Category Archives: death

May 24, 2013 · 4:35 pm

The Epic Battle: Message Series Starting This Sunday

Harry Potter

“Just think how much good you could do!” 

Those enticing words also may be some of the most dangerous words around–they can open the door to extraordinary evil, perfectly disguised and cloaked with something that just looks so right.

Starting this Sunday, May 26, I will begin a five week message series on the necessity of learning as early as possible to discern that which is good from that which is not good.

Because even the youngest need to learn to develop that facility if they are to make wise decisions, I want to make this series as accessible as possible for them.  To do so, I will use several primary characters from the Harry Potter series of books and movies to help us understand these concepts better.  We’ll move from these characters to the biblical texts and work on making our own life connections with them.

These are the characters I will be using:  Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.  These characters run the spectrum from astoundingly good to astoundingly bad, and each made choices along the way that are similar to the choices each of us makes daily. Their stories also mirror many important biblical stories that we all need to know and understand. J.K. Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series, is an active member of the Church of Scotland and wrote very much influenced by her Christian faith.  The strains of sin, forgiveness and redemption flow from her work.

Please note:  any visuals used on the screen will be good in nature.  Although the Harry Potter books and movies do have some tough to read and view scenes, I don’t want any of those to be shown during worship.

Vicki Whitmer and Pat Nolan, who have together given a wonderful Sunday School experience for our school-aged children, will be taking a summer break. All children are very welcome in worship. What they see and experience there will be appropriate for them and might also help spur discussion later among families.

I so look forward to being in worship with you all again this week.  And I give thanks to the excellent leadership of our worship teams and David Taylor and Jessi Soule while I was gone.  I have really missed you!

See you on Sunday,

Christy

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May 14, 2013 · 10:31 am

More on The Nature of Evil

DementorSeveral weeks ago, in the aftermath of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, I wrote: “evil defies reason.” With the exposure now of kidnappings and years-long torture of three women in Cleveland, the time has come to further explore the nature of evil.

Again, evil defies reason. Reasonable people do not plant bombs that kill, maim and destroy. Reasonable people do not kidnap others and hold them and torture them for years on end. Reasonable people do not insist on sucking everyone around them into their own vortex of impenetrable darkness.

Reasonable people may make lots of foolish mistakes, even indeed bringing harm to others, but they do not do such things with hope-defying, life-destroying murderous intentions.

Evil people do exactly that.

It is the nature of evil to destroy innocence and to use fear and terror as primary weapons.

We often don’t know when we are going to come face to face with evil. There are no preparations adequate to protect from some of their plans—such as bombings. We can offer fairly effective protections from reasonable people when they make mistakes or engage in unwise activities, like mixing texting and driving or alcohol and loaded handguns. Such actions are not necessarily evil, despite the often destructive results.

But the craftiness of someone who has crossed over into evil often takes us by surprise.

Craftiness is such an important word here. The most evil are those who can make themselves look supremely good. The kidnapper in Cleveland offering rides, the religious practices that claim to own the only real path to redemption, the desire to consolidate power and special privilege by the justification that many will benefit—how often such ones are praised!

I’ve spent many pleasurable and also thought-provoking hours the last several weeks reading the Harry Potter novels by J.K. Rowling.  I remember when they first came out and the initial movie hit the screens.  Many well-meaning Christians called them “evil” and insisted they promoted witchcraft.  Warnings popped up telling parents that their children should not read those books or see the movies.

What I’ve found is a compelling set of stories about the ongoing confrontations between good and evil. In Rowling’s character, Lord Voldemort, we have an exquisitely drawn portrait of the Evil One and his craftiness.  But one set of beings that inhabit the Potter books seem to me to show most fully how that which is truly evil operates:  these are the “dementors.”

As one of Harry Potter’s instructors described them: “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them.”

Soullessness, emptiness, filth, decay and despair, disguised by false promises:  these are the primary tools.

