Still thankful after all these years...

I learned this morning about the death of Rev. Horwood P. Myers and I remember the way that he brought life to me.
My family moved to North Carolina in September of 1984. I left my beloved first appointment in a cross-racial setting and, since the move for my husband was a September 1 opportunity, spent the year waiting and wondering if I would get a chance to serve a church. In May of 1985, my daughter's 3rd grade teacher asked the class to write the answer to this question: "If you could get your mommy anything in the world this year for Mother's Day, what would you get her?" Mary Allen wrote: "I would give my mommy a church. My mommy needs a church. My mommy wants to be a church lady." Her elementary-lined paper with her careful printing still hangs in my office.
And, oh, how I did want to serve a church! After working through 10 years of vehement opposition in Mississippi and meeting requirements of 3 different Disciplines, I was a newly ordained elder with no church in a new and very big Annual Conference where I didn't know anyone.
At appointment-making time, I had conversation with the Waynesville District Superintendent, Bob Ralls, who was very encouraging to me. He said he had a church that was being served by a retired supply but they had been asking for a younger preacher, said they wanted to grow and he would see if that might be an opening.
Bob went to meet with the PPR Committee of the Bethel-Piney Grove Charge and he described me to them. Well, maybe not comprehensively...because at the conclusion of his presentation, they said, "That's great. He sounds like just what we have been praying for!"
Then Bob had to break the rest of the story. "Well," he said, "it's not a 'he'. It's a female pastor." Dead silence. Bob pushed them gently: "You said this is just what you have been praying for." They agreed to think about it.
In the meantime, Bob went off to cabinet meetings where the first round of appointments were made. And the members of the Bethel-Piney Grove PPRC held the best kept secret (and maybe the only secret) in the cove just outside of Waynesville. They apparently did not tell a soul. After a couple of weeks--most notably, after all the other appointments were made, the PPRC called Bob and said they were just not ready for a woman. They would like for their current retired supply pastor, Horwood Myers, to come back for another year.
Things like that still happen occasionally in the church, I am sorry to say. But, oh how the atmosphere has changed! In 1985, that kind of negativity from the church was the end of opportunity for women. Women in ministry was, at best, a new idea. For most churches and cabinets, it was not a welcome idea. (Which is the most positive way to say it). Cabinets had reputations, especially at that time of WNC's history, for discouraging and disregarding women. And my conference membership was in North Mississippi. Any appointment I received in this conference would have been sheer grace. So for that opportunity to shut down was devastating.
I was crushed. Discouraged. Frustrated beyond words. And then Horwood Myers told the people at Bethel/Piney Grove that if they were refusing me because I was a woman, he wouldn't return either. Horwood didn't know me personally. The stand he took was on principle and it was a stand that he could easily have side-stepped. He liked serving Bethel-Piney Grove and they liked him. And, had he been willing to overlook their gender prejudice, I don't know if or when I would have had a church to serve in Western North Carolina.
Armed with Horwood's position, Bob Ralls went back to meet with the Bethel-Piney Grove PPRC. This time, he took reinforcements: "the old gray fox", Glenn Lackey--a neighbor of mine at Lake Junaluska who had a special love for these churches. They agreed to give me a chance. One Sunday and they would see.
That wasn't exactly a stirring affirmation or a wide open door, but that was the beginning of 5 amazing years of ministry at Bethel-Piney Grove...years that they and I still remember as exciting days of growth and joy. Things had changed dramatically when the next move came up. When moving time came, 5 years later at my request, they loaded up a caravan of pick-up trucks to move me and my daughters to Spruce Pine and, as they said, to tell those people at my new appointment that they had better take care of me or they would come back and get me in a heartbeat. God did a wonderful work in their hearts and in mine during those years. And the principles of Horwood Myers made it possible.
I'm sure there are hundreds of other stories to honor Horwood Myers for his ministry because people who live by their principles leave a lasting and extensive legacy. I often thanked Horwood in life but I could never thank him enough. He opened a door for me that made all the difference. His stand made my ministry in this conference possible. I thank God for him.

Oh my! What joy!

My robe is ready. My new stole (custom-made by my sister-in-law) is ready. My Daddy (who will be 90 in November) has his red stole and robe ready. My heart hardly knows how to take in the joy of standing with my daughter as she is ordained an elder in the United Methodist Church.

The idea of "women preachers" is pretty clear in the birth of the church (thus the design of my stole for Saturday morning): "When the Holy Spirit comes....your daughters shall prophesy..."(Acts 2:18). But for centuries, people in the church have steadfastly refused women the prophesying role. Some churches still adamantly refuse to welcome women into ordained ministry. And, although Susanna Wesley, the mother of John Wesley, was quite a preacher herself, it has only been in my lifetime that women in the United Methodist tradition have been fully recognized as elders.

