Through the centuries, the church has often pointed to Eve eating the apple in the Garden of Eden as the first sin. I'm not so sure. I have always felt like the first sin was Adam standing back in silence when he knew she shouldn't eat the apple of that tree. (After all, the command not to eat of that tree was given directly to Adam). But there he stood, in silence, as Eve tries to match wits with the snake. And then, without her partner so much as whispering a caution, eating the apple.
Go ahead and blame the woman if you want to. But I think the sin that has caused more heartache, grief and regrets is Adam's sin: the sin of silence--the sin of not speaking up when you know something is wrong.
Today, one of our United Methodist Churches held a funeral for one of our Christian brothers who knew what it was like to live with the regrets of silence. Woody Cooper was a student at Harding High when, on September 4, 1957, Dorothy Counts became the first black student at the school. The picture of this history-making day flashed around the world -- a sea of white students taunting her, throwing things at her, spitting at her. And Woody Cooper was in that picture.
He wasn't one of the students who threw things or spit at her. But, through the years, he carried a burden of regret that he hadn't stood up for her on that history-making day. Nearly 50 years later, Woody's Sunday School teacher, Sam Smith, was leading a lesson about the sins of omission. The teacher asked if anyone had a sin of omission on their heart. Woody raised his hand and said, "Dorothy Counts". That's when his Sunday School class learned that Woody had been one of the white boys in the world-famous picture on the steps of Harding High School. The next day, Woody Cooper tried to contact Dorothy Counts and apologize.
Their correspondence took some time, but they became friends. The night before he died, she visited with him in the hospital. Today, Dorothy Counts was the one in the crowd -- at his funeral.
49 years is a long time to live with regrets.
I am wondering if the story of Woody Cooper can give us courage to avoid those regrets--to silence our fears instead of our voices; to take a stand for what is right when it matters most. The story of the friendship of Woody Cooper and Dorothy Counts shows that God is working for redemption through all things. But there are moments in history that can't be reclaimed. What might the picture have been in 1957 if Christian white students spoke up and stood up and protected their black sister as she integrated Harding High School? That moment will never come again.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Such a big difference...
This is the time of year that, when pastors ask what season it is during Children's time, some little one is going to say "Football!" As schools resume and summer turns into fall, the wonderful world of high school, college and professional football cranks up. Saturday afternoon, I watched the Duke/Alabama football game (or, at least I watched as much of it as I could bear). If Duke was going to be brave enough to play the #1 team in the nation, I felt like I should watch. I noticed something. At halftime, when the TV commentators are walking the coach off the field, the Alabama coach -- whose team was ahead by a trillion points--said they were going to have to work harder toward the high standard they set for Alabama football.
Hmmm. There was no smug "we are killing them, look how good we are" kind of attitude. The coach went into the locker room saying that they had things they needed to work on, things they needed to improve, things he needed to bring to their attention.
I contrast this attitude with the attitude I find in too many churches -- which is an attitude of being offended at the suggestion there is anything they might want to improve. Somehow, it's an insult to many of our church members that they might need to improve their welcome, improve their stewardship, do a better job of reaching out to their community, etc. Instead of churches adopting the attitude "We have a high standard and we are not going to stop until we're the very best we can be", too many churches have the attitude "We are doing just fine. Don't insult us with the idea that there are ways we need to change or improve."
Amazing. And the stark contrast is even more heart-breaking because the statistics show that with the competition of the culture shifts, many of our churches are NOT doing just fine. They are declining.
Make no mistake about it: Alabama has a great football team this year. But they are great because they don't go around congratulating themselves on how great they are. They are great because they are working at it. They don't take things for granted (even an opponent like Duke) and they keep looking for things they can do better. I'm not a Crimson Tide fan, but I am a big fan of the attitude that makes them great.
United Methodism's founder and first coach, John Wesley, was passionate about a constant need to grow for Christians. His teaching about Christian perfection is one of the unique hallmarks of United Methodism. John Wesley would not recognize a church that said, "We are doing just fine. We don't need to revitalize. We don't need to change." He would absolutely not understand any Christian who said, "Leave us alone. We like things just the way they are." John Wesley had a divine impatience that fueled a constant drive to growth--a more perfect love. United Methodists were ALWAYS geared to grow in holiness.