How shall we respond when face-to-face with such soul-sucking darkness?  The human tendency?  Fight bad with bad. ”Well they hurt me, so I’ll hurt them in return” has justified more violence, war and destruction in the world than any other factor.

But when evil threatens us, we’d be much better off to change our focus from “How can I fight back” to  ”Why am I so destroyable?” Because when we are destroyable, we have let our own inner evil win rather than calling for the good also within us to stand firm.

Remember: Dementors, and even Lord Voldemort, eventually do face defeat.  But they are defeated by good, not by greater evil.

We must discover the real nature and power of goodness in order to be both effectively protected and properly armed to engage evil with competence and hope. The craftiness of the Evil One has made that discovery process amazingly difficult.

I look forward to exploring these things with you over the next few weeks in both writing and preaching as I return to the pulpit on May 26.

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April 14, 2013 · 7:56 pm

Portrait of a Pastor

I received a gift this morning.  A gift so full of love and hope that I am still nearly breathless.

Several years ago, Vicki Attaway made her way to the church I serve, having heard that there was a female pastor there and that she might find it welcoming and comfortable.  Within a short period of time, I discovered that Vicki, as am I, is a graduate of Rice University. An immediate and unbreakable bond formed. There are few of us and even fewer women of our generation who can say that.

In time, Vicki’s love for God and willingness to serve became invaluable to me and our community. She arrives each Sunday morning VERY EARLY. The building sits empty and still. In that stillness, she sets out the elements for the weekly Service of Holy Communion. She keeps those elements supplied as we run low, including baking the gluten-free wafers that I and a few others must have. She changes the altar-cloths and stole colors as the liturgical seasons come and go. She puts fresh batteries in my microphone and has the mouthpiece properly threaded through the hole in the pocket of my preaching gown. She marks my hymnal with the hymns of the day, puts out the registration pads, maneuvers new wicks in the candle-lighters, cleaning them out as necessary and places fresh candles on the altar as needed. She competently handles dozens of other little noticed but vital tasks.

She prays for me diligently during our worship services. She is the unlucky recipient of the first drafts of my newspaper columns. Patiently, week after week, she reads, critiques, calls me out when necessary, sharpens the point, and then, after all that, has to clean up my many typos. I’m a fast and rotten typist.

I try to get to the building early enough each Sunday so the two of us can enjoy a few moments of quiet catch-up. Sometimes she sits nearby while I play a game or two of computer solitaire, supporting that time to clear my brain and clarify my focus.

I  was privileged to meet Vicki’s parents, the lovely George and Virginia Attaway. The Attaways, founding members of a church in Denton, loved their daughter and delighted in our friendship.  The excellent seamstress Virginia made cushions for our kneeling rails and also fixed my preaching robe so I did indeed have the right kind of pocket to hold my microphone receiver. The “holy pocket,” we jokingly called it.

Two years ago, I was stunned to receive a call from a church member and learn that Virginia had died suddenly. That church member had been working on the floor of the hospital when Virginia died, thank goodness, or I might not have found out nearly so quickly. I raced to the hospital, my own heart breaking with the broken hearts of this weeping family.

After Virginia’s death and after over 50 years of vital marriage, George, in his mid-70′s and in excellent health, sank into a deep, deep depression. No surprise–this loss was  too great. On April 3, 2013, he, too,  passed from glory to glory, almost exactly two years after Virginia’s death. Intractable pneumonia took over after a necessary surgery for a diseased gall bladder.

Right after the surgery it looked like an uneventful recovery would send him home in a few days. George and I had a wonderful conversation in which he indicated that he was ready to start living again. He would emerge from those two years of sadness. He did, of course, but not the way I or his family had hoped.

This morning as I entered the church ready to begin those Sunday morning preparations, I walked to my desk to find on it a parcel with an envelope attached. Never one to bother with the niceties, I tore into the parcel and ignored the note. What I found was this, one of two charcoal portraits:

A George Attaway portrait

A George Attaway portrait

I looked at it, tears coming so rapidly I could not wipe them away fast enough. George, an extraordinarily gifted artist, had spent some of his last months of life drawing those two portraits of me. I opened the note:

Dear Christy, 

Daddy drew these for you in December.  I never had a good time to give them for you, but now I do.  He came alive again to have a chance to draw something very meaningful to him.  It got him out of his chair, saying, “Now I have a goal”  – to draw Christy.  