So the chance for a mother to share in her daughter's ordination is a new and rare gift, indeed...much less for us to be third and fourth generation United Methodist pastors. I thank God for the changes that I have had a chance to witness in my lifetime. And, as I stand with my daughter at her ordination, I pray for a truly Holy Spirit church -- where gifts are freed and celebrated, where understanding crosses differences of all kinds and where disciples are known for their holy boldness.

God couldn't be everywhere....???

"God couldn't be everywhere, that's why He created mothers".... a saying that adorns stationery, note pads, desk signs, carry-alls, shirts. That little phrase is everywhere.

I am a big fan of honoring mothers. Believe me, I am.
And I applaud sentiments that show appreciation to mothers. Put them on billboards, bumper-stickers -- the works! But not this one. This "God couldn't be everywhere, that's why He created mothers" should not be repeated anywhere. It is TERRIBLE theology.
God IS everywhere. At their best, mothers show and share God's love...but they are present because God can't get around everywhere. That's more like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve night. God ISeverywhere -- for mothers, for children, for fathers, for everyone, married or single no matter where they live. God is ALWAYS everywhere. Psalm 139 states it so clearly: "Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea even there your hand shall lead me and your right hand shall hold me fast." (Psalm 139: 7-10)

I never cease to be amazed at how people can listen to a phrase like this and, contrary to everything the church has taught for years, smile and unquestioningly ooh and goo over sentiment. People need to think about things! There are plenty of phrases that may sell merchandise, but the message (however well-intended) is terrible.

God IS everywhere. And I thank God for mothers who have the opportunity to make God's presence visible.

The best gift of Easter

Easter is so much more than a wonderful day. The gift of resurrection takes a lifetime to understand and personally apply...

I had the joy of spending Easter with my daughter, son-in-law and precious grandchildren. 7 month old Mia got restless when it was time for the sermon (no reflection on her daddy's excellent preaching!). I was happy to take her out for some together time .

We had sweet moments looking at flowers, listening to noises in the fellowship hall...she notices everything! Then I walked her through the cemetery which is adjacent to the church.

Mia looked absolutely adorable on her first Easter. She listened attentively as I whispered in her ear about the best gift of Easter. As beautiful (and advanced) as she is, I am sure she will not remember my talking to her as I walked her through the tombstones. As she grows, I hope I can continue to tell her -- and live for her--the true gift of Easter. I need to keep telling her that the gift of Easter is not new clothes. It is not Easter egg hunts or children singing or lilies or the big turnout at church. The gift of Jesus at Easter is much bigger than all that. The gift of Easter is that those tombsones in the cemetery are place markers, not tragic endings. The gift of Easter is that Jesus conquers all--the very worst that life can thow at us is no match for His triumphant power.

My beautiful little girl, Easter means that, with our lives anchored in Christ, we need not fear death -- or anything else in life. Oh, how important it is for Easter to sink in on today's disciples! How fearful and anxious and reactive we are! Jesus found his disciples and, without waiting for them to open the door, He stood among them and said, "Peace." May peace be ours. The peace of Christ---the victory of Christ: that's the best gift of Easter.

Happy Easter!

HAPPY EASTER! Happy Easter! Happy Easter!

Gorgeous spring weather.

Adorable grandchildren.

Wonderful daughters.

Inspiring worship.

Warm family gathering.

Excited boys at the family Easter egg hunt.

Great food.

Wonderful memories. More to come...

I give thanks for every single feature of this day. And more.

But none of those things are what makes Easter happy.

Easter is a day of powerful joy because Easter is the day when Christ showed that, in the face of the world's worst, God is victorious.

From one Easter to the next, I am always mindful that we do not know the obstacles, difficulties, heartaches, setbacks, meanness and cruelty that lie ahead. The glory of the Easter celebration (and, truly, every Sunday of the year is a 'mini-Easter' no matter what the season) is that no matter what setbacks or horrors, God is victorious.

Easter means that no matter what the diagnosis, no matter what the economic conditions, no matter what unforseen accident or tragedy may come, God is victorious.

Easter means that whether we -- or those we love--walk through the valley of the shadow of death, God is victorious.

Easter Sunday reminds us that in ways beyond what we could see or believe, God is doing a mighty healing work -- a victorious, transforming work --to make all things right.

When I prayed for each of my churches and pastors this morning by name (as is my Sunday morning custom), I prayed that they would have glorious worship experiences. I have prayed that our people would, in addition, have wonderful family gatherings where we reinforce and bless the love shared in our family relationships.

But my greatest prayer is that people will not base their security on anything except the powerful, transforming, victorious love of Christ. That love -- and that love alone--is the ground of our hope.

