Grace-Filled Rhythms for Life

 

Following the World Methodist Conference in Gothenburg, Sweden, Robin and I have been traveling around Scandinavia—a part of the world we have never been before. We have been taking trains and boats as we have traveled. One train trip—from north of the Arctic Circle to the city of Trondheim—was 10 hours long. The boat trip was 30 hours!

The gears in my busy life suddenly turned slowly. You can’t rush a train or speed up a boat! Instead, I felt myself—mind, body, and soul—learn new rhythms as I felt myself rocked by our conveyances

This is such a contrast to how many of us live. The lazy, hazy days of summer are giving way to Fall’s busy schedule. Many of our young people are back in school (which I consider so cruel—call me old school, but school shouldn’t start until after Labor Day). Pastors are looking at Advent themes already, The pause button has been all too brief as we rush back into calendars that are already booked solid.

I once read an insight by Angeles Arrien: nature’s rhythm is medium to slow. The seeds we planted months ago are just now being sown. It takes nine months for a fetus to come to term, and many years before that human is truly ready to be launched into the world. Few creatures, Arrien notes, move rapidly unless they are in danger.

We are a people who live hyper-speed lives.  We can’t help but press on the gas when the light turns yellow (or honk if someone takes too long to move forward when the light turns green). We get impatient when fast food is slow or our internet takes too long to download. Give us instant anything and don’t take more than a second than is necessary. We run from appointment to appointment, arriving out of breath because we scarcely take time to breathe.

Arriens’ words haunt me: Few creatures move rapidly unless they are in danger. What are you afraid of that keeps you so busy? What is it we are running from?

What would happen if we slowed down our pace: had fewer church meetings, didn’t sign our kids up for every activity, didn’t schedule every minute of our day. What might happen if we learned how to linger more and race around less? What differences might it make in the conversations we have with one another? How might our relationships deepen? How might our souls be fed in surprising ways?

Jesus says to us:  “Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matthew 11: 28-30) My prayer for you is that you stop running and be still with God and others. Let God’s grace wash over you. Good things take time. Give yourself the expanse of fertile space that gives birth to creativity and new ideas and ways of seeing the world. Live freely and lightly once again.

Stop keeping your body in flight mode and sink into an awareness that you are held by God who loves you, blesses you, and keeps you, whose face shines upon you, whose grace is offered to you, who will give you peace.

Yes, Jesus Loves Me

 “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…”

This is the very first song nearly every child learns in a Christian Sunday School. Sunday School teachers and members of the church are vessels of this love through their care and instruction. In this supportive environment, children grow in faith as they grow into their God-created selves.

But in too many churches, once young people begin to question their sexual orientation or gender identity, the message they receive is that God’s love is now conditional. This causes deep spiritual harm. Someone who doesn’t have a nurturing environment to grow into the person God created them to be lives a stunted life, never living into their full potential.

Church ought to be the place where every child of God will find a loving and accepting home to be who they are.

The United Methodist Church made huge changes to be that loving place through General Conference actions.

There are some United Methodists who are going to think we went too far by removing the language that declared homosexuality as “incompatible with Christian teaching”, allowing clergy to preside over same-gender weddings (if they choose to do so) and allowing LGBTQ clergy. I hope you will enter into a time of wondering: why would these pass overwhelmingly by delegates from around the world (the ban against LGBTQ clergy only had 51 no votes out the entire body)? What scriptures would prompt people to adopt these positions? How do these statements help us “do no harm; do good; and stay in love with God?”

We humans see the image of God as through a mirror dimly (I Corinthians 13: 12). God is so much bigger than our limited comprehension. The God who created the world in all its diverse flourishings has imprinted on each human God’s own image. The more we encounter and enter into relationship with each other, the deeper we look into each other’s eyes, the clearer God’s image emerges. We gain a bigger picture of who God is, particularly when we include those who don’t look like us, think like us, or love like us.

There are people of all ages in your community who are looking for a grace-filled community that allows them to ask questions, to be able to take tentative and shaky steps to explore who God made them to be, to find themselves in a community who will cheer them on when they do so.

Will you and your church be that community?

Let me tell you: there is amazing joy waiting for you if you are willing to do so. For wherever there is new life, whenever someone says yes to being their full God-created self, when someone is finally able to proclaim out loud to God “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” the angels sing and the saints dance.

I pray that our United Methodist Churches will be such loving places. May no child of God ever think they are beyond God’s love. May they be able to sing throughout their life:

“Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so”

 

What Are We Teaching the Children?

 I grew up on a dead end street on the South Shore of Long Island, perfect for playing ball in the summer and sledding in the winter. It seemed to be an inevitable badge of childhood that all of us would eventually sport a scar on one or both knees from tripping on the curbs that were marked as 1^st and 3^rd bases. The block had many young families, so I grew up with enough friends to make two teams of whatever we chose to play. We were fiercely competitive, but the make-up of the teams were never the same, as players were interchangeable, one team to the other.

