On the Eve of a New Year

As we stand poised in this liminal space between 2024 and 2025, I have been thinking about how January gets its name from the Roman god Janus, the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, and doorways. I stand in the doorway, reflecting back on all that 2024 held and looking forward to the possibilities of the new year.

For me, “weary” sums up 2024. The year included retirement, an international move, and the end of the anti-LGBTQ+ language in The United Methodist Book of Discipline. Any one of these would be momentous and exhausting. Together, they cast a surreal light that made me often stop and wonder, “Can this really be happening?”

When Robin and I decided to move to Nova Scotia in retirement, we chose to replace our little cottage in Pugwash, NS with a larger home. We do not recommend building a new home a whole country away! Not being physically present meant that miscommunication was easy and meeting deadlines was not! The promised finish date of May turned to June, turned to July, turned to August, turned to September. Anticipating moving issues related to customs, we shipped our belongings up in May. After eight years of serving an area of 430,000 square miles, living out of a suitcase for a couple of months was nothing new!

I never could imagine myself retired. Despite the ups and downs of ministry, I have loved every second of service. Every appointment has blessed me in countless ways and I am so incredibly grateful for all the people I have encountered, who hold a precious place in my heart.

The hard part of being a United Methodist pastor is saying goodbye to the people you have served and come to love. Having to say goodbye to the people of the Mountain Sky Conference pained me deeply. We had weathered so much together—my election and consecration, attacks and undermining by the Right, the creation of a new conference, COVID, and disaffiliations. Yet, we also dreamed big and found joy together grounded in our deep commitment to mission and ministry.

The biggest impact on my life and ministry was the tectonic plate shift The United Methodist Church experienced at General Conference, where the delegates removed all the anti-LGBTQ+ language from our Book of Discipline. I had my call to ministry before that language entered our shared United Methodist lexicon. Even when it changed and I came out, I knew deep within me that I was called specifically to ordained ministry within The United Methodist Church. Boards of Ordained Ministries, District Superintendents, Bishops, and the churches I served affirmed that call over and over again. However, for more than forty years, I woke up each morning worried and wondering if this would be the day I would lose my ordination. That stress, experienced on a daily basis, was exhausting and stressful, impacting my spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being.

I find myself wondering: what was lost due to the church’s stance and what could have been if it hadn’t been there. What would I have done differently in my ministry? How might my life have turned out?

But living with “what ifs” dilutes reality and clouds the eyes of being able to see the gifts of what has been. So now I find myself looking forward to a new year, a new community, and new season of life.

Standing at the threshold of 2025, I recommit to living into a prayer I prayed in the parking lot of every church I visited in the Mountain Sky Conference: 

“Give me an undefended heart, and may I be generous in love.” 

I will continue to listen to the Spirit’s still, small voice that has always nudged me forward when the path wasn’t clear. I will invest in community in ways I couldn’t as an itinerant United Methodist preacher. I will be present to family. I will be a better friend.

As 2024 concludes, I carry a weariness deep within my bones. But through that weariness is a stubborn seed of joy that is bursting forth even now.

Thank you for being part of my journey in 2024. Holding you and all of us in prayer as we cross into 2025.

The Deadly Silence of Muzak Churches

 I love traveling across our area and seeing the towns and villages where our United Methodist Churches are located. As I stop to pray for the church, its laity, clergy, and ministries, I wonder what that church means to the community it sits in the middle of. Is it seen as a beacon of hope? A refuge from the storm? A place of welcome? A source where basic needs (like water and food) can be met? Does it offer a spiritual path that enriches the lives of those it touches? Does it matter at all to those around it? If it closed its doors the day after tomorrow, what would be different in the town? Would anyone even notice?

When I was growing up, we derided “Elevator Music” which was found in department stores, doctors’ offices, and, well, in elevators. Muzak was invented in 1934 by Major General George O. Squier as a way to send recorded music to businesses without the use of a radio signal. Science entered in when it was found that music could be used to bolster productivity in workers and calm people down. One of the company’s slogans was, “Muzak fills the deadly silences”. At the height of its popularity, Muzak reached tens of millions of people a day, from presidents and astronauts to someone in the produce section of a grocery store.

A professor at Queens College said of Muzak: “[it’s] a kind of amniotic fluid that surrounds us; and it never startles us, it is never too loud, it is never too silent; it’s always there.”

Sometimes, I wonder sadly if the same can be said of our churches.

Have our churches blended into the landscape so completely that people don’t even know we are here anymore? Are we “there” but not “out there” in a world that has so much brokenness and so many needs? Have we watered down Jesus’ message so much that it no longer startles us?

There are “deadly silences” in our churches and communities that the Church must speak into, bringing the light of God’s Love and the healing balm of the Holy Spirit as we minister as disciples of Jesus Christ. This is not the time for us in the church to fade into a comfortable background. Drugs and division, violence and viciousness are causing our communities to crumble.