The United Methodist way -- whether a church is thriving or struggling--is to say, "What can we do better? How can we grow in our faithfulness to Christ? How can we be more effective in sharing God's love with the world?" A church that just wants to congratulate itself is in deep trouble spiritually, no matter what the numbers are. If football teams and coaches understand the constant need for improvement, shouldn't our churches--with the most important mission in the world--be thoroughly committed to being the best we can be for Christ?
Hmmm. There was no smug "we are killing them, look how good we are" kind of attitude. The coach went into the locker room saying that they had things they needed to work on, things they needed to improve, things he needed to bring to their attention.
I contrast this attitude with the attitude I find in too many churches -- which is an attitude of being offended at the suggestion there is anything they might want to improve. Somehow, it's an insult to many of our church members that they might need to improve their welcome, improve their stewardship, do a better job of reaching out to their community, etc. Instead of churches adopting the attitude "We have a high standard and we are not going to stop until we're the very best we can be", too many churches have the attitude "We are doing just fine. Don't insult us with the idea that there are ways we need to change or improve."
Amazing. And the stark contrast is even more heart-breaking because the statistics show that with the competition of the culture shifts, many of our churches are NOT doing just fine. They are declining.
Make no mistake about it: Alabama has a great football team this year. But they are great because they don't go around congratulating themselves on how great they are. They are great because they are working at it. They don't take things for granted (even an opponent like Duke) and they keep looking for things they can do better. I'm not a Crimson Tide fan, but I am a big fan of the attitude that makes them great.
United Methodism's founder and first coach, John Wesley, was passionate about a constant need to grow for Christians. His teaching about Christian perfection is one of the unique hallmarks of United Methodism. John Wesley would not recognize a church that said, "We are doing just fine. We don't need to revitalize. We don't need to change." He would absolutely not understand any Christian who said, "Leave us alone. We like things just the way they are." John Wesley had a divine impatience that fueled a constant drive to growth--a more perfect love. United Methodists were ALWAYS geared to grow in holiness.
The United Methodist way -- whether a church is thriving or struggling--is to say, "What can we do better? How can we grow in our faithfulness to Christ? How can we be more effective in sharing God's love with the world?" A church that just wants to congratulate itself is in deep trouble spiritually, no matter what the numbers are. If football teams and coaches understand the constant need for improvement, shouldn't our churches--with the most important mission in the world--be thoroughly committed to being the best we can be for Christ?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The Melody Matters
Two years ago, life took an unexpected turn.
Just weeks into a drastic change of ministry appointment, the discovery of a malignant thyroid tumor took my topsy turvey life and threw me a whole new learning curve. One piece of bad news led to another. Grace preceded me at every turn. At the end of the surgery, my brilliant surgeon told my family that, after 5 hours of tedious work, he had not been able to get all the cancer and, further, that damage had been done to my vocal chords.
I could go through additional treatment for the cancer. I have and will continue to go for that. But my voice? Only time would tell.
Time told us that my vocal chords had been significantly damaged. My speaking voice came back. But my singing voice was gone. For months, I cried every time I tried to sing the hymns when I went to worship. Nine months later, when I asked my surgeon if I would sing again, he didn't lecture me about how grateful I should be for the speaking voice I had considering the circumstances. But he didn't mislead me either. Would I sing again? "No." Then, seeing the expression on my face, he said, "Well, let's do a consult with the Voice Clinic."
He didn't tell me that a consult with the Voice Clinic included swallowing a camera which verified and recorded the damage. Yikes. But that consult led to specialized voice therapy which basically told me that if I would be diligent about breathing differently, doing voice exercises every day, relaxation regimens, drink impossible amounts of water, and had faith in my damaged voice that I would be able to sing again. No small challenge.
Through following all (or most -- or many--) of these recommendations, I have learned to develop a decent alto voice. After all this work and effort, singing again should be thrilling. But often, it is miserable.
My frustration with singing alto doesn't have to do with my voice or my ear for harmony. To sing alto, you have to depend on others to really sing the melody. Because no matter how strong your voice is or how good your ear is, if the melody isn't clear, you can't harmonize. The melody doesn't make the sound of all the parts. But the clarity of the melody is what makes it possible for the other parts to add the harmony. When the melody is not clear, all my work goes out the window. Voice or no voice, it sounds awful.
