy. When I plant flowers, they stay put--unlike the appointments of the spring of the year which are always being adjusted and changed. Planting flowers is a beautiful habit to have -- giving me results which are tangible (something else that ministry doesn't always provide...especially on the District).

At the same time, I have learned that the beautiful flowers that were therapy and beauty in the springtime have to be watered in the heat of the summer. The hotter the temperature, the more water is needed. And it doesn't matter how beautiful the flat of annuals was in April or May, if I don't keep watering and feeding the plants in June, July and August, they are going to die. No plant can make it without water in these withering temperatures.

I am learning to pray as I water because I think that people are like my flowers. No matter how beautiful or well rooted, people need constant feeding, constant nourishment, constant inspiration if they are going to continue to flourish. We make a terrible mistake to look at our church members, leaders or visitors and see their dressed-up exterior and think they, in their polished appearance, can go for long without continual, significant nourishment.

While in the course of the seasons, this brutal hot weather is generally confined to the summer months, we are living in a culture that is heavy-laden with the stifling heat of criticism, despair, disillusionment and anger. We've got to water and water and water and water if we want our Christian members, family and friends to be beautiful in an atmosphere like this. Water when we feel like it and water when we are weary. Water when the weather is pleasant and especially water when temperatures are scortching hot.

As Paul wrote to the Galatians, let us not be weary in doing right. We will reap at harvest time if we do not lose heart. "So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, especially for those of the family of faith." (Galatians 6:9-10)

I couldn't believe it.

I know it sounds silly, but I almost corrected the Bishop on Sunday morning of Annual Conference. Preparing to confirm the Statesville District appointments, he introduced me as the superintendent for the 3rd year. And it startled me. I was concentrating on not stumbling on the line "The Statesville District appointments are correct as printed" (not a big line, but at least one of us stumbles on it each year). So when he said I was coming back on the cabinet for year 3, I thought, "No way. That couldn't be. I am just getting started." Mentally, I had to count it out because that just didn't sound right to me.
Maybe if he said I was finishing year 2, the year wouldn't have jolted me so. There has been so much to learn on this job, I still feel like a novice. Even if it is year 3. Learning and growing is important in every role in life. Through the years, what joy I have had in learning new things serving churches as a pastor! But, on the cabinet, I've had more to learn than ever before. This is a short list of what I have learned about being on the cabinet:
People who serve the church on the cabinet have to have an extraordinary commitment to the church which must be continually renewed and deepened. This commitment is a vital counterbalance to the discouragement of situations that continually come to our attention.
People who serve the church on the cabinet must have deep spiritual roots that are constantly renewed. Pastors, of course, also need deep spiritual roots. But the pastoral life in a local church has built-in healing rhythms of spiritual encouragement. Yes, there are discouraging experiences in local church ministry. But the faith-depleting experiences are cradled in the healing, renewing of regular preaching, sweet moments by hospital bedsides, baptisms, serving communion, DISCIPLE Bible studies and other uplifting, inspiring experiences. Life on the cabinet doesn't have built-in healing rhythms.
People who serve the church on the cabinet need to be good judges of character. Pastors, of course, need to be good judges of character. But it was easier to wisely size up a person or situation when church life offered so many different contexts to understand people. And the willingness of people to exaggerate, misrepresent and out-right lie is astounding. Getting a true picture is complicated. Patience, persistence and perspective are daily requirements.
People who serve the church on the cabinet need to be unafraid of conflict, difficulties and church bullies. I don't know anyone who enjoys conflict. Knowing how to navigate conflict is at the essential core of this work. That's a continual learning curve.
People who serve the church on the cabinet have to be willing to be scapegoats. DS's are the connecting link in the connectional church. Add to the mix that, with the culture shift, we are a church that has to change and if there's anything the church resists, it's change. We serve a volatile mix. People are stressed and angry and anxious and that shows. Anyone who lives in a family understands this dynamic. Every pastor has experience with this. The cabinet factor is that there are multi-levels where we are scapegoats: with congregations, with pastors and with all kinds of groups with complaints, concerns and frustrations. Taking misunderstandings, frustrations and outbursts in stride is a constant, ongoing challenge. Humility is built into the daily fabric of the work.
Maybe the nature of the work and the constant demand of the learning curve is why I hadn't noticed how time had flown or why, by now, I feel I should know more than I do about this work. These are life areas that always have to be renewed, deepened and expanded.
I am beginning year 3. Unbelievable.