He labored over it with love and worked his heart out to get it right, saying this is a beautiful woman inside and out.  His hands were literally on your face as he drew it.  

You were precious to him.  He was so glad that I had you as a friend.  He wanted to see if he still “had it” (i.e., the ability to draw portraits.)  I definitely think he did!  He drew the front of this card. 

What a gift he had as an artist.  And what a generous, kind and intelligent man he was.  So courageous in life and even in his death. 

Thank you for loving him.

Love,

Vicki

I have many moments when I wonder if make any impact for the Kingdom of Heaven. Those times when my innate tendency for melancholy colors everything I see. Those times when I am able to acknowledge only the undone and not the done. Those times when I forget the privilege I have of participating in the salvation path of so many people. Those times when necessary administrative tasks so load my desk that my Bible and prayer book disappear under the piles. Those times when I am blind to everything but the cross before me.

I struggle with the knowledge that the evaluation of my effectiveness in ministry rests heavily on two things over which I actually have no control:  how many people show up for Sunday worship and how much money they contribute. I acknowledge the necessity of such use of metrics.  But they say so little about the massive ministry that takes place within this fairly small church community. They say nothing about those newspaper articles or blog posts that are read by thousands. George Attaway was one of many who found much of his pastoral care in those articles and in many ways considered me his pastor.

But as I sat at my desk this morning, those unchecked tears pooling on the just dusted wood (I am officially on vacation as of this afternoon and ALWAYS dust my desk before leaving!), I knew a moment of pure love.

Thanks be to God!

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March 30, 2013 · 12:54 pm

The Two Way Betrayal

It is Holy or Black Saturday and I’m deep in a place of emotional and spiritual pain.

Last night, at Tenebrae, as I was leading the service, I saw again the shock of the disciples. I saw their need to flee, their betrayal, and the aloneness of Jesus when he faced his accusers.  My tears began to flow.

That time of utter desolation for Jesus stands as final proof of undeserved love. But I bet Jesus’s closest followers did not see love. Instead they, too, felt totally betrayed by the one they had loved.

Why? Because there was no king, no kingdom, no toppling of power of the hated Roman oppressors, no reversal promised by Mary’s Magnificat, no James and John at Jesus on the right and left sides of the royal seat. There was death. Just death. Loss. Dreams gone. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. Emptiness.

Jesus was betrayed. Unquestionably. And Jesus also betrayed. Harsh words, but true, I believe. The betrayal went both ways.

This week, I had to make an extraordinarily painful decision that I’m more than sure left someone feeling totally betrayed. Possibly devastated. Certainly angry. Probably seeking revenge, for that is the normal, human response to such experience.

I’ve hardly slept. My prayer all week has been, “Please, isn’t there some other way?” I think that falls somewhere close to “let this cup pass from me.” Ultimately, I did what was right for the health of my church community. But it hurt, and that hurt will be long-lasting on all sides.

Jesus betrayed his disciples because it was necessary for the ultimate good for all of humanity. Being crowned the temporal “King of the Jews” as a political title might indeed have brought some momentary relief from oppression.  However, it wouldn’t have lasted long. In that political climate, he would have been assassinated quickly, another power would have risen in his place, and his name quickly forgotten.

So he took the high road, the lonely road, the road of abandonment. Not only was he abandoned, but he also abandoned himself, in the sense of giving all, for the ultimate end.

What was that end? “The veil in the Temple was torn in half.” That barrier, that curtain, that wall that kept everyone except a select few at a distance from the Mercy Seat and the very Holy Presence of God, was ripped open and access was given to all.

