We Shall Overcome

 This past weekend, I am in Montgomery with members of our conference, participating in a Civil Rights Pilgrimage. It has been a sobering trip as we learn more deeply of the systemic terrorism and torture of African Americans, so deeply embedded in our nation’s psyche.  We were frequently brought to tears as we moved through museums and monuments that showed not only the violence of racism in the past but the way it continues in our present.

Lest we think that the legacy of racism is only a “southern thing”, we learned that lynchings occurred in each of the four states of our conference. Plus, monuments to the confederacy are found in three of our states, the most recent one erected in Denver in 2003 (https://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/wm5QAN_Colorado_Confederate_Veterans_Memorial_Riverside_Cemetery_Denver_CO) (additionally, we have a legacy of violence against Native Americans and immigrants and in addition Japanese Internment camps that were found across our conference).

One of the exhibits at Legacy Museum had slave pens which you could peer into. As you looked in, a holographic figure of an enslaved person appeared and spoke. It was very fleeting, and I found myself rooted to the spot, hoping to have them reappear so I could learn more of their story.

Are we willing to listen with open hearts to the stories of those whose lives have been impacted by racism, not only in the past but in our communities today?

I am struck at how Christianity was twisted to support slavery. What a defilement of a faith grounded in God’s love for all humankind, whose image shines from the face of every person.

Yet, Christianity also undergirded the civil rights movement. Clergy and laity together linked arms with others and put their very bodies on the line to push back on the forces of evil and oppression. The course of a nation was changed because followers of Jesus refused to allow injustice to have the upper hand.

The struggle continues today. Are you willing to listen and learn of life experiences that aren’t like your own, that are difficult, even painful to hear? Can you do so and not interrupt, not try to make excuses or try to discount the reality and truth of another’s reality?

We each are connected to one another as the Body of Christ. When one suffers, we all suffer. It is only when we listen and learn that we can work to ensure the dignity and humanity of all of God’s children. In this way, we build up Beloved Community and leave a better world for those who will come after us.

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.

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!

Prayers For General Conference 2019

I am praying fiercely for our denomination as the special session of General Conference begins a week from today. 

What am I praying for?

I’m praying that the Holy Spirit guides us to a place none of us can imagine;

I’m praying that the church that helped me experience God’s love for me, that steeped me in our Wesleyan tradition of personal piety and social holiness, that I in turn devoted my life to in service, continues to wrap our children in that same love and nurture, so that they may grow up confident in this Love that will never let them go;

I’m praying that what we know to be true in every congregation throughout the Mountain Sky Conference—that our pews are filled with people who disagree with one another yet are united in mutual love and mission—will be the foundation for our denomination’s future;

I’m praying that we in the church will not judge people without knowing them, but instead will listen to their experiences of God’s love and their commitment to Christ;

I’m praying the church stops seeking to limit love in the lives of LGBTQ persons. Celibacy is a gift, not a penance, and it is God who reminds us that it “is not good for the Human One to be alone”;

I’m praying that in a world broken by divisions and hostilities, we as members of the Body of Christ can provide a healing witness to the world that diversity doesn’t have to lead to division and unity is not the same thing as uniformity;

Each of us are United Methodist because we have found something life-giving in our grace-filled theology. May we not seek to expel anyone or leave ourselves because there are people we don’t agree with, for our scriptures teach us that God keeps widening the circle of fellowship. Personally, my greatest growth as a follower of Christ came not from those who look and think like me, but from those whose experiences and beliefs were not like mine. I give thanks to God for United Methodism’s “big tent theology” that has offered me these relationships that have helped me grow. 

One of my favorite spiritual writers, Roman Catholic Carlo Carreto, wrote eloquently of how much he loved his church at the same time it angered and disappointed him. As he pondered leaving he concluded:

“Where would I go?

Would I establish another?

I would not be able to establish it without the same faults,

for they are the same faults I carry in me.

And if I did establish another,

it would be my Church,

not the Church of Christ.

And I am old enough to know

that I am no better than anyone else.”

I ask you and your congregation to pray in the coming days for our church, that we might be led by God’s Holy Spirit. 

WHY I AM IN WASHINGTON, DC ON APRIL 4, 2018

On April, 4, 1968, I turned 10. Double digits! Birthdays were always special in our family, and this one did not disappoint. My dad came over for dinner. We had my favorite meal. My mom made an ice cream cake, complete with “surprises” inside—pennies, dimes, and nickels, folded in wax paper, that were placed in the batter before it was baked. We played some games, and then I sat down to watch Sally Field play Sister Bertrille in The Flying Nun.

Except it wasn’t on…there was breaking news about an assassination. A man named Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot in Memphis Tennessee.

I didn’t know who he was. I watched the broadcast and learned about this remarkable man of faith. As I listened, the scales of innocence that I wore as a child fell off. I realized that my experience of the world was not everyone else’s experience. I didn’t know what “racism” meant when I was nine, but at 10, this word entered my vocabulary through the murder of Rev. Dr. King.