Please don't make it a game...

I am grateful to be home for a few days with my father for Father's Day. When I am home, I think I ought to do what he wants us to do -- a concept called "Cherish Every Minute". So today, I was with the Triple L's for lunch. That's my home church's "Living Longer and Loving It" group. Many of these adults are the people that I knew growing up. Amost 50 years ago when my father was the pastor here, I babysat for their children. They led my junior choir and taught children's SS classes and Vacation Bible School. So having a meal with them is like a family reunion.
Today had the added feature of being an occasion to meet the newly appointed pastor. Since the new pastor doesn't begin until this coming Sunday, I was not surprised at the big turnout to meet the new preacher. One of my favorite people came up to me and said, "I put him to the test!"
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"The new preacher." She replied. "I stopped by the church and met him yesterday. Today, I walked up to him and said, 'This is a test. Do you remember what my name is?" I love this woman. I have loved and respected her for decades. But I said, "PLEASE do not do that. Please, please, please do not do that. It's not fair. You have 2 names to remember and he has 1200. You should tell him your name right off the bat for at least the first 3 months."
She may have thought I was kidding. But I am not. One of the most unkind things people do is put new preachers on the spot to know their name. It is, for them, just what this lady said: a test. And it's an unfair test. I used to tell people to make a choice: voluntarily introduce yourself or don't change clothes for the first six months. People have no idea how hard it is to get names, faces, families and circumstances together in a new situation.
I rarely am in a group setting where someone doesn't come up and start a conversation like this: "You don't remember me, do you?" I have stopped apologizing when I don't recognize people because most of the time they remember me from sometime I was preaching. They were in a congregation of several hundred. Often I learn that I had not actually been introduced to them personally. But yet their opening line is often, "You don't know me, do you?"
I know that everyone wants to feel that they are special. The truly special people will patiently, consistently take the initiative to introduce themselves to a new preacher and find ways to test their new pastor on something more important: the quality of their sermons, the virtues of their example and the depth of their prayer life.

Walking down memory lane...

No, this isn't a picture-postcard. Just a photo I took this morning after having prayer time at the cross...just a portrayal of the everyday beauty at Lake Junaluska.

Walking around Lake Junaluska is a walk down memory lane for me. My parents first brought me here when I was 2 years old. Through the years, places all across Lake Junaluska have become precious in my memory bank: our family staying at the Junaluska apartments for vacation; going to the playground at the Children's Building when I was small; coming to youth events at Lake Junaluska in the summer meeting other young people from across the southeast; leading workshops, preaching at Stuart Auditorium, teaching at the Terrace and at Lambuth, designing worship for commemorative milestones, leading youth weeks, starting the Good Word Resource Center, living at Junaluska, serving on the summer staff, raising my girls at Junaluska and seeing them lead youth programs on the summer staff; bringing confirmation classes each year to Junaluska. I fed the ducks at Lake Junaluska, my daughters fed the ducks here when they were just little ones and now my little grandsons love to go feed the ducks. In the many moves and transitions of the Methodist ministry, Lake Junaluska is a beautiful thread of continuity.

And here, in this special place this week, our Annual Conference will discuss leaving here for future Annual Conference sessions. Oh dear. In a world that is a whirlwind of change, continuity is so precious. Conference hasn't even started and already the report is making the front page of newspapers. Rumors are flying and, like every other kind of change, emotions are high. Including mine.

I was lamenting to a long-time friend what a highly-charged decision this is for me and for the conference. My friend also has many special memories at Junaluska but he lives in another state. He didn't sound very sympathetic when he said, "Well, that decision is a no-brainer!"

A no-brainer! What do you mean by that, I inquired.

"Well, you can't meet at a place that can't seat all your delegates. How hard is that?"