I believe the same thing happens in the church in terms of leadership. The leadership of the church -- lay and clergy--are the ones to sing together the melody of mission for Jesus. The importance of the unity and clarity of this melody cannot possibly be overestimated. Because if the melody of Christ-centeredness is not clear, the mission of the church will be lost and the turmoil of power struggles and resistance will inundate the church.
That's why I have been telling my Nominating Committees that they are crucial partners in the mission of the local church. If they take their job as shuffling names on empty lines instead of evaluating the positive influence of laity in their congregations, the church will be derailed from its mission for Christ. I have told them that without constructive, cooperative, teachable lay leadership, the church will not move forward even with the most gifted pastor.
Lay leadership has long been a priority in United Methodism. Our appointment system is designed to insure that churches are not built around their pastors. And our committees on Nominations and Lay Leadership hold the sacred -- and powerful--and challenging trust to nominate lay leaders who are faithful to their membership vows, Christlike in their actions and positive in their influence in the church.
I have told Nominations members that any lay person who is constantly critical and openly oppositional to the pastor disqualifies himself/herself from leadership. To give or sustain leadership positions to people who are not constructively working with the pastor is to ensure and entrench turmoil in the church. Clergy and lay leaders do not always need to agree. But there needs to be the one central melody of focus on the mission of the church, mutual respect and Christlike behavior. We have a multi-layer system of accountability for the clergy in these areas. And now, during this fall season, we depend on Nominating Committees to put the mission of the church above everything in their important work.
Unless the clergy and laity are singing the melody of Christ first with strength and clarity, no one else can provide the harmony and beauty that lifts the heart and inspires the faith. We are in this together or not at all. There is only one melody. If the lay leaders and clergy aren't singing the same melody, the church will move into the new year profoundly crippled.
Pray for those who sing the melody. Everyone else depends on them.
Just weeks into a drastic change of ministry appointment, the discovery of a malignant thyroid tumor took my topsy turvey life and threw me a whole new learning curve. One piece of bad news led to another. Grace preceded me at every turn. At the end of the surgery, my brilliant surgeon told my family that, after 5 hours of tedious work, he had not been able to get all the cancer and, further, that damage had been done to my vocal chords.
I could go through additional treatment for the cancer. I have and will continue to go for that. But my voice? Only time would tell.
Time told us that my vocal chords had been significantly damaged. My speaking voice came back. But my singing voice was gone. For months, I cried every time I tried to sing the hymns when I went to worship. Nine months later, when I asked my surgeon if I would sing again, he didn't lecture me about how grateful I should be for the speaking voice I had considering the circumstances. But he didn't mislead me either. Would I sing again? "No." Then, seeing the expression on my face, he said, "Well, let's do a consult with the Voice Clinic."
He didn't tell me that a consult with the Voice Clinic included swallowing a camera which verified and recorded the damage. Yikes. But that consult led to specialized voice therapy which basically told me that if I would be diligent about breathing differently, doing voice exercises every day, relaxation regimens, drink impossible amounts of water, and had faith in my damaged voice that I would be able to sing again. No small challenge.
Through following all (or most -- or many--) of these recommendations, I have learned to develop a decent alto voice. After all this work and effort, singing again should be thrilling. But often, it is miserable.
My frustration with singing alto doesn't have to do with my voice or my ear for harmony. To sing alto, you have to depend on others to really sing the melody. Because no matter how strong your voice is or how good your ear is, if the melody isn't clear, you can't harmonize. The melody doesn't make the sound of all the parts. But the clarity of the melody is what makes it possible for the other parts to add the harmony. When the melody is not clear, all my work goes out the window. Voice or no voice, it sounds awful.
I believe the same thing happens in the church in terms of leadership. The leadership of the church -- lay and clergy--are the ones to sing together the melody of mission for Jesus. The importance of the unity and clarity of this melody cannot possibly be overestimated. Because if the melody of Christ-centeredness is not clear, the mission of the church will be lost and the turmoil of power struggles and resistance will inundate the church.