We certainly had our fights, but they never lasted long if we wanted to continue to play our games. We needed one another, so whatever grievances we held against each other were quickly forgotten so we could resume our play.

Why, as we grow older, do we lose this capacity to forgive and forget? Why do we harbor resentments for so long? When did we stop seeing that we are all, ultimately, on the same team?

This hit home for me as I watched the State of the Union address. When did we devolve from having civility in the chambers to cat-calls and taunting? When did Thanksgiving dinners begin to need referees or rules about what we can and can’t talk about? When did we grow so polarized that we have forgotten we are on the same team?

I can’t help but wonder about what we are modeling to our children. Do our actions model respect when we interrupt a speaker? Are we teaching tolerance of difference when we dismiss and dehumanize those we disagree with? Are we helping our children grow into adults that will lean into hard conversations with humility and curiosity?

Jesus reserved some of his harshest words to for those who mistreat children:

 “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom. What’s more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it’s the same as receiving me.

“But if you give them a hard time, bullying or taking advantage of their simple trust, you’ll soon wish you hadn’t. You’d be better off dropped in the middle of the lake with a millstone around your neck. Doom to the world for giving these God-believing children a hard time! Hard times are inevitable, but you don’t have to make it worse—and it’s doomsday to you if you do.” (Matthew 18: 3-7, The Message)

This week, consider what your words and actions are teaching the children around you. And then, take time to consider what the children in your life might be trying to teach you about God and a life of faith.

Called to a Life of Love

I love the story of Jesus' first calls to the disciples. His cousin John the Baptist has been imprisoned for critiquing Herod’s behavior. In this charged political climate, Jesus begins his ministry, recruiting those who are willing to let go of all they are doing to follow him. Nets were dropped, tools put down, schedules abandoned as Jesus’ call took hold of the disciples’ lives, and they could do no other but follow him.

In hindsight, the easy part was the initial call—“Come, follow me.” The disciples left the familiar and ran to Jesus, hungry for direction and meaning. But we get to see the whole story: when the demands of faith seemed too great, the risks of faith too frightening, the disciples shrank in fear.

In fact, being a disciple of Jesus was (and is!) a pretty high-risk venture. It meant leaving oneself open to a great deal of loss: the loss of friends and family, the loss of home and possessions, the loss of job and status. And by the world’s standards, the gains weren’t very pretty. Since Jesus, from his very birth, was considered a political subversive, the disciples risked a great deal to follow him. And when Jesus was arrested and crucified and the going got real tough, the disciples scattered in fear.

God wouldn’t leave them alone but kept beckoning to them. They discovered that their commitment was greater than their fear, so that they were able to live out their call of preaching, teaching, and healing in Jesus’ name.

Living out God’s claim on our life is a scary venture. It calls us into a future that is unknown. It puts us in relationships with people we might not otherwise choose to be in relationship with. It opens us to experiences that we would rather avoid.

Too often we try to put guard rails on faith. We try to stifle where the Spirit calls us. We pull ourselves back from the very places God would have us go. This is not only to our own detriment but also to the world, which God has called us to engage with hearts on fire for compassion, for healing, for justice.

During our Civil Rights Pilgrimage in Montgomery, I read one person’s words that challenged me: “We committed ourselves so completely to the vision of civil rights that the risk of dying was secondary.” I confess reading that while standing in the epicenter of the civil rights movement, learning about how costly the civil rights movement was to those who participated in it, felt like a punch to the gut. How committed am I to my faith, to this life of Love that Jesus calls me to? Am I willing to live it so completely that the risk of death is a secondary thought?

The Love Jesus calls us to live is a demanding Love. This Love isn’t content with the status quo. It demands that structures and systems get shaken up so that people can not merely survive but thrive. It insists on recognizing all persons as possessing the image of God. It always moves us to the margins of any group, any community, to build the center of community (and ministry!) there.

“And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” Many of us belted this song out with gusto when we were young. Is the fire of that faith still burning? Where is Love leading you and your church today as you follow Jesus?

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.

Be Kind

This week, The United Methodist Church lost a spiritual giant—retired Bishop Sudarshana Devadhar. His death hit me hard, and when I reflected on this, I realized because of the depth of his kindness. From his welcoming embraces to the way he looked you in the eye when he asked you how you were, he was a man who was fully present, grounded in grace, and an embodiment love.

I have been thinking all week about kindness. I do think it is a quality we easily dismiss and a power we underestimate. Think about the ways others have brought hope and healing into your life. It’s not usually the grand gestures we think of, but the small ways people saw us, responded to us and our needs, offered a squeeze on the arm, prayed for us, called us out of the blue, sent a card of encouragement, caught our tears.