How can you and your church move out of the background shadows and sing loudly and boldly a new song of hope, healing, and liberation, so that the entire community can dance to Love’s song?

Reformation and The United Methodist Church

I recently had an interview with Yellowstone public radio. The interviewer, Kay Erickson, wanted to ask me questions about the current events in The United Methodist Church. I steeled myself for her questions but then was delightfully caught off guard by her first question:

“What can you say about the reformation happening in The United Methodist Church?”

“Reformation”. I like that.

Her question had me exploring the meaning of reformation. One source describes it as “improvement (or an intended improvement) in the existing form or condition of institutions or practices etc.; intended to make a striking change for the better in social or political or religious affairs.” Synonyms for reformation include “improvement”, “betterment”, “correction”.

Instead of “split”, “schism”, or “disaffiliation”, what if we saw this moment in the life of The United Methodist Church as a reformation moment?

If we were honest with one another, we would note that it is time for a reformation. While the Gospel message of love of God and neighbor hasn’t changed, the world around us has. Our communities are filled with “Nones” (those who have had no encounter with the Church) and “Dones” (those that have left for a variety of reasons, including spiritual trauma). In fact, the “Dones” have increased in numbers as studies show that church attendance has dropped off since COVID. How we share this life-saving, life-transforming love of God in Jesus Christ needs reforming in order to reach people outside the walls of our church.

Imagine a church where all people in your community can call home, receive a welcomed embrace, and find encouragement and strength for the challenges they face.

Imagine a church that sees new people as a gift from God, who possess skills and life experiences that can enrich our common life.

Imagine a church that is a community hub, where people come for learning, recovery, recreation, and creating change.

Imagine worship opportunities that are on days and times other than Sunday mornings, so that people can receive spiritual nourishment and a faith community when they most need it.

Imagine a church that centers those lives that the rest of the world shoves to the margins.

Imagine a church where bible study is intrinsically related to service and acts of justice in the world.

Imagine a church that is less interested in building and ministry maintenance and instead with how to best be organized to meet the needs of a hurting world?

Imagine a church whose connective tissue isn’t the building but the strength of the community.

Imagine a church that is always open to the Holy Spirit’s leading, allowing itself to change in order to remain faithful.

I am ready to engage in the work of reformation. How about you?

The Dream of a Common Language

 Today, the United States elected a new president. Looking at the vote tallies, I am struck by what a divided nation we are. It is as if there are two (or more) understandings of the US, and the chasm between the two is wide and deep.  I have heard from people who are no longer speaking with parents, who have unfriended friends, and who have been maligned by those who live in that “other” America.

How do we close the chasm? How do we share a vision for an America that is for everyone?

The poet Adrienne Rich wrote about “The Dream of a Common Language”. The poet felt that poetry, art, and feminist ideas could create a common language to unite a fractured humanity. As a Christian, I, too, yearn for a common language. This language, for a Jesus-follower, is Love.

Love is the language that helps us enter into another’s worldview.

Love is the force that causes us to open our hearts to another’s pain.

Love is the energy that drives us to build a better world.

Love keeps us growing, pushes our world to expand beyond our comfort zone to include those who don’t live, love, or look like us.

Whether you are cheering the election results or feeling despair, learn the language of Love. Lean into this Love as you greet your neighbor who had the other candidate’s signs on their lawns. Listen with love. Bring your full self into this moment, and step into Love’s demands.

One of the poems in Rich’s book holds up a model for us of how we begin to speak a common language together:

“I choose to love this time for once
with all my intelligence”

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

Generosity and Hospitality

I have been thinking a lot about generosity and hospitality lately. While members of the Clergy Academy and I were in Cuernavaca for our cultural immersion, we were offered incredible hospitality by our hosts at CILAC FREIRE. From the very moment they picked us up until they set us off for our return flights, they did everything they could to make sure we were cared for in mind, body and spirit.

Towards the end of our time there, Denise Bender, Robin and I met with the leaders of the school to review how the immersion went, what worked, and what could be changed, and to begin to make plans for next year. One thing they wanted to know was if our accommodations were okay. This was our third year staying in the apartments. We really like them! They asked if we were having any problems with the water—in the past, hot water had sometimes been in short supply! We mentioned that the hot water was better, but still a little irregular, but no big deal.

As we finished our review of the week and began a more informal visit, we learned more of each other’s lives away from the school. In the course of the conversation, both hosts shared that they don’t have hot water in their homes. And then it hit me:

They gave us more than they have themselves!

That was such a humbling realization. And then, as we listened to the places where others in our group were staying, it became plainly evident that all of us were the recipients of incredible generosity. The school family (because they are not employees but a community that is family for one another) goes the extra mile in caring for school participants. All of them share a deep faith. Those involved in Christian Base Communities live an Acts 2 faith: They share everything in common. By sharing with one another, needs were cared for.