That's why I have been telling my Nominating Committees that they are crucial partners in the mission of the local church. If they take their job as shuffling names on empty lines instead of evaluating the positive influence of laity in their congregations, the church will be derailed from its mission for Christ. I have told them that without constructive, cooperative, teachable lay leadership, the church will not move forward even with the most gifted pastor.
Lay leadership has long been a priority in United Methodism. Our appointment system is designed to insure that churches are not built around their pastors. And our committees on Nominations and Lay Leadership hold the sacred -- and powerful--and challenging trust to nominate lay leaders who are faithful to their membership vows, Christlike in their actions and positive in their influence in the church.
I have told Nominations members that any lay person who is constantly critical and openly oppositional to the pastor disqualifies himself/herself from leadership. To give or sustain leadership positions to people who are not constructively working with the pastor is to ensure and entrench turmoil in the church. Clergy and lay leaders do not always need to agree. But there needs to be the one central melody of focus on the mission of the church, mutual respect and Christlike behavior. We have a multi-layer system of accountability for the clergy in these areas. And now, during this fall season, we depend on Nominating Committees to put the mission of the church above everything in their important work.
Unless the clergy and laity are singing the melody of Christ first with strength and clarity, no one else can provide the harmony and beauty that lifts the heart and inspires the faith. We are in this together or not at all. There is only one melody. If the lay leaders and clergy aren't singing the same melody, the church will move into the new year profoundly crippled.
Pray for those who sing the melody. Everyone else depends on them.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
What If It Were Today?
My car is full of gas.
Since the doctor said the baby could come any time over two weeks ago, I have had the car packed with anything I would need for a several days' stay:
Medicine? Check.
Clothes? Check.
Toiletries? Check.
Favorite pillow? Check.
Camera with empty media card and charged battery? Check.
Gift bags to take to the hospital for the boys when the baby is born? Check.
Now, all I need is the phone call that my daughter is in labor and heading for the hospital. Check. Check. Check....
Living "ready" has been an interesting experience.
I never let the gas guage get below 3/4 tank.
I always have cash (in defiance of the young adult mentality that all you need to carry is your bank card...).
I make it a point to go on to bed at night and get plenty of sleep.
Being ready is more than being excited about the baby coming. Being ready takes thought and planning and care.
When I was a child growing up at revivals and camp meetings, there was a hymn: "Jesus is coming to earth again! What if it were today?" And, I guess other than the early Advent emphasis of the second coming of Christ, I haven't given a lot of thought to living ready. I believe I am ready. I have always dismissed the incessant infatuation with the Second Coming as speculation that is an unfortunate energy drain. Following Jesus closely is the best prescription I know for being ready.
In these days when I have been waiting for the arrival of my first grand daughter, I've thought more about living ready. In the onslaught of my work, there are times that my spiritual fuel get lower than 3/4 tank full. There are times that I am not careful to have the spiritual resources I need for whatever surprising circumstance is around the corner. I am not always careful to get the healing rest I need.
Waiting for our little Mia Rosalie to be born reminds me that maybe I haven't been living as ready for Jesus as I thought. I am completely ready for him in my heart. But maybe I should be more attentive to the practical applications of being ready. I need to continue to live ready long after Mia is born -- ready for the One who is even more important and precious than my granddaughter: Jesus, my Lord and Savior.
Since the doctor said the baby could come any time over two weeks ago, I have had the car packed with anything I would need for a several days' stay:
Medicine? Check.
Clothes? Check.
Toiletries? Check.
Favorite pillow? Check.
Camera with empty media card and charged battery? Check.
Gift bags to take to the hospital for the boys when the baby is born? Check.
Now, all I need is the phone call that my daughter is in labor and heading for the hospital. Check. Check. Check....
Living "ready" has been an interesting experience.
I never let the gas guage get below 3/4 tank.
I always have cash (in defiance of the young adult mentality that all you need to carry is your bank card...).
I make it a point to go on to bed at night and get plenty of sleep.
Being ready is more than being excited about the baby coming. Being ready takes thought and planning and care.
When I was a child growing up at revivals and camp meetings, there was a hymn: "Jesus is coming to earth again! What if it were today?" And, I guess other than the early Advent emphasis of the second coming of Christ, I haven't given a lot of thought to living ready. I believe I am ready. I have always dismissed the incessant infatuation with the Second Coming as speculation that is an unfortunate energy drain. Following Jesus closely is the best prescription I know for being ready.