Scripture tells us that kindness is one of the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5). Paul encourages, “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32). Jesus embodied kindness in the ways he saw those the world overlooked, ate with the outcasts, healed those who were hurting, and washed the feet of his disciples.

We live in a world that is in dire need of kind people. Too many of us are stepping over or around those in need. Too many of us allow anger, resentment, frustration, and impatience get the better of us, so we fail to do the simple things that express kindness. We forget that our small, random acts of kindness, powered by the Holy Spirit, make a difference in the lives of those around us.

Consider ways you might express kindness today. Pray the words to this hymn by Margaret Cropper:

Jesus' hands were kind hands, doing good to all,

healing pain and sickness, blessing children small,

washing tired feet and saving those who fall;

Jesus' hands were kind hands, doing good to all.

 

Take my hands, Lord Jesus, let them work for you;

make them strong and gentle, kind in all I do;

let me watch you, Jesus, till I'm gentle too,

till my hands are kind hands, quick to work for you.

 

PREPARING FOR ANNUAL CONFERENCE 2023

Much of the work of conference leadership has been laser-focused on preparing for Annual Conference, which will be held next week at First UMC in Colorado Springs. Annual Conference is a time when clergy and lay members of the Mountain Sky Conference gather to help us order our life for the coming year. We will worship together, engage in mission, share in bible study, engage in learning workshops, approve new candidates for ministry, adopt a budget, remember those saints who served God and now rest from their labors, and renew old friendships and make new ones.

I have been watching reports from Annual Conferences across the country. I have been struck by the joy and hope that has been expressed across the connection. As we move past the heartbreak of disaffiliations, there is a renewed commitment to our mission to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. There is a desire to deepen the United Methodist connection. There is a vision for who God is calling us to be that is contagious, captivating clergy and laity.

In these few days before we gather, I will be in deep prayer for our time together. I pray that the winds of the Spirit will carry us safely to Colorado Springs and that those who will be attending via zoom will feel the connection we share.

I pray that everyone who is a part of annual conference will find joy knowing they are a part of something lifegiving and will rediscover we can do more together than we can apart.

I pray that someone will find Jesus tapping them on the shoulder and hear him say, “Come, follow me.”

I pray that we will offer one another generous grace as we commit to listening to one another, even when there are sighs too deep for words.

I pray that we will do what United Methodists are told to do from the time they enter Sunday School: to leave a place better than we found it (whether that place is First UMC, Colorado Springs, or each session we are a part of).

The words that continue to surface in my prayers are these: Grace. Joy. Connection. May these words guide our time together.

Resilient Faith

 Recently, I have been in conversation with more than one person who said, “I feel like I need a really good cry.” I know the feeling. There is so much to cry about these days: one more school shooting in our conference (this one at Denver’s East High School), the climate crisis, a fractured church, a world at war, bans on books, legislation that puts our trans siblings at risk…sometimes all I have are sighs too deep for words.

I spent this week in Montana, first at a Montana clergywomen’s retreat and then at our United Methodist-related Rocky Mountain College in Billings. When I turned into my driveway yesterday, I was surprised to see that a tulip plant had burst from the ground and was drinking up the sunlight. It wasn’t there when I left last Sunday. And this morning, it was partially covered in snow but by the afternoon, it was once again reaching up towards the sun.

God built resiliency into all creation. Paul reminds us of the strength we find in God to persevere all that befalls us:

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without God’s unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.” (2 Corinthians 4: 16-18)

When all seems so wrong and so bad, lean into the grace of God. When it feels as if your heart can simply not bear one more bit of bad news, remember that Love will continue to burst forth in your life and in our world again. When your soul is weary beyond words, remember the renewal Jesus offers you:

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11: 28-30)

I pray for the healing of the world. May we find strength in Jesus Christ to extend God’s healing Love in our broken world.

Journeying with the Magi

This is the Sunday when we remember when the Magi, with a sense of urgency, journeyed from the East. They followed the star, traveling first to Jerusalem and then on to Bethlehem, seeking to encounter the Christ Child.

While they were in Jerusalem, they came to Herod and stated their intentions to find this one called the king of the Jews. Herod feared this news but feigned a reverent interest in the baby, stating that he wanted the Magi to return to him after they had located the baby.

But the Magi listened to a message that came to them in a dream: don’t go back to Herod. They went home by a new road as they sought to distance themselves from a second encounter with Herod. By avoiding Herod, they kept Jesus alive. Herod was so threatened by the baby Jesus that he on to murder all the baby boys in Bethlehem

Our dreams can startle us in their clarity, pointing us to a direction we hadn’t intended to take.