In terms of seating the delegates, there is no argument. Our conference has approximately 3500 delegates. And our tradition-laden Stuart Auditorium at Lake Junaluska seats 2000. There's no argument here from me about the importance of everyone having a chance to have a vote. And all year long, as a district superintendent, when people are unhappy with some decision about church life, I have to say, "That was an action of the Annual Conference. Your church had both clergy and lay representatives. Once the Annual Conference decides, we all abide by the decision." Annual Conference decisions are important. And they are binding. So of course, we ought to be meeting in a place where all delegates could be seated. In a larger setting, families could also be part of the worship experiences. My friend is right. It IS a no-brainer.

But decisions -- and especially changes in tradition--are more complex than the brain. Decisions are also a matter of heart. And we, as an Annual Conference, are in the place that many individuals and families and churches are: do we hang on to the beloved familiar even though it is no longer adequate to serve the needs of the present? Tradition is very important to me. But I believe that tradition is only a blessing as long as it is in service to our mission. When it becomes a god of its own, then the beauty of the tradition is betrayed. And whenever there is a crossroads, when the familiar trumps the mission, it's a tragedy.

Everything about my tradition at Lake Junaluska has pointed me to putting Christ's mission first and foremost.

But, still, this is a hard place to be. Lord, help us to be faithful.

Sinking into 60....

Mark and Mary Allen's new home

We celebrated my new year in a new place. Oh, if the new year (my 60th) can be half as wonderful as the new place (Mark and Mary Allen's newly completed home at Lake Junaluska!)

Tyler (2 1/2) was the first early bird to remember that it was my birthday. "Happy Birthday, Grammy!" he said, very proud of himself. Not to be outdone, Connor shouted from the balconey, "You sure are a big number now, Grammy!"

Tyler, who was sitting on my lap, saw my reaction and comfortingly said, "You not a big number, Grammy." (Such a sweet boy!) I said, "Tyler, what is a big number?" Throwing his hands wide out from side to side, he said, "A hundred!!"

Well, I assured him, I am certainly not 100!

(100 is a big number for Connor, too. That's when we have agreed that he is going to be able to have a gun, smoke cigarettes and ride on motorcycles. Brilliant compromise.)

Sixty years is a long time to have lived and I have lived in the most remarkable of times. There are some people (actually, in the church there are MANY people) who think that the world of my childhood (the 1950's) was better than the world we are living in. I am not one of them. Although we are nowhere close to perfect, I thank God for the many ways that we have made significant progress. It has been thrilling to witness the ways that we have stepped forward in race relations. We haven't arrived yet at living up to our ideals of liberty and justice for all. But racism has been exposed for the evil that it is and we are closer to living our ideals than ever in our nation's history. I'm quite clear that the women's movement doesn't draw rave reviews from people where tradition is of utmost importance. Say what you will, I am very, very grateful that my daughters grew up in a different world than the gender restrictive world that I was raised in. The fact that I am alive to celebrate my 60th birthday is a credit to the advances of medical science -- exquisite delivery systems of God's healing that were not available to my grandparents.

Yes, I know there is a lot of moral degeneration and the transitions have left a lot of relational and emotional casualties. But there were emotional and relational casualties before the tumult of change. Not only were people victimized by limitations, humiliations, violations of dignity and, especially in the case of sexual abuse of children, violence -- but there was the double layer of demanded secrecy. No, I don't think family life was necessarily better. I'm thankful for the wonderful family I had. But my father was a preacher. People who worked with people knew there was a lot of pain in family life. People just didn't talk about it as much or have options for change. The staggering poverty rates of the 1950's tell me that those good old days that people yearn for weren't, in reality, all that good across the board. And, although many people bewail the decline of the institutional church, the worship and Bible study and prayer and mission involvement and discipleship I see in churches today is more vital today than any other time of my life. And, the even better news is that, in order for churches to survive without the props of the culture, we will have to continue to do our best. I've seen too much slack and slide to be sad about that challenge!

Given the staggering pace of change, what the world will be like when (if) I really get to my "big number" of 100 is beyond comprehension. But this I know: God will not be outpaced by the changes of life -- whether in birthdays or technology. Life anchored in him is a blessing -- whether than is my "small number" grandsons or their "big number Grammy". I welcome 60 and the years ahead as a chance to keep making the world a better place -- a world/church where faith in God shows up in grace that abounds, love that flourishes, truth that is honored and where justice, kindness and mercy is the common goal for all. We are a long way from that. But we have come a long way, too. And now, I have this gift of a new year to do all I can to live the high calling of Christ.