And that brings me to my morning musings. As have most churches, the church I serve has special worship planned for tomorrow. Glorious music, all-church brunch, Easter Egg hunt for the children, and the joyous celebration of Holy Communion as we break bread together and commemorate Jesus’s first meal with the disciples after the Resurrection.

As I was heading out to take care of some needed errands, my way was stopped by a group of horse-back riders and a covered wagon on one of the two main streets in town. I finally realized they were from one of the local cowboy churches, presumably inviting people to Easter worship by causing a fairly large traffic jam in our small town.

Passing by the middle school, I saw a fully packed parking lot. That’s because another church holds its massive Easter egg hunt  on this day.  I admit I have never been able to wrap my arms around an Easter, i.e., resurrection, egg hunt on a day of sorrow and darkness, but that is my story, not theirs. This particular events includes spectacular door prizes for anyone who comes–things like bikes and high-end electronics will be distributed. The crowds fill that space every year. Presumably the hope is that they’ll come to church the next day. The church I serve sent out a mailing, made sure the website is up to date, sent out multiple e-news reminders, entered the information on the Conference website just in case someone might go there looking for a service.

All of us doing all we can to get them in the door.

All this to invite them into a religious observance that, at its core, involves the nearly impossible act of forgiveness to those who have betrayed us. Something just about no one wants to do, and not one single person does easily.

Not exactly a popular message. Far better to couch Christianity in terms of “God wants you to have your best life now! God wants to fulfill your every need! God thinks everything you do is just hunky-dory!”

Who wants to hear, “You really want the riches of the realm of heaven? Then walk in the way, the life and the truth of Jesus, lay down your lives for your enemies, forgive the unforgivable, and, above all, say, ‘Thy will be done.’”

And the crowds will walk away, saying, “Too hard. Not interested. I’ll go find a different god who doesn’t ask so much.”

But this way, the way of Jesus, is the way that leads to life, and life abundant.  That’s resurrection.  That is Easter.  Each time we let the betrayals go, we have our own Easter morning.

Thanks be to God.

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March 27, 2013 · 6:40 pm

Easter Conversation with God from a Troubled Pastor

Me:  ”OK, God, can’t you see that I’m in the midst of doing all this for You?  Look at all the services we’ve planned!  See how creative they are!  We’re doing such a great job telling that Passion Week and Easter story. So, that being the case, how about you take all this other stuff away?  You know, as in, ‘Let this cup pass from me.’”

God, “I think you may be missing something.”

Above was the conversation taking place in my mind a few minutes ago.  With a worship service looming this evening, I heard about the father of one of my members being near death.  For many reasons, I knew I needed to get to the hospital.  Immediately. So, off I went.

After that important time there, I sat in my car for a few minutes, my mind filled with something perilously close to rebellious and grumbling thoughts.  The week, fully loaded anyway, again with all that creative and wonderful and carefully planned worship, had also landed me with a very, very difficult problem in the life of this church that cannot not be ignored.  And which has taken, and will continue to take, heaping amounts of time and energy to resolve. Now, this possible death will cause major derailment in the life of someone whom I love profoundly. And upon whose faithful service  I depend.

And then, there is my ongoing concern, in these days of being measured in effectiveness only by numbers: Will mine look good?  Will enough people show up for Easter Worship that the worship average will raise appreciatively for the year?  Will enough money land in the offering plates to deal with a year where we are already showing a deficit?

In other words, it’s all about me.

I began to think of those who do rarely attend worship and who might still have vestiges of a need to attend on Easter or Christmas.  Those numbers, in my experience, are growing fewer and fewer.  And I don’t blame them.  We pull out all the stops and create spectacular worship on those special occasions but . . . have we not just bought into the whole, “if we don’t entertain them, they won’t come back?” syndrome?  And if so, how consistent is it with who Jesus was and what Jesus did and taught? Haven’t we just presented the lie of an easy Christianity rather than the truth of a narrow and complicated path to perfection in love?

I wonder if we (I) are just putting on an act for the sake of something that is false at its core.