Where do your dreams lead you?

Are you willing to step out on a journey that has no clear map, trusting that you will be guided by the Spirit to a place that is both transformative and life-giving?

By taking the unfamiliar road, what will be saved? Perhaps this is a question we most overlook when we are challenged to change direction. We keep looking back at what we will lose. But our actions—like the Magi—have the capacity to bring life to others in ways we can’t even imagine.

Journey with the Magi to encounter the Christ Child. Bring what gifts you can offer. Then, rise from your knees and take the path that will offer you—and others—life!

WALKING INTO 2023

2022 has not been an easy year. Divisions seem to have deepened and multiplied. Civility is in short supply. It feels like anger, mistrust, and disinformation guide personal and communal actions. We’ve grown accustomed to war and rumors of war. We have stopped seeing the image of God in some faces. Heartbreak crowds the corners of our heart, nudging out joy.

Looking at the blank slate of the New Year, I wonder what it will hold for you and me. When will a sunset create a deep pang so poignant that catches in our throat? What call will we receive in the middle of the night? How will joy well up so fast it will surprise us, and beauty suddenly appear and take our breath away? What strangers will become friends? What will we learn that will inform how we live for the rest of our lives? When and where will love blossom unbidden?

As I look for a word to guide my steps into the uncharted map of 2023, I found this section of I Peter from the First Nations Version of the New Testament:

Walk side by side in harmony with each other. Try to feel what others feel. Love each other as
family. Be tenderhearted and walk with a humble spirit.

Never return evil for evil or insult for insult. Instead, speak words of blessing over each other, for you were chosen to share together in the Creator’s blessings. (I Peter 3: 8-9)

I receive the gift of these words from the Holy Spirit and will hold fast to them each day. I don’t think they will keep hardships at bay, but I do believe that they will make the way through hardships clearer. Grounded in Jesus’ way of love, I pray that my walk in 2023 will be one of gentleness and tenderness, caring for the earth and others as best I can.

What words will guide your steps into 2023?

MY JOB IS TO LOVE

 Last week, I worshipped with FUMC Prairie Campus in Colorado Springs (CO). It was a somber day as the impact of the shootings at ClubQ continued to reverberate across the community. Following the service, Robin and I stopped to look at the memorial that had been created at ClubQ. Rainbow flags, bouquets of flowers, prayer cards and signs had been left in front of large pictures of the five people who had lost their lives in the shooting. The cries of people weeping were the only sound that pierced the silence as folks came to pay their last respects.

One sign left a deep impression on me was a black poster board with white letters: MY JOB IS TO LOVE. In the face of hate and death, the power of those words hit me hard and I have been pondering them all week.

We are in the season of Advent. Each Sunday is a chance for us to focus our waiting on the coming of Christ. The second Sunday of Advent’s focus is Love. We are reminded of a God who loved us enough to become one of us.

Through his teaching, Jesus makes love the center over and over again. He reminds his followers that all of the law can be summed up in two things: Love God and love others. He shows us what love looks like by standing with those on the margins, by being a healing presence, by pushing back on oppressive forces. Love, for Jesus, is an action verb that compels us to act when there is suffering, wrong-doing, and prejudice. In this way, our love of God is made visible in the world.

As we face a world where hate is paraded in the public square, where violence seems to have the upper hand, where we wonder if God has abandoned us, take time this week to ponder the Christmas miracle: Emmanuel, God-With-Us! Make God’s presence known to those around you through the love you share. Live the truth that is found in the familiar song: They will know we are Christians by our love.

Your job is to love.

Make this your aim. In everything you do, ask yourself, “Does this action, is what I am saying, increasing love in the world? Is it a visible sign of my love of God and neighbor?”

As you move through Advent, with your eye on the Christmas gift of love, keep practicing grounding all you do in love. And watch your world change.

To Move Through Our Adversities

I love to read. As a bishop, I am finding myself with little time to read as much as I like, so summer travels always include a pile of books. This summer, one book I read was by “Brighter By The Day: Waking Up to New Hopes and Dreams” by Robin Roberts, the co-anchor of Good Morning America. It is a wonderful devotional book, grounded in Roberts’ faith as a Christian. Roberts has been quoted as crediting her parents with instilling in her the “"three 'D's: Discipline, Determination, and 'De Lord.'

In the book, Roberts is honest not only about her triumphs but also her failures and adversities, including serious life-threatening medical diagnoses: “We may not fully understand why catastrophe has befallen us, and that’s okay. Our job isn’t to comprehend it. It’s to redeem it for good.”