In these days when I have been waiting for the arrival of my first grand daughter, I've thought more about living ready. In the onslaught of my work, there are times that my spiritual fuel get lower than 3/4 tank full. There are times that I am not careful to have the spiritual resources I need for whatever surprising circumstance is around the corner. I am not always careful to get the healing rest I need.
Waiting for our little Mia Rosalie to be born reminds me that maybe I haven't been living as ready for Jesus as I thought. I am completely ready for him in my heart. But maybe I should be more attentive to the practical applications of being ready. I need to continue to live ready long after Mia is born -- ready for the One who is even more important and precious than my granddaughter: Jesus, my Lord and Savior.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Barely holding back the tears...
My adorable 5 year old wonderful grandson starts kindergarten this week.
I can barely think about it without crying.
How did he get to be 5 in just the blink of an eye?
Tyler (3) Connor (5)
I can barely think about it without crying.
How did he get to be 5 in just the blink of an eye?
Tyler (3) Connor (5)
He is the most amazing child.
I know, I have heard other grandparents gush over their grandchildren. But I am not exaggerating when I talk about my grandson. He is beautiful and affectionate and tender-hearted and lively and free-thinking and joyful about life.
He is also a tease. "Grammy," he said last week, "What is your favorite thing?" "My grandsons" I replied, immediately (thinking he was fishing for affirmation).
"What is your next favorite thing?" he asked. "Duke basketball", I replied.
Then he looked at me and solemnly announced, "Well, MY favorite thing is GOD."
Guess he showed me!
He fills me with love only grandparents could comprehend and, as you can see, keeps me on my toes. And now, he is going to KINDERGARTEN. It feels like the beginning of the end... He is ready and eager and I am holding back the tears.
For years, I have shared this essay with parents whose children are going to kindergarten...I re-did the "son" to "daughter" and sent it to the teachers when my daughters went to kindergarten--crying through every sentence. This year, it's for Connor:
Teach Him Gently...If You Can
My young son starts school tomorrow...it's all going to be strange and new for him for a while and I wish you would sort of treat him gently.
You see, up to now, he's been our little boy.
He's always been the boss of the backyard and his mother has always been around to repair his wounds and I have been there to soothe his feelings.
But now, things are going to be different...
This morning, he's going to walk down the steps, wave his hand and start out on the great adventure -- it's an adventure that will include heartache and tragedy and sorrow.
To live his life in the world he will live in
requires faith and love and courage.
So, world, I wish you would sort of take him by his young hand
and teach him the things he will have to know.
Teach him -- but gently--if you can.
He will have to learn that everyone is not just and not every one is true.
But teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader
that for every enemy, there is a friend.
It will take time, I know, but teach him, if you can
that a nickel earned is more valuable than a dollar found
Teach him to learn to lose -- and to enjoy winning.
Steer him away from envy, if you can and teach him the secret of quiet laughter.
Let him learn early not to be afraid of bullies and those who would do him wrong.
Teach him the wonder of books but also give him quiet time
to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun
and flowers on the hillside.
In school, world, teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if others laugh at his creativity.
Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with tough people.
Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd
when everyone else is getting on the bandwagon.
Teach him to listen to everyone -- but teach him also to filter all hearts
on the screen of truth and take only the good that comes through.
Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him that there is no shame in tears...
Teach him there can be glory in failure and despair in success.
Teach him to scoff at cynics and to beward of too much sweetness.
Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob and stand up and fight for what is right.
Teach him gently, world, but don't coddle him.
I know that only the test of fire makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage to be impatient and the patience to be brave.
Teach him to have faith in himself and most of all, to have faith in the God
who will be with him wherever he goes.
adapted from unknown author
I thank God for this amazing little boy, my grandson. And pray that his adventure of life learning always guides him toward his best self.
May God bless and guide parents and teachers and everyone who serves as an example for our beloved little ones.
And help me not to cry too much as my little man heads to kindergarten.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The effect of hard times...
I'm still searching in the Bible for the life-truth that my daughters and I often quote from one of our favorite movies, Steel Magnolias: "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." That's just too true to not be included in the Scripture.