I wonder if I really am willing to say, “Please let this cup pass from me but . . . above all, Your will be done.”  What if it is God’s will for me to serve a church whose numbers don’t look good?  What if it is God’s will for me to take a hard hit for betrayal by someone I thought I could trust with my life?  What if it is God’s will for me to go out alone, a failure, despised and rejected, covered with stripes, weeping in abandoned pain?

I wonder if I am really willing to follow Jesus all the way to the cross, to go into the darkness of that death, to wait until the Spirit of God is able to bring about a resurrection.

This is what I signed on for when I followed the call into the ministry of the ordained. But oh, I do so want this cup to pass from me.  Yet . . . yet, not my will.  No, not my will here.  Thy will be done.

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December 16, 2012 · 8:37 pm

From Barren to Baby, Hope After Tragedy

From Barren to Baby

From Barren to Baby

As did many clergy, I faced a dilemma with this Sunday’s message after the events of Friday’s massacre of children.

For Advent this year, I had decided to do a series I called “From Barren to Baby” and speak of some of Jesus’ ancestors, particularly those whose stories started with the barren woman scenario.  I learned long ago that when a passage in the Bible begins to speak of a woman unable to have children, it is code for, “Pay attention!!!  Something important is about to happen!”

So, we’ve looked at the Abraham-Sarah-Hagar saga and then at the very strange story of Judah and Tamar, filling in a few of the details between the two.  Next Sunday, I’ll speak of Ruth’s journey from childless Moabite to grandmother of the greatest ever king of Israel.  But today, I moved out of the ancestry line a bit and went to Hannah’s story about the conception of Samuel.

We have three services each Sunday and I readily admit that our first service, very small in attendance and always accompanied by Holy Communion, is also my practice hour for the other two services.  For the two later services, I use the screen to move my message from point to point so that the congregation can more easily follow, and more easily remember what we are talking about.  The first service does not use screens other than to project an image appropriate for the season.  However, I use my printouts of the visuals to direct my words and thoughts.

The slide below was intended as the last slide before my concluding remarks.

messed-up-ancestors

It turned out to be the transition point to connect the events in Newtown, CT with the birth of the Savior.

I reminded us all that every baby born changes the entire world in some way or another.  Some in huge, history-recorded ways, like Samuel and, obviously, Jesus.  Some obscurely, but even so, every family is changed when a baby is born and when a family is changed, so is everyone around them, and so on.  No one leaves this world untouched.

I also reminded us all that the young man who brought this unimagined sorrow this past week was more than likely welcomed and loved when he was born, as was every child and adult who has now died as a result of his life.  Each of them changed the world in some way, and left their own indelible mark upon it.

It is from broken, messy people that the Redeemer of the world emerged.  It is because of their stories that we could indeed light the candle of joy today, for joy has nothing to do with happiness, and all to do with acknowledging the presence of God in the midst of our sorrows.  We have not been abandoned.  We continue to have the privilege of being the salt of the earth and the light of the world no matter what is happening around us or to us.

The Savior has indeed come, and in the time of preparation we call Advent, we may know that the light is getting closer.

Yes, there is immense pain, and it will never fully recede for those most closely affected by these events.  But the darkness will not overcome the light.  On that promise, we may stand, however shakily, and however shaken to our core by our tears.  My prayers are with all who are feeling this so painfully.

The Candle of Joy for the Third Sunday in Advent

The Candle of Joy for the Third Sunday in Advent

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November 14, 2012 · 1:17 pm

Judicial Council Decisions: The Emperor Has No Clothes

The United Methodist Church cannot be re-formed. It’s over for us with our current structure.

The Judicial Council’s decision to revoke the involuntary retirement of Bishop Earl Bledsoe over issues of violation of procedural minutia found in the Book of Discipline (not over the question of his effectiveness, which was not being ruled upon) has forever made this clear. It is over.

It’s easy to get frustrated with the Judicial Council for the rulings of the last few months. Their work has thoroughly reversed decisions made by General and Jurisdictional Conferences.