That line jumped out at me. I don’t believe God inflicts horrible things on us. I don’t believe God sends fire or flood or famine or disease. A loving God wouldn’t try or treat us in that way. Being a human and walking and growing in the world leaves us open personal and natural disasters, disease, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

To focus on trying to understand “Why did this happen to me” can tie us in knots and leave us frustrated, depressed, and disempowered. Instead, where do we find God companioning us through the catastrophe? Who is walking with us as we move through grief? Who is cheering us on as we take another step towards sobriety? How is God offering us sustenance as we face the brokenness of our lives?

The God who rose Jesus from the dead makes plain to us that this is the God who truly makes all things new again. Not even the crushing blow of death can prevent God’s love from bursting from whatever tomb catastrophe has tried to bury us in. Ours is not to ask “Why did this happen to me?” Instead, turning from whatever may have befallen us, how do we move through it to the other side? How do we find the healing path? How do we integrate what we have experienced to make us even more than we were before, increase our capacity for compassion, enrich us for deeper empathy, and help us be more tender with others who are going through their own hard times?

May you find comfort and hope from these words from the Psalms: “Weeping may endure for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

The Servanthood of a Queen

 This week the world joined the United Kingdom in mourning as Queen Elizabeth died. There have been so many anecdotes about her life over the past several days, but what has stood out for me has been the way her faith shaped her life and leadership.

In her coronation speech, the Queen made a request to all those listening: “I want to ask you all, whatever your religion may be, to pray for me on that day, to pray that God may give me wisdom and strength to carry out the solemn promises I shall be making, and that I may faithfully serve Him and you, all the days of my life.”

She was crowned Queen at the age of 25. As the weight of the crown was placed on her head, she was well aware that the weight of servanthood was also being placed upon her. For the rest of her life, her purpose was to serve.

As I think about this, I realize that in her life we have a clear example of discipleship: when we follow Christ, we shift the focus of our lives from self and instead seek to better the lives around us through the love of God found in Christ Jesus. We might not live in a castle (or many castles) or be a head of state, but each of us possesses within us the mark of Divine Love bestowed upon us by our Creator. Each of us has a unique purpose and mission that no one else possesses. Queen Elizabeth was clear about hers, and it guided her every single day. How about you?

“Billions of people now follow Christ’s teaching and find in him the guiding light for their lives. I am one of them because Christ’s example helps me see the value in doing small things with great love.”—Queen Elizabeth

Death Is Entwined With Life

 

This weekend was Bishop Wilbur Choy’s funeral. Like so many episcopal elections in the Western Jurisdiction, his was historic as the first Asian American elected a bishop in the UMC. 

 

This has been a season of death. From COVID’s claws to nature’s fury to war’s destruction, the cloak of death weighs heavy. Lent, too, is a season where the specter of death is uncomfortably close. It begins with the imposition of ashes, marking and reminding us of our mortality. It ends in the darkness of a tomb. 

 

We can’t escape death. We are marching towards it our entire life. 

 

And while the final death blow is ever before us, throughout our life we experience little deaths. Relationships change. Our bodies change. The world we once knew is no more.

 

Death is entwined with life. 

 

Some deaths are needed and welcomed: killing off tumors, germs and viruses or habits and relationships we finally realize are hastening our demise. Others are unwelcomed, unexpected, and feel unwarranted. Yet, these, too, hold surprises for us.

 

Helen Keller once said: “Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.”

 

We who follow a crucified yet resurrected Christ know that death is not final. There awaits, on the other side of every death, new and fuller life. Of this, the apostle Paul writes, almost mockingly: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (I Corinthians 15: 55)

 

What are the things within you that are preventing you from the promise of new life? What can you, must you let go of to receive the blessing of resurrection?

GRADUATE INTO LIFE-LONG LEARNING

It is that time of year! Looking over the posts on my Facebook newsfeed, I can almost hear the brass band playing Pomp and Circumstance. You know the tune. Have you ever been to a graduation that didn’t play it? 

 A fun little fact about Pomp and Circumstance: Edward Elgar composed it in 1902 to be used for the coronation of Edward VII of Britain. He was the son of Queen Victoria. Yale University used it in the 1906 graduation when Elgar was given an honorary doctorate (but they used it as he left the stage after receiving his award, not walking up to it). Not to be bested by a rival ivy league school, Princeton then used it, and then the University of Chicago followed by Columbia. Pretty soon everyone was using the tune and I suspect your school did as well. 

 So it seems like every family is having a graduation this weekend: I have seen pictures of high school graduations, college graduations, law school graduations, seminary graduations. The one set of pics I have yet to see are pre-school graduation photos, but I know they are coming! 

With graduation comes an understanding that one has mastered something: a discipline or a field. There is all too often an underlying assumption that one has arrived, that learning is finished and living begins. But one quickly discovers that learning is a life-long task. No matter what one’s work is, it continues to entail new lessons, new ways of doing things, an integration of new information. 