Ever since that date, my birthday has been tempered by this act of violence that took the life of this pastor/prophet who was seeking to help a nation regain its soul by living into its cherished values of liberty and justice for all. Every year since 1968, I have read more of his speeches and sermons, learned more about his life, and have come to a better understanding of the impact of both his life and death.

My vocation as a pastor has been informed by Rev. Dr. King. His words and witness have challenged me to understand racism and the privilege that is granted me by my whiteness, the overt and subtle ways racism limits lives and the generational trauma that slavery has inflicted on African Americans. I have had to speak out when some have sought to diminish, disregard, or dishonor the dignity of another because of their race. We all, every one of us, are made in the image of God. To deny the sacred worth of someone because of skin color mocks our Maker.

It has been fifty years since King’s death. Fifty years of birthdays. As I turn 60, I knew I had to be in Washington Dc for the ACT to EndRacism Rally. Racism continues to fracture and harm the human family. I am here to recommit myself to the hard work King called us to engage in: to challenge and confront anything that creates tombs of death and stands in the way of justice and fairness, anything that seeks to create second class citizenship, anything that attempts to deny the dignity and self-worth of any of God’s beloved children.

Fifty years ago, a gunman sought not to defer a dream, but to put it to death. But his bullet simply shattered it, so its pieces live on in those of us who seek to bring healing to the human family, so that every person is seen as precious, as we create Beloved Community together: that place whose hallmark is love, justice, compassion and kindness.

One Bishop's Reflection on the First Anniversary of Her Election

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
    and do not rely on your own insight. (Proverbs 3:5)

One year ago today, I was elected a bishop in The United Methodist Church in the midst of what was the closest experience of Pentecost I have ever had. Delegates and episcopal nominees of the Western Jurisdiction entered into a time of deep discernment and prayer. Truly, there was a profound sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit.

There are some who have said we in the West were drunk with new wine. But as Scripture and history show, that is often the case when those who weren’t present try to dismiss the movement of the Holy Spirit, which seeks to make all things new.

We were simply trusting in God with all our hearts.

I continue to lean into that trust.

I lean into that trust as I bring my gifts, skills and experience to this new ministry.

I lean into that trust as I surrender my life to God, who will guide my steps.

I lean into that trust as I sit at the Council of Bishops table, bringing a voice that has never been present to our common life and work.

I lean into that trust as I listen to those who are angry about my election and commit myself to remain in relationship with them.

I lean into that trust as a vision emerges for our denomination’s future.

I lean into that trust as we sit at Cabinet meetings and seek God’s guidance as we make appointments.

I lean into that trust as we in the Mountain Sky Area commit to the vision of Beloved Community, God’s desire for humanity.

I am so thankful for new and old companions--both within the Mountain Sky Area and throughout my life--who have enriched my life, sustained my soul and informed my ministry during this past year. I am especially thankful for my colleagues on the Western Jurisdiction College of Bishops who have generously welcomed me and offered me their wisdom and insights, as well as the members of the Mountain Sky Area cabinet, as we have sought to care for and equip the clergy and laity of our area so our churches’ ministries might be vital and transformative.

It is humbling to have been entrusted with this ministry.

May Your will be done, O God, in all I say and do.

Thank you, Pacific School of Religion!

It is an honor to receive this recognition today. Pacific School of Religion, you and I have had quite a relationship. I have been your student, field education mentor, associate dean of academic affairs, and adjunct professor of United Methodist studies. In all things, I have found that PSR kept helping me come back to myself, to a place of wholeness and integrity, reminding me of who I am and whose I am.

I heard my call to ordained ministry when I was 11 years old and began preparing for this vocation from that time on. I was blessed to grow up in a church that wrapped me in unconditional love and acceptance.

Yet, even with that love and acceptance, I grew up feeling as if there was something different about me, that there was something that kept me from full community with others. I didn’t have a name for it. But it made me feel like that woman at the well. Alone. An outcast.

Then I came to PSR and this strangely warmed heart got even more strange.

At first I contributed it to that classic seminary experience of how seminary deconstructs one’s life and faith, pulling the theological rug out from under you and leaving you to rebuild. In the brokenness, I had to face parts of myself that I had long suppressed. I listened to the stories of gay and lesbian students—Deb and Marcy and and Gloria and Fred and John Sam and so many others--and recognized myself. I struggled mightily with this new self-awareness, and when I was finally able to claim my identity and say, “I am a lesbian”, I experienced that peace which passes all understanding. I was made whole, and discovered within me the capacity for community that had always eluded me.

The thing about coming out at PSR meant that there was no real closet. Even when the United Methodist Church demanded that of its queer clergy, PSR taught me to live authentically. Professors like Karen Lebacqz and Roy Sano gave me the intellectual and spiritual tools to live with integrity in an unjust system.
My vocation has included parish and campus ministries in rural and urban settings on the East and West Coasts. I love this calling. I love the invitation to share life with others seeking to understand faithfulness. I love the questions that faith bubbles up within us. I love the daily challenge to risk it all for the sake of love and justice.