However, I think that would be a mistake. They’ve done the United Methodist Church a huge favor. Because the members of the Council were faithful to the letter of the law, which is exactly what they are supposed to do, we now know for sure that this emperor has no clothes.

They have revealed an important truth and truth does very much set us free.

Many gifted, intelligent, godly people slogged through interminable meetings seeking to follow the rules and still lead us into substantive and necessary change. We easily see those as wasted hours in light of the aftermath of the Judicial Council decisions.

Again, I say, let us receive the favor here. There is simply no sense in trying to do that kind of thing anymore. It can’t work. Period.

We are going to have to engender our own revolution/reformation or die slowly of strangulation by methods that no longer support the heart of Methodism. No one in their right mind wants to die this way. But we are now at the crossroads and must choose: strangulation or revolution?

I wish we didn’t have to do this. Revolutions hurt, and leave scarred landscapes and burnt-out buildings. People die. Pain becomes our middle name. Sad tears accompany nearly every decision. Passionate arguments punctuate every discussion.

But the structure has cracked and the un-repairable foundation now sits exposed. John Wesley was an autocratic organizational genius who could do to the clergy under his command and the churches of his movement things that are now not just unworkable, but also unthinkable.

And our own efforts at tinkering with the denomination we inherited? Well, we’ve danced around it, modified it, adapted it and culturally-contexted it. Time to stop. It’s over.

What do we have left? We have the most powerful theology of grace that has ever infused the human race. We have words about God that tell us that God is ever before us, wooing the world into repentance, relationship and wholeness. We have an understanding about our redemption and forgiveness that forever sets us free. And we actually do believe that we can, in cooperation with the Spirit of God, be perfected in love.

That’s what we have.

All the rest of it, our pensions and health insurance concerns, our episcopacy and our itinerancy, our megachurches and our itsy-bitsy rural congregations, our connection, our conferences, our metrics and our vestments, are just window dressing.

We have grace.

The question we now ask: Can grace-infused theology hold us together in the revolution that is now necessary? Can we plant ourselves firmly on opposite sides of huge issues, pray, argue and fight our way through this, and see a healthy and actually united Methodist church born yet once more? Can we free ourselves from the death strangle of our current methods and still be Methodists?

If we can’t, or we won’t, then we need to die anyway. We deserve no better than to slowly lose oxygen as we wander forever lost through the dead-end maze known as the Book of Discipline. If we can and if we will, then we will unleash the Spirit of God yet once more.

It’s time.

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November 5, 2012 · 1:00 pm

Three Hundred Words to Convince or It Vanishes

The WordPress blogging challenge for the day, “You have three hundred words to justify the existence of your favorite person, place, or thing. Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace. Go!”

My response:

Light.  We are light, this small community of faith.

Grace and forgiveness glue us together, yet hearts and arms open to anyone wishing entrance. The young acolytes solemnly hold their candlelighters. The worshippers see their clear faces shine. Holy smiles race around the room.  An elderly woman holds her neighbor’s sleeping baby. Her life comes full circle, as she, thinking herself unneeded and unnoticed, discovers instead that practiced arms give blessings.

Miracle. We sit, staring at a screen, looking at expenses, seeing them rise yearly. Line by line, we speak of office supplies, of payroll, of utilities, of mortgages, of community needs.  A building, bulging with children gently loved, patiently potty trained, taught to pray, to read, to play, to live with kindness. Yes a building that must be clean, bug-free, temperature controlled, safe.  We look at each other and say, “It will take a miracle.” We look at the past year and say, “We have had a miracle.”  Give us today our daily bread.  Today, we have enough bread.

Death. One by one, worshippers call the names of those they loved and lost.  A white rose lands in the hands of each. A sense of sorrow settles. Then they come, receive the sacrament of bread and wine. Tears spill over, both giver and receiver.