 And even living one's life requires one to be a life-long learner. Many of us who surf the internet are not digital natives. We came of age in the dark BC age, Before Computers. Imagine what our lives would be like if we didn’t commit to learning new technology. During COVID, online worship would not exist. We would not be sharing in each others joys and concerns and holding one another in prayer. 

 Just like our work and our daily living requires us to be life-long learners, so does our faith. I have met too many people who think that once they have been confirmed, they have arrived and there is no need to continue to study scripture and grow in the faith. But what I have observed over the years as pastor, is that they have been left with a faith that addresses the life challenges of an 8th grader rather than an adult. Adult crises come as they do to all of us: death and disease, failure and heartbreak. But that 7th grade faith doesn’t provide a strong foundation to weather the stormy seas of life. 

  A mature life requires a mature faith. 

 Jesus spent three years teaching and training his disciples, helping them to encounter God and others through a new lens of love. But his teaching didn’t stop with his crucifixion and death. The risen Christ continued to teach his disciples, to both confirm the truth of his teaching but also to encourage them to go deeper still. And Christ requires the same of us. 

 Proverbs 4: 13 reminds us, Take hold of instruction, do not let go. Guard her, for she is your life.”

 Life-long learning bears the fruit of wisdom. Wisdom that is grounded in God and helps us navigate life’s challenges. Are you a life-long learner? What do you do to continue to grow spiritually as a disciple of Jesus? 

 Tomorrow is Pentecost Sunday but for we who are United Methodists, it is also another special Sunday: Aldersgate Sunday. This Sunday celebrates the day John Wesley experienced the assurance of his salvation. Now, Wesley was a very learned man who studied scripture as well as theologians. But it wasn’t until he was attending a bible study on Aldersgate street in London that he felt his heart strangely warmed. He later wrote that while he was listening to someone read Luther’s preface to Romans, “he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death." 

 This broke open not only Wesley’s heart but his life in Christ. It was not the conclusion of study, but the beginning of an even deeper dive into his growth as a Christian. 

 Wesley developed an understanding of the means of grace. While God’s grace is available to all of us and is unearned, we are to lean into this grace so that our faith might be strengthened and confirmed.

 The means of grace are divided into works of piety and works of mercy, and include both individual and communal practices. Works of Piety include things like reading, studying scripture, attending worship, fasting, Christian conferencing, and sharing the sacraments. Works of mercy include visiting the sick and those in prison, feeding those who are hungry, doing the work of justice and seeking to end oppression in whatever forms they take. 

 The means of grace, these works of piety and mercy, are ways we United Methodists keep growing in our faith as we experience God’s saving grace for our lives. Being grounded in this grace helps our faith remain vital and robust, ready to meet whatever challenges we face in life. I want to encourage you to not think of Sunday school as something we ever graduate from, or a final point of arriving at something called faith. Instead, utilize the means of grace to keep your faith flowering, growing, maturing, gaining increasing wisdom, this day and every day.

SEEKING THE WATER OF LIFE AS WE FACE THE CHANGES OF LIFE

 

I am struck that it is one year ago that the COVID wave crashed across our area, forcing us into quarantine mode. One year. I remember we all thought it would be for a short time, that if we sheltered in place well, we could all re-emerge at Easter and oh, what a day of resurrection it would be!

And here we are, a year later, and perhaps, if vaccines keep happening at the rates they are, PERHAPS we are achieving herd immunity and can together experience new life together at Easter,

So I have been reflecting on this past year, what I have learned, what I failed to learn, what I did, what I failed to do. There are so many lessons this past year offers and I believe that we need to take time to consider the lessons and be sure we have learned them well as we move into the future.

So tonight, Id like you to think about this past year. What significant events have been defining moments of the past year, what you have learned from them, how God has spoken to you through all you have experienced?

This is a season of change. Just as the length of light has grown longer, the days warmer, the buds just starting to poke through the ground across our area, change is happening, too, in our individual lives. Some of us are getting ready for moves, some are preparing young people for graduation, some are walking with loved ones who are sick and dying. We feel the changes wrought by aging increase with every passing day.

What are some changes you are facing?

Listing all of these changes, it is a bit overwhelming. And then when you place all these within the backdrop of a fast-paced, ever changing society, it can make you dizzy!

Change isn’t easy for us. For many of us, our attitude towards change is summed up by the bumper sticker: Change is good. You go first. Or by another bumper sticker: Change is good. Unless it happens.

How do you negotiate the many changes that you face in your life?  What resources help you move through change? What does your faith have to do with the changes you face?  Is it any help at all to you?