I am certain that the effect of hard times is one of the most clarifying signs of Christian character. Going through a crisis can be just the experience that opens your heart to others in difficult circumstances. Going through a hard time can also be just the experience that makes you more insecure, afraid and cold to the suffering of others.
Though we rarely choose the tragedies that invade our lives, we always choose our response. We may not have chosen the economic downturn, the job loss, the cancer diagnosis, the broken marriage, the premature death of a loved one. But in every instance, we choose its affect on us.
I have seen both sides of this. Sometimes, the tragic death of a loved one turns people into the very best Stephen ministers, friends and compassionate church members. Hardship can make a heart more open to the suffering of others, more tender to the struggles and griefs that others carry.
Hardship can also create a hardened shell around a heart. Have you noticed that sometimes people who went through a hard time carry that struggle like a badge of honor and don't blink when others suffer? "I went through it; it won't hurt them." A classic example of that is the doctors who trained under "old school" regimens of inhumane numbers of hours on call as interns and residents--80, sometimes over 100 hours per week on call. Now, with new guidelines surfacing to limit the number of hours that interns and residents can be on call to a more reasonable 60 hours a week, sometimes it is old school physicians who raise the loudest objections. Seems to me they would be the most sympathetic and glad for something to change for the good of others (both doctors AND patients)
I see the same dynamic surfacing in conversations about salaries. "Well," one layperson said to me, "I didn't get a salary raise this year. So I don't think the preacher should get a raise either." As the conversation went on, it was clear that not getting a salary raise had really hurt the layperson. So wouldn't it make more Christian love sense for the layperson to say, "I know how much it hurts to not get a raise. I want something better for my preacher..." (or my daughter, or my neighbor). Is this a "misery loves company" response?
I came into the ministry during the very early days of female clergy. I don't date back to John Wesley, but I came in less than 20 years after the full ordination of women was approved (in 1956). I had a hard time. I qualified for elder's ordination under 4 different Disciplines. And that was just the beginning of the obstacles, the ridicule and the opposition that I went through. But, I put those hard experiences to work to make me an avid advocate of a better church for my daughters and their daughters. It would never occur to me to say, "Well, I had it hard, so it's just fine if they experience prejudice and opposition."
Hardship -- in whatever form--is painful. But hardship is downright tragic if it hardens instead of opens a heart.
I am certain that the effect of hard times is one of the most clarifying signs of Christian character. Going through a crisis can be just the experience that opens your heart to others in difficult circumstances. Going through a hard time can also be just the experience that makes you more insecure, afraid and cold to the suffering of others.
Though we rarely choose the tragedies that invade our lives, we always choose our response. We may not have chosen the economic downturn, the job loss, the cancer diagnosis, the broken marriage, the premature death of a loved one. But in every instance, we choose its affect on us.
I have seen both sides of this. Sometimes, the tragic death of a loved one turns people into the very best Stephen ministers, friends and compassionate church members. Hardship can make a heart more open to the suffering of others, more tender to the struggles and griefs that others carry.
Hardship can also create a hardened shell around a heart. Have you noticed that sometimes people who went through a hard time carry that struggle like a badge of honor and don't blink when others suffer? "I went through it; it won't hurt them." A classic example of that is the doctors who trained under "old school" regimens of inhumane numbers of hours on call as interns and residents--80, sometimes over 100 hours per week on call. Now, with new guidelines surfacing to limit the number of hours that interns and residents can be on call to a more reasonable 60 hours a week, sometimes it is old school physicians who raise the loudest objections. Seems to me they would be the most sympathetic and glad for something to change for the good of others (both doctors AND patients)
I see the same dynamic surfacing in conversations about salaries. "Well," one layperson said to me, "I didn't get a salary raise this year. So I don't think the preacher should get a raise either." As the conversation went on, it was clear that not getting a salary raise had really hurt the layperson. So wouldn't it make more Christian love sense for the layperson to say, "I know how much it hurts to not get a raise. I want something better for my preacher..." (or my daughter, or my neighbor). Is this a "misery loves company" response?
