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.

Thank God for a beautiful space

Did I wake up this morning and say, "I think I will go ahead and plant flowers in the back flower bed"? No, I did not.

I woke up this morning and said, "Thank God for a day at home. Only Connor's tee ball game is going to get me away from the great luxury of a day at home."

When Mary Allen called to say that Connor's tee ball game had been rained out...and I thought about all the rain we have had the past week, that's when I realized it would be a perfect time to plant flowers.

Now it was not a perfect day in terms of convenience. This is the first day I have had home for weeks. May has been particularly demanding in terms of traveling with cabinet responsibilities and Monday, we begin another 3 day out-of-town meeting. So I have piles of mail to catch up on from being on the road for the last two weeks and little, but important things like laundry.

But all the rain has wonderfully softened the soil and I knew that planting today would be much, much easier than if I waited till a more convenient time (and, when I get real, when am I going to have a wonderfully accessible time?). Planting flowers today would take half the effort that it would in the later hot sun when the ground is hard.

That's the sweet thing about planting when the soil is moist: digging is delightful. There's not all that resistance that you get when the ground is hard. And as I planted,I prayed. I prayed for my churches where the soil is hard--where minds are made up and there is nothing in the world the preacher can do that is right. I prayed for God's love to shower down like the rain has watered the earth and loosen up the soil of hearts. I prayed for everyone who is so set in their ways that even trying to do something beautiful is hard. I know there are many families and relationships hurting because hearts are dry and hard and closed.

When the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, the arrival of power came to obedient disciples. They had (for once) done exactly what Jesus told them to do. And obedience is one of the keys to loosening the soil of our hearts so that God can plant something beautiful in our lives. I was able to plant a place of beauty in my back yard today. How much more I hope God will have the right conditions to do something amazing in our churches this Pentecost weekend!

Grateful every day...

I didn't need a doctor's appointment today to remember to be grateful for the gift of life.

I've been grateful every day I didn't have a doctor's appointment.

Today's follow-up at Duke reminded me of two things:

-- the miraculous (I do not use that word lightly) life-saving healing I have received
--the vulnerability of living in a fallen world.

Both of those things are very fresh in my psyche.



I fully recognize that healing isn't a special gift for good, faithful people. Cancer, for certain, is no respecter of the age or faith or goodness of the people who have it. Some of the most faithful people I have known have died of cancer. And people lose their lives over a host of other unjust things in this fallen world: accidents, mistakes of judgment, carelessness, natural disasters.....This life that I cherish so much takes place in the midst of a dangerous world.

Like every other cancer survivor going back for a followoup-up, I found myself thinking, "What will I do if the cancer has come back?" It doesn't take long to try to plan out a response to imagined bad news. And, at least with the cancer I had, I have no indicators

Today, the news was good. So far.

I'll still have to follow a four week regimen for a more thorough followup scan. But, for now, all the indicators are good. I don't have to answer the question of what I will do if the cancer is back. But I can reveal what my answer was: I will be more grateful for the gift of life. And that's the answer I will live no matter what the test results say. Instead of anxiety-laden times, I want my followup scans to be reminders of the great gift of life...reminders to say "thank you" each day to the God of life and, since He is the God of this life and the next, trust my life more fully to his care.