Arian Ward of Hughes Space and Communications Company said, “I’m no longer in the mode of trying to change people. I’m in a mode of finding a way to enable them to change. Because it’s going to happen naturally.”  We are going to age.  Friends and loved ones will move or die.  We will acquire new positions, new roles.  Who or what is equipping you to be able to change?  Who or what is helping you move through the transitions, which are the psychological process people go through to come to terms with change?

I have not always been graceful at negotiating transitions, but I have found that faith offers me comfort and a compass for those transition points.  For there is one who is the A to Z, the first and final, the beginning and the end. Christ’s presence bookends the beginnings and endings of change in my life. And when I sink into this truth, change and transitions are less frightening and disorienting, because through it all, my eyes are focused on the promises of God, who will be with me always.

Through those times of transition, when my soul has been parched and my spirit in a draught, Jesus has offered me the Water of Life which sustained and strengthened me so that I have been able to say boldly through the transitions of life: “I’m on my way! I’ll be there soon!”

Water, the water of life.  Many years ago a friend and I were checking out a new hiking trail for our summer church camp in the Catskill mountains of New York. For a couple of years, we had hiked the same trail in for two and a half miles and then hiked it out with our campers. But we realized that the trail went on beyond our turn around and ended at another point. We didn’t want to have to backtrack anymore so thought we would check out this seven mile hike.

We hiked the first two and a half miles. No problem. All familiar ground.  Got up to our usual turn-around point on a heavily forested plateau. But when you stepped to the edge of the plateau, you overlooked an expanse of wilderness that took your breath away. It was always hard to leave that beautiful spot.

My friend and I pulled ourselves away and began walking on the new path.  We felt pretty confident about our trail. Although every once in a while it got covered over in bushes, and sometimes we wondered if we were still on the trail or a deer path.

We stopped for lunch on a huge granite boulder, eating all our food and drinking all our water, as we lazily lounged on the stone like lizards in the hot sun.

After a nap, we continued on the trail, and began to get a little nervous: were we on the right trail? How far did we have to go? It was a hot day and we had drank all our water. We became more and more dehydrated and extremely anxious, as we wondered when we would ever get to the end of the trail. In fact, I have never been more scared out on a trail before.

Finally, totally parched, we could make out the trail head sign in the distance. About thirty yards from the end of the trail, I tripped and literally rolled my way the rest of the trail.

I learned an important lesson that day about water’s life-giving powers.  The lack of water clouded my judgment. I lost my sense of balance. I wasn’t sure which way to go, didn’t have the strength at times to go on. 

When Jesus says, come, drink freely of the water of life, I know the power that he is offering me for this trail of life I am trying to follow, even when I get lost, when the trail changes, when all the familiar signs around me are gone.

What trail are you walking? What winds of change blow fiercely in your life these days? What kinds of transitions are you facing?  There is one who was with you at the beginning of it all, and there is one who will be with you at the end. There is one who is your companion now, who wants to offer you the strength and sustenance to negotiate this time of change in your life.  Come. Come and drink freely of the water of life that Jesus offers us.

THE LENTEN JOURNEY: FACING HARD TRUTHS

 

I confess I have a heavy heart these days. 

The Council of Bishops of The United Methodist Church has committed to focusing on anti-racism during Lent. Each week, a bishop provides a midweek devotion on the theme of anti-racism. It has been so powerful to hear the different voices of my colleague bishops, as well as the music and spoken word of members from their conference, provide spiritual challenge and care.

This past week was my turn, and I made the mistake of reading the comments section in the UMC Facebook page. One person wrote, “Enough of the ongoing racism barrage. How about we do something else for awhile, like celebrate a Risen Savior.” As if the Risen Savior, who has broken down the barriers, would ever say while there are people suffering, “Enough already.” Or, as someone else responded, “You’re tired of it huh? Imagine experiencing racism EVERY DAY.”

Someone else wrote: “Enough with this constant racism theme. It is Lent.”

Now, that one stopped me in my tracks because, frankly, I can’t think of a better church season to look hard at racism in our church, our world, and ourselves than Lent. Pope Francis says that “Lent comes providentially to reawaken us, to shake us from our lethargy and that it should be a season where we find concrete ways to overcome our indifference.”

Likewise, Catherine Doherty writes that “Lent is a time of going very deeply into ourselves... What is it that stands between us and God? Between us and our brothers and sisters? Between us and life, the life of the Spirit? Whatever it is, let us relentlessly tear it out, without a moment's hesitation.”

I can’t think of a better time for us to look inward to face the role racism faces in our lives, and how we can repent of it in order to partner with God to make beloved community, God’s kingdom come, than the season of Lent.

It isn’t easy spiritual work, but as with all spiritual work, the more we are willing and able to look at the hard truths that we’d rather turn away from, the greater the movement towards freedom found in a life of faith.