I came into the ministry during the very early days of female clergy. I don't date back to John Wesley, but I came in less than 20 years after the full ordination of women was approved (in 1956). I had a hard time. I qualified for elder's ordination under 4 different Disciplines. And that was just the beginning of the obstacles, the ridicule and the opposition that I went through. But, I put those hard experiences to work to make me an avid advocate of a better church for my daughters and their daughters. It would never occur to me to say, "Well, I had it hard, so it's just fine if they experience prejudice and opposition."
Hardship -- in whatever form--is painful. But hardship is downright tragic if it hardens instead of opens a heart.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Jesus Test
I am very glad for people to send emails to me. Really, I am.
Over 700 people across my district have signed up for my emails, so I get the privilege of sending out emails to lots of people I wouldn't otherwise have a chance to communicate with. I feel it is only right to welcome emails that people send to me. The communication highway, at its best, runs both ways.
I got one this week that was full of beautiful -- actually, stunning--pictures of the life of Christ. They were so striking that I printed them out to put in my Bible.
When I was looking over the printout, I noticed there was a "tag" at the end of the pictures. The tag said that Jesus "is the only one that can save this country and they want Him removed from the government. Our great nation will not stand if we delete HIM from all aspects of our govenment as the atheists want." Then there was the closing request: "The Jesus Test: 'Jesus said, if you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.' This is the simplest test. If you love God and are not ashamed of all the marvelous things He has done for you, send this email to a lot of people."
Oh dear.
I would gladly have passed on the beautiful scenes of the life of Christ. But it broke my heart that people could reverently review the scenes of the life of Christ and then think that the "Jesus Test" would be to send an email defying the atheists.
That would be understandable, I guess, except that the teachings of Jesus are so clear about what a true Jesus test is. Jesus was absolutely, penetratingly clear: "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12) That is the Jesus test. That -- and nothing else. And how did Jesus love us:? Graceful acceptance, patient guidance, constant forgiveness, sacrificial loving.
The teaching of Jesus makes clear what the Jesus test is: love for others. Since Jesus was very explicit in teaching and example about loving his enemies, it would seem to me that the Jesus test would be how faithfully Christians love atheists. So, to my way of thinking, you could send a thousand emails and still fail the true Jesus test. Wouldn't the real Jesus test be to find an atheist and do something kind?
I still love the scenes of Christ that came with the email. So odd to me that people could look through them, recall the life of Christ and then get side-tracked about Christ's clear intention for his followers.
How many times do we look at pictures of Christ and, by forgetting Christ's teaching and example, miss the true picture?
Over 700 people across my district have signed up for my emails, so I get the privilege of sending out emails to lots of people I wouldn't otherwise have a chance to communicate with. I feel it is only right to welcome emails that people send to me. The communication highway, at its best, runs both ways.
I got one this week that was full of beautiful -- actually, stunning--pictures of the life of Christ. They were so striking that I printed them out to put in my Bible.
When I was looking over the printout, I noticed there was a "tag" at the end of the pictures. The tag said that Jesus "is the only one that can save this country and they want Him removed from the government. Our great nation will not stand if we delete HIM from all aspects of our govenment as the atheists want." Then there was the closing request: "The Jesus Test: 'Jesus said, if you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.' This is the simplest test. If you love God and are not ashamed of all the marvelous things He has done for you, send this email to a lot of people."
Oh dear.
I would gladly have passed on the beautiful scenes of the life of Christ. But it broke my heart that people could reverently review the scenes of the life of Christ and then think that the "Jesus Test" would be to send an email defying the atheists.
That would be understandable, I guess, except that the teachings of Jesus are so clear about what a true Jesus test is. Jesus was absolutely, penetratingly clear: "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12) That is the Jesus test. That -- and nothing else. And how did Jesus love us:? Graceful acceptance, patient guidance, constant forgiveness, sacrificial loving.
The teaching of Jesus makes clear what the Jesus test is: love for others. Since Jesus was very explicit in teaching and example about loving his enemies, it would seem to me that the Jesus test would be how faithfully Christians love atheists. So, to my way of thinking, you could send a thousand emails and still fail the true Jesus test. Wouldn't the real Jesus test be to find an atheist and do something kind?
I still love the scenes of Christ that came with the email. So odd to me that people could look through them, recall the life of Christ and then get side-tracked about Christ's clear intention for his followers.
How many times do we look at pictures of Christ and, by forgetting Christ's teaching and example, miss the true picture?
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