I saw the essence of the Christian faith lived out vibrantly by our Mexican friends. It has challenged me to consider my own actions (and inactions!). Am I willing to give more than I have myself? Does the way I live enhance the lives of others? Do I share as much as I can so that those who have little can have more?

Imagine what would happen in our congregations if we offered everyone who walked through our doors a generous hospitality? What would happen if we pooled our resources, sharing not only our financial resources, but our own goods and equipment? How does that kind of abundant thinking create a community full of vitality, vision, and joy? People beyond the walls of our church would see a community of deep care and love, and be drawn to the possibilities of promise such a community holds.

Jesus told those who follow him:

“Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. ³⁴ For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Luke 12:33-34

May we offer to others the best of what we have, making the love we hold in our hearts tangible to those around us.

When Love Grows Cold

The lectionary readings for September 28 include a familiar text: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31, where Paul reminds us that the body of Christ is inherently, necessarily diverse. With uncompromising language, Paul emphasizes that Christian unity is not based on uniformity, but in fact is healthy because differences are recognized as necessary for a community’s wholeness. No one can be excluded from the Body. In fact, those who may have more power, prestige or privilege need to note that in God’s realm, the focus radically shifts:

“But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.” (1 Corinthians 12: 24-26)

I think this scripture ought to be read and meditated on by every delegate to General Conference. Actually, it should be read by every United Methodist as we approach the special General Conference.

There are voices who are seeking to limit who is in and who is out of the Body of Christ. There are some who would rather leave the denomination if we follow the lead of all mainline denominations in the United States and include lgbtq persons in the life and ministry of the church. John Wesley had stern words for those seeking to break relationship (and thereby the body of Christ) with others: 

“It is evil in itself. To separate ourselves from a body of living Christian, with whom we were before united, is a grievous breach of the law of love. It is the nature of love to unite us together; and the greater the love, the stricter the union. And while this continues in its strength, nothing can divide those whom love has united. It is only when our love grows cold, that we can think of separating from our brethren. And this is certainly the case with any who willingly separate from their Christian brethren.” John Wesley On Schism

Has our love grown cold, church?

In a world that is torn by divisions of race, class, ethnicity, political persuasions, sexual orientations, gender identities, and more, the Church of Jesus Christ ought to provide a vital and living witness that diversity need not divide but can and should be celebrated. We ought to bring hope in these fractured times, as we reach across our differences in love.

I am praying for not only for our denomination, but every local church where there is brokenness. May the fire of the Holy Spirit burn in our churches, lighting the flame of Love in each of us. May it open our eyes and hearts to recognize the image of God in others, even in those we disagree with. We each are created as a beautiful and blessed child of God. Where there is tension because of differences, may we lean more fully in love toward one another.

May we be surprised by what God does through Love.

BART Encounters #1

She looked hesitatingly at the seat next to me before our eyes met. I smiled and gestured that the seat was all hers. Shortly after she sat down, I couldn't help but notice the most enticing aroma from a package she was carrying. I finally asked her what it was.

"Mussels and french fries," she said. "I just had an interview for a job, and it was so horrible! I decided I needed something to cheer me up."


We spoke about her interview--she worked in a downtown office and had been invited to apply for another position in the organization. The interview did not go as she had expected, and she felt depleted and betrayed. "Why would they invite me to apply, and then treat me that way?"


She told me that as soon as the interview finished, she called home. This was no quick call across town. The woman was from another country, an ocean away. But at that time, she needed to hear the voice of someone who would love her no matter what. Whether the interview went well or was horrible, whether she got the job or not, she knew to reach out to someone who would love her, not judge her. She called home.


The need for home runs deep in our souls. Whether that home is a physical one, or an emotional one we share with loved ones, we all need a place of safety, love and support. Dorothy clicked her heels, saying,
There's no place like home."  ET pointed longingly to the sky and asked, "Phone home?"

Too many people, however, don't have a place to call home. Poverty and foreclosures have caused many to lose their home. Others have been forced out or had to flee their home. Still others aren't even at home in their own skins.

How can we be home for each other? How can we create strong communities that are committed to ensuring a place of home, a place of safety, for the most vulnerable?  My faith tells me that there is a place, there is a home, for everyone in the body of Christ. Unfortunately, not enough Christian communities are willing to be a home--a place of safety, love and nurture--for all people.  Perhaps one sign of this unwillingness to be a home for all is reflected in empy pews, dried up souls, and tired faith.  Too many people outside the church have learned to read the sign, "You can't go home again."

What if our churches were committed to finding the lost parts of the body of Christ, reattach missing limbs, and protect and strengthen the most vulnerable parts of the body? What if our churches were to welcome each outsider with the same joy and generosity as the father who welcomed home the prodigal son? What if we truly recognized our brothers and sisters in the faces of those we meet every day, even on a BART train?