What are the things in your own life that you’d rather not face? What are those things you’d rather overlook or just dismiss? Because the more you back burner them, the more they will fester, grow, and eventually boil over. The longer it takes you to face them honestly the more your life will be dragged down by a weight that you don’t even know you are carrying.

That’s why I love Lent. It is a time for us to take this inward journey, knowing that no matter how hard it is, God is with us, our sure and ever present comfort in times of trouble, even when the trouble is something within us.

God loves you enough to help you face the hard things so that those things can die and give way for the new life found in resurrection.

Just imagine what blessings could be found on the other side of confessing our racism and committing ourselves to anti-racism?

I have been reading this Lent Be the Bridge: Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation by Latasha Morrison. It is a great book and I encourage you to get a book group started in your church.

She helps us face the hard truths of racism by giving us an orientation we should use when doing this work, so we can stay in it and not turn away when the going gets too hard or too close:

“If you’re White, if you come from the majority culture, you’ll need to bend low in a posture of humility. You may need to talk less and listen more, opening your heart to the voices of your non-White brothers and sisters. You’ll need to open your mind and study the hard truths of history without trying to explain them away. You’ll need to examine your own life and the lives of your ancestors so you can see whether you’ve participated in, perpetuated, or benefited from systems of racism.

“If you’re Black, Latinx, Asian, Native American, or part of any other non-White group, you’ll need to come with your own posture of humility, though it will look different from that of your White brothers and sisters. In humility, you might need to sit with other non-White groups and learn their stories. You might need to confess the ways you’ve perpetuated oppression of other non-White people. People of color may need to confess internalized racism and colorism.”

We all have this work to do. May this Lent find growing in you a humility to make space for the lived experiences of those who aren’t like you, may it challenge you in a good way, motivating you to learn more, as we all grow in a deeper understanding of the ways of God, so all God’s beloved children may live in a world of love, dignity, and equality. May our commitment to do this work be a sign of our discipleship as Christ followers. And may others know us by this love we dare to live out.

Rising From the Manger

 

Today is the second day of Christmas and in some parts of the world known as Boxing Day, a day that originated in Great Britain centuries ago, in which the wealthy gave gifts to those who provided them a service, not just servants in their homes, but also postal workers, rubbish collectors and others. It is a way to care and give thanks for service. Who are you grateful for, those nameless ones who help you throughout the year? The bagger at the grocery store, the dry cleaner and his wife, the delivery person who always makes sure the package that they leave is perfectly hidden from anyone passing by.

I’ve been thinking about a lot about this day of generosity that comes right after Christmas. We woke up yesterday and unwrapped our presents, a symbol of God’s gift of love given to us in the Bethlehem manger. We celebrated Jesus’ birth with phone calls, good food, and a day of rest.

Now, what?

The great Christian mystic Howard Thurman writes:

The Work of Christmas

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.

The beginning of John’s gospel says:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being  in him was life,^[a] and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

This has been such a difficult year for us all. But here is what is true: Nothing stops God’s coming into the world. No virus is strong enough, no rage is hot enough, no depression is deep enough, to keep the light from entering our lives and our world. That is what we remember. The light shines in the dark and difficult places of our lives, and it has not overcome it.

Now, you and I are bearers of this light. It shines bright by how we live. Are we willing to engage in the work that began at Christmas, that has now been handed to us to continue through Christ? Are you willing to find the lost, to heal the broken, To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace, to make music in the heart.

We cradle the Christ child when we care for others. Make no mistake, people are watching us, to see how our lives reflect this Life Light of Christ. How will you carry forth this light into the world? How will your actions give off the radiant Christ Light that gives life to all?

Good King Wenceslas is a familiar carol about the benevolent ruler who provided for the needy. The carol speaks of him doing this on the Feast of St. Stephen, which is celebrated today. Stephen is the first Christian martyr, known for his care of the poor.

a preacher from the 12th century wrote this about Wenceslas:

But his deeds I think you know better than I could tell you; for, as is read in his Passion, no one doubts that, rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God's churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.

 

The carol speaks of him and his page coming across a poor man looking for firewood in a cold harsh winter’s night. Wenceslas tells his page to get food and drink and firewood so the two of them can bring them to the poor man’s home, even though it is not close by. The two set off but the night turns even colder and the page begins to tire from the walk and the cold. Wenceslas tells him to follow in his footsteps, placing his feet precisely where Wenceslas placed his. The page felt the warmth left from Wenceslas’ step and they were able to finish their journey to the poor man’s home.

 Wenceslas let his light shine in the darkness and others found warmth and life from it. And we are called to do the same.

As the final stanza of the hymn reminds us:

Therefore, Christian folk, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

As we rise from the manger, may we offer the Light of Christ to all we encounter through our acts of generosity, kindness, and justice-making.