And now, I love this moment in my vocation. It feels as if everything I have done, including my time at PSR, has prepared me for the episcopacy as the first openly lesbian bishop. Robin and I have fallen head over heels in love with the people of the Mountain Sky Area, which encompasses 470,000 square miles, and they have embraced us with an enthusiastic hospitality and welcome.

I don’t know what the future holds. At the end of April, the Judicial Council of the UMC will rule on the legality of my election. But PSR has taught me to be bold in my witness, trust the Spirit, and make sure that in all I do I am not only seeking my own liberation, but working in partnership for the liberation of others as together, we live into Beloved Community.


In these days we are living in, when injustice, intolerance, racism, sexism and transphobia and all the -isms that seek to shackle the souls of our siblings seem to multiply with each passing day, may we continue to stand with the most marginalized and seek justice, walk with compassion on this earth, and always be guided by the One who loves us with a love that will never let us go. There is no going back, my friends, from this shared calling we have been given.


 Pacific School of Religion
Berkeley, CA
March 18, 2017

2017…Bring. It. On.

When the clock struck midnight last night, 525,600 minutes stood before you and 2018.  Minutes that have yet to be unwrapped. Minutes that hold untold possibilities. Minutes that could reveal heartache or healing. 525,600 minutes. How will you use them?

I have never been keen on New Year’s resolutions. Mainly because I manage to break nearly all of them by the end of the first week! But each new year, like each new day, is an opportunity for me to recommit to the things that matter most to me, to recalibrate my inner moral compass, to realign myself to the things that offer life to me and others.

As 2017 unfolds like the precious flower it is, here are the things I am recommitting myself to:

·       Stay connected to God. I try to turn to God as soon as I wake up, and before I go to bed. To say YES to the possibilities of the new day God has set before me, and to say THANK YOU for all that the day as brought me.  My conversations with God are the first and last ones I have each day. Through them, I am reminded that no matter how bad my day may have been, no matter how much I may be dreading what may be in store for me in the new day, “in all things God works for good.” My task is to join with God to co-create the good.

·       Stay grounded in love. This is related to staying connected to God. If God is love, and love is of God, it is critical to remain loving in all that I do. This is what heals the world. This is the power that overcomes hatred. This is the impetus for justice.  

·       Remain open-hearted to others. Hostility cannot be met with more hostility. An open heart is necessary if relationships—especially with one’s enemies—are to forged in order to change the world. This requires a willingness to be vulnerable and experience pain, but the rewards to be reaped always outweigh the costs.

·       Not confuse diverse opinions with division. Diverse opinions are needed and necessary in a healthy community. Diversity of thought stretches us to a fuller experience of life and helps us all have bigger dreams for this life we share. Division occurs when we stop offering each other mutual respect, shout each other down, and fail to recognize that we are not the only ones to possess truth.

·       Take time to laugh each day. This is as critical to me as my morning workout. Others need coffee in the morning, I need a good cardio workout. Laughter is an aerobic workout for my soul. Laughter reminds me not to take myself so seriously.

·       Stay vigilant. Every year begins with the promise of countless possibilities, yet also carries the potential for trauma and tragedy, pain and pathos, not only for ourselves, but for others. 2017 is no exception. My task is to listen to lives that are different from my own, to hear their challenges and concerns as they encounter the world. Together, we can protect each other’s humanity, rights, and freedoms. Together, we can stand for peace and justice. Together, we can push back the forces of hatred and inhumanity.

So, in 2017, I am recommitting myself to creating Beloved Community, to seek right relationship with God, others, and Creation. I will extend the energy of joy in a world that often feels joyless and lacking in hope. I will seek to offer my best self in every situation, and create the space for others to do the same.

525,600 minutes.

2017…Bring. It. On.

A PRAYER FOR THESE DAYS

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears

 

God of Trayvon Martin, God of George Zimmerman, God of countless brown and black men who have been profiled, gunned down, locked up.

We are weary O God and we have wept too many tears. It is a nation’s shame when justice is meted out to some but not to all. It is a nation’s shame when the killer of an unarmed teenage boy is not only given his freedom but his gun. It is a nation’s shame that there is not more outrage in our streets, in our political chambers, and in our churches.

We know that each one of us is created in the image of your image, O God, your  fingerprint resides on every face of every race in every corner of this earth. With your strength, we commit ourselves to protecting the dignity and worth of every child of God, and we will not rest until liberty and justice for all is not just a lofty dream but a reality in this land.

We will continue to march, to speak out, to protest, to show up, to tell the stories of racial profiling and oppression. We will continue to cross lines that have divided us from each other, so that together we can push back the evil isms that destroy beloved community.

We will lift every voice and sing till earth and heaven ring, ring with harmonies of liberty.

 

We will not forget Trayvon Martin, and all the unnamed young people lost to violence. We will continue to work for justice,

We will march on till victory is won. Amen.