Beauty: An a cappella “Down to the River to Pray” in perfect harmony, joined by piano for triumphant finish brings us to our feet in response, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” The presence of God permeates,

Call: “Tell me more about the acreage set apart for a community garden.  I feel God calling me to this work.” Connection with another, emails and phone number exchanged, time set to explore feeding the hungry.

Yes, we are light, this small community of faith.

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July 31, 2012 · 1:35 pm

The Return: Church as Garden

For three months now, I have traveled, rested, prayed, written, reveled in family time, read, walked, worked in gardens, and regained health.

I now return to the work I love and have missed, serving as pastor to Krum First United Methodist Church.  I thank this group of generous people who supported my time away.  I am beginning my seventh year here, and it was time for a real Sabbath rest.

All of us are built for periods of rest.  We simply don’t take them.

Our world calls “foolish” the idea of extended time away, or even one day a week away. We are supposed to stay in the game and on our game so we don’t lose out.  So we keep going, fueled by quick energy non-nutritious foods, inadequate sleep, and the ever growing pressure to remain competitive. Many live on the edge of exhaustion, longing for respite but unwilling to actually take it.

We pay a terrible price for this pace with physical disease and mental unease.

There is a better way and I sense that the garden can teach us much. Especially when we look at gardening that is done organically, we see something different and so much more resilient.

There we find rhythms of nature that must be honored. There the cycle of life and death and rebirth makes so much sense. There we recognize that we are just one small part in a much larger world. There we find significantly more resistance to disease and debilitation.

I walked in English gardens for hours on end while in the London area.  As I did, I found a growing understanding that church and garden are beautifully linked.  We can understand the nature of the church far better if we understand the nature of the garden.

At its best, the garden does two things:  nurtures people with the freshest and healthiest of foods and offers a place of soul rest, an oasis.

One day I was meandering the ever-confusing streets of London, planning to go to a noon worship service at a place I had attended once before.  I was early and decided to head to nearby Hyde Park.  When I arrived, I suddenly realized that I had not yet explored Kensington Gardens, which flows into Hyde Park.

I turned toward it, planning just to stay a few minutes.  Hours later, refreshed of soul, I emerged.

All London gardens are beautiful. Between the frequent rainfalls and the mild climate, plants grow profusely. Garden shops abound, and aromatic roses especially grow easily. So the beauty of Kensington Gardens touched me as well as the sense of peace I found there.

I sat in several of the many park benches just to take it in.  My eyes absorbed massed flower beds, formal pools, and large open grassy spaces meant for picnics and family play, all freely open.

Yes, I could have paid a fee and gone through Kensington Palace and learned more how the royals lived. But why?  Here was this garden with its arms thrown wide open inviting me to enter and just sit a spell.

Many of us long for the invitation to find oasis and refreshment.  We need refilling.  We need to let the soft breezes of new life, forgiveness and hope gently touch and heal our bruised, overly stimulated, souls.  We need to sit a spell in the presence of God. We need quiet, a place to breathe deeply, to receive fully so we can give back. At its best, that is what the church can offer.

Highly productive and exquisitely beautiful gardens are the product of hard work and planning. It is my contention that clean fingernails and well-tended gardens never line up. But the results are worth it!

I hope you will join me in this time of exploration and discovery about church as garden.

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July 27, 2012 · 12:49 pm

Time For This To End: Bishop Bledsoe’s Decision to Appeal

Will this never end?

That’s what I asked myself upon hearing the not unexpected news that Bishop Bledsoe has filed an appeal to have his involuntary retirement overturned so he may return to active episcopal leadership.  Full details of the appeal can be found here.  The document flows with legalese, of course, littered with words and phrases like “unconstitutional, unlawful, violates, lack authority, failed, Bishop Bledsoe deprived, lacks jurisdiction.”

Jesus Has Left the Building

No where in there do we have words or phrases like, “do unto others as you would have others do unto you, serving the lost, feeding the sheep, picking up the cross, blessed are you when others persecute you, if your enemy hits you turn the other cheek, forgive in the same way you wish to be forgiven, God’s will on earth as it is in heaven, become like the least of these.”