I am grateful for my wonderful family. I am grateful for the church and for worship and for friendships. I am grateful for today's beautiful weather and I am oh, so grateful for my children and precious grandchildren. But had I only been able to spend Easter by myself or in the company of those I did not know, Easter would still be a day of unspeakable joy, reassurance and power. Easter is happy because of Jesus. Everything--and everyone-- else is an added blessing to Jesus Christ, the solid rock and anchor of LIFE.

So excited!!

Today -- hopefully--worship services across the Christian faith will be filled with jubilation as we begin the most sacred week in the life of a Christian. What the waving palms and children's choirs may not convey is what a sad day Palm Sunday is--a tribute to how superficial our enthusiasm can be. What was the expression on Jesus' face when he rode that donkey into Jerusalem knowing full well that he was not going to be the Messiah they were excited about? People get very excited about what they need and who can give it to them. All through the last few weeks, I have been meeting with church groups telling me what they need. I try to bring to those consultations an open mind and an attentive heart. And these conversations of a district superintendent are not confined to appointment season. My first calls that a pastor had to be moved came my first year just three weeks after Annual Conference--just days after all good Methodists had made their annual move! People aren't waving palm branches in our consultations, but they are often pretty set on what they need in a preacher. And what they are asking for is very often not what they need to build a future for their church. People get very excited about what they need. I have no trouble picturing the enthusiasm of the crows on Palm Sunday. You can listen through any medium on the culture and hear the same insistent language about what people need. The problem is not that people don't speak up for what they need. (Our airwaves are certainly a testimony to that.) The problem is that people don't know what they truly need. The needs that people waved palms over were real needs--but not their deep need. They were waving palms for an end to Roman rule over their country. Jesus was coming to Jerusalem to save their souls for eternity. If Jesus had acquiesced to their shouts of hosanna, I have no doubt that He had the power to overturn the Roman rule. But, had He gone for the real-but-very-short-term cry of their hearts, we would not be celebrating Palm Sunday. Some of us who are history buffs might have noted that Jesus of Nazareth rode into Jerusalem on a donkey as the beginning of the overthrow of the Roman rule in the first century. But, if the cries of the people led to the action of God, Palm Sunday would only be a historical footnote. God took the longer look. Today, the church and the culture is still looking for saviours--politicians, preachers, philosophies--that will solve their problems. Palm Sunday is a chance for us to examine the cries of our hearts and the symbols we raise. What do we give our excitement to? Do we lift our voices for the short term relief as we define it or do we offer our needs to God for his always-broad-scope redemptive action? I pray that our Palm Sunday worship services are uplifting and exuberant. I also pray that Palm Sunday is a time for us to examine what we clamor for in light of God's redemptive desires for the world.

Silly ladies

My heart is too full for words. After four days with clergywomen from across the Southeast -- celebrating milestones, walking through the painful early steps and acknowledging the challenges yet ahead-- flooded my heart with memories, hope and determination. One lunch meeting stood above all the high moments. In the course of meeting with sisters across conferences, I learned that a dear friend in the North Georgia Conference -- a daughter in ministry--had been brutally attacked on February 26. By any measure, she is a treasure--a ball of life and a heart as big as the world. She is a walking John 3:16 -- meeting people where they are, welcoming people of all nations and races with the overflowing love of Christ. Hearing the news that she had been attacked was incomprehensible to me. Sisters from yet another conference where we had all known each other arranged the lunch. Our precious friend shared about the attack and its gory details. She shared how help had come and how people across her city had reached out to her. She was realistic about her injuries but kept coming back to the way God had held her in a deep cocoon of peace. The best gift of all was that she was still herself in outlook and attitude and faith. Yes, she is recovering from one of life's most traumatic events. But she was feeling closer than ever to the love of God. I started and ended our lunch in tears that I could not hold back. But, as we were finishing, a young mother with a little boy about 2 years old stopped at our table. The young mother said, "He was fascinated by you because of your laughter. He looked up at me and said, 'Silly ladies!' I looked into that child's eyes and his mother's sweet heart and thought, "Dear friends, if you had any idea of the gruesome nature that was the core of this conversation, you wouldn't think about laughter. You don't seem to realize that you are talking to someone who has been headline news in your city for a horrible crime that was committed against her." And then I smiled at the gift of perspective we had been given. That little boy overheard the nature of our conversation. Obviously, his mother didn't hear any of the content. The content of our conversation would have frightened her. She heard the love -- love for each other based on a long history, the love of God, the gratitude in the midst of tragedy that my beloved friend repeatedly lifted up angle by angle. I was humble to the core of my soul that this amazing friend of mine....this beautiful daughter and servant of God had walked through this crushing experience with God so closely that others observed our sharing as joyful. "Count it nothing but joy" says the writer of James, "when you face trials of any kind...."(James 1:2) This has never been the easiest Bible verse to live. But I have seen a living witness to that joy beyond life's worst. I sat next to her on a booth over lunch this week. I saw first hand a living resurrection. And I will never be the same.