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!

God Loves You!

Yesterday as I took a walk I listened to a reflection on the app “Pray As You Go”. This is a great app to use while you are driving, heading into the office, or taking a quick break. The segment I listened to instructed me to “Imagine God looking upon you with great love: ‘You are my Beloved, says the Lord, precious in my eyes.’ How does it feel to hear those words spoken to you?  Take a moment to recognize how precious, important, and significant you are to the Lord. God delights in you.”

The day was already warmed by the sun, and as I listened to these words, I felt enveloped in God’s love, as warm and real as the sunshine against my skin. It made me stop and think about all the people in my life who have helped me know this truth of God’s love for me: family members, Sunday School teachers, friends, pastors, colleagues, strangers in the check-out line, the person sitting next to me on a flight…I give thanks for all these and so many more who, when I had forgotten my own significance and worth, helped me remember that God delights in me.

In the course of my ministry, my heart has been broken too many times when I have encountered people who never had someone tell them that God loves them with a love that will never let them go. They were never assured that they have a friend in Jesus. No one took the time to help them experience God’s love for them, that they are precious in God’s sight.

Who has helped you know you matter to God, and that you are loved by wildly generous God? Give thanks for those precious souls!

And who are you helping to know God’s love? Every encounter is an opportunity—by your actions and words—to be a vessel of God’s love. May you be a wellspring of that love!

 

On Eagle's Wings

This summer has been spent in deep prayer and discernment. It has been forty years since I began serving as a clergywoman in The United Methodist Church. This coming year will be my last before retirement.

 

I have listened for God’s voice as I have asked, “How can I serve well in this last year? What should I focus on? How can I bring my best self to all matters and relationships?” I opened myself up to the pain I carry, having broken a stained-glass ceiling. I have felt anger rise up in me about the lies that have been said about me that encouraged people to seek disaffiliation. And my heart was filled with so much joy as I thought of all the people I have been blessed to serve and be in ministry with.

 

In the sacred silence, as I listened for God’s still, small voice, I was aware I was not alone. Every morning, as I prayed on the deck, eagles would keep me company. Not one, not two, but a whole nest! I felt comforted knowing I was not alone in the space, as I sought discernment about the future.

 

Seven years ago, when I was overwhelmed by the threats, hatred and condemnation that I received after my election as bishop, Robin and I came to Nova Scotia to visit my uncle. We went for a drive and as I was driving, I began to cry silent tears. I just didn’t think I had the strength to go on as bishop. I love this ministry, I love the people of the Mountain Sky, and I love The United Methodist Church, but I just didn’t think I could take one more step. I felt empty and scared.

 

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something coming towards us. It was an eagle! It flew right past my window and then flew ahead of me, directly at eye level, and led me as I drove for a couple of miles! And then, without me touching my phone, this song from my playlist began to play:

 

Hold me close

Let Your love surround me

Bring me near

Draw me to Your side.

And as I wait

I'll rise up like the eagle

And I will soar with You

Your Spirit leads me on

In the power of Your love.

 

(from The Power of Your Love by Geoff Bullock. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jZ_ZkMYUsc)

 

It was in that moment that I knew God was with me, and with power and grace would give me what I needed to serve faithfully. When I returned home after that visit, I felt God’s strength empowering me and guiding me.

 

How right, in this last summer of active ministry, God provides me with companions to remind me of God’s presence and power. Mick Jagger sang it best: “We don’t always get what we want, but we get what we need.”

 

This summer, I received a blessing I didn’t even know I needed. I am returning to the Mountain Sky with joy and anticipation of all that is before us, knowing that in all things, we will be lifted up on the wings of the Holy Spirit.

 

Let’s do this!

The Subversive Message of the Gospel

 I have been spending much time reflecting on comments made by Russell Moore, who used to be one of the top officials of the Southern Baptist Convention. Moore says that he is alarmed by the growing number of Christians who believe the Bible and its teachings are “subversive.” In an NPR interview, Moore offers a story that highlights this view:

[The book] was the result of having multiple pastors tell me, essentially, the same story about quoting the Sermon on the Mount, parenthetically, in their preaching — "turn the other cheek" — [and] to have someone come up after to say, "Where did you get those liberal talking points?" And what was alarming to me is that in most of these scenarios, when the pastor would say, "I'm literally quoting Jesus Christ," the response would not be, "I apologize." The response would be, "Yes, but that doesn't work anymore. That's weak." And when we get to the point where the teachings of Jesus himself are seen as subversive to us, then we're in a crisis.

The more I engage scripture, the more I am struck that it is, indeed, a subversive book. Jesus continually turns the status quo upside down by making the last, first, by hanging out with “undesirables”, and by the orientation to faithful living he delineates in the Sermon on the Mount, one that is grounded in love not law. When held against the values of contemporary society, Jesus’ teachings are indeed subversive.

There are subversive acts throughout the Bible. Today’s lectionary reading from the Hebrew Bible is Exodus 1:8-2:10. Here, the Hebrew people are in Egypt, where Pharoah grows particularly paranoid by their expanding numbers. He orders all the midwives to kill any Hebrew boys who are born. The midwives, seeking to be faithful to God, let them live. When asked by Pharoah why there continues to be so many infant Hebrew boys, they stretch the truth: “Those Hebrew women are just so strong and vigorous. They give birth before we arrive!”

Pharoah takes his murderous plan further: he orders all Hebrew boys to be thrown into the Nile. One mother, however, hid her newborn son. When she knew she could no longer keep her child’s presence a secret, she doesn’t throw him in the Nile, but gently places him in a woven basket. She tells his sisters to follow the flow of the basket to keep an eye on him. Who finds the baby but Pharoah’s daughter, who scoops him up from the water. She knows that this must be a Hebrew child, yet, when the child’s sister asks if she should find a wet nurse for the baby, Pharoah’s daughter says yes. Not only does the mother nurse the baby, but Pharoah’s daughter even pays her to care for the baby. Pharoah’s daughter calls him “Moses”, meaning “I drew him out of the water.”

I am struck that these subversive stories are one of the reasons why in oppressive regimes, the Bible is often banned. There is a message of hope, liberation, and justice that crushes despair, oppression, and injustice.

What would it mean for you and your church to be subversive centers of God’s loving actions? Are you ready to engage in a Love revolution? What faithful acts of subversion and resistance is God calling you to, so that others might know of God’s love, compassion, and justice?

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?