Nope. The lawyers who, by the way, expect The United Methodist Church to pay all fees and costs of this appeal, took over and Jesus has left the building.  Their job is not to do spiritual things spiritually–but to  look for the tiniest loophole, the most obscure point of order in a very disordered book, our Book of Discipline.  There will be no appeal to Holy Scripture in this fight.  Chapter and verse shall be disregarded. All references will be to paragraph this, subsection that which will of course disagree with paragraph that, subsection this.

I am reminded of the truism that the greater the relationship, the fewer the rules.  Well, we’ve got rules.  What does that say about our relationships?

The Purpose of Outside Examiners

I recently listened to a fascinating interview on Fresh Air, a radio program generally hosted by the talented Terri Gross.  She was interviewing the Roman Catholic Bishop who has been given the task of bringing into doctrinal compliance the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, a group that connects most US nuns.

The Bishop happily talked about the authoritarian, hierarchical nature of the Roman Catholic Church. He brushed away the long-time pedophile priest cover-up and took the nuns, the ones who actually do the work of the church, to task for not teaching things the Vatican wants them to teach.  Like many others, I’ve been appalled at how much those senior leaders of the RC church can get away with because no independent body ever evaluates them for, among other things, the ability to act like decent human beings.  With no outside eyes to offer correction, and with no questions permitted from those below them in the hierarchy, evil ran amok, while the finer points of the law are elevated to the state of idolatrous worship.

Our Capabilities For Doing Evil

I’m a long time lover of Russian literature. Not sure why–the stuff is often hard to read with ridiculously long philosophical asides punctuating some very good stories.  Of course, it may be said that I write the same way.  However, I like the stories and the Russian world fascinates me.

Anyway, one of my favorites is The First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.  One of the sub-themes in this tale of talented technicians and scholars locked up together a prison camp concerns the utterly unaccountable life and world of Josef Stalin.

All of Stalin’s underlings were afraid of him, afraid of his capricious and unstable nature, and afraid of the power he held over life and  death.

No one ever spoke truth to him and lived–and generally their closest relatives also faced death, or at least exile and imprisonment.  Under Stalin’s leadership, over 20,000,000 Russians were executed.  These were peacetime deaths, ordered by this despicable man, carried out by his cowed and compromised underlings.

Easily we point the “evil” finger at him.

However, I think we need to consider that any who refuse to hear the words of others that help expose our blind spots are as capable of as much evil as was Stalin.  Any of us who will not listen to words of correction and seek transformation through repentance and redirection as necessary has crossed over to hardness of heart. We may not be as spectacular or as overt with our evil as was Stalin, but we still leave a legacy of death and destruction.

We/I/you–none of us escapes this temptation to live unquestioned and unexamined lives.

A Different Possibility

I write with concern on a personal level for Bishop Bledsoe and his wife and family.  He is a fellow clergy, they are Christian brothers and sisters, and together someday we will all kneel at the feet of Jesus. We need to be able to do so as reconciled souls.

But no matter how the Judicial Council rules, it is time for him to step aside.  He can no longer serve effectively as Bishop.

It is time for this to end.

Should the authority of the Episcopacy Committee to do what was necessary for the health of the church be clarified by the highest law body of The United Methodist Church?  Yes, it should.  It is my hope that every person in this connection who has the privilege of making clergy appointments and guiding overall direction undergoes rigorous evaluation. The Judicial Council ruling could make it more possible.

Were Bishop Bledsoe to remove his ambitions of restoration to the active episcopacy in the process of the appeal, he would have made an extraordinary step toward healing and the freedom needed to move forward. Such an act offers profound evidence of character and statesmanship.

It would also help us all learn to more willingly take rebuke and correction from each other.  As we open ourselves to one another in the Wesleyan manner, we make progress toward perfection in love, to wholeness and holiness of heart, soul, mind and action.

However, what is happening right now needs to end.  It is time.

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