Let Peace Begin With Me...and You

 These have been heart-wrenching days as our TV screens have been filled with images of the conflict between Israel and Hamas. The night sky has been lit up by rocket missiles that have exploded with deadly consequences. Homes and hospitals have been destroyed. Bloodied, bruised and dead Israeli children and Palestinian children have torn our hearts into a million little pieces.

How do we make sense of this conflict? How do we make a stand for peace in a place that has been torn apart by violence for centuries? What are we to do?

As I watch the images from the Middle East, a reminder whispered to me: Jesus wept.

Jesus wept.

Jesus weeps twice in the Gospels: Once, when he learns that Lazarus, someone he loved dearly, had died (John 11:35). The second, when he stood overlooking Jerusalem and was overcome with emotion, weeping as he said “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” (Luke 19: 41-42).

I am struck by these two instances: in the first, he feels such kinship with another that he can only cry when he learns that Lazarus has died. The second, in spite of the jubilant crowd that welcomed him with Palm branches and shouted “Hosanna”, he can only weep as he looks over Jerusalem (whose name means “City of Peace”).

Maybe what is needed in this moment are our tears. May we open our hearts to those who are caught up in a conflict that is not of their own making. May their lives matter to us. May we cry at the loss of life, whether Israeli or Palestinian, simply because they are our siblings, connected to us by a common cord of humanity.

May we cry because peace seems so elusive. May we cry because we, too, seem not to recognize the things that make for peace.

And then, through the power of God’s grace, may we live lives of peace. In youth group we sang “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.” This is the foundational place that peace begins. If we aren’t living with hearts of peace, that give rise to acts of peace and relationships of reconciliation, how can there be peace in our lives, towns, cities, countries, and world?

May the peace that begins with us pour out and connect with other peace-seekers. May this become a strong and gentle movement that truly turns swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, so that tears no longer fall and no one studies war any more.

Doing Unto Others...

 This past week was the 25th anniversary of the death of Matthew Shepard, who died on October 12, 1998. Six days earlier, Matthew, a young gay man and student at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, was beaten, tortured, and left to die strung up on a wooden fence. It was a horrific act that tugged on the conscience of America, helping people realize the hatred and violence LGBTQ+ people face daily. During one of my trips to Wyoming, I made a pilgrimage to the site where Matthew Shepard was left to die. It was important for me, as this region’s bishop and as a lesbian, to visit the site and pray there.

Today, I am at a gathering of several hundred United Methodists in Charlotte, NC—the Reconciling Ministries Network is hosting a Convocation. RMN helps churches be a place where all people—regardless of sexual orientation and gender identity—are welcomed into the life of the church and its ministry. There is great joy and so much love in the room. It is a place of healing and hope for so

many.

At this convocation, I am especially thinking of the two men whose actions led to Matthew's death. Did they attend a church? Did they learn of God’s love for them as well as all others? What were they taught that made it possible for them to commit unspeakable acts against Matthew?

What are we teaching our children? How are we ensuring that each person—no matter who God created them to be—will know they, too, bear the image of God and will be nurtured to grow into the fullness of their God-given self in a safe and loving environment? How will we help one another see God’s face in people who aren’t like us, so that we will be moved to offer care and compassion as well as stand together for justice and right relationships?

I have been moved by the response of those in Wyoming to Matthew’s death. The state known as the “Equality State” (because it was the first state to grant women the right to vote) and a state that had an all-black town (Empire, WY, founded in 1908) has had people across the state organizing to ensure that all Wyomingites experience a safe and just place to live.

Sara Burlingame is a remarkable Wyoming community organizer. Sara recently wrote a piece reminding the people of Wyoming of the “Golden Rule of the Snow Ditch: Do unto others in a snow ditch as you would have done unto you in a snow ditch.” When someone’s car has slid off the road, you first don’t check on who they are before you help them. Their life depends on you getting them out of the ditch. You help. And you help, knowing that one day, you will need the same help.

Throughout the Mountain Sky Conference, we know the importance of this rule during the winter months! What a great way to understand more fully Jesus words, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12). When we treat each other the way we want to be treated, the lives we very well may be saving may be our own.

May our churches be places where every person is treated as the precious child of God they are. Where we look out for one another. Where we work to build safe communities and towns together. Where God’s Beloved Community takes shape and becomes a beacon of healing and hope, justice and joy.

Let's Dream Together!

 I love church buildings. When Robin and I travel, we always stop along the way to dash into a church. I love the smell. I love the way the light dances across the altar. I love the way the pews are worn down from generations of worshippers sitting, squirming, and (if we’re honest) sometimes even sleeping.

But there are things that concern me when I visit churches. Sometimes I wonder: is the church more of a museum these days (with very limited hours) or a mission outpost?

There was a time when the church building was the only community space in a town, so it was a vibrant gathering space. People knew it was the safe home to go to when the place you lived wasn’t safe. People came to find solace as well as challenge as they deepened their discipleship. They came to dream of ways to put their faith in action, to be a healing force for those who were hurting, a movement for justice for those who experienced oppression and injustice, a place where the redemptive love of Christ was experienced in tangible ways.

But times change. For many, the church building that served us so well in the 1920s now feels like an albatross around our necks. The roof leaks. The heater is on its last legs, and it feels like we are serving the building rather than it serving us. Each year it feels as if a greater percentage of our budgets are going to building upkeep than ministry programs.

COVID taught us that vibrant ministry can happen without a building. In fact, we in the Mountain Sky Conference are now worshipping more online than in person.

What does this mean for the future church? What will we leave the generations that will come after us? Someone was thinking of us when they broke new ground, although they couldn’t imagine the world we would currently inhabit. What is the new thing we need to create, for the sake of our children’s children? How will we shape a church that is less a museum of antiques and more a place (whatever that place might look like) where wounded souls find healing and peace through the love of God?

Let’s dream together!