Two weeks feels like two years

It's been two weeks ago since I got the phone call that Bob had died.
And it's been a hard two weeks.
I feel silly saying that Bob's death has been hard for me. The loss I feel is nothing like the huge loss to his family -- parents who loved him and depended on him; his wife and faithful companion; his beloved son and daughter, two little adored grandsons and an already-cherished granddaughter on the way. And that just begins the list: brother in business together, sister, nephews and cousins. And, even when you get through the long list of the Lawing family, the circle of those deeply affected by Bob's loss is just getting started. There is not only his Friendship Sunday School Class where Bob was a regular and very effective teacher. I think Bob taught every adult Sunday School Class at Hawthorne Lane UMC as his schedule (and later his health) permitted. Everyone in the church loved this friendly, thoughtful, very eloquent Christian leader. And then you have all the guys who played sports through Bob's interest, coaching and influence. (Bob was, after all, the player-coach for the Hawthorne Lane Red Devil church league basketball team). There are NFL referees all over the country who will be wearing #17 on their caps this season (including the Super Bowl) in honor and respect for their 58 year old colleague. And there are more. Yes, the loss I have been wrestling with is just a small drop in the bucket of others whose grief is deeper and more personal. My place is at the end of a very long line of those who are hurt and deeply affected by his death.
As a pastor, I am familiar with the rites of death. The inevitability of death is baseline for every mortal -- but especially every pastor. But Bob's death was more than the loss of another great person to cancer. It was the disappointment about the miracle that didn't take place.
I was Bob's pastor at the time he learned about the cancer that took his life two weeks ago. By God's grace and a rescheduled doctor's visit of my own, I discovered Bob in the waiting room at my doctor's office. That's when I learned he'd been having a pain for several months which had ultimately led to a PET scan the morning of October 31, 2007. The doctor had called him to come in for the results. After my own routine checkup, I stayed in the waiting room until Bob came out. The series of unplanned, unchoreographed circumstances gave me a chance to be on site at that very important, overwhelming moment. That was a prayer opportunity I will never forget. And every day since that day, I have been praying for Bob's healing.
While I believe that his death was a total, glorious, extraordinary healing for Bob, death was not the answer to the prayers I had been praying.
I truly did not think that the cancer would take his life 2 1/2 years later. Bob had every single healing-force factor in his favor. He had beaten a cancer 7 years earlier. He was strong and health conscious and energetic and athletic. He was resourceful and creative and determined. Oh my! What determination this man had! He was a positive life force if there ever was one...positive attitude, strong faith, dedicated Christian leader, devoted family man and active businessman. He was deeply involved with life at every level. His little grandsons were the special lights of his life and with a new granddaughter on the way, nobody had more to live for than Bob Lawing. Even when I visited with him this April, I did not think the cancer had a chance against his remarkable determination, deep faith and strong family support.
I was wrong.
In my mind, I never believed that Bob was invincible. But his remarkable life energy and his young age did lull me away from the mortality that hit so hard two weeks ago.
And that's what I am still wrestling with. And, like Jacob long ago, I will not let it go without a blessing. Bob's death was a reminder that in this world, we are called to live into a great mystery. Faith is most important when explanations and good outcomes elude us. Sometimes people are healed in this life (and, actually, Bob had been the recepient of that kind of healing which leads back to a normal life) and sometimes, the healing comes beyond what the fallen world can offer.
The hard, painful truth is that we all live with the vulnerability of mortality. We just try to not think about it. Save that for Ash Wednesday services. Whether we have had a cancer diagnosis or not, we all are terminal. And some people will die young (some much younger than Bob) from accidents and natural disasters and human sin and disease. Ultimately, none of us are exempt.
Just at the time we are struggling with disappointment and loss and heartache, we need faith the most. It is faith that connects us to the lifeline of hope and gives us the certainty that, although we cannot see it, God is at work for the good in life's deepest losses and heartaches. Only faith can give that blessed reassurance. But faith is hardest with hopes are dashed.
It is only appropriate that Bob's death should strengthen faith since he spent his live living faith. And faith is, after all, having confidence beyond what we can see. Everything I saw about the life of Bob Lawing was permeated with faith. And now, all who knew and loved him need to gather up those faith lessons and be strengthened by a faith deeper than ever before.
Two weeks has felt like two years. In the two years since Bob's diagnosis, he lived life as fully as humanly possible--every step of the way was a step of faith. That, it seems to me, is the witness to lead us forward.

The special impact of last words

We've been busy in our conference shaping our church life to the Great Commission of Matthew 28: Follow Jesus. Make disciples. Transform the World.
I don't think we could have a better focus.
I guess I have been so inundated with our priority that Luke's account of the ascension caught me by surprise as I was preparing to preach this week. Luke has this beautiful story of Jesus teaching the disciples and then, as He was lifted up into heaven, He blessed them. The story has long been a favorite of mine. I find goodbyes to be hard. To be able to look at a goodbye as an opportunity for a blessing -- well, THAT's a great witness.
I have always recognized that last words have special importance. The church has long revered the last words of Christ on the cross. It is not uncommon for an entire three hour worship service on Good Friday to be built around Christ's last words from the cross. But I think that Matthew and Luke give us the most significant last words of all: the last words of Jesus to his disciples on earth. And, when Jesus is saying these Great Commission/Ascension words, He is the Risen, Resurrected Lord -- not the suffering Son of God hanging on a cross. These last words to the disciples couldn't possibly be more important. Red underline and exclamation points! These words give us our marching orders straight from the lips of the Resurrected Son of God.
This year, I paid more attention to the teaching of Jesus (Luke 24: 44ff)--that REPENTANCE and FORGIVENESS were the themes that were to be proclaimed in his name to all nations (v.47) Hmmmm. Repentance and forgiveness.
Maybe those two themes struck me so strongly because I see them so rarely in church life. I get lots of calls for repentence as long as it is one person pointing out the need for repentance in someone else. But I see precious little repentance in the lives of people in the church. More often, I spend my time with people who are vehemently defending their patently unchristian behavior. Repentance? That's for the others who don't agree...so it turns out to not be repentance at all. Just stubborn unwillingness to admit being wrong or needing to make a change. Repentance? I really don't see much of that in the church--in pastors or in laity. It's easy to point out how other people need to repent. And often, people come to my office for me to force their pastors to repent from some unwelcome change at the church. And pastors are quick to point out how the laity need to change. But repentace is, as best I can tell, something that everyone things somebody else needs to do.
And forgiveness? I must say that from my new perch as a district superintendent, I don't see much forgiveness, either. I hear a lot about the offenses of my pastors from aggrieved church members. Someone brought me a list recently of all the things his pastor had done wrong beginning from the first week the pastor came several years ago. Forgiveness? Not a smidgeon. Nothing but an ever-growing list of offenses. And I don't think it is a bit easier for pastors to forgive. Church people can say and do some of the most hurtful things...and pastors can -- and do--hurt each other.
Our culture is steeped in accusations and condemnations. Attack the other person/political party/idea is the overwhelming practice of the culture. So maybe we don't even recognize the way that has permeated into the life of the church -- so much so that we have pretty much snuffed out what Jesus said was to be the cardinal characteristics proclaimed in his name.
Repentance and forgiveness? Are those the characteristics of our lives, our families, our churches?