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.
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